THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V

A VIEW OF THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY IN EUROPE, FROM THE SUBVERSION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

SECTION I

VIEW OF THE POGRESS OF SOCIETY IN EUROPE WITH RESPECT TO INTERIOR GOVERNMENT, LAWS, AND MANNERS.

Two great revolutions have happened in the political state, and in the manners of the European nations. The first was occasioned by the progress of the Roman power; the second by the subversion of it. When the spirit of conquest led the armies of Rome beyond the Alps, they found all the countries which they invaded, inhabited by people whom they denominated barbarians, but who were nevertheless brave and independent These defended their ancient possessions with obstinate valor. It was by the superiority of their discipline, rather than that of their courage, that the Romans gained any advantage over them. A single battle did not, as among the effeminate inhabitants of Asia, decide the fate of a state. The vanquished people resumed their arms with fresh spirit, and their undisciplined valor, animated by the love of liberty, supplied the want of conduct as well as of union. During those long and fierce struggles for dominion or independence, the countries of Europe were successively laid waste, a great part of their inhabitants perished in the field, many were carried into slavery, and a feeble remnant, incapable of further resistance, submitted to the Roman power.

The Romans having thus desolated Europe, set themselves to civilize it. The form of government which they established in the conquered provinces, though severe, was regular, and preserved public tranquility. As a consolation for the loss of liberty, they communicated their arts, sciences, language, and manners, to their new subjects. Europe began to breathe, and to recover strength after the calamities which it had undergone; agriculture was encouraged; population increased; the ruined cities were rebuilt; new towns were founded; an appearance of prosperity succeeded, and repaired, in some degree, the havoc of war.

This state, however, was far from being happy or favorable to the improvement of the human mind. The vanquished nations were disarmed by their conquerors, and overawed by soldiers kept in pay to restrain them. They were given up as a prey to rapacious governors, who plundered them with impunity; and were drained of their wealth by exorbitant taxes, levied with so little attention to the situation of the provinces, that the impositions were often in proportion to their inability to support them. They were deprived of their most enterprising citizens, who resorted to a distant capital in quest of preferment, or of riches; and were accustomed in all their actions to look up to a superior, and tamely to receive his commands. Under so many depressing circumstances, it was hardly possible that they could retain vigour or generosity of mind. The martial and independent spirit, which had distinguished their ancestors, became, in a great measure, extinct among all the people subjected to the Roman yoke; they lost not only the habit, but even the capacity of deciding for themselves, or of acting from the impulse of their own minds; and the dominions of the Romans, like that of all great empires, degraded and debased the human species.

A society in such a state could not subsist long. There were defects in the Roman government, even in its most perfect form, which threatened its dissolution. Time ripened these original seeds of corruption, and gave birth to many new disorders. A constitution, unsound and worn out, must have fallen into pieces of itself, without any external shock. The violent irruption of the Goths, Vandals, Huns, and other barbarians, hastened this event, and precipitated the downfall of the empire. New nations seemed to arise and to rush from unknown regions, in order to take vengeance on the Romans for the calamities which they had inflicted on mankind. These fierce tribes either inhabited the various provinces in Germany which had never been subdued by the Romans, or were scattered over those vast countries in the north of Europe, and north-west of Asia, which are now occupied by the Danes, the Swedes, the Poles, the subjects of the Russian empire, and the Tartars. Their condition and transactions, previous to their invasion of the empire, are but little known. Almost all our information with respect to these is derived from the Romans; and as they did not penetrate far into countries, which were at that time uncultivated and uninviting, the accounts of their original state given by the Roman historians are extremely imperfect. The rude inhabitants themselves, destitute of science as well as of records, and without leisure or curiosity to inquire into remote events, retained, perhaps, some indistinct memory of recent occurrences; but beyond these, all was buried in oblivion, or involved in darkness and in fable.

The prodigious swarms which poured in upon the empire from the beginning of the fourth century to the final extinction of the Roman power, have given rise to an opinion that the countries whence they issued were crowded with inhabitants; and various theories have been formed to account for such an extraordinary degree of population as had produced these countries the appellation of The Storehouse of Nations. But if we consider that the countries possessed by the people who invaded the empire were of vast extent; that a great part of these was covered with woods and marshes; that some of the most considerable of the barbarous nations subsisted entirely by hunting or pasturage, in both which states of society large tracts of land are required for maintaining a few inhabitants; and that all of them were strangers to the arts and industry, without which population cannot increase to any great degree, we must conclude, that these countries could not be so populous in ancient times as they are in the present, when they still continue to be less peopled than any other part of Europe or of Asia.

But the same circumstances that prevented the barbarous nations from becoming populous, contributed to inspire, or to strengthen, the martial spirit by which they were distinguished. Inured by the rigor of their climate, or the poverty of their soil, to hardships which rendered their bodies firm, and their minds vigorous; accustomed to a course of life which was a continual preparation for action and disdaining every occupation but that of war or of hunting; they undertook and prosecuted their military enterprises with an ardour and impetuosity of which men softened by the refinements of more polished times can scarcely form any idea.

Their first inroads into the empire proceeded rather from the love of plunder than from the desire of new settlements. Roused to arms by some enterprising or popular leader, they sallied out of their forests; broke in upon the frontier provinces with irresistible violence; put all who opposed them to the sword; carried off the most valuable effects of the inhabitants; dragged along multitudes of captives in chains; wasted all before them with fire or sword; and returned in triumph to their wilds and fastnesses. Their success, together with the accounts which they gave of the unknown conveniences and luxuries that abounded in countries better cultivated, or blessed with a milder climate than their own, excited new adventurers, and exposed the frontier to new devastations.

When nothing was left to plunder in the adjacent provinces, ravaged by frequent excursions, they marched farther from home, and finding it difficult, or dangerous to return, they began to settle in the countries which they had subdued. The sudden and short excursions in quest of booty which had alarmed and disquieted the empire, ceased; a more dreadful calamity impended. Great bodies of armed men, with their wives and children, and slaves and flocks, issued forth, like regular colonies, in quest of new settlements. People who had no cities, and seldom any fixed habitation, were so little attached to their native soil, that they migrated without reluctance from one place to another. New adventurers followed them. The lands which they deserted were occupied by more remote tribes of barbarians. These, in their turn, pushed forward into inure fertile countries, and, like a torrent continually increasing, rolled on, and swept everything before them. In less than two centuries from their first eruption, barbarians of various names and lineage plundered and took possession of Thrace, Pannonia, Gaul, Spain, Africa, and at last of Italy, and Rome itself. The vast fabric of the Roman power, which it had been the work of ages to perfect, was in that short period overturned from the foundation.

Many concurring causes prepared the way for this great revolution, and ensured success to the nations which invaded the empire. The Roman commonwealth had conquered the world by the wisdom of its civil maxims, and the rigour of its military discipline. But, under the emperors, the former were forgotten or despised, and the latter were gradually relaxed. The armies of the empire in the fourth and fifth centuries bore scarcely any resemblance to those invincible legions which had been victorious wherever they marched. Instead of freemen, who voluntarily took arms from the love of glory, or of their country, provincials and barbarians were bribed or forced into service. These were too feeble, or too proud to submit to the fatigue of military duty. They even complained of the weight of their defensive armour as intolerable, and laid it aside. Infantry, from which the armies of ancient Rome derived their vigour and stability, fell into contempt; the effeminate and undisciplined soldiers of later times could hardly be brought to venture into the field but on horseback. These wretched troops, however, were the only guardians of the empire. The jealousy of despotism had deprived the people of the use of arms; and subjects, oppressed and rendered incapable of defending themselves, had neither spirit nor inclination to resist their invaders, from whom they had little to fear, because their condition could hardly be rendered more unhappy.

At the same time that the martial spirit became extinct, the revenues of the empire gradually diminished. The taste for the luxuries of the East increased to such a pitch in the Imperial court, that great sums were carried into India, from which, in the channel of commerce, money never returns. By the large subsidies paid to the barbarous nations, a still greater quantity of specie was withdrawn from circulation. The frontier provinces, wasted by frequent incursions, became unable to pay the customary tribute, and the wealth of the world, which had long centred in the capital of the empire, ceased to flow thither in the same abundance, or was diverted into other channels. The limits of the empire continued to be as extensive as ever, while the spirit requisite for its defence declined, and its resources were exhausted. A vast body, languid, and almost unanimated, became incapable of any effort to save itself, and was easily overpowered.

The emperors, who had the absolute direction of this disordered system, sunk in the softness of Eastern luxury, shut up within the walls of a palace, ignorant of war, unacquainted with affairs, and governed entirely by women and eunuchs, or by ministers equally effeminate, trembled at the approach of danger, and, under circumstances which called for the utmost vigour in council as well as in action, discovered all the impotent irresolution of fear and of folly.

In every respect the condition of the barbarous nations was the reverse of that of the Romans. Among the former, the martial spirit was in full vigour; their leaders were hardy and enterprising; the arts which had enervated the Romans were unknown; and such was the nature of their military institutions, that they brought forces into the field without any trouble, and supported them at little expense. The mercenary and effeminate troops stationed on the frontier, astonished at their fierceness, either fled at their approach, or were routed on the first onset. The feeble expedient to which the emperors had recourse, of taking large bodies of the barbarians into pay, and of employing, them to repel new invaders, instead of retarding, hastened the destruction of the empire. These mercenaries soon turned their arms against their masters, and with greater advantage than ever, for, by serving in the Roman armies, they had acquired all the discipline, or skill in war, which the Romans still retained; and, upon adding these to their native ferocity, they became altogether irresistible.

But though, from these and many other causes, the progress and conquests of the nations which overran the empire became so extremely rapid, they were accompanied with horrible devastations, and an incredible destruction of the human species. Civilized nations, which take arms upon cool reflection, from motives of policy or prudence, with a view to guard against some distant danger, or to prevent some remote contingency, carry on their hostilities with so little rancor or animosity, that war among them is disarmed of half its terrors. Barbarians are strangers to such refinements. They rush into war with impetuosity, and prosecute it with violence. Their sole object is to make their enemies feel the weight of their vengeance; nor does their rage subside until it be satiated with inflicting on them every possible calamity. It is with such a spirit that the savage tribes in America carry on their petty wars. It was with the same spirit that the more powerful and no less fierce barbarians in the north of Europe, and of Asia, fell upon the roman empire.

Wherever they marched, their route was marked with blood. They ravaged or destroyed all around them. They made no distinction between what was sacred and what was profane. They respected no age, or sex, or rank. What escaped the fury of the first inundation, perished in those which followed it. The most fertile and populous provinces were converted into deserts, in which were scattered the ruins of villages and cities, that afforded shelter to a few miserable inhabitants whom chance had preserved, or the sword of the enemy, wearied with destroying, had spared. The conquerors who first settled in the countries which they had wasted, were expelled or exterminated by new invaders, who, coming from regions farther removed from the civilized parts of the world, were still more fierce and rapacious. This brought fresh calamities upon mankind, which did not cease until the north, by pouring forth successive swarms, was drained of people, and could no longer furnish instruments of destruction.

Famine and pestilence, which always march in the train of war, when it ravages with such inconsiderate cruelty, raged in very part of Europe, and completed its sufferings. If a man were called to fix upon the period in the history of the world, during which the condition of the human race was most calamitous and afflicted, he would, without hesitating, name that which elapsed from the death of Theodosius the Great, to the establishment of the Lombards in Italy. The contemporary authors, who beheld that scene of desolation, labor and are at a loss for expressions to describe the horror of it. The Scourge of God, the Destroyer of Nations, are the dreadful epithets by which they distinguish the most noted of the barbarous leaders; and they compare the ruin which they had brought on the world, to the havoc occasioned by earthquakes, conflagrations, or deluges, the most formidable and fatal calamities which the imagination of man can conceive.

But no expressions can convey so perfect an idea of the destructive progress of the barbarians as that which must strike an attentive observer when he contemplates the total change which he will discover in the state of Europe, after it began to recover some degree of tranquility, towards the close of the sixth century. The Saxons were by that time masters of the southern and more fertile provinces of Britain; the Franks of Gaul; the Huns of Pannonia; the Goths of Spain; the Goths and Lombards of Italy and the adjacent provinces. Very faint vestiges of the Roman policy, jurisprudence, arts, or literature remained. New forms of government, new laws, new manners, new dresses, new languages, and new names of men and countries, were everywhere introduced. To make a great or sudden alteration with respect to any of these, unless where the ancient inhabitants of a country have been almost totally exterminated, has proved an undertaking beyond the power of the greatest conquerors. The great change which the settlement of the barbarous nations occasioned in the state of Europe, may therefore be considered as a more decisive proof than even the testimony of contemporary historians, of the destructive violence with which these invaders carried on their conquests, and of the havoc which they had made from one extremity of this quarter of the globe to the other.

