Another consequence of the argument in which we have been engaged is that, at least a century before the Conquest, the great immunists were granting immunities to their dependants. From this consequence we shall not flinch. Bishop Oswald, for example, was an immunist on a splendid scale, and when he loaned land to a knight and said that the land was to be 'free from all secular service' save the trinoda necessitas, he loaned not merely land, but immunity and jurisdiction. On one occasion, adopting a formula that has lately come before us, he said that nothing was to go out of the land by way of wite¹⁰¹². By this we understand that he gave to his thegn any wites which might thereafter be incurred by the inhabitants of the manses which were comprised in the loan, and further that he gave him the right to hold a court. Domesday Book requires us to believe that such transactions had not been uncommon¹⁰¹³.

Will our attempt to explain the land-books create too many holders of sake and soke? We do not think so, for we do not think that the number of land-books should be indefinitely multiplied by our imaginations. If we look in Domesday Book at the counties which lie south of the Thames, we shall indeed see that the total amount of land of which the churches are tenants in chief is very large. But the number of these landowning churches is small. When we have named seven episcopal and a dozen abbatial minsters we have disposed of by far the greater bulk of the church lands in this district, and these minsters are as a general rule just those which have transmitted to us in cartularies and chronicles the story of their acquisitions. To churches that were destroyed by the Danes we may allot some charters; but we should have no warrant for the supposition that royal diplomata have perished by the hundred and left no trace behind. In the shires of York, Lincoln, Nottingham, Derby we might allow sake and soke to every English prelate who appears as a tenant in chief and yet not raise to twelve¹⁰¹⁴ the number of the ecclesiastical immunists who had lands in this wide region. As to the lay holders of sake and soke, they were not very many though they held broad lands; also they belonged for the more part to an exalted class¹⁰¹⁵. However, here as elsewhere we must admit that every attempted explanation discloses new problems.

NOTE.

The Ángild Clause.

As we have said above (here), there are certain charters in which the clause of immunity makes mention of the ángild (pretium pro pretio, singulare pretium). We will here collect the obscure texts in which this difficult term occurs.

First, however, we will call attention to a passage in Domesday's account of Worcestershire (D. B. i. 175 b), which throws some light on the matter. Westminster Abbey holds 200 hides and Pershore Abbey holds 100 hides. 'The county says that the church of Pershore is entitled to church-scot from all the 300 hides [its own 100 and Westminster's 200], to wit, from every hide on which a free man dwells one load of corn on S^t. Martin's day, (if he has more hides than one, they are free), and if that day be infringed [i.e. if payment be not made thereon], he who has kept back the corn must pay elevenfold, but first must pay what is due [i.e. he altogether pays twelve loads—"God's property and the church's twelve-fold" (Æthelb. 1.)]; and the Abbot of Pershore will have a wite (forisfactura) from his own 100 hides, such as he ought to have from his own land; but from the other 200 hides he will have the multifold payment of the corn that is due (habet summam et persolutionem) and the Abbot of Westminster has the wite (forisfacturam).' For solvere et persolvere, see Laws of William (Select Charters) c. 5; for solta et persolta, see Dial. de Scac. ii. 10.

If then, a Westminster tenant fails to pay church-scot to Pershore, he must make bót (very ample bót) to Pershore, but his wite will go to his own lord; nothing is to 'go out to wite' from the Westminster land. We will now turn to the land-books. We take them to be saying in effect that in such a case as that put by Domesday the grantee of the immunity is to have his man's wite, though the restitutory bót will go to another.

(i) A.D. 767. Uhtred of the Hwiccas. K. 117 (i. 144); B. i. 286: 'interdicimus ut si aliquis in hac praenominatam terram aliquid foras furaverit alicui solvere aliquid nisi specialiter pretium pro pretio ad terminum ad poenam nihil foras.' We should place a stop after terminum. Then the last clause means 'nothing shall go out to wite.' The mention of the terminus suggests a payment at the boundary of the immunists land.

(ii) [Questionable]. A.D. 799. Cenwulf. K. 176 (i. 213); B. i. 411: 'de partibus vero et de causis singulare solvere pretium et nihil aliud de hac terra.'

(iii) A.D. 799–802. Pilheard. K. 116 (i. 142); B. i. 284: 'ut ab omnium fiscalium redituum operum onerumque seu etiam popularium conciliorum vindictis nisi tantum pretium pro pretio liberae sint in perpetuum.'

(iv) A.D. 814. Cenwulf of Mercia for the church of Worcester. K. 206 (i. 259); B. i. 489: 'exceptis his, expeditione et pontis constructione, et singulare pretium foras, nihilque ad poenam resolvat.'

(v) Cenwulf of Mercia for the church of Worcester. K. 215 (i. 271); B. i. 507: 'exceptis his, arcis et pontis constructione et expeditione et singulare pretium foras adversum aliud; ad poenam vero neque quadrantem minutam foras resolvat.'

(vi) A.D. 822. Ceolwulf of Mercia for Archbishop Wilfred. K. 216 (i. 272); B. i. 508: 'liberata permaneat in aefum nisi is quattuor causis quae nunc nominabo, expeditione contra paganos ostes, et pontes constructione sui [= seu] arcis munitione vel destructione in eodem gente, et singulare pretium foras reddat, secundum ritam gentes illius, et tamen nullam penam foras alicui persolvat.'

(vii) A.D. 831. Wiglaf of Mercia for the archbishop. K. 227 (i. 294); B. i. 556: 'nisi his tantum causis, expeditione et arcis munitione pontisque constructione et singulare pretium contra alium.'

(viii) A.D. 835. Egbert of Wessex for Abingdon. K. 236 (i. 312); B. i. 577: 'de illa autem tribulatione que witereden nominatur sit libera, nisi tamen singuli pretium solverit ut talia accipiant. Fures quoque quos appellant weregeldðeofas si foras rapiantur, pretium eius dimidium illi aecclesiae, et dimidium regi detur, et si intus rapitur totum reddatur ad aecclesiam.'

(ix) A.D. 849. Berhtwulf of Mercia for his thegn Egbert. K. 262 (ii. 34); B. ii. 40: 'Liberabo ab omnibus saecularibus servitutibus...nisi in confinio rationem reddant contra alium.'

(x) A.D. 855. Burhred of Mercia for the church of Worcester. K. 277 (ii. 58); B. ii. 88: 'nisi tantum quattuor causis, pontis et arcis, et expeditione contra hostes, et singulare pretium contra alium, et ad poenam nihil foras resolvat.

(xi) A.D. 883. Æthelred of Mercia for Berkeley. K. 313 (ii. 110); B. ii. 172: 'and þaet ic þaet mynster fram æghwelcum gafolum gefreoge þe to þiode hlafarde belimpeð, littles oððe micles, cuðes ge uncuðes, butan angilde wið oþrum and fæsten gewerce and fyrd socne and brycg geweorce.......æghwelces þinges to freon ge wið cyning, ge wið ealdorman, ge wið gerefan æghwelces þeodomes, lytles and micles, butan fyrd socne and fæsten geworce and brycg geworce and angylde wið oðrum and noht ut to wite.'

(xii) A.D. 888. Æthelred of Mercia for a thegn. K. 1068 (v. 133); B. ii. 194: 'liberam hanc terram describimus ab omnibus causis nisi singulare pretium contra aliud ponat et modum ecclesiae.' Is the modus [or modius] of the church the church-scot?

In a few other cases the immunity mentions penal causes, 'witeræden,' and no express exception is made of the ángild. Thus:—

(xiii) A.D. 842. Æthelwulf for a thegn. K. 253 (ii. 16); B. ii. 13: 'ut regalium tributum et principali dominacione et vi coacta operacione et poenalium condicionum furis comprehensione...secura...permaneat.'

(xiv) [Questionable]. A.D. 844. Æthelwulf for Malmesbury; one of the documents reciting the famous 'donation.' K. 1048 (v. 93); B. ii. 26; H. & S. iii. 630: 'ut sit tutus et munitus ab omnibus saecularibus servitutis, fiscis regalibus, tributis maioribus et minoribus, quod nos dicimus witereden.'

(xv) A.D. 877. Bp. Tunbert. K. 1063 (v. 121); B. ii. 163: 'a taxationibus quod dicimus wite redenne.'

The most detailed and at the same time the most hopelessly obscure information that we get is such as can be obtained from two Abingdon charters.

A.D. 821. Cenwulf. K. 214 (i. 269); B. i. 505; H. & S. iii. 556: 'Si pro aliquo delicto accusatur homo Dei aecclesiae ille custos solus cum suo iuramento si audeat illum castiget. Sin autem ut recipiat aliam iusticiam huius vicissitudinis conditionem praefatum delictum cum simplo praetio componat.'

A.D. 835. Egbert. K. 236 (i. 312); B. i. 577; H. & S. iii. 613. The same clause, but with alienam instead of aliam. Also the following:—'De illa autem tribulatione que witereden nominatur sit libera nisi tamen singuli [corr. singulare?] pretium solverit ut talia accipiant [accipiat?].'

