Now all Europe was virtually divided among these petty sovereigns, called dukes, earls, counts, and barons.  Each one was virtually independent.  He coined money, administered justice, and preserved order.  He ruled by hereditary right, and his estate descended to his oldest son.  His revenues were derived by the extorted contributions of those who cultivated his lands, and by certain perquisites, among which were the privilege of wardship, and the profits of an estate during the minority of its possessor, and reliefs, or fines paid on the alienation of a vassal’s feud; and the lord could bestow a female ward in marriage on whomever he pleased, and on her refusal take possession of her estate.

These lordly proprietors of great estates,—­or nobles,—­so powerful and independent, lived in castles.  These strongholds were necessary in such turbulent times.  They were large or small, according to the wealth or rank of the nobles who occupied them, but of no architectural beauty.  They were fortresses, generally built on hills, or cragged rocks, or in inaccessible marshes, or on islands in rivers,—­anywhere where defence was easiest.  The nobles did not think of beautiful situations, or fruitful meadows, so much as of the safety and independence of the feudal family.  They therefore lived in great isolation, travelling but little, and only at short distances (it was the higher clergy only who travelled).  Though born to rank and power, they were yet rude, rough, unpolished.  They were warriors.  They fought on horseback, covered with defensive armor.  They were greedy and quarrelsome, and hence were engaged in perpetual strife,—­in the assault on castles and devastation of lands.  These castles were generally gloomy, heavy, and uncomfortable, yet were very numerous in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.  They were occupied by the feudal family, perhaps the chaplain, strangers of rank, bards, minstrels, and servants, who lived on the best the country afforded, but without the luxuries of our times.  They lived better than the monks, as they had no vows to restrain them.  But in their dreary castles the rooms were necessarily small, dark, and damp, except the banqueting hall.  They were poorly lighted, there being no glass in the narrow windows, nor chimneys, nor carpets, nor mirrors, nor luxurious furniture, nor crockery, nor glassware, nor stoves, nor the refinements of cookery.  The few roads of the country were travelled only by horsemen, or people on foot.  There were no carriages, only a few heavy lumbering wagons.  Tea and coffee were unknown, as also tropical fruits and some of our best vegetables.  But game of all kinds was plenty and cheap; so also were wine and beer, and beef and mutton, and pork and poultry.  The feudal family was illiterate, and read but few books.  The chief pleasures were those of the chase,—­hunting and hawking,—­and intemperate feasts.  What we call “society” was impossible, although the barons may have exchanged