In the obscurity of the chaos occasioned by this general wreck of nations, we must search for the seeds of order, and endeavor to discover the first rudiments of the policy and laws now established in Europe. To this source the historians of its different kingdoms have attempted, though with less attention and industry than the importance of the inquiry merits, to trace back the institutions and customs peculiar to their countrymen. It is not my province to give a minute detail of the progress of government and manners in each particular nation, whose transactions are the object of the following history. But, in order to exhibit a just view of the state of Europe at the opening of the sixteenth century, it is necessary to look back, and to contemplate the condition of the northern nations upon their first settlement in those countries which they occupied. It is necessary to mark the great steps by which they advanced from barbarism to refinement, and to point out those general principles and events which, by their uniform as well as extensive operation, conducted all of them to that degree of improvement in policy and in manners which they had attained at the period when Charles V began his reign.

 The Feudal System

When nations subject to despotic government make conquests, these serve only to extend the dominion and the power of their master. But armies composed of freemen conquer for themselves, not for their leaders. The people who overturned the Roman empire, and settled in its various provinces, were of the latter class. Not only the different nations that issued from the north of Europe, which has always been considered as the state of liberty, but the Huns and Alans who inhabited part of those countries, which have been marked out as the peculiar region of servitude, enjoyed freedom and independence in such a high degree as seems to be scarcely compatible with a state of social union, or with the subordination necessary to maintain it. They followed the chieftain who led them forth in quest of new settlements, not by constraint, but from choice; not as soldiers whom he could order to march, but as volunteers who offered to accompany him. They considered their conquests as a common property, in which all had a title to share, as all had contributed to acquire them. In what manner or by what principles, they divided among them the lands which they seized we cannot now determine with any certainty. There is no nation in Europe whose records reach back to this remote period; and there is little information to be got from the uninstructive and meager chronicles compiled by writers ignorant of the true end, and unacquainted with the proper objects of history.

This new division of property, however, together with the maxims and manners to which it gave rise, gradually introduced a species of government formerly unknown. This singular institution is now distinguished by the name of the Feudal System; and though the barbarous nations which framed it, settled in their new territories at different times, came from different countries, spoke various languages, and were under the command of separate leaders, the feudal policy and laws were established, with little variation, in every kingdom of Europe. This amazing uniformity had induced some authors to believe that all these nations, notwithstanding so many apparent circumstances of distinction, were originally the same people. But it may be ascribed with greater probability, to the similar state of society and of manners to which they were accustomed in their native countries, and to the similar situation in which they found themselves on taking possession of their new domains.

As the conquerors of Europe had their acquisitions to maintain, not only against such of the ancient inhabitants as they had spared, but against the more formidable inroads of new invaders, self-defence was their chief care, and seems to have been the chief object of their first institutions and policy. Instead of those loose associations, which, though they scarcely diminished their personal independence, had been sufficient for their security while they remained in their original countries, they saw the necessity of uniting in more close confederacy, and of relinquishing some of their private rights in order to attain public safety. Every free man, upon receiving a portion of the lands which were divided, bound himself to appear in arms against the enemies of the community. This military service was the condition upon which he received and held his lands; and as they were exempted from every other burden, that tenure, among a warlike people, was deemed both easy and honorable. The king or general who led them to conquest, continuing still to be the head of the colony, had, of course, the largest portion allotted to him. Having thus acquired the means of rewarding past services, as well as of gaining new adherents, he parceled out his lands with this view, binding those on whom they were bestowed to resort to his standard with a number of men in proportion to the extent of the territory which they received, and to bear arms in his defence. His chief officers imitated the example of the sovereign, and, in distributing portions of their lands among their dependents, annexed the same condition to the grant. Thus a feudal kingdom resembled a military establishment, rather than a civil institution. The victorious army, cantoned out in the country which it had seized, continued ranged under its proper officers, and subordinate to military command. The names of a soldier and of a freeman were synonymous. Every proprietor of land, girt with a sword, was ready to march at the summons of his superior, and to take the field against the common enemy.

But though the feudal policy seems to be so admirably calculated for defence against the assaults of any foreign power, its provisions for the interior order and tranquility of society were extremely defective. The principles of disorder and corruption are discernible in that constitution under its best and most perfect form. They soon unfolded themselves, and, spreading with rapidity through every part of the system, produced the most fatal effects. The bond of political union was extremely feeble; the sources of anarchy were innumerable. The monarchical and aristocratical parts of the constitution, having no intermediate power to balance them, were perpetually at variance, and justling with each other. The powerful vassals of the crown soon extorted a confirmation for life of those grants of land, which being at first purely gratuitous, had been bestowed only during pleasure. Not satisfied with this, they prevailed to have them converted into hereditary possessions. One step more completed their usurpations, and rendered them unalienable.

With an ambition no less enterprising, and more preposterous, they appropriated to themselves titles of honor, as well as offices of power or trust. These personal marks of distinction, which the public admiration bestows on illustrious merit, or which the public confidence confers on extraordinary abilities, were annexed to certain families, and transmitted like fiefs, from father to son, by hereditary right. The crown vassals having thus secured the possession of their lands and dignities, the nature of the feudal institutions, which though founded on subordination verged to independence, led them to new, and still more dangerous encroachments on the prerogatives of the sovereign. They obtained the power of supreme jurisdiction, both civil and criminal, within their own territories; the right of coining money; together with the privilege of carrying on war against their private enemies, in their own name, and by their own authority.

The ideas of political subjection were almost entirely lost, and frequently scarce any appearance of feudal subordination remained. Nobles who had acquired such enormous power, scorned to consider themselves as subjects. They aspired openly at being independent: the bonds which connected the principal members of the constitution with the crown, were dissolved. A kingdom, considerable in name and in extent, was broken into as many separate principalities as it contained powerful barons. A thousand causes of jealousy and discord subsisted among them, and gave rise to as many wars.

Every country in Europe, wasted or kept in continual alarm during these endless contests, was filled with castles and places of strength erected for the security of the inhabitants; not against foreign force, but against internal hostilities. A universal anarchy, destructive, in a great measure, of all the advantages which men expect to derive from society, prevailed. The people, the most numerous as well as the most useful part of the community, were either reduced to a state of actual servitude, or treated with the same insolence and rigor as if they had been degraded into that wretched condition. The king, stripped of almost every prerogative, and without authority to enact or to execute salutary laws, could neither protect the innocent, nor punish the guilty. The nobles, superior to all restraint, harassed each other with perpetual wars, oppressed their fellow-subjects, and humbled or insulted their sovereign. To crown all, time gradually fixed and rendered venerable this pernicious system, which violence had established.

Such was the state of Europe with respect to the interior administration of government from the seventh to the eleventh century. All the external operations of its various states, during this period, were of course extremely feeble. A kingdom dismembered, and torn with dissension, without any common interest to rouse, or any common head to conduct its force, was incapable of acting with vigor. Almost all the wars in Europe, during the ages which I have mentioned, were trifling, indecisive, and productive of no considerable event. They resembled the short incursions of pirates or banditti, rather than the steady operations of a regular army. Every baron, at the head of his vassals, carried on some petty enterprise, to which he was prompted by his own ambition or revenge. The state itself, destitute of union, either remained altogether inactive, or if it attempted to make any effort, that served only to discover its impotence. The superior genius of Charlemagne, it is true, united all these disjointed and discordant members, and forming them again into one body, restored to government that degree of activity which distinguishes his reign, and renders the transactions of it, objects not only of attention but of admiration to more enlightened times. But this state of union and vigor, not being natural to the feudal government, was of short duration. Immediately upon his death, the spirit which animated and sustained the vast system which he had established, being withdrawn, it broke into pieces. All the calamities which flow from anarchy and discord, returning with additional force, afflicted the different kingdoms into which his empire was split. From that time to the eleventh century, a succession of uninteresting events; a series of wars, the motives as well as the consequences of which were unimportant, fill and deform the annals of all the nations in Europe.

The Dark Age

In less than a century after the barbarous nations settled in their new conquests, almost all the effects of the knowledge and civility, which the Romans had spread through Europe, disappeared. Not only the arts of elegance, which minister to luxury, and are supported by it, but many of the useful arts, without which life can scarcely be considered as comfortable, were neglected or lost. Literature, science, taste, were words little in use during the ages which we are contemplating; or, if they occur at any time, eminence in them is ascribed to persons and productions so contemptible, that it appears their true import was little understood. Persons of the highest rank, and in the most eminent stations, could not read or write. Many of the clergy did not understand the breviary which they were obliged daily to recite; some of them could scarcely read it. The memory of past transactions was, in a great degree, lost, or preserved in annals filled with trifling events, or legendary tales. Even the codes of laws, published by the several nations which established themselves in the different countries of Europe, fell into disuse, while, in their place, customs, vague and capricious, were substituted. The human mind, neglected, uncultivated, and depressed, continued in the most profound ignorance. Europe, during four centuries, produced few authors who merit to be read, either on account of the elegance of their composition, or the justness and novelty of their sentiments. There are few inventions, useful or ornamental to society, of which that long period can boast. Even the Christian religion, though its precepts are delivered, and its institutions are fixed in scripture, with a precision which should have exempted them from being misinterpreted or corrupted, degenerated, during those ages of darkness, into an illiberal superstition. The barbarous nations, when converted to Christianity, changed the object, not the spirit of their religious worship. They endeavored to conciliate the favor of the true God by means not unlike to those with which they had employed in order to appease their false deities. Instead of aspiring to sanctity and virtue, which alone can render men acceptable to the great Author of order and of excellence, they imagined that they satisfied every obligation of duty by a scrupulous observance of external ceremonies. Religion, according to their conception of it, comprehended nothing else; and the rites by which they persuaded themselves that they should gain the favor of Heaven, were of such a nature as might have been expected from the rude ideas of the ants which devised and introduced them. They were either so unmeaning as to be altogether unworthy of the Being to whose honor they were consecrated; or so absurd as to be a disgrace to reason and humanity. Charlemagne in France, and Alfred the Great in England, endeavored to dispel this darkness, and gave their subjects a short glimpse of light and knowledge. But the ignorance of the age was too powerful for their efforts and institutions. The darkness returned, and settled over Europe, more thick and heavy than before.

As the inhabitants of Europe, during these centuries, were strangers to the arts which embellished a polished age, they were destitute of the virtues which abound among people who continue in a simple state. Force of mind, a sense of personal dignity, gallantry in enterprise, invincible perseverance in execution, contempt of danger and death, are the characteristic virtues of uncivilized nations. But these are all the offspring of equality and independence, both which the feudal institutions had destroyed. The spirit of domination corrupted the nobles; the yoke of servitude depressed the people; the generous sentiments inspired by a sense of equality were extinguished, and hardly anything remained to be a check on ferocity and violence. Human society is in its most corrupted state at that period when men have lost their original independence and simplicity of manners, but have not attained that degree of refinement which introduces a sense of decorum and of propriety in conduct, as a restraint on those passions which lead to heinous crimes. Accordingly, a greater number of those atrocious actions, which fill the mind of man with astonishment and horror, occur in the history of the centuries under review, than in that of any period of the same extent in the annals of Europe. If we open the history of Gregory of Tours, or of any contemporary author, we meet with a series of deeds of cruelty, perfidy, and revenge, so wild and enormous as almost to exceed belief.

But, according to the observation of an elegant and profound historian, there is an ultimate point of depression, as well as of exaltation, from which human affairs naturally return in a contrary progress, and beyond which they never pass either in their advancement or decline. When defects, either in the form or in the administration of government, occasion such disorders in society as are excessive and intolerable, it becomes the common interest to discover and to apply such remedies as will most effectually remove them. Slight inconveniences may be long overlooked or endured; but when abuses grow to a certain pitch, the society must go to ruin, or must attempt to reform them. The disorders in the feudal system, together with the corruption of taste and manners consequent upon these, which had gone on increasing during a long course of years, seemed to have attained their utmost point of excess towards the close of the eleventh century. From that era, we may date the return of government and manners in a contrary direction, and can trace a succession of causes and events which contributed, some with a nearer and more conspicuous, others with a more remote and less perceptible influence, to abolish confusion and barbarism, and to introduce order, regularity, and refinement. In pointing out and explaining these causes and events, it is not necessary to observe the order of time with a chronological accuracy; it is of more importance to keep in view their mutual connection and dependence, and to show how the operation of one event, or one cause, prepared the way for another, and augmented its influence. We have hitherto been contemplating the progress of that darkness, which spread over Europe, from its first approach, to the period of greatest obscuration; a more pleasant exercise begins here; to observe the first dawnings of returning light, to mark the various accessions by which it gradually increased and advanced towards the full splendor of day.  