This is very dark. Our best guess as to its meaning is this:—If a man of God, that is, a tenant of the church, is accused of crime, the custos of the church (this may mean the abbot, but more probably points to his reeve) may by his single oath purge the accused. But if he dare not do this, then he (the abbot or reeve) may pay the bót that is claimed, and by performing this condition he may obtain a transfer (vicissitudo) of the cause and do what other justice remains to be done, i.e. he may exact the wite. So in the second charter the abbot may pay the bót, the singulare pretium, and so obtain a right to exact the wite:—he makes the payment ut talia [i.e. witereden] accipiat. In guessing that vicissitudo points to a transfer of a suit, we have in mind the manner in which the Leges Henrici, 9 § 4, speak of the 'transition' of causes from court to court. The case that is being dealt with by these charters we take to be one in which an outsider in a 'foreign' court sues one of the abbot's tenants. The abbot can swear away the charge, or if he dares not do this, can obtain cognizance of the cause (in the language of a later day potest petere curiam suam) and therewith the right to the wite, but must in this case pay the restitutory bót, or rather, perhaps, find security that this shall be paid to the plaintiff in case he is successful. The clause may also imply that a multiple bót can not be exacted from the immunist's men, e.g. such a bót as we saw the Abbot of Pershore exacting from the Westminster men; but this is a minor question.

§ 4. Book-land and Loan-land.

We can not say that from the first the gift of book-land establishes between the donee and the royal donor any such permanent relation as that which in later times is called tenure. What the king gives he apparently gives for good and all. In particular, a gift of land to a church is 'an out and out gift'; nay more, it is a dedication. Still, even within the sphere of piety and alms, we sometimes find the notion that in consequence of the gift the donee should do something for the donor. Cnut frees the lands of the church of Exeter from all burdens except military service, bridge-repair and 'assiduous prayers¹⁰¹⁶,' and thus the title by which the churches hold their lands is already being brought under the rubric Do ut des. Turning to the books granted to laymen, we see that, at all events from the middle of the tenth century onwards, they usually state a causa, or as we might say 'a consideration,' for the gift. Generally the gift is 'an out and out gift.' Words are used which expressly tell us that the donee is to enjoy the land during his life and may on his death give it to whomsoever he chooses. Nothing is said about his paying rent or about his rendering in the future any service to the king in return for the land. The 'consideration' that is stated in the instrument is, if we may still use such modern terms, 'a past consideration.' The land comes rather as a reward than as a retaining fee. Sometimes indeed the thegn pays money to the king and is in some sort a buyer of the land, though the king will take credit for generosity and will talk of giving rather than of selling¹⁰¹⁷. More often the land comes as a reward to him for obedience and fidelity or fealty. Already the word fidelitas is in common use; we have only to render it by fealty and the transaction between the king and his thegn will be apt to look like an infeudation, especially when the thegn is described by the foreign term vassallus¹⁰¹⁸. Even the general rule that the king is rewarding a past, rather than stipulating for a future fealty, is not unbroken. Thus as early as 801 we find Cenwulf of Mercia and Cuthræd of Kent giving land to a thegn as a perpetual inheritance 'but so that he shall remain a faithful servant and unshaken friend to us and our magnates¹⁰¹⁹.' So again, in 946 King Edmund gives land to a faithful minister 'in order that while I live he may serve me faithful in mind and obedient in deed and that after my death he may with the same fealty obey whomsoever of my friends I may choose¹⁰²⁰.' The king, it will be seen, reserves the right to dispose by will of his thegn's fealty. A continuing relation is established between the king and his successors in title on the one hand, the holder of the book-land and his successors in title on the other.

However, as already said, the gift supposes that the personal relationship of lord and thegn already exists between the donor and the donee before the gift is made. This relationship was established by a formal ceremony; the thegn swore an oath of fealty, and it is likely that he bent his knee and bowed his head before his lord¹⁰²¹. The Normans saw their homage in the English commendation¹⁰²². The fidelity expected of the thegn is not regarded as a debt incurred by the receipt of land. And if the king does not usually stipulate for fidelity, still less does he stipulate for any definite service, in particular for any definite amount of military service. The land is not to be free of military service:—this is all that is said. However, to say this is to say that military service is already a burden on land. Already it is conceivable—very possibly it is true—that some of the lands of the churches have been freed even from this burden¹⁰²³. What is more, if we may believe the Abingdon charters, the ninth century is not far advanced before the king is occasionally making bargains as to the amount of military service that the lands of the churches shall render. Abingdon need send to the host but twelve vassals and twelve shields¹⁰²⁴. Likewise we see that on the eve of the Conquest, though other men who neglected the call to arms might escape with a fine of forty shillings, it was the rule, at least in Worcestershire, that the free man who had sake and soke and could 'go with his land whither he would' forfeited that land if he was guilty of a similar default¹⁰²⁵. With this we must connect those laws of Cnut which say that the man who flees in battle, as well as the man who is outlawed, forfeits his book-land to the king, no matter who may be his lord¹⁰²⁶.

Such rules when regarded from one point of view may well be called feudal. Book-land having been derived from, is specially liable to return to the king. It will return to him if the holder of it be guilty of shirking his military duty or of other disgraceful crime. To this we may add that if these rules betray the fact that the holder of this king-given land may nonetheless have commended himself and his land to some other lord against whose claims the king has to legislate, thereby they disclose a feudalism of the worst, of the centrifugal kind. The ancient controversy as to whether 'the military tenures' were 'known to the Anglo-Saxons' is apt to become a battle over words. The old power of calling out all able-bodied men for defensive warfare was never abandoned; but it was not abandoned by the Norman and Angevin kings. The holder of land was not spoken of as holding it by military service; but it would seem that in the eleventh century the king, save in some pressing necessity, could only ask for one man's service from every five hides, and the holder of book-land forfeited that land if he disobeyed a lawful summons¹⁰²⁷. Whether a man who will lose land for such a cause shall be said to hold it by military service is little better than a question about the meaning of words. At best it is a question about legal logic. We are asked to make our choice (and yet may doubt whether our ancestors had made their choice) between the ideas of misdemeanour and punishment on the one hand and the idea of reentry for breach of condition on the other.

The same vagueness enshrouds the infancy of the escheat propter defectum tenentis. Already in 825 a king tells how he gave land to one of his praefecti who died intestate and without an heir, 'and so that land by the decree of my magnates was restored to me who had before possessed it¹⁰²⁸.' Here we seem to see the notion that when a gift has spent itself, when there is no longer any one who can bring himself within the words of donation, the given land should return to the giver. In another quarter we may see that when the king makes a gift he does not utterly abandon all interest in the land that is given. Cenwulf of Mercia in a charter for Christ Church at Canterbury tells us that King Egbert gave land to a certain thegn of his who on leaving the country gave it to the minster; but that Offa annulled this gift and gave away the land to other thegns, saying that it was unlawful for a thegn to give away without his lord's witness (testimonio) the land given to him by his lord¹⁰²⁹. Cenwulf restored the land to the church; but he took money for it, and he does not say that Offa had acted illegally. There is much to show that the 'restraint on alienation' is one of the oldest of the 'incidents of tenure.' Our materials do not enable us to formulate a general principle, but certain it is that the holders of book-land, whether they be laymen or ecclesiastics, very generally obtain the consent of the king when they propose to alienate their land either inter vivos or by testament. We may not argue from this to any definite condition annexed to the gift, or to any standing relationship between the donor and the donee like the 'tenure' of later times. After all, it is a very natural thought that a reward bestowed by the king should not be sold or given away. The crosses and stars with which modern potentates decorate their fideles, we do not expect to see these in the market¹⁰³⁰. The land that the king has booked to his thegn is an 'honour' and the giver will expect to be consulted before it passes into hands that may be unworthy of it. It may be just because the gift of book-land is made by the king and corroborated by all the powers of church and state, that the book is conceived as exercising a continuous sway over the land comprised in it. The book, it has well been said, is the lex possessionis of that land¹⁰³¹. It can make the land descend this way or that way, and the land will come back to the king if ever the power of the book be spent. What is more, from the first we seem to see a germ of our famous English rule that if a gift be made without 'words of inheritance' the gift will endure only during the life of the donee:—will endure, we say, for a gift is no mere act done once for all but a force that endures for a longer or a shorter period. Certain it is that most of the charters are careful to say that the gift is not thus to come to an end but is to go on operating despite the donee's death¹⁰³².

