within the assembly, there was no three-fold division of nobles, clergy and burghers such as generally prevailed on the Continent. From the time of Edward III onwards, knights and towns were regularly represented alongside barons and bishops in the English Parliament. The two-chamber system of Lords and Commons was a subsequent development, which did not divide Parliament itself along Estate lines, but basically marked an intra-class distinction within the nobility. A centralized monarchy had produced a unified assembly.
Two further consequences followed from the early centralization of the English feudal polity. The unitary Parliaments which met in London did not achieve the degree of meticulous fiscal control nor the rights of regular convocation which later characterized some of the continental Estates systems. But they did secure a traditional negative limitation of royal legislative power, which was to become of great importance in the epoch of Absolutism: it became accepted, after Edward I, that no monarch could decree new statutes without the consent of Parliament.3 Viewed structurally, this veto corresponded closely to the objective exigencies of noble class power. In effect, since centralized royal administration was from the start geographically and technically easier in England than elsewhere, there was proportionately less need for it to be equipped with any innovatory decretal authority, which could not be justified by inherent dangers of regional separatism or ducal anarchy. Thus while the real executive powers of English mediaeval kings were usually much greater than those of French monarchs, for that very reason, they never won the relative legislative autonomy eventually enjoyed by the latter. A second comparable feature of English feudalism was the unusual fusion between monarchy and nobility at the local judicial and administrative level. Whereas on the continent, the court system was typically divided between segregated royal and seigneurial jurisdictions, in England the survival of pre-feudal folk courts had provided a kind of common terrain on which a blend of the two could be achieved. For the sheriffs who presided over the shire-courts were non-hereditary royal appointees; yet they were selected from the local gentry, not from a central bureaucracy; while the courts themselves retained vestiges of their original character as popular juridical assemblies in which the free men of the rural community appeared before their equals. The result was to block the development either of a comprehensive bailli system of professionalized royal justice or of an extensive baronial haute justice; instead, an unpaid aristocratic self-administration emerged in the counties, which was later to evolve into the Justices of the Peace of the early modern epoch. In the mediaeval period itself, of course, the equipoise of the shire courts still coexisted with manorial courts and some seigneurial franchises of an orthodox feudal type, such as were to be found all over the Continent.
At the same time, the English nobility of the Middle Ages was fully as militarized and predatory a class as any in Europe: indeed it distinguished itself among its counterparts by the scope and constancy of its external aggression. No other feudal aristocracy of the later mediaeval epoch ranged so far and freely, as a whole order, from its territorial base. The repeated ravages of France during the Hundred Years War were the most spectacular feats of this militarism: but Scotland and Flanders, the Rhineland and Navarre, Portugal and Castile, were also traversed by armed expeditions from England in the 14th century. English knights fought abroad from the Forth to the Ebro in this age. The military organization of these expeditions reflected the local development of a monetarized ‘bastard’ feudalism. The last feudal array proper, summoned on the basis of land tenure, was called out in 1385, for Richard II’s attack on Scotland. The Hundred Years’ War was essentially fought by indentured companies, raised on the basis of cash contracts by major lords for the monarchy, and owing obedience to their own captains; shire levies and foreign mercenaries provided supplementary forces. No permanent or professional army was involved, and the scale of the expeditions was numerically modest: troops dispatched to France never numbered much more than 10,000. The nobles who led the successive forays into Valois territory remained basically freebooting in outlook. Private plunder, ransom and land were the objects of their ambition; and the most successful captains enriched themselves massively from the wars, in which English forces again and again outfought much larger French armies mustered to expel them. The strategic superiority of the English aggressors throughout most of the long conflict did not lie, as a retrospective illusion might suggest, in control of sea-power. For mediaeval fleets in Northern seas were little more than improvised troop-transports; mostly composed of temporarily empressed merchant bottoms, they were incapable of patrolling the ocean regularly. Fighting ships proper were still largely confined to the Mediterranean, where the oar-driven galley was the weapon of real maritime warfare. Running battles at sea were consequently unknown in Atlantic waters in this epoch: naval engagements typically occurred in shallow bays or estuaries (Sluys or La Rochelle), where contending ships could lock together for hand-to-hand combat between the soldiers aboard them. No strategic ‘command of the sea’ was possible in this epoch. The coasts on either side of the Channel thus lay equally undefended against seaborne landings. In 1386, France assembled the largest army and fleet of the entire war for a full-scale invasion of England: defence plans for the island did not even contemplate arresting this force at sea, but relied on keeping the English fleet out of harm’s way in the Thames and luring the enemy to conclusions inland.4 In the event this invasion was cancelled; but the vulnerability of England to maritime attack was amply demonstrated during the war, in which destructive naval raids played a role equivalent to military chevauchées on land. French and Castilian fleets, using Southern-type galleys with their much greater mobility, captured, sacked or burnt a redoubtable list of English ports, all the way from Devon to Essex: among other towns, Plymouth, Southampton, Portsmouth, Lewes, Hastings, Winchelsea, Rye, Gravesend and Harwich were all seized or pillaged in the course of the conflict.
English dominance throughout most of the Hundred Years’ War, which dictated that the permanent battle-field – with all its train of damage and desolation – should be France, was thus not a result of seapower.5 It was a product of the far greater political integration and solidity of the English feudal monarchy, whose administrative capacity to exploit its patrimony and rally its nobility was until the very end of the war much greater than that of the French monarchy, harried by disloyal vassals in Brittany or Burgundy, and weakened by its earlier inability to dislodge the English fief in Guyenne. The loyalty of the English aristocracy, in its turn, was cemented by the successful external campaigns into which it was led by a series of martial princes. It was not until the French feudal polity was itself reorganized under Charles VII, on a new fiscal and military basis, that the tide turned. Their Bur-gundian allies gone, English forces were thereafter relatively soon evicted by larger and better equipped French armies. The acrid aftermath of the final collapse of English power in France was the outbreak of the Wars of the Roses at home. Once a victorious royal authority no longer held the higher nobility together, the late-mediaeval machinery of war turned inwards, as brutalized retainers and indentured gangs were unleashed across the countryside by magnate feuds, and rival usurpers clawed for the succession. A generation of civil war eventually ended with the foundation of the new Tudor dynasty in 1485, on the field of Bosworth.
The reign of Henry VII now gradually prepared the emergence of a ‘new monarchy’ in England. During the later Lancastrian regime, aristocratic factions had prominently developed and manipulated Parliaments for their own ends, whereas Yorkist rulers had striven amidst the prevailing anarchy to concentrate and strengthen the central institutions of royal power again. Himself a Lancastrian by connection, Henry VII essentially developed Yorkist administrative practice. Before the Wars of the Roses, Parliaments were virtually annual, and during the first decade of reconstruction after Bosworth they became so again. But once internal security improved and Tudor power was consolidated, Henry VII discarded the institution: from 1497 to 1509 – the last twelve years of his reign – it only assembled once again. Centralized royal government was exercised through a small coterie of personal advisers and henchmen of the monarch. Its primary objective was the subjugation of the rampant magnate power of the preceding period, with its liveried gangs of armed retainers, systematic embracery of juries, and constant private warfare. This programme was applied, however, with much greater persistence and success than in the Yorkist phase. Supreme prerogative justice was enforced over the nobility by the use of the Star Chamber, a conciliar court which now became the main political weapon of the monarchy against riot or sedition. Regional turbulence in the