I. The Crusades, or expeditions in order to rescue the Holy Land out of the hands of infidels, seem to be the first event that roused Europe from the lethargy in which it had been long sunk, and that tended to introduce any considerable change in government or in manners. It is natural to the human mind to view those places which have been distinguished by being the residence of any illustrious personage, or the scene of any great transaction, with some degree of delight and veneration. To this principle must be ascribed the superstitious devotion with which Christians, from the earliest ages of the church, were accustomed to visit that country which the Almighty had selected as the inheritance of his favorite people, and in which the Son of God had accomplished the redemption of mankind. As this distant pilgrimage could not be performed without considerable expense, fatigue, and danger, it appeared the more meritorious, and came to be considered as an expiation for almost every crime. An opinion which spread with rapidity over Europe about the close of the tenth and beginning of the eleventh century, and which gained universal credit, wonderfully augmented the number of credulous pilgrims, and increased the ardor with which they undertook this useless voyage. The thousand years, mentioned by St. John, were supposed to be accomplished, and the end of the world to be at hand. A general consternation seized mankind; many relinquished their possessions; and, abandoning their friends and families, hurried with precipitation to the Holy Land, where they imagined that Christ would quickly appear to judge the world. While Palestine continued subject to the Caliphs, they had encouraged the resort of pilgrims to Jerusalem; and considered this as a beneficial species of commerce, which brought into their dominions gold and silver, and carried nothing out of them but relics and consecrated trinkets. But the Turks having conquered Syria about the middle of the eleventh century, pilgrims were exposed to outrages of every kind from these fierce barbarians. This change happening precisely at the Juncture when the panic terror, which I have mentioned, rendered pilgrimages most frequent, filled Europe with alarm and indignation. Every person who returned from Palestine related the dangers which he had encountered, in visiting the holy city, and described with exaggeration the cruelty and vexations of the Turks.

When the minds of men were thus prepared, the zeal of a fanatical monk, who conceived the idea of leading all the forces of Christendom against the infidels, and of driving them out of the Holy Land by violence, was sufficient to give a beginning to that wild enterprise. Peter the Hermit, for that was the name of this martial apostle, ran from province to province with a crucifix in his hand, exciting princes and people to this Holy War, and wherever he came kindled the same enthusiastic ardor for it with which he himself was animated. The council of Placentia, where upwards of thirty thousand persons were assembled, pronounced the scheme to have been suggested by the immediate inspiration of heaven. In the council of Clermont, still more numerous, as soon as the measure was proposed, all cried out with one voice, “It is the will of God”. Persons of all ranks catched the contagion; not only the gallant nobles of that age, with their martial followers, whom we may suppose apt to be allured by the boldness of a romantic enterprise, but men in the more humble and pacific stations of life; ecclesiastics of every order, and even women and children, engaged with emulation in an undertaking, which was deemed sacred and meritorious. If we may believe the concurring testimony of contemporary authors, six millions of persons assumed the cross, which was the badge that distinguished such as devoted themselves to this holy warfare. All Europe, says the Princess Anna Comnena, torn up from the foundation, seemed ready to precipitate itself in one united body upon Asia. Nor did the fumes of this enthusiastic zeal evaporate at once; the frenzy was as lasting as it was extravagant. During two centuries, Europe seems to have had no object but to recover, or keep possession of, the Holy Land; and through that period vast armies continued to march thither.

The first efforts of valor, animated by enthusiasm, were irresistible: part of the Lesser Asia, all Syria and Palestine, were wrested from the Infidels; the banner of the cross was displayed on Mount Sion; Constantinople, the capital of the Christian empire in the East, was afterwards seized by a body of those adventurers, who had taken arms against the Mahometans; and an earl of Flanders, and his descendants, kept possession of the imperial throne during half a century. But though the first impression of the Crusaders was so unexpected that they made their conquests with great ease, they found infinite difficulty in preserving them. Establishments so distant from Europe, surrounded by warlike nations animated with fanatical zeal scarcely inferior to that of the Crusaders themselves, were perpetually in danger of being overturned. Before the expiration of the thirteenth century [1291], the Christians were driven out of all their Asiatic possessions, in acquiring of which incredible numbers of men had perished, and immense sums of money had been wasted. The only common enterprise in which the European nations ever engaged, and which they all undertook with equal ardor, remains a singular monument of human folly.

But from these expeditions, extravagant as they were, beneficial consequences followed, which had neither been foreseen nor expected. In their progress towards the Holy Land, the followers of the cross marched through countries better cultivated, and more civilized than their own. Their first rendez-vous was commonly in Italy, in which Venice, Genoa, Pisa, and other cities, had begun to apply themselves to commerce, and had made considerable advances towards wealth as well as refinement. They embarked there, and, landing in Dalmatia, pursued their route by land to Constantinople.

Though the military spirit had been long extinct in the eastern Empire, and a despotism of the worst species had annihilated almost every public virtue, yet Constantinople, having never felt the destructive rage of the barbarous nations, was the greatest, as well as the most beautiful city in Europe, and the only one in which there remained any image of the ancient elegance in manners and arts. The naval power of the eastern Empire was considerable. Manufactures of the most curious fabric were carried on in its dominions. Constantinople was the chief mart in Europe, for the commodities of the East Indies. Although the Saracens and Turks had torn from the Empire many of its richest provinces, and had reduced it within very narrow bounds, yet great wealth wed into the capital from these various sources, which not only cherished such a taste for magnificence, but kept alive such a relish for the sciences, as appears considerable, when compared with what was known in other parts of Europe. Even in Asia, the Europeans, who had assumed the cross, found the remains of the knowledge and arts which the example and encouragement of the Caliphs had diffused through their empire. Although the attention of the historians of the Crusades was fixed on other objects than the state of society and manners among the nations which they invaded, although most of them had neither taste nor discernment enough to describe these, they relate, however, such signal acts of humanity and generosity in the conduct of Saladin, as well as some other leaders of the Mahometans, as give us a very high idea of their manners. It was not possible for the Crusaders to travel through so many countries, and to behold the various customs and institutions, without acquiring information and improvement. Their views enlarged; their prejudices wore off; new ideas crowded into their minds; and they must have been sensible, on many occasions, of the rusticity of their own manners, when compared with those of a more polished people. These impressions were not so slight as to be effaced upon their return to their native countries. A close intercourse subsisted between the east and west during two centuries, new armies were continually marching from Europe to Asia, while former adventurers returned home and imported many of the customs to which they had been familiarized by a long residence abroad. Accordingly, we discover, soon after the commencement of the Crusades, greater splendor in the courts of princes, greater pomp in public ceremonies, a more refined taste in pleasures and amusements, together with a more romantic spirit of enterprise spreading gradually over Europe; and to these wild expeditions, the effect of superstition or folly, we owe the first gleams of light which tended to dispel barbarism and ignorance.

But these beneficial consequences of the Crusades took place slowly; their influence upon the state of property, and consequently of power, in the different kingdoms of Europe, was more immediate as well as discernible. The nobles who assumed the cross, and bound themselves to march to the Holy Land, soon perceived that great sums were necessary towards defraying the expenses of such a distant expedition, and enabling them to appear with suitable dignity at the head of their vassals. But the genius of the feudal system was averse to the imposition of extraordinary taxes; and subjects in that age were unaccustomed to pay them. No expedient remained for levying the sums requisite, but the sale of their possessions. As men were inflamed with romantic expectations of the splendid conquests which they hoped to make in Asia, and possessed with such zeal for recovering the Holy Land as swallowed up every other passion, they relinquished their ancient inheritances without any reluctance, and for prices far below their value, that they might sally forth as adventurers in quest of new settlements in unknown countries. The monarchs of the great kingdoms in the west, none of whom had engaged in the first Crusade, eagerly seized this opportunity of annexing considerable territories to their crowns at small expense. Besides this, several great barons, who perished in the Holy War, having left no heirs, their fiefs reverted of course to their respective sovereigns; and by these accessions of property, as well as power taken from the one scale and thrown into the other, the regal authority rose in proportion as that of the aristocracy declined. The absence, too, of many potent vassals, accustomed to control and give law to their sovereigns, afforded them an opportunity of extending their prerogative, and of acquiring a degree of weight in the constitution which they did not formerly possess. To these circumstances we may add, that as all who assumed the cross were taken under the immediate protection of the church, and its heaviest anathemas were denounced against such as should disquiet or annoy those who had devoted themselves to this service; the private quarrels and hostilities which banished tranquility from a feudal kingdom, were suspended or extinguished; a more general and steady administration of justice began to be introduced, and some advances were made towards the establishment of regular government in the several kingdoms of Europe.

The commercial effects of the Crusades were not less considerable than those which I have already mentioned. The first armies under the standard of the cross, which Peter the Hermit and Godfrey of Bouillon led through Germany and Hungary to Constantinople, suffered so much by the length of the march, as well as by the fierceness of the barbarous people who inhabited those countries, that it deterred others from taking the same route; and rather than encounter so many dangers they chose to go by sea. Venice, Genoa, and Pisa furnished the transports on which they embarked. The sum which these cities received merely for freight from such numerous armies was immense. This, however, was but a small part of what they gained by the expeditions to the Holy Land; the Crusaders contracted with them for military stores and provisions; their fleets kept on the coast as the armies advanced by land; and supplying them with whatever was wanting, engrossed all the profits of a branch of commerce which, in every age, has been extremely lucrative. The success which attended the arms of the Crusaders was productive of advantages still more permanent.

There are charters yet extant, containing grants to the Venetians, Pisans, and Genoese of the most extensive immunities in the several settlements which the Christians made in Asia. All the commodities which they imported or exported are thereby exempted from every imposition; the property of entire suburbs in some of the maritime towns, and of large streets in others, is vested in them; and all questions, arising among persons settled within their precincts, or who traded under their protection, are appointed to be tried by their own laws, and by judges of their own appointment.

When the Crusaders seized Constantinople, and placed one of their own leaders on the imperial throne, the Italian States were likewise gainers by that event. The Venetians, who had planned the enterprise, and took a considerable part in carrying it into execution, did not neglect to secure to themselves the chief advantages redounding from its success. They made themselves masters of part of the ancient Peloponnesus in Greece, together with some of the most fertile islands in the Archipelago. Many valuable branches of the commerce, which formerly centered in Constantinople, were transferred to Venice, Genoa, or Pisa. Thus a succession of events, occasioned by the Holy War, opened various sources, from which wealth flowed in such abundance into these cities, as enabled them, in concurrence with another institution, which shall be immediately mentioned, to secure their own liberty and independence.

II. The institution to which I alluded was the forming of cities into communities, corporations, or bodies politic, and granting them the privilege of municipal jurisdiction, which contributed more, perhaps, than any other cause, to introduce regular government, police, and arts, and to diffuse them over Europe. The feudal government had degenerated into a system of oppression. The usurpations of the nobles were become unbounded and intolerable; they had reduced the great body of the people into a state of actual servitude: the condition of those dignified with the name of free-men, was often little preferable to that of the other. Nor was such oppression the portion of those alone who dwelt in the country, and were employed in cultivating the estate of their master. Cities and villages found it necessary to hold of some great lord, on whom they might depend for protection, and became no less subject to his arbitrary jurisdiction. The inhabitants were deprived of those rights, which, in social life, are deemed most natural and inalienable. They could not dispose of the effects which their own industry had acquired, either by a latter will, or by any deed executed during their life. They had no right to appoint guardians for their children during their minority. They were not permitted to marry without purchasing the consent of the lord on whom they depended. If once they had commenced a law-suit, they durst not terminate it by an accommodation, because that would have deprived the lord, in whose court they pleaded, of the perquisites due to him on passing sentence. Services of various kinds, no less disgraceful than oppressive, were exacted from them without mercy or moderation. The spirit of industry was checked in some cities by absurd regulations, and in others by unreasonable exactions; nor would the narrow and oppressive maxims of a military aristocracy have permitted it ever to rise to any degree of height or vigour.