And even when, as is generally the case, the book made in favour of a lay-man says that the donee is to have the power of leaving the land to whomsoever he may please, or to such heirs as he may choose, we still must doubt whether his testamentary power is utterly unrestrained, whether he will not have to consult the royal donor when he is making his will. The phenomena which we have here to consider are very obscure, because we never can be quite certain why it is that a testator is seeking the king's aid. We have to remember that the testament is an exotic, ecclesiastical institution which is likely to come into collision with the ancient folk-law. From an early time the church was striving in favour of the utmost measure of testamentary freedom, for formless wills, for nuncupative wills¹⁰³³. The very largeness of its claims made impossible any definite compromise between church-right and folk-right. So far as we can see, no precise law is evolved as to when and how and over what a man may exercise a power of testation. The church will support testaments of the most formless kind; on the other hand, the heirs of the dead man will endeavour, despite the anathema, to break his will, and sometimes they will succeed¹⁰³⁴. Consequently the testator will endeavour to obtain the crosses of the bishops and the consent of the king. He has already a book which tells him that he may leave the land to a chosen heir; but if he be prudent he will not trust to this by itself. Kings change their minds.

Then the law about heriots complicates the matter. The heriot has its origin in the duty of the dying thegn or of his heirs to return to his lord the arms which that lord has given or lent to him. We have to use some such vague phrase as 'given or lent'; we dare not speak more precisely¹⁰³⁵. A time comes when the king provides his thegn, no longer with arms, but with land; still the heriot is rendered¹⁰³⁶. In the tenth century this render is closely connected with the exercise of testamentary power. The thegn offers a heriot with a prayer that 'his will may stand.' He presents swords and money to the king in order that he may be worthy of his testament¹⁰³⁷. When we find such phrases as this, we can not always be certain that the land of which the testator is going to dispose is land over which a book purports to give him testamentary power; he may be hoping that the king's aid will be sufficient to enable him to bequeath the unbooked land that he holds¹⁰³⁸. In other cases he may be endeavouring to dispose of lands that have merely been 'loaned' to him for his life by the king. But this will hardly serve to explain all the cases, and we so frequently find the holder of book-land applying for the king's consent when he is going to make an alienation of it inter vivos that we need not marvel at finding a similar application made when he is about to execute a testament¹⁰³⁹.

This having been said, we shall not be surprised to find that in ancient times the difference between a gift of land and a loan of land was not nearly so well marked as it would be by modern law. The loan may be regarded as a temporary gift, the gift as a very permanent, if not perpetual, loan. We know how this matter looks in the law of Bracton's age. By feoffment one gives land to a man for his life, or one gives it to him and the heirs of his body, or to him and his heirs: but in any case, the land may come back to the giver. The difference between the three feoffments is a difference in degree rather than in kind; one will operate for a longer, another for a shorter time; but, however absolute the gift may be, the giver never parts with all his interest in the land¹⁰⁴⁰. Or we may put it in another way:—in our English law usufruct is a temporary dominium and dominium is a usufruct that may be perpetual. Or, once more, adopting the language of modern statutes, we may say that the tenant for life is no usufructuary but 'a limited owner.' We are accustomed to bring this doctrine into connexion with rules about dependent tenure:—the donor, we say, retains an interest in the land because he is the tenant's lord. But, on looking at the ancient land-books, we may find reason to suspect that the confusion of loans with gifts and gifts with loans (if we may speak of confusion where in truth the things confounded have never as yet been clearly distinguished) is one of the original germs of the rule that all land is held of the king. After all, the king—and he is by far the greatest giver in the country and his gifts are models for all gifts—never can really part with all the rights that he has in the land that he gives, for he still will be king of it and therefore in a sense it will always be part of his land. To maintain a sharp distinction between the rights that he has as king and the rights that he has as landlord, jurisprudence is not as yet prepared.—But we must look at the land-loan more closely.

Foreign historians have shown how after the barbarian invasions one single form of legal thought, or (if we may borrow a term from them), one single legal 'institute' which had been saved out of the ruins of Roman jurisprudence, was made to do the hard duty of expressing the most miscellaneous facts, was made to meet a vast multitude of cases in which, while one man is the owner of land, another man is occupying and enjoying it by the owner's permission. This institute was the precarium. Originally but a tenancy at will, it was elaborated into different shapes which, when their elaboration had been completed, had little in common. For some reason or another one begs (rogare) of a landowner leave to occupy a piece of land; for some reason or another the prayer is granted, the grantor making a display of generosity and speaking of his act as a 'benefit' (beneficium), an act of good-nature and liberality. An elastic form is thus established. The petitioner may, or may not, promise to pay a rent to his benefactor; the benefactor may, or may not, engage that the relationship shall continue for a fixed term of years, or for the life of the petitioner or for several lives. Usually this relationship between petitioner and benefactor is complicated with the bond of patronage: the former has commended himself to the latter, has come within his power, his protection, his trust (trustis), has become his fidelis, his homo. At a later time the inferior is a vassus, the superior is his senior, for the word vassus, which has meant a menial servant, spreads upwards. Then the precarium, as it were, divides itself into various channels. One of its streams encompasses the large province of humble tenancies, wherein the peasants obtain land from the churches and other owners on more or less arduous conditions, or reserve a right to occupy so long as they live the lands that they have given to the saints. Another stream sweeps onward into the domain of grand history and public law. The noble obtains a spacious territory, perhaps a county, from the king by way of 'benefaction'; the precarium becomes the beneficium, the beneficium becomes the feudum¹⁰⁴¹. The king can not prevent the beneficia, the feuda, from becoming hereditary.

The analogous English institution was the lǽn or, as we now say, loan. If in translating a German book we render Lehn by fief, feud, or fee, we should still remember that a Lehn is a loan. And no doubt the history of our ancient land-loans was influenced by the history of the precarium. We come upon the technical terms of continental law when King Æthelbald forbids any one to beg for a benefit or benefice out of the lands that have been given to the church of Winchester¹⁰⁴². There was need for such prohibitions. Edward the Elder prayed the bishop of this very church to lend him some land for his life; the bishop consented, but expressed a fervent hope that there would be no more of such requests, which in truth were very like commands. It would seem that some of the English kings occasionally did what had been done on a large scale in France by Charles Martel or his sons, namely, they compelled the churches to grant benefices to lay noblemen¹⁰⁴³. When bishop Oswald of Worcester declared how he had been lending lands to his thegns, he used a foreign, technical term: 'beneficium quod illis praestitum est¹⁰⁴⁴.' But it is clear that the English conception of a land-loan was very lax; it would blend with the conception of a gift. To describe transactions of one and the same kind, if such verbs as commodare and lǽnan and lǽtan were used¹⁰⁴⁵, such words as conferre, concedere, tribuere, largiri and donare were also used¹⁰⁴⁶. A loan is a temporary gift, and the nature of the transaction remains the same whether the man to whom the loan is made does, or does not, come under the obligation of paying rent or performing services.

Unfortunately our materials only permit us to study one branch of the loan; the aristocratic branch we may call it. No doubt the lords, especially the churches, are from an early time letting or 'loaning' lands to cultivators. Specimens of such agricultural leases we do not see and cannot expect to see, for they would hardly be put into writing. But at an early time we do see the churches loaning lands, and wide lands, to great men. This is a matter of much importance. One other course in the feudal edifice is thus constructed. We have seen the churches interposed between the king and the cultivators of the soil; the churches have become landlords with free landholders under them. And now it is discovered that the churches have a superiority which they can lend to others. We see already a four-storeyed structure. There are the cultivator, the church's thegn, the church, the king. Very great men think it no shame to beg boons from the church. Already before 750 the bishop of Worcester has granted five manses to 'Comes Leppa' for lives¹⁰⁴⁷; before the century is out the abbot of Medeshamstead has granted ten manses to the 'princeps' Cuthbert for lives¹⁰⁴⁸. In 855 the bishop of Worcester gives eleven manses to the ealdorman of the Mercians and his wife for their lives¹⁰⁴⁹; in 904 a successor of his makes a similar gift¹⁰⁵⁰. But we have seen that the king himself was not above taking a loan from the church. Indeed powerful men insist on having loans, and the churches, in order to protect themselves against importunities, obtain from the king this among their other immunities, namely, that no lay man is to beg boons from them, or that no lease is to be for longer than the lessee's life¹⁰⁵¹. In such cases we may also see the working of a second motive: the church is to be protected against the prodigality of its own rulers. The leases made by the prelates seem usually to have been for three lives. This compass is so often reached, so seldom exceeded¹⁰⁵² that we may well believe that the English church had accepted as a rule of sound policy, if not as a rule of law, the novel of Justinian which set the limit of three lives to leases of church lands¹⁰⁵³.

Occasionally the lease is made in consideration of a sum of money paid down; occasionally the recipient of the land comes under an express obligation to pay rent. An early example shows us the abbot of Medeshamstead letting ten manses to the 'princeps' Cuthbert for lives in consideration of a gross sum of a thousand shillings and an annual pastus or 'farm' of one night¹⁰⁵⁴. The bishop of Worcester early in the ninth century concedes land to a woman for her life on condition that she shall cleanse and renovate the furniture of the church¹⁰⁵⁵. On the other hand, when land is 'loaned' to a king or a great nobleman, this may be in consideration of his patronage and protection; the church stipulates for his amicitia¹⁰⁵⁶. We may say that he becomes the advocatus of the church, and the patronage exercised by kings and nobles over the churches is of importance, though perhaps it was not quite so serious a matter in England as it was elsewhere.

