an ostensible sign of authority, a warrant and a State spear, both of which were
returned to the Râja on the death of the holder. As in Europe, high treason
(dĕrhâka) was the only offence which warranted the Râja in forfeiting a fief.
Each of the districts was sub-divided into minor baronies, which were held, on a
similar tenure, from the District Chief by a Dâto’ Mûda; and the village
communes, of which these baronies were composed, were held in a like manner,
and on similar conditions, by the Headmen from the Dâto’ Mûda. When war or
any other public work was toward, the Râja summoned the Great Chiefs, who
transmitted the order to their Dâto’ Mûda. By the latter, the village Headmen
and their able-bodied räayat[1] were called together, the free-holders in each
village being bound to the local Pĕnghûlu[2] by ties similar to those which
bound him to his immediate Chief. In the same way, the Râja made his demands
for money-grants to the Great Chiefs, and the räayat supplied the necessary
contributions, while their superiors gained the credit attaching to those who fulfil
the desires of the King. Under this system, the räayat of course, possessed no
rights, either of person or property. He was entirely in the hands of the Chiefs,
was forced to labour unremittingly that others might profit by his toil; and
neither his life, his land, his cattle, nor the very persons of his women-folk, could
properly be said to belong to him, since all were at the mercy of any one who
desired to take them from him, and was strong enough to do so. This, of course,
is the weak point in the Feudal System, and was probably not confined to the
peoples of Asia. The chroniclers of Mediæval Europe tell only of Princes and
Nobles, and Knights and Dames—and merry tales they are—but we are left to
guess what was the condition of the bulk of the lower classes in Thirteenth-
Century England. If we knew all, however, it is probable that their lot would
prove to have been but little more fortunate than is that of the Malay räayat of
to-day, whose hardships and grievances, under native rule, move our modern
souls to indignation and compassion. Therefore, we should be cautious how we
apply our fin de siècle standards to a people whose ideas of the fitness of things
are much the same as those which prevailed in Europe some six centuries agone.
Those who love to indulge in that pleasing but singularly useless pastime of
imagining what might have been under certain impossible circumstances, will
find occupation in speculating as to whether the Malays, had they remained free
from all extraneous influence for another thousand years, would ever have
succeeded in evolving a system of Government in any way resembling our own,
out of a Feudal System which presents so curious a parallel to that from which
our modern institutions have sprung. Would the Great Chiefs have ever
combined to wrest a Magna Charta from an unwilling King, and the räayat have