But as soon as the cities of Italy began to turn their attention towards commerce, and to conceive some idea of the advantages which they might derive from it, they became impatient to shake off the yoke of their insolent lords, and to establish among themselves such a free and equal government, as would render property secure, and industry flourishing. The German emperors, especially those of the Franconian and Suabian lines, as the seat of their government was far distant from Italy, possessed a feeble and imperfect jurisdiction in that country. Their perpetual quarrels, either with the popes or with their own turbulent vassals, diverted their attention from the interior police of Italy, and gave constant employment to their arms. These circumstances encouraged the inhabitants of some of the Italian cities, towards the beginning of the eleventh century, to assume new privileges, to unite together more closely, and to form themselves into bodies politic under the government of laws established by common consent. The rights which many cities acquired by bold or fortunate usurpations, others purchased from the emperors, who deemed themselves gainers when they received large sums for immunities which they were no longer able to withhold; and some cities obtained them gratuitously, from the generosity or facility of the princes on whom they depended. The great increase of wealth which the Crusades brought into Italy occasioned a new kind of fermentation and activity in the minds of the people, and excited such a general passion for liberty and independence, that, before the conclusion of the last Crusade, all the considerable cities in that country had either purchased or had extorted large immunities from the emperors.

This innovation was not long known in Italy before it made its way into France. Louis le Gros, in order to create some power that might counter­balance those potent vassals who controlled, or gave law to the crown, first adopted the plan of conferring new privileges on the towns situated within his own domain. These privileges were called charters of community, by which he enfranchised the inhabitants, abolished all marks of servitude, and formed them into corporations or bodies politic, to be governed by a council and magistrates of their own nomination. These magistrates had the right of administering justice within their own precincts, of levying taxes, of embodying and training to arms the militia of the town, which took the field when required by the sovereign, under the command of officers appointed by the community. The great barons imitated the example of their monarch, and granted like immunities to the towns within their territories. They had wasted such great sums in their expeditions to the Holy Land, that they were eager to lay hold on this new expedient for raising money, by the sale of those charters of liberty. Though the institution of communities was as repugnant to their maxims of policy, as it was adverse to their power, they disregarded remote consequences, in order to obtain present relief. In less than two centuries; servitude was abolished in moat of the towns in France, and they became free corporations, instead of dependent villages, without jurisdiction or privileges. Much about the same period, the great cities in Germany began to acquire like immunities, and laid the foundation of their present liberty and Independence. The practice spread quickly over Europe, and was adopted in Spain, England, Scotland, and all the other feudal kingdoms.

The good effects of this new institution were immediately felt, and its influence on government as well as manners was no less extensive than salutary. A great body of the people was released from servitude, and from all the arbitrary and grievous impositions to which that wretched condition had subjected them. Towns, upon acquiring the right of community, became so many little republics, governed by known and equal laws. Liberty was deemed such an essential and characteristic part in their constitution, that if any slave took refuge in one of them, and resided there during a year without being claimed, he was instantly declared a freeman, and admitted as a member of the community.

As one part of the people owed their liberty to the erection of communities, another was indebted to them for their security. Such had been the state of Europe during several centuries, that self-preservation obliged every man to court the patronage of some powerful baron, and in times of danger his castle was the place to which all resorted for safety. But towns surrounded with walls, whose inhabitants were regularly trained to arms, and bound by interest, as well as by the most solemn engagements, reciprocally to defend each other, afforded a more commodious and secure retreat. The nobles began to be considered as of less importance when they ceased to be the sole guardians to whom the people could look up for protection against violence.

If the nobility suffered some diminution of their credit and power by the privileges granted to the cities, the crown acquired an increase of both. As there were no regular troops kept on foot in any of the feudal kingdoms, the monarch could bring no army into the field, but what was composed of soldiers furnished by the crown vassals always jealous of the regal authority; nor had he any funds for carrying on the public service but such as they granted him with a very sparing hand. But when the members of communities were permitted to bear arms, and were trained to the use of them, this in some degree supplied the first defect, and gave the crown the command of a body of men, independent of its great vassals. The attachment of the cities to their sovereigns, whom they respected as the first authors of their liberties, and whom they were obliged to court as the protectors of their immunities against the domineering spirit of the nobles, contributed somewhat towards removing the second evil, as, on many occasions, it procured the crown supplies of money, which added new force to government.

The acquisition of liberty made such a happy change in the condition of all the members of communities, as roused them from that inaction into which they had been sunk by the wretchedness of their former state. The spirit of industry revived. Commerce became an object of attention, and began to flourish. Population increased. Independence was established; and wealth flowed into cities which had long been the seat of poverty and oppression. Wealth was accompanied by its usual attendants, ostentation and luxury and though the former was formal and cumbersome, and the latter inelegant, they led gradually to greater refinement in manners, and in the habits of life. Together with this improvement in manners, a more regular species of government and police was introduced. As cities grew to be more populous, and the occasions of intercourse among men increased, statutes and regulations multiplied of course, and all became sensible that their common safety depended on observing them with exactness, and on punishing such as violated them, with promptitude and rigor. Laws and subordination, as well as polished manners, taking their rise in cities, diffused themselves insensibly through the test of the society.

III. The inhabitants of cities, having obtained personal freedom and municipal jurisdiction, soon acquired civil liberty and political power. It was a fundamental principle in the feudal system of policy, that no free­man could be subjected to new laws or taxes unless by his own consent. In consequence of this, the vassals of every baron were called to his court, in which they established, by mutual consent, such regulations as they deemed most beneficial to their small society, and granted their superiors such supplies of money, as were proportioned to their abilities, or to his wants. The barons themselves, conformably to the same maxim, were admitted into the supreme assembly of the nation, and concurred with the sovereign in enacting laws, or in imposing taxes. As the superior lord, according to the original plan of feudal policy, retained the direct property of those lands which he granted, in temporary possession, to his vassals the law, even after fiefs became hereditary, still supposed this original practice to subsist. The great council of each nation, whether distinguished by the name of a Parliament, a Diet, the Cortes, or the States-general, was composed entirely of such barons, and dignified ecclesiastics, as held immediately of the crown. Towns, whether situated within the royal domain, or on the lands of a subject, depended originally for protection on the lord of whom they held. They had no legal name, no political existence, which could entitle them to be admitted into the legislative assembly, or could give them any authority there. But as soon as they were enfranchised, and formed into bodies corporate, they became legal and independent members of the constitution, and acquired all the rights essential to free-men. Among these, the most valuable was, the privilege of a decisive voice in enacting public laws, and granting national subsidies. It was natural for cities, accustomed to a form of municipal government, according to which no regulation could be established within the community, and no money could be raised but by their own consent, to claim this privilege. The wealth, the power, and consideration, which they acquired on recovering their liberty, added weight to their claim; and favorable events happened, or fortunate conjunctures occurred, in the different kingdoms of Europe, which facilitated their obtaining possession of this important right. In England, one of the first countries in which the representatives of boroughs were admitted into the great council of the nation, the barons who took arms against Henry III [AD 1265] summoned them to attend parliament, in order to add greater popularity to their party, and to strengthen the barrier against the encroachments of regal power. In France, Philip the Fair, a monarch no less sagacious than enterprising, considered them as instruments which might be employed with equal advantage to extend the royal prerogative, to counterbalance the exorbitant power of the nobles, and to facilitate the imposition of new taxes. With these views, he introduced the deputies of such towns as were formed into communities, into the States-general of the nation. In the empire, the wealth and immunities of the imperial cities placed them on a level with the most considerable members of the Germanic body. Conscious of their own power and dignity, they pretended to the privilege of forming a separate bench in the diet [AD 1293]; and made good their pretensions.

But in what way soever the representatives of cities first gained a place in the legislature, that event had great influence on the form and genius of government. It tempered the rigor of aristocratical oppression with a proper mixture of popular liberty: it secured to the great body of the people, who had formerly no representatives, active and powerful guardians of their rights and privileges: it established an intermediate power between the king and the nobles, to which each had recourse alternately, and which at some times opposed the usurpations of the former, on other occasions checked the encroachments of the latter. As soon as the representatives of communities gained any degree of credit and influence in the legislature, the spirit of laws became different from what it had formerly been; it flowed from new principles; it was directed towards new objects; equality, order, the public good, and the redress of grievances, were phrases and ideas brought into use, and which grew to be familiar in the statutes and jurisprudence of the European nations. Almost all the efforts in favor of liberty in every country of Europe, have been made by this new power in the legislature. In proportion as it rose to consideration and influence, the severity of the aristocratical spirit decreased; and the privileges of the people became gradually more extensive, as the ancient and exorbitant jurisdiction of the nobles was abridged.

IV. The inhabitants of towns having been declared free by the charters of communities, that part of the people which resided in the country, and was employed in agriculture, began to recover liberty by enfranchisement. During the rigor of feudal government, as had been already observed, the great body of the lower people was reduced to servitude. They were slaves fixed to the soil which they cultivated, and together with it were transferred from one proprietor to another, by sale, or by conveyance. The spirit of feudal policy did not favor the enfranchisement of that order of men. It was an established maxim, that no vassal could legally diminish the value of a fief, to the detriment of the lord from whom he had received it. In consequence of this, manumission by the authority of the immediate master was not valid; and unless it was confirmed by the superior lord of whom he held, slaves belonging to the fief did not acquire a complete right to their liberty. Thus it became necessary to ascend through all the gradations of feudal holding to the king, the lord paramount. A form of procedure so tedious and troublesome, discouraged the practice of manumission. Domestic or personal slaves often obtained liberty from the humanity or beneficence of their masters, to whom they belonged in absolute property. The condition of slaves fixed to the soil, was much more unalterable.

But the freedom and independence which one part of the people had obtained by the institution of communities, inspired the other with the most ardent desire of acquiring the same privileges; and their superiors, sensible of the various advantages which they had derived from their former concessions to their dependents, were less unwilling to gratify them by the grant of new immunities. The enfranchisement of slaves became more frequent; and the monarchs of France, prompted by necessity no less than by their inclination to reduce the power of the nobles, endeavored to render it general [AD 1315 and 1318]. Louis X and Philip the Long issued ordinances, declaring, “That as all men were by nature freeborn, and as their kingdom was called the kingdom of Franks, they determined that it should be so in reality as well as in name; therefore they appointed that enfranchisements should be granted throughout the whole kingdom, upon just and reasonable conditions”. These edicts were carried into immediate execution within the royal domain. The example of their sovereigns, together with the expectation of considerable sums which they might raise by this expedient, led many of the nobles to set their dependents at liberty; and servitude was gradually abolished in almost every province of the kingdom. In Italy, the establishment of republican government in their great cities, the genius and maxims of which were extremely different from those of the feudal policy, together with the ideas of equality, which the progress of commerce had rendered familiar, gradually introduced the practice of enfranchising the ancient predial slaves. In some provinces of Germany, the persons who had been subject to this species of bondage were released; in others, the rigor of their state was mitigated. In England, as the spirit of liberty gained ground, the very name and idea of personal servitude, without any formal interposition of the legislature to prohibit it, was totally banished.

The effects of such a remarkable change in the condition of so great a part of the people, could not fail of being considerable and extensive. The husbandman, master of his own industry, and secure of reaping for himself the fruits of his labor, became the farmer of the same fields where he had formerly been compelled to toil for the benefit of another. The odious names of master and of slave, the most mortifying and depressing of all distinctions to human nature, were abolished. New prospects opened, and new incitements to ingenuity and enterprise presented themselves to those who were emancipated. The expectation of bettering their fortune, as well as that of raising themselves to a more honorable condition, concurred in calling forth their activity and genius; and a numerous class of men, who formerly had no political existence, and were employed merely as instruments of labor, became useful citizens, and contributed towards augmenting the force or riches of the society which adopted them as members.

V. The various expedients which were employed in order to introduce a more regular, equal, and vigorous administration of justice, contributed greatly towards the improvement of society. What were the particular modes of dispensing justice, in their several countries, among the various barbarous nations, which overran the Roman Empire, and took possession of its different provinces, cannot now be determined with certainty. We may conclude, from the form of government established among them, as well as from their ideas concerning the nature of society, that the authority of the magistrate was extremely limited, and the independence of individuals proportionally great. History and records, as far as these reach back, justify this conclusion, and represent the ideas and exercise of justice in all the countries of Europe, as little different from those which must take place in the most simple state of civil life. To maintain the order and tranquility of society by the regular execution of known laws; to inflict vengeance on crimes destructive of the peace and safety of individuals, by a prosecution carried on in the name and by the authority of the community; to consider the punishment of criminals as a public example to deter others from violating the laws; were objects of government little understood in theory, and less regarded in practice. The magistrate could hardly be said to hold the sword of justice; it was left in the hands of private persons. Resentment was almost the sole motive for prosecuting, crimes; and to gratify that passion, was considered as the chief end in punishing them. He who suffered the wrong, was the only person who had a right to pursue the aggressor, and to exact or remit the punishment. From a system of judicial procedure, so crude and defective, that it seems to be scarcely compatible with the subsistence of civil society, disorder and anarchy flowed. Superstition concurred with this ignorance concerning the nature of government, in obstructing the administration of justice, or in rendering it capricious and unequal. To provide remedies for these evils, so as to give a more regular course to justice, was, during several centuries, one great object of political wisdom. The regulations for this purpose may be reduced to three general heads: To explain these, and to point out the manner in which they operated, is an important article in the history of society among the nations of Europe.