But from our present point of view by far the most interesting form that the loan takes is the loan to the thegn or the cniht. Happily it falls out that we have an excellent opportunity of studying this institution. We recall the fact that by the gifts of kings and underkings the church of Worcester had become entitled to vast tracts of land in Worcestershire and the adjoining counties. Now between the years 962 and 992 Bishop Oswald granted at the very least some seventy loans comprising in all 180 manses or thereabouts¹⁰⁵⁷. In almost all cases the loan was for three lives. In a few cases the recipient was a kinsman of the bishop, in a few he was an ecclesiastic; far more generally he is described as 'minister meus,' 'fidelis meus,' 'cliens meus,' 'miles meus,' 'my knight,' 'my thegn,' 'my true man.' When the 'cause' or consideration for the transaction is expressed it is 'ob eius fidele obsequium' or 'pro eius humili subiectione atque famulatu': a recompense is made for fealty and service. Any thing that could be called a stipulation for future service is very rare. A definite rent is seldom reserved¹⁰⁵⁸. Sometimes the bishop declares that the land is to be free from all earthly burdens, save service in the host and the repair of bridges and strongholds. To those excepted imposts he sometimes adds church-scot, or the church's rent, without specifying the amount. Sometimes he seems to go further and to say that the land is to be free from everything save the church's rent (ecclesiasticus census)¹⁰⁵⁹. In so doing he gives a hint that the recipients of the lands will have something to pay to, or something to do for the church. Were it not for this, we might well think that these loans were made solely in consideration of past services, of obedience already rendered, and that at most the recipient undertook the vague obligation of being faithful and obsequious in the future.

But happily for us S^t. Oswald was a careful man of business and put on record in the most solemn manner the terms on which he made his land-loans. The document in which he did this is for our purposes the most important of all the documents that have come down to us from the age before the Conquest¹⁰⁶⁰. It takes the form of a letter written to King Edgar. We will give a brief and bald abstract of it¹⁰⁶¹:—'I am (says the bishop) deeply grateful to you my lord, for all your liberality and will remain faithful to you forever. In particular am I grateful to you for receiving my complaint and that of God's holy Church and granting redress by the counsel of your wise men¹⁰⁶². Therefore I have resolved to put on record the manner in which I have been granting to my faithful men for the space of three lives the lands committed to my charge, so that by the leave and witness of you, my lord and king, I may declare this matter to the bishops my successors, and that they may know what to exact from these men according to the covenant that they have made with me and according to their solemn promise. I have written this document in order that none of them may hereafter endeavour to abjure the service of the church. This then is the covenant made with the leave of my lord the king and attested, roborated and confirmed by him and all his wise men. I have granted the land to be held under me (sub me) on these terms, to wit, that every one of these men shall fulfil the whole law of riding as riding men should¹⁰⁶³, and that they shall pay in full all those dues which of right belong to the church, that is to say ciricsceott, toll, and tace or swinscead, and all other dues of the church (unless the bishop will excuse them from any thing), and shall swear that so long as they possess the said land they will be humbly subject to the commands of the bishop. What is more, they shall hold themselves ready to supply all the needs of the bishop; they shall lend their horses; they shall ride themselves, and be ready to build bridges and do all that is necessary in burning lime for the work of the church¹⁰⁶⁴; they shall erect a hedge for the bishop's hunt and shall lend their own hunting spears whenever the bishop may need them. And further, to meet many other wants of the bishop, whether for the fulfilment of the service due to him or of that due to the king, they shall with all humility and subjection be obedient to his domination and to his will¹⁰⁶⁵, in consideration of the benefice that has been loaned to them, and according to the quantity of the land that each of them possesses. And when the term for which the lands are granted has run out, it shall be in the bishop's power either to retain those lands for himself or to loan them out to any one for a further term, but so that the said services due to the church shall be fully rendered. And in case any shall make wilful default in rendering the aforesaid dues of the church, he shall make amends according to the bishop's wite¹⁰⁶⁶ or else shall lose the gift and land that he enjoyed. And if any one attempt to defraud the church of land or service, be he deprived of God's blessing unless he shall make full restitution. He who keeps this, let him be blessed; he who violates this, let him be cursed: Amen. Once more, my lord, I express my gratitude to you. There are three copies of this document; one at Worcester, one deposited with the Archbishop of Canterbury and one with the Bishop of Winchester.'

Now we may well say that here is feudal tenure. In the first place, we notice a few verbal points. The recipient of the lǽn has received a beneficium from the bishop, and if he will not hold the land de episcopo, nonetheless he will hold it sub episcopo. Then he is the bishop's fidelis, his fidus homo, his 'hold and true man,' his thegn, his knight, his soldier, his minister, his miles, his eques. Then he takes an oath to the bishop, and seemingly this oath states in the most energetic terms his utter subjection to the bishop's commands. What is more, he swears to be faithful and obedient because he has received a beneficium from the bishop, and the amount of his service is measured by the quantity of land that he has received. Then again, we see that he holds his land by service; if he fails in his service, at all events if he denies his liability to serve, he is in peril of losing the land, though perhaps he may escape by paying a pecuniary fine. As to the services to be rendered, if we compare them with those of which Glanvill and Bracton speak, they will seem both miscellaneous and indefinite; perhaps we ought to say that they are all the more feudal on that account. The tenant is to pay the church-scot, the ecclesiasticus census of other documents. This, as we learn from Domesday Book, is one load (summa) of the best corn from every hide of land, and unless it be paid on S^t. Martin's day, it must be paid twelve-fold along with a fine¹⁰⁶⁷. He must pay toll to the bishop when he buys and sells; he must pay tace, apparently the pannage of a later time, for his pigs. He must go on the bishop's errands, provide him with hunting-spears, erect his 'deer-hedge' when he goes to the chase. There remains a margin of unspecified services; for he must do what he is told to do according to the will of the bishop. But, above all, he is a horseman, a riding man and must fulfil 'the law of riding.' For a moment we are tempted to say 'the law of chivalry.' This indeed would be an anachronism; but still he is bound to ride at the bishop's command. Will he ride only on peaceful errands? We doubt it. He is bound to do all the service that is due to the king, all the forinsec service¹⁰⁶⁸ we may say. A certain quantity of military service is due from the bishop's lands; his thegns must do it. As already said, the obligation of serving in warfare is not yet so precisely connected with the tenure of certain parcels of land as it will be in the days of Henry II., but already the notion prevails that the land owes soldiers to the king, and probably the bishop has so arranged matters that his territory will be fully 'acquitted' if his equites, his milites take the field. Under what banner will they fight? Hardly under the sheriff's banner. Oswald is founding Oswaldslaw and within Oswaldslaw the sheriff will have no power. More probably they will follow the banner of S^t. Mary of Worcester. This we know, that in the Confessor's reign one Eadric was steersman of the bishop's ship and commander of the bishop's troops¹⁰⁶⁹. This also we know, that in the suit between the churches of Worcester and of Evesham that came before the Domesday commissioners, one of the rights claimed by the bishop against the abbot was that the men of two villages, Hamton and Bengeworth, were bound to pay geld and to fight along with the bishop's men¹⁰⁷⁰. And then, suppose that Danes or Welshmen or Englishmen make a raid on the bishop's land, is it certain that he will communicate with the ealdorman or the king before he calls upon his knights to defend and to avenge him? Still we must not bring into undue relief the military side of the tenure.

These men may be bound to fight at the bishop's call, but fighting is not their main business; they are not professional warriors. They are the predecessors not of the military tenants of the twelfth century, but of the radchenistres, and radmanni of Domesday Book, the rodknights of Bracton's text, the thegns and drengs of the northern counties who puzzle the lawyers of the Angevin time. Point by point we can compare the tenure of these ministri and equites of the tenth with that of the thegns and drengs of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and at point after point we find similarity, almost identity. They pay rent; they have horses and their horses are at the service of their lord; they must ride his errands, carry his stores, assist him in the chase; they must fight if need be, but the exact nature of this obligation is indefinite¹⁰⁷¹. Dependent tenure is here and, we may say, feudal tenure, and even tenure by knight's service, for though the English cniht of the tenth century differs much from the knight of the twelfth, still it is a change in military tactics rather than a change in legal ideas that is required to convert the one into the other. As events fell out there was a breach of continuity; the English thegns and drengs and knights either had to make way for Norman milites, or, as sometimes happened, they were subjected to Norman milites and constituted a class for which no place could readily be found in the new jurisprudence of tenures. But had Harold won the day at Hastings and at the same time learnt a lesson from the imminence of defeat, some peaceful process would probably have done the same work that was done by forfeitures and violent displacements. The day for heavy cavalry and professional militancy was fast approaching when Oswald subjected his tenants to the lex equitandi.