1. The first considerable step towards establishing an equal administration of justice, was the abolishment of the right which individuals claimed of waging war with each other, in their own name, and by their own authority. To repel injuries, and to revenge wrongs, is no less natural to man, than to cultivate friendship; and while society remains in its most simple state, the former is considered as a personal right no less alienable than the latter. Nor do men in this situation deem that they have a title to redress their own wrongs alone; they are touched with the injuries done to those with whom they are connected, or in whose honor they are interested, and are no less prompt to avenge them. The savage, how imperfectly soever he may comprehend the principles of political union, feels warmly the sentiments of social affection, and the obligations arising from the ties of blood. On the appearance of an injury or affront offered to his family or tribe, he kindles into rage, and pursues the authors of it with the keenest resentment. He considers it as cowardly to expect redress from any arm but his own, and as infamous to give up to another the right of determining what reparation he should accept, or with what vengeance he should rest satisfied.

The maxims and practice of all uncivilized nations, with respect to the prosecution and punishment of offenders, particularly those of the ancient Germans, and other barbarians who invaded the Roman Empire, are perfectly conformable to these ideas. While they retained their native simplicity of manners, and continued to be divided into small tribes or societies, the defects in this imperfect system of criminal jurisprudence (if it merits that name) were less sensibly felt. When they came to settle in the extensive provinces which they had conquered, and to form themselves into great monarchies; when new objects of ambition presenting themselves, increased both the number and the violence of their dissensions; they ought to have adopted new maxims concerning the redress of injuries, and to have regulated, by general and equal laws, that which they formerly left to be directed by the caprice of private passion. But fierce and haughty chieftains, accustomed to avenge themselves on such as had injured them, did not think of relinquishing a right which they considered as a privilege of their order, and a mark of their independence. Laws enforced by the authority of princes and magistrates, who possessed little power, commanded no great degree of reverence. The administration of justice among rude illiterate people, was not so accurate, or decisive, or uniform, as to induce men to submit implicitly to its determinations. Every offended baron buckled on his armour, and sought redress at the head of his vassals. His adversary met him in like hostile array. Neither of them appealed to impotent laws, which could afford them no protection. Neither of them would submit points in which their honor and their passions were warmly interested, to the slow determination of a judicial inquiry. Both trusted to their swords for the decision of the contest. The kindred and dependents of the aggressor, as well as of the defender, were involved in the quarrel. They had not even the liberty of remaining neutral. Such as refused to act in concert with the party to which they belonged, were not only exposed to infamy, but subjected to legal penalties.

The different kingdoms of Europe were torn and afflicted, during several centuries, by intestine wars, excited by private animosities, and carried on with all the rage natural to men of fierce manners, and of violent passions. The estate of every baron was a kind of independent territory, disjoined from those around it, and the hostilities between them seldom ceased. The evil became so inveterate and deep-rooted, that the form and laws of private war were ascertained, and regulations concerning it made a part in the system of jurisprudence, in the same manner as if this practice had been founded in some natural right of humanity, or in the original constitution of civil society.

So great was the disorder, and such the calamities, which these perpetual hostilities occasioned, that various efforts were made to wrest from the nobles this pernicious privilege. It was the interest of every sovereign to abolish a practice which almost annihilated his authority. Charlemagne prohibited it by an express law, as an invention of the devil to destroy the order and happiness of society but the reign of one monarch, however vigorous and active, was too short to extirpate a custom so firmly established. Instead of enforcing this prohibition, his feeble successors durst venture on nothing more than to apply palliatives. They declared it unlawful for any person to commence war until he had sent a formal defiance to the kindred and dependants of his adversary; they ordained that, after the commission of the trespass or crime which gave rise to a private war, forty days must elapse before the person injured should attack the vassals of his adversary; they enjoined all persons to suspend their private animosities, and to cease from hostilities, when the king was engaged in any war against the enemies of the nation. The church co-operated with the civil magistrate, and interposed its authority in order to extirpate a practice so repugnant to the spirit of Christianity. Various councils issued decrees, prohibiting all private wars; and denounced the heaviest anathemas against such as should disturb the tranquility of society, by claiming or exercising that barbarous right. The aid of religion was called in to combat and subdue the ferocity of the times. The Almighty was said to nave manifested, by visions and revelations to different persons, his disapprobation of that spirit of revenge, which armed one part of his creatures against the other. Men were required, in the name of God, to sheathe their swords, and to remember the sacred ties which united them as Christians, and as members of the same society. But this junction of civil and ecclesiastical authority, though strengthened by everything most apt to alarm and to overawe the credulous spirit of those ages, produced no other effect than some temporary suspensions of hostilities, and a cessation from war on certain days and seasons consecrated to the more solemn acts of devotion. The nobles continued to assert this dangerous privilege; they refused to obey some of the laws calculated to annul and circumscribe it; they eluded others; they petitioned; they remonstrated; they struggled for the right of private war as the highest and most honorable distinction of their order. Even so late as the fourteenth century, we find the nobles, in several provinces of France, contending for their ancient method of terminating their differences by the sword, in preference to that of submitting them to the decision of any judge. The final abolition of this practice in that kingdom, and the other countries in which it prevailed, is not to be ascribed so much to the force of statutes and decrees, as to the gradual increase of the royal authority, and to the imperceptible progress of juster sentiments concerning government, order, and public security.

 2. The prohibition of the form of trial by judicial combat, was another considerable step towards the introduction of such regular government, as secured public order and private tranquility. As the right of private war left many of the quarrels among individuals to be decided, like those between nations, by arms; the form of trial by judicial combat, which was established in every country of Europe, banished equity from courts of justice, and rendered chance or force the arbiter of their determinations. In civilized nations, all transactions of any importance are concluded in writing. The exhibition of the deed or instrument is full evidence of the fact, and ascertains with precision what each party has stipulated to perform. But among a rude people, when the arts of reading and writing were such uncommon attainments, that to be master of either entitled a person to the appellation of a clerk or learned man, scarcely any thing was committed to writing but treaties between princes, their grants and charters to their subjects, or such transactions between private parties as were of extraordinary consequence, or had an extensive effect. The greater part of affairs in common life and business were carried on by verbal contracts or promises. This, in many civil questions, not only made it difficult to bring proof sufficient to establish any claim, but encouraged falsehood and fraud, by rendering them extremely easy. Even in criminal cases, where a particular fact must be ascertained, or an accusation must be disproved, the nature and effect of legal evidence were little understood by barbarous nations. To define with accuracy that species of evidence which a court had reason to expect; to determine when it ought to insist on positive proof, and when it should be satisfied with a proof from circumstances; to compare the testimony of discordant witnesses, and to fix the degree of credit due to each; were discussions too intricate and subtle for the jurisprudence of ignorant ages. In order to avoid encumbering themselves with these, a more simple form of procedure was introduced into courts as well civil as criminal. In all cases where the notoriety of the fact did not furnish the clearest and most direct evidence, the person accused, or he against whom an action was brought, was called legally, or offered voluntarily, to purge himself by oath; and upon his declaring his innocence, he was instantly acquitted. This absurd practice effectually screened guilt and fraud from detection and punishment, by rendering the temptation to perjury so powerful, that it was not easy to resist it. The pernicious effects of it were sensibly felt; and in order to guard against them, the laws ordained, that oaths should be administered with great solemnity, and accompanied with every circumstance which could inspire religious reverence, or superstitious terror. This, however, proved a feeble remedy; these ceremonious rites became familiar, and their impression on the imagination gradually diminished; men who could venture to disregard truth, were not apt to startle at the solemnities of an oath. Their observation of this, put legislators upon devising a new expedient for rendering the purgation by oath more certain and satisfactory. They required the person accused to appear with a certain number of freemen, his neighbors or relations, who corroborated the oath which he took, by swearing that they believed all that he uttered to be true. These were called Compurgators, and their number varied according to the importance of the subject in dispute, or the nature of the crime with which a person was charged. In some cases, the concurrence of no less than three hundred of these auxiliary witnesses was requisite to acquit the person accused. But even this device was found to be ineffectual. It was a point of honor with every man in Europe, during several ages, not to desert the chief on whom be depended, and to stand by those with whom the ties of blood connected him. Whoever then was bold enough to violate the laws, was sure of devoted adherents, willing to abet, and eager to serve him in whatever manner he required. The formality of calling compurgators proved an apparent, not a real security, against falsehood and perjury; and the sentences of courts, while they continued to refer every point in question to the oath of the defendant, became so flagrantly, iniquitous, as excited universal indignation against this method of procedure.

Sensible of these defects, but strangers to the manner of correcting them, or of introducing a more proper form, our ancestors, as an infallible method of discovering truth, and of guarding against deception, appealed to Heaven, and referred every point in dispute to be determined, as they imagined, by the decisions of unerring wisdom and impartial justice. The person accused, in order to prove his innocence, submitted to trial, in certain cases, either by plunging his arm in boiling water; or by lifting a red-hot iron with his naked hand; or by walking barefoot over burning ploughshares; or by other experiments equally perilous and formidable On other occasions, he challenged his accuser to fight him in single combat. All these various forms of trial were conducted with many devout ceremonies; the ministers of religion were employed, the Almighty was called upon to interpose for the manifestation of guilt, and for the protection of innocence; and whoever escaped unhurt, or came off victorious, was pronounced to be acquitted by the Judgment of God.

Among all the whimsical and absurd institutions which owe their existence to the weakness of human reason, this, which submitted questions that affected the property, the reputation, and the lives of men, to the determination of chance, or of bodily strength and address, appears to be the most extravagant and preposterous. There were circumstances, however, which led the nations of Europe to consider this equivocal mode of deciding any point in contest, as a direct appeal to Heaven, and a certain method of discovering its will. As men are unable to comprehend the manner in which the Almighty carries on the government of the universe, by equal, fixed, and general laws, they are apt to imagine, that in every case which their passions or interest render important in their own eyes, the Supreme Ruler of all ought visibly to display his power in vindicating innocence and punishing guilt. It requires no inconsiderable degree of science and philosophy to correct this popular error. But the sentiments prevalent in Europe during the dark ages, instead of correcting, strengthened it. Religion, for several centuries, consisted chiefly in believing the legendary history of those saints whose names crowd and disgrace the Romish calendar. The fabulous tales concerning their miracles, had been declared authentic by the bulls of popes, and the decrees of councils: they made the great subject of the instructions which the clergy offered to the people, and were received by them with implicit credulity and admiration. By attending to these, men were accustomed to believe that the established laws of nature might be violated on the most frivolous occasions, and were taught to look rather for particular and extraordinary acts of power under the divine administration, than to contemplate the regular progress and execution of a general plan. One superstition prepared the way for another and whoever believed that the Supreme Being had interposed miraculously on those trivial occasions mentioned in legends, could not but expect his intervention in matters of greater importance, when solemnly referred to his decision.

With this superstitious opinion, the martial spirit of Europe, during the middle ages, concurred in establishing the mode of trial by judicial combat. To be ready to maintain with his sword whatever his lips had uttered, was the first maxim of honor with every gentleman. To assert their own rights by force of arms, to inflict vengeance on those who had injured or affronted them, were the distinction and pride of high-spirited nobles. The form of trial by combat coinciding with this maxim, flattered and gratified these passions. Every man was the guardian of his own honor, and of his own life; the justice of his cause, as well as his future reputation, depended on his own courage and prowess. This mode of decision was considered, accordingly, as one of the happiest efforts of wise policy; and as soon as it was introduced, all the forms of trial by fire or water, and other superstitious experiments, fell into disuse, or were employed only in controversies between persons of inferior rank. As it was the privilege of a gentleman to claim the trial by combat, it was quickly authorized over all Europe, and received in every country with equal satisfaction. Not only questions concerning uncertain or contested facts, but general and abstract points in law, were determined by the issue of a combat; and the latter was deemed a method of discovering truth more liberal, as well as more satisfactory, than that by investigation and argument. Not only might parties, whose minds were exasperated by the eagerness and the hostility of opposition, defy their antagonists, and require him to make good his charge, or to prove his innocence with his sword; but witnesses who had no interest in the issue of the question, though called to declare the truth by laws which ought to have afforded them protection, were equally exposed to the danger of a challenge, and equally bound to assert the veracity of their evidence by dint of arms. To complete the absurdities of this military jurisprudence, even the character of a judge was not sacred from its violence. Any one of the parties might interrupt a judge when about to deliver his opinion; might accuse him of iniquity and corruption in the most reproachful terms, and throwing down the gauntlet, might challenge him to defend his integrity in the field; nor could he, without infamy, refuse to accept the defiance, or decline to enter the lists against such an adversary.

Thus the form of trial by combat, like other abuses, spread gradually, and extended to all persons, and almost to all cases. Ecclesiastics, women, minors, superannuated and infirm persons, who could not with decency or justice be compelled to take arms, or to maintain their own cause, were obliged to produce champions, who offered from affection, or were engaged by rewards, to fight their battles. The solemnities of a judicial combat were such as were natural in an action, which, was considered both as a formal appeal to God, and as the final decision of questions of the highest moment. Every circumstance relating to them was regulated by the edicts of princes, and explained in the comments of lawyers, with a minute and even superstitious accuracy. Skill in these laws and rights was frequently the only science of which warlike nobles boasted, or which they were ambitious to attain.

By this barbarous custom, the natural course of proceeding, both in civil and criminal questions, was entirely perverted. Force usurped the place of equity in courts of judicature, and justice was banished from her proper mansion. Discernment, learning, integrity, were qualities less necessary to a judge, than bodily strength and dexterity in the use of arms. Daring courage, and superior vigour of address, were of more moment towards securing the favorable issue of a suit, than the equity of a cause, or the clearness of the evidence. Men, of course, applied themselves to cultivate the talents which they found to be of greatest utility. As strength of body and address in arms were no less requisite in those lists which they were obliged to enter in defence of their private rights, than in the field of battle, where they met the enemies of their country, it became the great object of their education, as well as the chief employment of life, to acquire these martial accomplishments. The administration of justice, instead of accustoming men to listen to the voice of equity, or to reverence the decisions of law, added to the ferocity of their manners, and taught them to consider force as the great arbiter of right and wrong.

These pernicious effects of the trial by combat were so obvious, that they did not altogether escape the view of the unobserving age in which it was introduced. The clergy, from the beginning, remonstrated against it as repugnant to the spirit of Christianity, and subversive of justice and order. But the maxims and passions which favored it, had taken such hold of the minds of men, that they disregarded admonitions and censures, which, on other occasions, would have struck them with terror. The evil was too great and inveterate to yield to that remedy, and continuing to increase, the civil power at length found it necessary to interpose. Conscious, however, of their own limited authority, monarchs proceeded with caution, and their first attempts to restrain, or to set any bounds to this practice, were extremely feeble. One of the earliest restrictions of this practice which occurs in the history of Europe, is that of Henry I of England. It extended no farther than to prohibit the trial by combat in questions concerning property of small value. Louis VII of France imitated his example, and issued an edict to the same effect. St. Louis, whose ideas as a legislator were far superior to those of his age, endeavored to introduce a more perfect jurisprudence, and to substitute the trial by evidence, in place of that by combat. But his regulations, with respect to this, were confined to his own domains; for the great vassals of the crown possessed such independent authority, and were so fondly attached to the ancient practice, that he had not power to extend it to the whole kingdom. Some barons voluntarily adopted his regulations. The spirit of courts of justice became averse to the mode of decision by combat, and discouraged it on every occasion. The nobles, nevertheless, thought it so honorable to depend for the security of their lives and fortunes on their own courage alone, and contended with so much vehemence for the preservation of this favorite privilege of their order, that the successors of St. Louis, unable to oppose, and afraid of offending such powerful subjects, were obliged not only to tolerate, but to authorize the practice which he had attempted to abolish. In other countries of Europe, efforts equally zealous were employed to maintain the established custom; and similar concessions were extorted from their respective sovereigns. It continued, however, to be an object of policy with every monarch of abilities or vigour to explode the trial by combat; and various edicts were issued for this purpose. But the observation which was made concerning the right of private war, is equally applicable to the mode of trial under review. No custom, how absurd soever it may be, if it has subsisted long, or derives its force from the manners and prejudices of the age in which it prevails, was ever abolished by the bare promulgation of laws and statutes. The sentiments of the people must change, or some new power, sufficient to counteract the prevalent custom, must be introduced. Such a change accordingly took place in Europe, as science gradually increased, and society advanced towards more perfect order. In proportion as the prerogative of princes extended, and came to acquire new force, a power, interested in suppressing every practice favorable to the independence of the nobles, was introduced. The struggle, nevertheless, subsisted for several centuries; sometimes the new regulations and ideas seemed to gain ground; sometimes ancient habits recurred: and though, upon the whole, the trial by combat went more and more into disuse, yet instances of it occur, as late as the sixteenth century, in the history both of France and of England. In proportion as it declined, the regular administration of justice was restored, the proceedings of courts were directed by known laws, the study of these became an object of attention to judges, and the people of Europe advanced fast towards civility, when this great cause of the ferocity of their manners was removed .

3. By authorizing the right of appeal from the courts of the barons to those of the king, and subjecting the decisions of the former to the review of the latter, a new step, not less considerable than those which I have already mentioned, was taken towards establishing the regular, consistent, and vigorous administration of justice. Among all the encroachments of the feudal nobles on the prerogative of their monarchs, their usurping the administration of justice with supreme authority, both in civil and criminal causes, within the precincts of their own estates, was the most singular. In other nations, subjects have contended with their sovereigns, and have endeavored to extend their own power and privileges; but in the history of their struggles and pretensions, we discover nothing similar to this right which the feudal barons claimed and obtained. It must have been something peculiar in their genius and manners that suggested this idea, and prompted them to insist on such a claim. Among the rude people who conquered the various provinces of the Roman Empire, and established new kingdoms there, the passion of resentment, too impetuous to their control, was permitted to remain almost unrestrained by the authority of laws. The person offended, as has been observed, retained not only the right of prosecuting, but of punishing his adversary. To him it belonged to inflict such vengeance as satiated his rage, or to accept of such satisfaction as appeased it. But while fierce barbarians continued to be the sole judges in their own cause, their enmities were implacable and immortal; they set no bounds either to the degree of their vengeance, or to the duration of their resentment. The excesses which this occasioned, proved so destructive of peace and order in society, as to render it necessary to devise some remedy. At first, recourse was had to arbitrators, who by persuasion or entreaty prevailed on the party offended to accept of a fine or composition from the aggressor, and to drop all farther prosecution. But as submission to persons who had no legal or magisterial authority was altogether voluntary, it became necessary to establish judges, with power sufficient to enforce their own decisions. The leader whom they were accustomed to follow and to obey, whose courage they respected, and in whose integrity they placed confidence, was the person to whom a martial people naturally committed this important prerogative. Every chieftain was the commander of his tribe in war, and their judge in peace. Every baron led his vassals to the field, and administered justice to them in his hall. Their high-spirited dependants would not have recognized any other authority, or have submitted to any other jurisdiction. But in times of turbulence and violence, the exercise of this new function was attended not only with trouble, but with danger. No person could assume the character of a judge, if he did not possess power sufficient to protect the one party from the violence of private revenge, and to compel the other to accept of such reparation as he enjoined. In consideration of the extraordinary efforts which this office required, judges, besides the line which they appointed to be paid as a compensation to the person or family who had been injured, levied an additional sum as a recompense for their own labor; and in all the feudal kingdoms the latter was not only as precisely ascertained, but as regularly exacted, as the former.

Thus, by the natural operation of circumstances peculiar to the manners or political state of the feudal nations, separate and territorial jurisdictions came not only to be established in every kingdom, but were established in such a way, that the interest of the barons concurred with their ambition in maintaining and extending them. It was not merely a point of honor with the feudal nobles to dispense justice to their vassals; but from the exercise of that power arose one capital branch of their revenue; and the emoluments of their courts were frequently the main support of their dignity. It was with infinite zeal that they asserted and defended this high privilege of their order. By this institution, however, every kingdom in Europe was split into as many separate principalities as it contained powerful barons. Their vassals, whether in peace or in war, were hardly sensible of any authority, but that of their immediate superior lord. They felt themselves subject to no other command. They were amenable to no other jurisdiction. The ties which linked together these smaller confederacies became close and firm; the bonds of public union relaxed, or were dissolved. The nobles strained their invention in devising regulations which tended to ascertain and perpetuate this distinction. In order to guard against any appearance of subordination in their courts to those of the crown, they frequently constrained their monarchs to prohibit the royal judges from entering their territories, or from claiming any jurisdiction there; and if, either through mistake, or from the spirit of encroachment, any royal judge ventured to extend his authority to the vassals of a baron, they might plead their right of exemption, and the lord of whom they held could not only rescue them out of his hands, but was entitled to legal reparation for the injury and affront offered to him. The jurisdiction of the royal judges scarcely reached beyond the narrow limits of the king's demesnes. Instead of a regular gradation of courts, all acknowledging the authority of the same general laws, and looking up to these as the guides of their decisions, there were in every feudal kingdom a number of independent tribunals, the proceedings of which were directed by local customs and contradictory forms. The collision of jurisdiction among these different courts often retarded the execution of justice. The variety and caprice of their modes of procedure must have for ever kept the administration of it from attaining any degree of uniformity or perfection.

All the monarchs of Europe perceived these encroachments on their jurisdiction, and bore them with impatience. But the usurpations of the nobles were so firmly established, and the danger of endeavoring to overturn them by open force was so manifest, that kings were obliged to remain satisfied with attempts to undermine them. Various expedients were employed for this purpose; each of which merits attention as they mark the progress of law and equity in the several kingdoms of Europe. At first, princes endeavored to circumscribe the jurisdiction of the barons, by contending that they ought to take cognizance only of smaller offences, reserving those of greater moment, under the appellation of Pleas of the Crown, and Royal Causes, to be tried in the king's courts. This, however, affected only the barons of inferior note; the more powerful nobles scorned such a distinction, and not only claimed unlimited jurisdiction, but obliged their sovereigns to grant them charters, conveying or recognizing this privilege in the most ample form. The attempt, nevertheless, was productive of some good consequences, and paved the way for more. It turned the attention of men towards a jurisdiction distinct from that of the baron whose vassals they were; it accustomed them to the pretensions of superiority which the crown claimed over territorial judges; and taught them, when oppressed by their own superior lord, to look up to their sovereign as their protector. This facilitated the introduction of appeal, by which princes brought the decision, of the barons' courts under the review of the royal judges. While trial by combat subsisted in full vigour, no point decided according to that mode could be brought under the review of another court. It had been referred to the judgment of God; the issue of battle had declared his will; and it would have been impious to have called in question the equity of the divine decision. But as soon as the barbarous custom began to fall into disuse, princes encouraged the vassals of the barons to sue for redress, by appealing to the royal courts. The progress of this practice, however, was slow and gradual. The first instances of appeals were on account of the delay or refusal of justice in the baron’s court feudal and as these were countenanced by the ideas of subordination in the feudal constitution, the nobles allowed them to be introduced without much opposition. But when these were followed by appeals on account of the injustice or iniquity of the sentence, the nobles then began to be sensible, that if this innovation became general, the shadow of power alone would remain in their hands, and all real authority and jurisdiction would centre in those courts which possessed the right of review. They instantly took the alarm, remonstrated against the encroachment, and contended boldly for their ancient privileges. But the monarchs in the different kingdoms of Europe pursued their plan with steadiness and prudence. Though forced to suspend their operations on some occasions, and seemingly to yield when any formidable confederacy of their vassals united against them, they resumed their measures as soon as they observed the nobles to be remiss or feeble, and pushed them with vigor. They appointed the royal courts, which originally were ambulatory, and irregular with respect to their times of meeting, to be held in a fixed place, and at stated seasons. They were solicitous to name judges of more distinguished abilities than such as usually presided in the courts of the barons. They added dignity to their character, and splendor to their assemblies. They labored to render their forms regular and their decrees consistent. Such judicatories became, of course, the objects of public confidence as well as veneration. The people, relinquishing the partial tribunals of their lords, were eager to bring every subject of contest under the more equal and discerning eye of those whom their sovereign had chosen to give judgment in his name. Thus kings became once more the heads of the community, and the dispensers of justice to their subjects. The barons, in some kingdoms, ceased to exercise their right of jurisdiction, because it sunk into contempt; in others, it was circumscribed by such regulations as rendered it innocent, or it was entirely abolished by express statutes. Thus the administration of justice taking its rise from one source, and following one direction, held its course in every state with more uniformity, and with greater force.