Yet another of those feudal phenomena that come before us in the twelfth century may easily be engendered by these loans; we mean the precarious inheritance, the right to 'relieve' from the lord the land that a dead man held of him¹⁰⁷². In speaking of Oswald's loans as 'leases for three lives' we have used a loose phrase which might lead a modern reader astray. Oswald does not let land to a man for the lives of three persons named in the lease and therefore existing at the time when the lease is made; rather he lets the land to a man and declares that it shall descend to two successive heirs of his. The exact extent of the power that the lessee has of instituting an heir, in other words of devising the land by testament, instead of allowing it to be inherited ab intestato, we need not discuss; suffice it that the lessee's rights may twice pass from ancestor to heir, or from testator to devisee¹⁰⁷³. Now such a lease may cover the better part of a century. A time will come when the land ought to return to the church that gave it; but for some eighty years it will have 'been in one family' and twice over it will have been inherited. Is it very probable that the bishop will be able to oust the third heir? Will he wish to do so, if three generations of thegns or knights have faithfully served the church? May we not be fairly certain that this third heir will get the land on the old terms, if he will 'recognize' the church's right to turn him out? As a matter of fact we see that Oswald's successors have great difficulty in recovering the land that he has let¹⁰⁷⁴. In the middle ages he who allows land to descend twice has often enough allowed it to become heritable for good and all. Despite solemn charters and awful anathemas he will have to be content with a relief¹⁰⁷⁵.

But at least, it will be said, there was no 'right of wardship and marriage.' We can see the beginning of it. In 983 Oswald let five manses to his kinsman Gardulf. Gardulf is to enjoy the land during his life; after his death his widow is to have it, if she remains a widow or if she marries one of the bishop's subjects¹⁰⁷⁶. So the bishop is already taking an interest in the marriages of his tenants; he will have no woman holding his land who is married to one who is not his man. And then Domesday Book tells us how in the Confessor's day one of Oswald's successors had disposed of an heiress and her land to one of his knights¹⁰⁷⁷.

Still, it will be urged, the feudalism here displayed is imperfect in one important respect. These tenants of the church of Worcester hold their land under contracts cognizable by the national courts; they do not hold by any special feudal law, they are not subject to any feudal tribunal. Now if when we hear of 'feudalism,' we are to think of that orderly, centralized body of land-law which in Henry III.'s day has subjected the whole realm to its simple but mighty formulas, the feudalism of Oswald's land-loans is imperfect enough. But then we must remind ourselves that never in this country does feudal law (the Lehnrecht of Germany) become a system to be contrasted with the ordinary land law (Landrecht)¹⁰⁷⁸, and also we must observe that already in Oswald's day the thegns of the church of Worcester were in all probability as completely subject to a private and seignorial justice as ever were any freeholding Englishman. What court protected their tenure, what court would decide a dispute between them and the bishop? Doubtless—it will be answered—the hundred court. But in all probability that court, the court of the great triple hundred of Oswaldslaw was already in the hand of the bishop who gave it its name¹⁰⁷⁹. The suits of these tenants would come into a court where the bishop would preside by himself or his deputy, and where the doomsmen would be the tenants and justiciables of the bishop—not indeed because tenure begets jurisdiction (to such a generalization as this men have not yet come)—but still, the justice that these tenants will get will be seignorial justice.

Now how far we should be safe in drawing from Oswald's loans and Oswaldslaw any general inferences about the whole of England is a difficult question. It is clear that the bishop was at great pains to regulate the temporal affairs of his church. He obtained for his leases the sanction of every authority human and divine, the consent of the convent, the ealdorman, the king, the witan; he deposited the covenant with the king, with the archbishop of Canterbury, with the bishop of Winchester. Also we must remember that he had lived in a Frankish monastery, and that, at least in things monastic, he was a radical reformer. Nor should it be concealed that in Domesday Book the entries concerning the estates of the church of Worcester stand out in bold relief from the monotonous background. Not only is the account of the hundred of Oswaldslaw prefaced by a statement which in forcible words lays stress on its complete subjection to the bishop, but in numerous cases the tenure of the nobler and freer tenants within that hundred is described as being more or less precarious:—they do whatever services the bishop may require; they serve 'at the will of the bishop'; no one of them may have any lord but the bishop; they are but tenants for a time and when that time is expired their land will revert to the church¹⁰⁸⁰.

However, we should hesitate long before we said that Oswald's land-loans were merely foreign innovations. His predecessors had granted leases for lives; other churches were granting leases for lives, and the important document that he sent to the king proves to us that we can not trust our Anglo-Saxon lease or land-book to contain the whole of the terms of that tenure which it created. Suppose that this unique document had perished, how utterly mistaken an opinion should we have formed of the terms upon which the thegns and knights of the church of Worcester held their lands! We should have heard hardly a word of money payments, no word of the oath of subjection, of the lex equitandi, of the indefinite obligation of obeying whatever commands the bishop might give. It may well be that the thegns and knights of other churches held on terms very similar to those that the bishop of Worcester imposed. Even if we think that Oswald was an innovator, we must remember that the adviser of Edgar, the friend of Dunstan, the reformer of the monasteries, the man who for thirty years was Bishop of Worcester and for twenty years Archbishop of York, was able to make innovations on a grand scale. What such a man does others will do. The yet safer truth that what Oswald did could be done, should not be meaningless for us. In the second half of the tenth century there were men willing to take land on such terms as Oswald has described.

These men were not peasants. The land that Oswald gave them were not going to cultivate merely by their own labour and the labour of their sons and their slaves, though we are far from saying that they scorned to handle the plough. We have in Domesday Book a description of their holdings, and it is clear that in the Confessor's day, when some of Oswald's leases must yet have been in operation, the lessees had what we should describe as small manors with villeins and cottagers upon them. Thus, for example, Eadric the Steersman, who led the bishop's host, had an estate of five hides which in 1086 had three villani and four bordarii, to say nothing of a priest, upon it¹⁰⁸¹. Like enough, what the bishop has been 'loaning' to his thegns has been by no means always 'land in demesne,' it has been 'land in service': in other words, a superiority, a seignory. Thus, as we say, another course of the feudal edifice is constructed. Above the cultivator stands the thegn or the cniht, who himself is a tenant under the bishop and who owes to the bishop services that are neither very light nor very definite. We can not but raise the question whether the cultivators, if we suppose them to be in origin free landowners, can support the weight of this superstructure without being depressed towards serfage. But we are not yet in a position to deal thoroughly with this question¹⁰⁸².

We must now return for a moment to the relation that exists between the loan and the book. Lǽnland is contrasted with bócland; but historians have had the greatest difficulty in discovering the principle that lies beneath this distinction¹⁰⁸³. Certainly we can not say that, while book-land is created and governed by a charter, there will be no written instrument, no book, creating and governing the lǽn. We have books which in unambiguous terms tell us that they bear witness to loans. Nor can we say that the holder of book-land will always have a perpetual right to the land, 'an estate in fee simple,' an estate to him and his heirs. In many cases a royal charter will create a smaller estate than this; it will limit the descent of the land to the heirs male of the donee. Moreover the written leases for three lives of which we have been speaking are 'books.' Thus in 977 Oswald grants three manses to his thegn Eadric for three lives, and the charter ends with a statement which tells us in English that Oswald the archbishop is booking to Eadric his thegn three hides of land which Eadric formerly held as lǽnland¹⁰⁸⁴. A similar deed of 985 contains a similar statement; five hides which Eadric held as lǽnland are now being booked to him, but booked only for three lives¹⁰⁸⁵. In yet another of Oswald's charters we are told that the donee is to hold the land by way of book-land as amply as he before held it by way of lǽnland¹⁰⁸⁶. After this it is needless to say that book-land may be burdened with rents and services. But indeed it would seem that Oswald's thegns and knights held both book-land and lǽnland. It was book-land because it had been booked to them, and yet very certainly it had only been loaned to them¹⁰⁸⁷.

Let us then turn to the laws and read what they say about book-land. Two rules stand out clearly. Æthelred the Unready declares that every wíte incurred by a holder of book-land is to be paid to the king¹⁰⁸⁸. Cnut declares that the book-land of the outlaw, whosesoever man he may be, and of the man who flies in battle is to go to the king¹⁰⁸⁹. These laws seem to put before us the holder of book-land as standing by reason of his land in some specially close relationship to the king. If we may use the language of a later day, the holder of book-land is a tenant in chief of the king, and this even though he may have commended himself to someone else. On the other hand, if the holder of lǽnland commits a grave crime, his land reverts, or escheats or is forfeited to the man who made the lǽn¹⁰⁹⁰. And yet, though this be so and though Oswald's thegns will in some sense or another be holding book-land, we may be quite certain that should one of them be outlawed the bishop will claim the land. Indeed he is careful about this as about other matters. Often he inserts in his charter a clause saying that, whatever the grantee may do, the land shall return unforfeited to the church.

Any solution of these difficulties must be of a somewhat speculative kind. We fashion for ourselves a history of the book and of the land-loan which runs as follows:—The written charter first makes its appearance as a foreign and ecclesiastical novelty. For a very long time it is used mainly, if not solely, as a means of endowing the churches with lands and superiorities. It is an instrument of a very solemn character armed with the anathema and sanctioned by the crosses of those who can bind and loose. Usually it confers rights which none but kings can bestow, and which even kings ought hardly to bestow save with the advice of their councillors. A mass of rights held under such a charter is book-land, or, if we please, the land over which such rights are exercisable, is book-land for the grantee. In course of time similar privileges are granted by the kings to their thegns, though the book does not thereby altogether lose its religious traits. It is long before private persons begin to use writing for the conveyance or creation of rights in land. The total number of the books executed by persons who are neither kings, nor underkings, nor prelates of the church, was, we take it, never very large; certainly the number of such books that have come down to us is very small.

Nothing could be more utterly unproved than the opinion that in Anglo-Saxon times written instruments were commonly used for the transfer of rights in land. Let us glance for a moment at the documents that purport to have come to us from the tenth century. Genuine and spurious we have near six hundred. But we exclude first the grants made by the kings, secondly Oswald's leases and a few similar documents executed by other prelates, thirdly a few testamentary or quasi-testamentary dispositions made by the great and wealthy. Hardly ten documents remain. Let us observe their nature. The ealdorman and lady of the Mercians make a grant to a church in royal fashion¹⁰⁹¹; but in every other case in which we have a document which we can conceive as either transferring rights in land or as being formal evidence of such a transfer, the consent of the king or of the king and witan to the transaction is stated, and with hardly an exception the king executes the document¹⁰⁹². Even the holder of book-land who wished to alienate it, for example, the thegn who wished to pass on his book-land to a church, did not in general execute a written conveyance. One of three courses was followed. The donor handed over his own book, the book granted by the king, and apparently this was enough; or the parties to the transaction went before the king, delivered up the old and obtained a new book; or the donor executed some brief instrument—sometimes a mere note endorsed on the original book—stating how he had transferred his right¹⁰⁹³. But in any case, according to the common usage of words, a usage which has a long history behind it, it is only the man who is holding under a royal privilege who has 'book-land.' It is to this established usage that the laws refer when they declare that the king and no lower lord is to have the wíte from the holder of book-land, and that when book-land is forfeited it is forfeited to the king. For all this, however, if you adhere to the letter, book-land can only mean land held by book. Now from a remote time men have been 'loaning' land, and prelates when they have made a loan have sometimes executed a written instrument, a book. A prelate can pronounce the anathema and the recipient of the lœn may well wish to be protected, not merely by writing, but by Christ's rood. When therefore Bishop Oswald grants a written lease to one of his thegns who heretofore has been in enjoyment of the land but has had no charter to show for it, we may well say that in the future this thegn will have book-land, though at the same time he has but loan-land. We have no scruple about charging our ancestors with having a confused terminology. The confusion is due to a natural development; 'books' were formerly used only for one purpose, they are beginning to be used for many purposes, and consequently 'book-land' may mean one thing in one context, another in another. We may say that every one who holds under a written document holds book-land, or we may still confine the name 'book' to that class of books which was at one time the only class. The king's charters, the king's privileges, have been the only books; they are still books in a preeminent sense. Just so in later days men will speak of 'tenure in capite' when what they really mean is 'tenure in capite of the crown by military service¹⁰⁹⁴.'

But there is a deeper cause of perplexity. Once more we must repeat that the gift shades off into the loan, the loan into the gift. The loan is a gift for a time. It is by words of donation ('I give,' 'I grant') that Oswald's beneficia are praestita to his knights and thegns. Conversely, the king's most absolute gift leaves something owing and continuously owing to him; it may be prayers, it may be fealty and obedience. And having considered by how rarely good fortune it is that we know the terms of Oswald's land-loans, how thoroughly we might have mistaken their nature but for the preservation of a single document, we shall be very cautious in denying that between many of the holders of book-land and the king there was in the latter half of the tenth century a relationship for which we have no other name than feudal tenure. If Oswald's charters create such a tenure, what shall we say of the numerous charters whereby Edred, Edwy, Edgar and Æthelred grant land to their thegns in consideration of fealty and obedience? Must not these thegns fulfil the whole lex equitandi; will they not lose their lands if they fail in this service? True that the rights conferred upon them are not restrained within the compass of three lives but are heritable ad infinitum. But does this affect the character of their tenure? Can we—we can not in more recent times—draw any inference from 'the quantum of the estate' to 'the quality of the tenure'? On the whole, we are inclined to believe that the practice of loaning lands affected the practice of giving lands, there being no sharp and formal distinction between the gift and the loan, and that when Edward the Confessor died no great injustice would have been done by a statement that those who held their lands by royal books held their lands 'of' the king. This at least we know, that the formula of dependent tenure ('A holds land of B') was current in the English speech of the Confessor's day and that some of the king's thegns held their land 'of' the king¹⁰⁹⁵. We may guess that those old terms 'book-land' and 'loan-land' would soon have disappeared even from an unconquered England, for it was becoming plain that the book bears witness to a loan. A new word was wanted; that word was feudum.

§ 5. The Growth of Seignorial Power.

We now return to our original theme, the subjection to seignorial power of free landholders and their land, for we now have at our command the legal machinery, which, when set in motion by economic and social forces, is capable of effecting that subjection. Let us suppose a village full of free landholders. The king makes over to a church all the rights that he has in that village, reserving only the trinoda necessitas and perhaps some pleas of the crown. The church now has a superiority over the village, over the ceorls; it has a right to receive all that, but for the king's charter, would have gone to him.

In the first place, it has a right to the feorm, the pastus or victus that the king has hitherto exacted. We should be wrong in thinking that in the ninth century (whatever may have been the case in earlier times) this exaction was a small matter. In 883 Æthelred ealdorman of the Mercians with the consent of King Alfred freed the lands of Berkeley minster from such parts of the king's gafol or feorm as had until then been unredeemed. In return for this he received twelve hides of land and thirty mancuses of gold, and then in consideration of another sixty mancuses of gold he proceeded to grant a lease of these twelve hides for three lives¹⁰⁹⁶. The king had been deriving a revenue from this land 'in clear ale, in beer, in honey, in cattle, in swine and in sheep.' In Domesday Book a 'one night's farm' is no trifle; it is all that the king gets from large stretches of his demesne¹⁰⁹⁷. Having become entitled to this royal right, the church would proceed to make some new settlement with the villagers. Perhaps it would stipulate for a one night's farm for the monks, that is to say, for a provender-rent capable of supporting the convent for a day. In the middle of the ninth century a day's farm of the monks of Canterbury comprised forty sesters of ale, sixty loaves, a wether, two cheeses and four fowls, besides other things¹⁰⁹⁸. When once a village is charged in favour of a lord with a provender-rent of this kind, the lord's grip upon the land may easily be tightened. A settlement in terms of bread and beer is not likely to be stable. Some change in circumstances will make it inconvenient to all parties and the stronger bargainer will make the best of the new bargain. The church will be a strong bargainer for it has an inexhaustible treasure-house upon which to draw. We, however, concerned with legal ideas, have merely to notice that the law will give free play to social, economic and religious forces which are likely to work in the lord's favour.

But a village charged with a 'provender-rent' may seem far enough removed from the typical manor of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In the one we see the villagers cultivating each for his own behoof and supplying the lord at stated seasons with a certain quantity of victuals; in the other the villagers spend a great portion of their time in tilling the lord's demesne land. In the latter case the lord himself appears as an agriculturist: in the former he is no agriculturist, but merely a receiver of rent. The gulf may seem wide; but it is not impassable. One part, the last part, of a process which surmounts it is visible. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries the lords, though they have much land in demesne, still reckon the whole or part of what they are to receive from each manor in terms of 'farms'; the king gets a one night's farm from this manor, the convent of Ramsey gets a fortnight's farm from that manor¹⁰⁹⁹. But we can conceive how the change begins. The monks are not going to travel, as a king may have travelled, from village to village feasting at the expense of the folk. They are going to live in their monastery; they want a regular supply of victuals brought to them. They must have an overseer in the village, one who will look to it that the bread and beer are sent off punctually and are good. In the village over which they already have a superiority they acquire a manse of their very own, a mansus indominicatus as their foreign brethren would call it. When once they are thus established in the village, piety and other-worldliness will do much towards increasing their demesne and strengthening their position¹¹⁰⁰.