VI. The forms and maxims of the canon law, which were become universally respectable from their authority in the spiritual courts, contributed not a little towards those improvements in jurisprudence which I have enumerated. If we consider the canon law politically, and view it either as a system framed on purpose to assist the clergy in usurping powers and jurisdiction no less repugnant to the nature of their function, than inconsistent with the order of government; or as the chief instrument in establishing the dominion of the popes, which shook the throne, and endangered the liberties of every kingdom in Europe, we must pronounce it one of the most formidable engines ever formed against the happiness of civil society. But if we contemplate it merely as a code of laws respecting the rights and property of individuals, and attend only to the civil effects of its decisions concerning these, it will appear in a different, and a much more favorable light. In ages of ignorance and credulity, the ministers of religion are the objects of superstitious veneration. When the barbarians who overran the Roman Empire first embraced the Christian faith, they found the clergy in possession of considerable power; and they naturally transferred to those new guides the profound submission and reverence which they were accustomed to yield to the priests of that religion which they had forsaken. They deemed their persons to be equally sacred with their function; and would have considered it as impious to subject them to the profane jurisdiction of the laity. The clergy were not blind to these advantages which the weakness of mankind afforded them. They established courts in which every question relating to their own character, their function, or their property, was tried. They pleaded and obtained an almost total exemption from the authority of civil judges. Upon different pretexts, and by a multiplicity of artifices, they communicated this privilege to so many persons, and extended their jurisdiction to such a variety of cases, that the greater part of those affairs which gave rise to contest and litigation, was drawn under the cognizance of the spiritual courts.

But, in order to dispose the laity to suffer these usurpations without murmur or opposition, it was necessary to convince them, that the administration of justice would be rendered more perfect by the establishment of this new jurisdiction. This was not a difficult undertaking at that period, when ecclesiastics carried on their encroachments with the greatest success. That scanty portion of science which served to guide men in the ages of darkness, was almost entirely engrossed by the clergy. They alone were accustomed to read, to inquire, and to reason. Whatever knowledge of ancient jurisprudence had been preserved, either by tradition, or in such books as had escaped the destructive rage of barbarians, was possessed by them. Upon the maxims of that excellent system, they founded a code of laws consonant to the great principles of equity. Being directed by fixed and known rules, the forms of their courts were ascertained, and their decisions became uniform and consistent. Nor did they want authority sufficient to enforce their sentences. Excommunication and other ecclesiastical censures, were punishments more formidable than any that civil judges could inflict in support of their decrees.

It is not surprising, then, that ecclesiastical jurisprudence should become such an object of admiration and respect, that exemption from civil jurisdiction was courted as a privilege, and conferred as a reward. It is not surprising, that, even to rude people, the maxims of the canon law should appear more equal and just than those of the ill-digested jurisprudence which directed all proceedings in civil courts. According to the latter, the differences between contending barons were terminated, as in a state of nature, by the sword; according to the former, every matter was subjected to the decision of laws. The one, by permitting judicial combats, left chance and force to be arbiters of right or wrong, of truth or falsehood; the other passed judgment with respect to these, by the maxims of equity, and the testimony of witnesses. Any error or iniquity in a sentence pronounced by a baron to whom feudal jurisdiction belonged, was irremediable, because, originally it was subject to the review of no superior tribunal all the ecclesiastical law established a regular gradation of courts, through all which a cause might be carried by appeal, until it was determined by that authority which was held to be supreme in the church. Thus the genius and principles of the canon law prepared men for approving those three great alterations in the feudal jurisprudence which I have mentioned. But it was not with respect to these points alone that the canon law suggested improvements beneficial to society. Many of the regulations, now deemed the barriers of personal security, or the safeguards of private property, are contrary to the spirit, and repugnant to the maxims of the civil jurisprudence known in Europe during several centuries, and were borrowed from the rules and practice of the ecclesiastical courts. By observing the wisdom and equity of the decisions in these courts, men began to perceive the necessity either of deserting the martial tribunals of the barons, or of attempting to reform them .

VII. The revival of the knowledge and study of the Roman law co-operated with the causes which I have mentioned, in introducing more just and liberal ideas concerning the nature of government, and the administration of justice. Among the calamities which the devastations of the barbarians, who broke in upon the empire, brought upon mankind, one of the greatest was their overturning the system of Roman jurisprudence, the noblest monument of the wisdom of that great people, formed to subdue and to govern the world. The laws and regulations of a civilized community were altogether repugnant to the manners and ideas of these fierce invaders. They had respect to objects of which a rude people had no conception; and were adapted to a state of society with which they were entirely unacquainted. For this reason, wherever they settled, the Roman jurisprudence soon sunk into oblivion, and lay buried for some centuries under the load of those institutions which the inhabitants of Europe dignified with the name of laws. But towards the middle of the twelfth century, a copy of Justinian's Pandects was accidentally discovered in Italy. By that time, the state of society was so far advanced, and the ideas of men so much enlarged and improved by the occurrences of several centuries, during which they had continued in political union, that they were struck with admiration of a system which their ancestors could not comprehend. Though they had not hitherto attained such a degree of refinement, as to acquire from the ancients a relish for true philosophy or speculative science; though they were still insensible, in a great degree, to the beauty and elegance of classical composition; they were sufficiently qualified to judge with respect to the merit of their system of laws, in which the many points most interesting to mankind were settled with discernment, precision, and equity. All men of letters studied this new science with eagerness; and within a few years after the discovery of the Pandects, professors of civil law were appointed, who taught it publicly in most countries of Europe.

The effects of having such an excellent model to study and to imitate were immediately perceived. Men, as soon as they were acquainted with fixed and general laws, perceived the advantage of them, and became impatient to ascertain the principles and forms by which judges should regulate their decisions. Such was the ardor with which they carried on an undertaking of so great importance to society, that, before the close of the twelfth century, the feudal law was reduced into a regular system; the code of canon law was enlarged and methodized; and the loose uncertain customs of different provinces or kingdoms were collected and arranged with an order and accuracy acquired from the knowledge of Roman jurisprudence. In some countries of Europe the Roman law was adopted as subsidiary to their own municipal law; and all cases to which the latter did not extend, were decided according to the principles of the former. In others, the maxims as well as forms of Roman jurisprudence mingled in perceptibly with the laws of the country, and had a powerful, though less sensible, influence, in improving and perfecting them.

These various improvements in the system of jurisprudence, and administration of justice, occasioned a change in manners, of great importance, and of extensive effect. They gave rise to a distinction of professions; they obliged men to cultivate different talents, and to aim at different accomplishments, in order to qualify themselves for the various departments and functions which became necessary in society. Among uncivilized nations, there is but one profession honorable, that of arms. All the ingenuity and vigour of the human mind are exerted in acquiring military skill or address. The functions of peace are few and simple; and require no particular course of education or of study, as a preparation for discharging them. This was the state of Europe during several centuries. Every gentleman, born a soldier, scorned any other occupation; he was taught no science but that of war; even his exercises and pastimes were feats of martial prowess. Nor did the judicial character, which persons of noble birth were alone entitled to assume, demand any degree of knowledge beyond that which such untutored soldiers possessed. To recollect a few traditionary customs which time had confirmed, and rendered respectable; to mark out the lists of battle with due formality; to observe the issue of the combat; and to pronounce whether it had been conducted according to the laws of arms; included everything that a baron, who acted as a judge, found it necessary to understand.

But when the forms of legal proceedings were fixed, when the rules of decision were committed to writing, and collected into a body, law became a science, the knowledge of which required a regular course of study, together with long attention to the practice of courts. Martial and illiterate nobles had neither leisure nor inclination to undertake a task so laborious, as well as so foreign from all the occupations which they deemed entertaining, or suitable to their rank. They gradually relinquished their places in courts of justice, where their ignorance exposed them to contempt. They became weary of attending to the discussion of cases, which grew too intricate for them to comprehend. Not only the judicial determination of points which were the subject of controversy, but the conduct of all legal business and transactions, was committed to persons trained by previous study and application to the knowledge of law. An order of men, to whom their fellow citizens had daily recourse for advice, and to whom they looked up for decision in their most important concerns, naturally acquired consideration and influence in society. They were advanced to honors which had been considered hitherto as the peculiar rewards of military virtue. They were entrusted with offices of the highest dignity and most extensive power. Thus, another profession than that of arms came to be introduced among the laity, and was reputed honorable. The functions of civil life were attended to. The talents requisite for discharging them were cultivated. A new road was opened to wealth and eminence. The arts and virtues of peace were placed in their proper rank, and received their due recompense.

VIII. While improvements, so important with respect to the state of society and the administration of justice, gradually made progress in Europe, sentiments more liberal and generous had begun to animate the nobles. These were inspired by the spirit of chivalry, which, though considered, commonly, as a wild institution, the effect of caprice, and the source of extravagance, arose naturally from the state of society at that period, and had a very serious influence in refining the manners of the European nations. The feudal state was a state of almost perpetual war, rapine, and anarchy during which the weak and unarmed were exposed to insults or injuries. The power of the sovereign was too limited to prevent these wrongs; and the administration of justice too feeble to redress them. The most effectual protection against violence and oppression was often found to be that which the valor and generosity of private persons afforded. The same spirit of enterprise which had prompted so many gentlemen to take arms in defence of the oppressed pilgrims in Palestine, incited others to declare themselves the patrons and avengers of injured innocence at home. When the final reduction of the Holy Land under the dominion of infidels put an end to these foreign expeditions, the latter was the only employment left for the activity and courage of adventurers. To check the insolence of overgrown oppressors; to rescue the helpless from captivity; to protect, or to avenge women, orphans, and ecclesiastics, who could not bear arms in their own defence; to redress wrongs and remove grievances; were deemed acts of the highest prowess and merit. Valor, humanity, courtesy, justice, honor, were the characteristic qualities of chivalry. To these were added religion, which mingled itself with every passion and institution during the middle ages, and by infusing a large proportion of enthusiastic zeal, gave them such force, as carried them to romantic excess. Men were trained to knighthood by a long previous discipline; they were admitted into the order by solemnities no less devout than pompous; every person of noble birth courted that honor; it was deemed a distinction superior to royalty; and monarchs were proud to receive it from the hands of private gentlemen.

This singular institution, in which valor, gallantry, and religion, were so strangely blended, was wonderfully adapted to the taste and genius of martial nobles; and its effects were soon visible in their manners. War was carried on with less ferocity, when humanity came to be deemed the ornament of knighthood no less than courage. More gentle and polished manners were introduced, when courtesy was recommended as the most amiable of knightly virtues. Violence and oppression decreased, when it was reckoned meritorious to check and to punish them. A scrupulous adherence to truth, with the most religious attention to fulfill every engagement, became the distinguishing characteristic of a gentleman, because chivalry was regarded as the school of honor, and inculcated the most delicate sensibility with respect to those points. The admiration of these qualities, together with the high distinctions and prerogatives conferred on knighthood in every part of Europe, inspired persons of noble birth on some occasions with a species of military fanaticism, and led them to extravagant enterprises. But they deeply imprinted on their minds the principles of generosity and honor. These were strengthened by everything that can affect the senses or touch the heart. The wild exploits of those romantic knights who sallied forth in quest of adventures, are well known, and have been treated with proper ridicule. The political and permanent effects of the spirit of chivalry have been less observed. Perhaps, the humanity which accompanies all the operations of war, the refinements of gallantry, and the point of honor, the three chief circumstances which distinguish modern from ancient manners, may be ascribed in a great measure to this institution, which has appeared whimsical to superficial observers, but by its effects has proved of great benefit to mankind. The sentiments which chivalry inspired had a wonderful influence on manners and conduct during the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. They were so deeply rooted, that they continued to operate after the vigour and reputation of the institution itself began to decline. Some considerable transactions, recorded in the following history, resemble the adventurous exploits of chivalry, rather than the well-regulated operations of sound policy. Some of the most eminent personages, whose characters will be delineated, were strongly tinctured with this romantic spirit. Francis I was ambitious to distinguish himself by all the qualities of an accomplished knight, and endeavored to imitate the enterprising genius of chivalry in war, as well as its pomp and courtesy during peace. The fame which the French monarch acquired by these splendid actions, so far dazzled his more temperate rival, that he departed on some occasions from his usual prudence and moderation, and emulated Francis in deeds of prowess or of gallantry.