We have argued above that in the first instance it was not by means of the petty gifts of private persons that the churches amassed their wide territories. The starting point is the alienation of a royal superiority. Still there can be little doubt that the small folk were just as careful of their souls as were their rulers. They make gifts to the church. Moreover, the gift is likely to create a dependent tenure. They want to give, and yet they want to keep, for their land is their livelihood. They surrender the land to the church: but then they take it back again as a life-long loan. Thus the church has no great difficulty about getting demesne. But further, it gets dependent tenants and a dependent tenure is established. Like enough on the death of the donor his heirs will be suffered to hold what their ancestor held. Very possibly the church will be glad to make a compromise, for it may be doubtful whether these donationes post obitum¹¹⁰¹, or these gifts with reservation of an usufruct, can be defended against one, who, not having the fear of God before his eyes, will make a determined attack upon them. Gradually the church becomes more and more interested in the husbandry of the village. It receives gifts; it makes loans; it substitutes labour services to be done on its demesne lands for the old feorm of provender. It is rash to draw inferences from the fragmentary and obscure laws of Ine; but one of them certainly suggests that, at least in some district of Wessex, this process was going on rapidly at the end of the seventh century, so rapidly and so oppressively that the king had to step in to protect the smaller folk. The man who has taken a yard of land at a rent is being compelled not only to pay but also to labour. This, says the king, he need not do unless he is provided with a house¹¹⁰².

Now we are far from saying that the manorial system of rural economy is thus invented. From the time of the Teutonic conquest of England onwards there may have been servile villages, Roman villas with slaves and coloni cultivating the owner's demesne, which had passed bodily to a new master. We have no evidence that is capable of disproving or of proving this. What we think more probable is that in those tracts where true villages (nucleated villages, as we have before now called them¹¹⁰³) were not formed, the conquerors fitted themselves into an agrarian scheme drawn for them by the Britons, and that in the small scattered hamlets which existed in these tracts there was all along a great deal of slavery¹¹⁰⁴. But, at any rate, the church was a cosmopolitan institution. Many a prelate of the ninth and tenth centuries, Bishop Oswald for one, must have known well enough how the foreign monasteries managed their lands, and, whatever controversies may rage round questions of remoter history, there can be no doubt that by this time the rural economy of the church estates in France was in substance that which we know as manorial. Foreign precedents in this as in other matters may have done a great work in England¹¹⁰⁵. All that we are here concerned to show is that there were forces at work which were capable of transmuting a village full of free landholders into a manor full of villeins.

Besides the rights transferred to it by the king, the church would have other rights at its command which it could employ for the subjection—we use the word in no bad sense—of the peasantry. By the law of God it might claim first-fruits and tenths. The payment known as ciric-sceat, church-scot, is a very obscure matter¹¹⁰⁶. Certainly in laws of the tenth century it seems to be put before us as a general tax or rate, due from all lands, and not merely from those lands over which a church has the lordship. On the other hand, both in earlier and in later documents it seems to have a much less general character. In some of the earlier it looks like a due, we may even say a rent (ecclesiasticus census) paid to a church out of its own lands, while in the later documents, for example in Domesday Book, it appears sporadically and looks like a heavy burden on some lands, a light burden on others. The evidence suggests that the church had attempted and on the whole had failed, despite the help of kings and laws, to make this impost general. That in some districts it was a serious incumbrance we may be sure. On those estates of the church of Worcester to which we have often referred, every hide was bound to pay upon S^t. Martin's day one horse-load (summa) of the best corn that grew upon it. He who did not pay upon the appointed day incurred the outrageous penalty of paying twelve-fold, and in addition to this a fine was inflicted¹¹⁰⁷. If the bishop often insisted on the letter of this severe rule, he must have reduced many a free ceorl to beggary. It is by no means certain that the duty of paying tithe has not a somewhat similar history. Though in this case the impost became a general burden incumbent on all lands, it may have been a duty of perfect obligation for the subjects of the churches, while as yet for the mass of other landowners it was but a religious duty or even a counsel of perfection. At any rate, this subtraction of a tenth of the gross produce of the earth is no light thing: it is quite capable of debasing many men from landownership to dependent tenancy.

Another potent instrument for the subjection of the free landowners would be the jurisdictional rights which passed from the king to the churches and the thegns. At first this transfer would appear as a small matter. The president of a court of free men is changed:—that is all. Where the king's reeve sat, the bishop or the bishop's reeve now sits; fines which went to the royal hoard now go to the minster; but a moot of free men still administers folk-right to the justiciables of the church. However, in course of time the change will have important effects. In the first place, it helps to bind up suit of court with the tenure of land. The suitor goes to the bishop's court because he holds land of which the bishop is the lord. If, as will often be the case, he wishes to escape from the burdensome duty, he will pay an annual sum in lieu thereof, and here is a new rent. Then again all the affairs of the territory are now periodically brought under the bishop's eye; he knows, or his reeves know, all about every one's business and they have countless opportunities of granting favours and therefore of driving bargains. Moreover it is by no means unlikely that the lord will now have something to say about the transfer of land, for it is by no means unlikely that conveyances will be made in court, and that the rod or festuca which serves as a symbol of possession will be handed by the seller to the reeve and by the reeve to the purchaser. We need not regard the conveyance in court as a relic of a time when a village community would have had a word to say if any of its members proposed to assign his share to an outsider. There are many reasons for conveying land in court. We get witnesses there, and no mere mortal witnesses but the testimony of a court which does not die. Then, again, there may be the claims of expectant heirs to be precluded and perhaps they can be precluded by a decree of the court. The seller's kinsfolk can be ordered to assert their rights within some limited time or else to hold their peace forever after, so that the purchaser will hold the land under the court's ban¹¹⁰⁸. And thus the rod passes through the hands of the president. But 'nothing for nothing' is a good medieval rule. The lord will take a small fine for this land-cóp, this sale of land, and soon it may seem that the purchaser acquires his title to the land rather from the lord than from the vendor¹¹⁰⁹.

Yet another turn is given to the screw, if we may so speak, when the state and the church begin to hold the lord answerable for taxes which in the last resort should be paid by the tenant¹¹¹⁰. This, when we call to mind the huge weight of the danegeld, will appear as a matter of the utmost importance. Before the end of the tenth century—this is the picture that we draw for ourselves—large masses of free peasants were in sore straits and were in many ways subject to their lords. Many of them were really holding their tenements by a more or less precarious tenure. They had taken 'loans' from their lord and become bound to pay rents and work continuously on his inland. Others of them may have had ancient ancestral titles which could have been traced back to free settlers and free conquerors; but for centuries past a lord had wielded rights over their land. The king's feorm had become the lord's gafol, and this, supplemented by church-scot and by tithes, may have been turned into gafol and week-work. The time came for a new and heavy tax. This was a crushing burden, and even had the geld been collected from the small folk it would have had the effect of converting many of them from landowners into landborrowers¹¹¹¹. But a worse fate befell them. They were so poor that the state could no longer deal with them; it dealt with their lord; he paid for their land. It follows that in the eye of the state their land is his land. Less and less will the national courts and the folk-law recognize their titles; the lord 'defends' this land against all the claims of the state; therefore the state regards it as his. Hence what seems the primary distinction drawn by Domesday Book—that between the soke-man and the villanus. The villanus is not rated to the land-tax. Some men are not rated to the geld because they have but precarious titles; other men have precarious titles because they are not rated to the geld. A wide and a legally definable class is formed of men who hold land and who yet are fast losing the warranty of national law. When once the country is full of lords with sake and soke, a very small change, a very small exhibition of indifference on the part of the state, will deprive the peasants of this warranty and condemn them to hold, not by the law of the land, but by the custom of their lord's court.

To this depth of degradation the great mass of the English peasants in the southern and western counties—the villani, bordarii, cotarii of Domesday Book—may perhaps have come before the Norman Conquest. There may have been no courts which would recognize their titles to their land, except the courts of their lords. We are by no means certain that even this was so; but they must fall deeper yet before they will be the 'serf-villeins' of the thirteenth century.

However, the conditions which would facilitate such a farther fall had long been prepared, for slavery had been losing some of its harshest features. Of this process we have said something elsewhere¹¹¹². What the church did for the slave may have been wisely and was humanely done; but what it did for the slave was done to the detriment of the poorer classes of free men. By insisting that the slave has a soul to be saved, that he can be sinned against and can sin, that his marriage is a sacrament, we obliterate the line between person and thing. On the other hand, in the submission of one person to the will of another, a submission which within wide limits is utter and abject, the church saw no harm. Villeinage and monasticism are not quite independent phenomena; even a lawyer could see the analogy between the two¹¹¹³. And a touch of mysticism dignifies slavery:—the bishop of Rome is the serf of the serfs of God; an earl held land of Westminster Abbey 'like a theow¹¹¹⁴.' One of the surest facts that we know of the England of Cnut's time is that the great folk were confounding their free men with their theowmen and that the king forbad them to do this. We see that one of the main lines which has separated the rightless slave from the free ceorl is disappearing, for the lord, as suits his interest best, will treat the same man now as free and now as bond¹¹¹⁵.