IX. The progress of science, and the cultivation of literature, had a considerable effect in changing the manners of the European nations, and introducing that civility and refinement by which they are now distinguished. At the time when their empire was overturned, the Romans, though they had lost that correct taste which has rendered the productions of their ancestors standards of excellence, and models of imitation for succeeding ages, still preserved their love of letters, and cultivated the arts with great ardor. But rude barbarians were so far from being struck with any admiration of these unknown accomplishments, that they despised them. They were not arrived at that state of society, when those faculties of the human mind, which have beauty and elegance for their objects, begin to unfold themselves. They were strangers to most of those wants and desires which are the parents of ingenious invention; and as they did not comprehend either the merit or utility of the Roman arts, they destroyed the monuments of them, with an industry not inferior to that with which their posterity have since studied to preserve or to recover them. The convulsions occasioned by the settlement of so many unpolished tribes in the empire; the frequent as well as violent revolutions in every kingdom which they established; together with the interior defects in the form of government which they introduced, banished security and leisure; prevented the growth of taste, or the culture of science; and kept Europe, during several centuries, in that state of ignorance which has been already described. But the events and institutions which I have enumerated, produced great alterations in society. As soon as their operation, in restoring liberty and independence to one part of the community, began to be felt; as soon as they began to communicate to all the members of society, some taste of the advantages arising from commerce, from public order, and from personal security, the human mind became conscious of powers which it did not formerly perceive, and fond of occupations or pursuits of which It was formerly incapable. Towards the beginning of the twelfth century, we discern the first symptoms of its awakening from that lethargy in which it had been long sunk, and observe it turning with curiosity and attention towards new objects.

The first literary efforts, however, of the European nations in the middle ages, were extremely ill-directed. Among nations, as well as individuals, the powers of imagination attained some degree of vigour before the intellectual faculties are much exercised in speculative or abstract disquisition. Men are poets before they are philosophers. They feel with sensibility, and describe with force, when they have made but little progress in investigation or reasoning. The age of Homer and of Hesiod long preceded that of Thales or of Socrates. But, unhappily for literature, our ancestors, deviating from this course which nature points out, plunged at once into the depths of abstruse and metaphysical inquiry. They had been converted to the Christian faith, soon after they settled in their new conquests. But they did not receive it pure. The presumption of men had added to the simple and instructive doctrines of Christianity the theories of a vain philosophy, that attempted to penetrate into mysteries, and to decide questions which the limited faculties of the human mind are unable to comprehend or to resolve. These over-curious speculations were incorporated with the system of religion, and came to be considered as the most essential part of it. As soon, then, as curiosity prompted men to inquire and to reason, these were the subjects which first presented themselves, and engaged their attention. The scholastic theology, with its infinite train of bold disquisitions and subtile distinctions concerning points which are not the object of human reason, was the first production of the spirit of inquiry after it began to resume some degree of activity and vigour in Europe. It was not, however, this circumstance alone that gave such a wrong turn to the minds of men, when they began again to exercise talents which they had so long neglected. Most of the persons who attempted to revive literature in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, had received instruction, or derived their principles of science, from the Greeks in the eastern empire, or from the Arabians in Spain and Africa. Both these people, acute and inquisitive to excess, had corrupted those sciences which they cultivated. The former rendered theology a system of speculative refinement, or of endless controversy. The latter communicated to philosophy a spirit of metaphysical and frivolous subtlety. Misled by these guides, the persons who first applied to science were involved in a maze of intricate inquiries. Instead of allowing their fancy to take its natural range, and to produce such works of invention as might have improved their taste, and refined their sentiments; instead of cultivating those arts which embellish human life, and render it comfortable; they were fettered by authority, they were led astray by example, and wasted the whole force of their genius in speculations as unavailing as they were difficult.

But fruitless and ill-directed as these speculations were, their novelty roused, and their boldness interested the human mind. The ardor with which men pursued those uninviting studies, was astonishing. Genuine philosophy was never cultivated, in any enlightened age, with more zeal. Schools, upon the model of those instituted by Charlemagne, were opened in every cathedral, and almost in every monastery of note. Colleges and universities were erected and formed into communities or corporations, governed by their own laws, and invested with separate and extensive jurisdiction over their own members. A regular course of studies was planned. Privileges of great value were conferred on masters and scholars. Academical titles and honors of various kinds were invented as a recompense for both. Nor was it in the schools alone that superiority in science led to reputation and authority; it became an object of respect in life, and advanced such as acquired it to a rank of no inconsiderable eminence. Allured by all these advantages, an incredible number of students resorted to those new seats of learning, and crowded with eagerness into that new path which was opened to fame and distinction.

But how considerable soever these first efforts may appear, there was one circumstance which prevented the effects of them from being as extensive as they naturally ought to have been. All the languages in Europe, during the period under review, were barbarous. They were destitute of elegance, of force, and even of perspicuity. No attempt had been hitherto made to improve or to polish them. The Latin tongue was consecrated by the church to religion. Custom, with authority scarcely less sacred, had appropriated it to literature. All the sciences cultivated in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were taught in Latin. All books with respect to them were written in that language. It would have been deemed a degradation of any important subject, to have treated of it in a modern language. This confined science within a very narrow circle. The learned alone were admitted into the temple of knowledge; the gate was shut against all others, who were suffered to remain involved in their former darkness and ignorance.

But though science was thus prevented, during several ages, from diffusing itself through society, and its influence was much circumscribed; the progress which it made may be mentioned, nevertheless, among the great causes which contributed to introduce a change of manners into Europe. The ardent, though ill-judged spirit of inquiry which I have described, occasioned a fermentation of mind that put ingenuity and invention in motion, and gave them vigour. It led men to a new employment of their faculties, which they found to be agreeable as well as interesting. It accustomed them to exercises and occupations which tended to soften their manners, and to give them some relish for the gentle virtues, peculiar to people among whom science has been cultivated with success.

X. The progress of commerce had considerable influence in polishing the manners of the European nations, and in establishing among them order, equal laws, and humanity. The wants of men, in the original and most simple state of society, are so few, and their desires so limited, that they rest contented with the natural productions of their climate and soil, or with what they can add to these by their own rude industry. They have no superfluities to dispose of, and few necessities that demand a supply. Every little community subsisting on its own domestic flock, and satisfied with it, is either little acquainted with the states around it, or at variance with them. Society and manners must be considerably improved, and many provisions must be made for public order and personal security, before a liberal intercourse can take place between different nations. We find, accordingly, that the first effect of the settlement of the barbarians in the Empire, was to divide those nations which the Roman power had united. Europe was broken into many separate communities. The intercourse between these divided states, ceased almost entirely during several centuries. Navigation was dangerous in seas infested by pirates; nor could strangers trust to a friendly reception in the ports of uncivilized nations. Even between distant parts of the same kingdom, the communication was rare and difficult. The lawless rapine of banditti, together with the avowed exactions of the nobles, scarcely less formidable than oppressive, rendered a journey of any length a perilous enterprise. Fixed to the spot in which they resided, the greater part of the inhabitants of Europe lost, in a great measure, the knowledge of remote regions, and were unacquainted with their names, their situations, their climates, and their commodities.

Various causes, however, contributed to revive the spirit of commerce, and to renew, in some degree, the intercourse between different nations. The Italians, by their connection with Constantinople, and other cities of the Greek empire, had preserved in their own country considerable relish for the precious commodities and curious manufactures of the East. They communicated some knowledge of these to the countries contiguous to Italy. But this commerce being extremely limited, the intercourse which it occasioned between different nations was not considerable. The Crusades, by leading multitudes from every corner of Europe into Asia, opened a more extensive communication between the East and West, which subsisted for two centuries; and though the object of these expeditions was conquest and not commerce; though the issue of them proved as unfortunate, as the motives for undertaking them were wild and enthusiastic; their commercial effects, as bath been shown, were both beneficial and permanent. During the continuance of the Crusades, the great cities in Italy, and in other countries of Europe, acquired liberty, and together with it such privileges as rendered them respectable and independent communities. Thus, in every state, there was formed a new order of citizens, to whom commerce presented itself as their proper object, and opened to them a certain path to wealth and consideration. Soon after the close of the Holy War, the mariner’s compass was invented, which, by rendering navigation more secure, encouraged it to become more adventurous, facilitated the communication between remote nations, and brought them nearer to each other.

The Italian States, during the same period, established a regular commerce with the East in the ports of Egypt, and drew from thence all the rich products of the Indies. They introduced into their own territories manufactures of various kinds, and carried them on with great ingenuity and vigor. They attempted new arts; and transplanted from warmer climates, to which they had been hitherto deemed peculiar, several natural productions which now furnish the materials of a lucrative and extended commerce. All these commodities, whether imported from Asia, or produced by their own skill, they disposed of too great advantage among the other people of Europe, who began to acquire some taste for an elegance in living unknown to their ancestors, or despised by them. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the commerce of Europe was almost entirely in the hands of the Italians, more commonly known in those ages by the name of Lombards. Companies or societies of Lombard merchants settled in every different kingdom. They were taken under the immediate protection of the several governments. they enjoyed extensive privileges and, immunities. The operation of the ancient barbarous laws concerning strangers, was suspended with respect to them. They became the carriers, the manufacturers, and the bankers of all Europe.

While the Italians, in the South of Europe, were cultivating trade with such industry and success, the commercial spirit awakened in the North towards the middle of the thirteenth century. As the nations around the Baltic were, at that time, extremely barbarous, and infested that sea with their piracies, the cities of Lübeck and Hamburg, soon after they began to open some trade with these people, found it necessary to enter into a league of mutual defence. They derived such advantages from this union, that other towns acceded to their confederacy, and in a short time, eighty of the most considerable cities scattered through those extensive countries which stretch from the bottom of the Baltic to Cologne on the Rhine, joined in the famous Hanseatic league, which became so formidable, that its alliance was courted, and its enmity was dreaded by the greatest monarchs. The members of this powerful association formed the first systematic plan of commerce known in the middle ages, and conducted it by common laws enacted in their general assemblies. They supplied the rest of Europe with naval stores, and pitched on different towns, the most eminent of which was Bruges in Flanders, where they established staples in which their commerce was regularly carried on. Thither the Lombards brought the productions of India, together with the manufactures of Italy, and exchanged them for the more bulky, but not less useful commodities of the North. The Hanseatic merchants disposed of the cargoes which they received from the Lombards, in the ports of the Baltic, or carried them up the great rivers into the interior parts of Germany.

This regular intercourse opened between the nations in the north and south of Europe, made them sensible of their mutual wants, and created such new and increasing demands for commodities of every kind, that it excited among the inhabitants of the Netherlands a more vigorous spirit in carrying on the two great manufactures of wool and flax, which seem to have been considerable in that country as early as the age of Charlemagne. As Bruges became the centre of communication between the Lombard and Hanseatic merchants, the Flemings traded with both in that city to such extent as well as advantage, as spread among them a general habit of industry, which long rendered and the adjacent provinces the most opulent, the most populous, and best cultivated countries in Europe.

Struck with the flourishing state of these provinces, of which he discerned the true cause, Edward III of England endeavored to excite a spirit of industry among his own subjects, who, blind to the advantages of their situation, and ignorant of the source from which opulence was destined to flow into their country, were so little attentive to their commercial interests, as hardly to attempt those manufactures, the materials of which they furnished to foreigners. By alluring Flemish artisans to settle in his dominions, as well as by many wise laws for the encouragement and regulation of trade, Edward gave a beginning to the woolen manufactures of England, and first turned the active and enterprising genius of his people towards those arts which have raised the English to the highest rank among, commercial nations.

This increase of commerce, and of intercourse between nations, how inconsiderable soever it may appear in respect of their rapid and extensive progress during the last and present age, seems wonderfully great, when we compare it with the state of both in Europe previous to the twelfth century. It did not fall of producing great effects. Commerce tends to wear off those prejudices which maintain distinction and animosity between nations. It softens and polishes the manners of men. It unites them by one of the strongest of all ties, the desire of supplying their mutual wants. It disposes them to peace, by establishing in every state an order of citizens bound by their interest to be the guardians of public tranquility. As soon as the commercial spirit acquires vigor, and begins to gain an ascendant in any society, we discover a new genius in its policy, its alliances, its wars, and its negotiations. Conspicuous proofs of this occur in the history of the Italian states, of the Hanseatic league, and the cities of the Netherlands during the period under review. In proportion as commerce made its way into the different countries of Europe, they successively turned their attention to those objects, and adopted those manners, which occupy and distinguish polished nations.