We might here speak of the numerous causes for which in a lawful fashion a free man might be reduced into slavery, and were we to do so, should have to notice the criminal law with its extremely heavy tariff of wer and wite and bót. But of this enough for the time has been said elsewhere¹¹¹⁶, and there are many sides of English history at which we can not even glance. However, lest we should be charged with a grave omission, we must explain that the processes which have hitherto come under our notice are far from being in our eyes the only processes that tended towards the creation of manors. We have been thinking of the manors as descending from above (if we may so speak) rather than as growing up from below. The alienation of royal rights over villages and villagers has been our starting point, and it is to this quarter that we are inclined to look for the main source of seignorial power. But, no doubt, within those villages which had no lords—and plenty of such villages there were in 1065—forces were at work which made in the direction of manorialism. They are obscure, for they play among small men whose doings are not recorded. But we have every reason to suppose that in the first half of the eleventh century a fortunate ceorl had many opportunities of amassing land and of thriving at the expense of his thriftless or unlucky neighbours. Probably the ordinary villager was seldom far removed from insolvency: that is to say, one raid of freebooters, one murrain, two or three bad seasons, would rob him of his precious oxen and make him beggar or borrower. The great class of bordarii who in the east of England are subjected to the sokemen has probably been recruited in this fashion¹¹¹⁷. And so we may see in Cambridgeshire that a man will sometimes have half a hide in one village, a virgate in another, two-thirds of a virgate in a third. He is 'thriving to thegn-right.' Then, again, some prelate or some earl will perhaps obtain the commendation of all the villagers, and his hold over the village will be tightened by a grant of sake and soke, though, if we may draw inferences from Cambridgeshire, this seems to have happened rarely, for the sokemen of a village have often shown a marvellous disagreement among themselves in their selection of lords, and seem to have chosen light-heartedly between the house of Godwin and the house of Leofric as if they were but voting for the yellows or the blues. We fully admit that these forces were doing an important work; but they were doing it slowly and it was not nearly achieved when the Normans came. Nor was it neat work. It tended to produce not the true and compact manerio-villar arrangement, but those loose, dissipated manors which we see sprawling awkwardly over the common fields of the Cambridgeshire townships¹¹¹⁸.

We have been endeavouring to show that the legal, social and economic structure revealed to us by Domesday Book can be accounted for, even though we believe that in the seventh century there was in England a large mass of free landowning ceorls and that many villages were peopled at that time and at later times chiefly by free landowning ceorls and their slaves. We have now to examine the evidence that is supposed to point to a contrary conclusion and to connect the English manor of the eleventh century with the Roman villa of the fifth. Two questions should be distinguished from each other—(1) Have we any proof that during those six centuries, especially during the first three of them, the type of rural economy which we know as 'manorial' was prevalent in England? (2) Have we any proof that the tillers of the soil were for the more part slaves or unfree men? We will move backwards from Domesday Book.

In the first place reliance has been placed on the document known as Rectitudines Singularum Personarum¹¹¹⁹. Of the origin of this we know nothing; we can not say for certain that it is many years older than the Norman Conquest. Apparently it is the statement of one who is concerned in the management of great estates and is desirous of imparting his knowledge to others. It first sets forth the right of the thegn. He is worthy of the right given to him by his book. He must do three things in respect of his land, namely, fyrdfare, burh-bote and bridgework. From many lands however 'a more ample landright arises at the king's ban': that is to say, the thegn is subject to other burdens, such as making a deer-hedge at the king's hám, providing warships¹¹²⁰ and sea-ward and head-ward and fyrd-ward, and almsfee and church-scot and many other things. Then we hear of the right of the geneat. It varies from place to place. In some places he must pay rent (land-gafol) and grass-swine yearly, and ride and carry and lead loads, work and support his lord¹¹²¹, and reap and mow and hew the deer-hedge and keep it up, build and hedge the burh and make new roads for the tún, pay church-scot and almsfee, keep head-ward and horse-ward, go errands far and near wherever he is directed. Next we hear of the cottier's services. He works one day a week and three days in harvest-time. He ought not to pay rent. He ought to have five acres more or less. He pays hearth-penny on Holy Thursday as every free man should. He 'defends' or 'acquits' his lord's inland when there is a summons for seaward or for the king's deer-hedge or the like, as befits him, and pays church-scot at Martinmas. Then we have a long statement as to the services of the gebúr. In some places they are heavy, in others light. On some land he must work two days a week and three days at harvest by way of week-work. Besides this there is rent to be paid in money and kind. There is ploughing to be done and there are boon-works. He has to feed dogs and find bread for the swine-herd. His beasts must lie¹¹²² in his lord's fold from Martinmas to Easter. On the land where this custom prevails the gebúr receives by way of outfit two oxen and one cow and six sheep and seven sown acres upon his yard-land. After the first year he is to do his services in full and he is to receive his working tools and the furniture for his house. We then hear of the special duties and rights of the bee-keeper, the swine-herd, the follower, the sower, ox-herd, shepherd, beadle, woodward, hayward and so forth.

Now, according to our reading of this document, there stand below the thegn, but above the serfs (of whom but few words are said¹¹²³) three classes of men—there is the geneat, there is the gebúr and there is the cotsetla. The boor and the cottier are free men; the cottier pays his hearth-penny, that is his Romescot, his Peter's-penny, on Holy Thursday as every free man does; but both boor and cottier do week-work. On the other hand the geneat does no week-work. He pays a rent, he pays a grass-swine (that is to say he gives a pig or pigs in return for his pasture rights), he rides, he carries, he goes errands, he discharges the forinsec service due from the manor, and he is under a general obligation to do whatever his lord commands. He bears a name which has originally been an honourable name; he is his lord's 'fellow¹¹²⁴.' His services strikingly resemble those which S^t. Oswald exacted from his ministri, his equites, his milites¹¹²⁵. Almost every word that is said of the geneat is true of those very substantial persons who took land-loans from the church of Worcester. The geneat (who becomes a villanus in the Latin version of our document that was made by a Norman clerk of Henry I.'s reign) is a riding-man, radman, radcniht, with a horse, a very different being from the villanus of the thirteenth century¹¹²⁶. On the other hand, in the gebúr of this document we may see the burus, who is also the colibertus of Domesday Book¹¹²⁷, and he certainly is in a very dependent position, for his lord provides him with cattle, with instruments of husbandry, even with the scanty furniture of his house. We dare not indeed argue from this text that the villanus of Domesday Book does not owe week-work, for the writer who rendered geneat by villanus was quite unable to understand many parts of the document that he was translating¹¹²⁸; but when we place the Rectitudines by the side of the survey we can hardly avoid the belief that the extremely dependent gebúr of the former is represented, not by the villanus, but by the burus or colibertus of the latter. However, over and over again the author of the Rectitudines has protested that customs vary. He will lay down no general rule; he does but know what goes on in certain places¹¹²⁹.

In 956 King Eadwig gave to Bath Abbey thirty manses at Tidenham in Gloucestershire¹¹³⁰. A cartulary compiled in the twelfth century contains a copy of his gift, and remote from this it contains a statement of the services due from the men of Tidenham. It is possible, but unlikely, that this statement represents the state of affairs that existed at the moment when the minster received the gift; to all appearance it belongs to a later date¹¹³¹. It begins by stating that at Tidenham there are 30 hides, 9 of inland and 21 'gesettes landes,' that is 9 hides of demesne and 21 hides of land set to tenants. Then after an account of the fisheries, which were of importance, it tells us of the services due from the geneat and from the gebúr. The geneat shall work as well on the land as off the land, whichever he is bid, and ride and carry and lead loads and drive droves 'and do many other things.' The gebúr must do week-work, of which some particulars are stated, and he also must pay rent in money and in kind. Here again a well marked line is drawn between the geneat and the gebúr. Here again the geneat, like the cniht or minister of Oswaldslaw, is under a very general obligation of obedience to his lord; but he is a riding man and there is nothing whatever to show that he is habitually employed in agricultural labour upon his lord's demesne. As to the gebúr, he has to work hard enough day by day, and week by week, though of his legal status we are told no word.

In a Winchester cartulary, 'a cartulary of the lowest possible character,' there stands what purports to be a copy of the charter whereby in the year 900 Edward the Elder gave to the church of Winchester 10 manentes of land 'æt Stoce be Hysseburnan' together with all the men who were thereon at the time of Alfred's death and all the men who were 'æt Hisseburna' at the same period. Edward, we are told, acquired the land 'æt Stoce' in exchange for land 'æt Ceolseldene' and 'æt Sweoresholte [Sparsholt].' At the end of the would-be charter stand the names of its witnesses. Then follows in English (but hardly the English of the year 900) a statement of the services which the ceorls shall do 'to Hysseburnan.' Then follow the boundaries. Then the eschatocol of the charter and the list of witnesses is repeated¹¹³². On the face of the copy are three suspicious traits: (1) the modernized language, (2) the repeated eschatocol, (3) the description of the services, for the like is found in no other charter. This is not all. Two other documents in the same cartulary bear on the same transaction. By the first Edward gave to the church of Winchester 50 manentes 'æt Hysseburnan' which he had obtained by an exchange for land 'æt Merchamme¹¹³³.' By the second he gave to the church of Winchester 50 manentes 'ad Hursbourne' and other 10 'ad Stoke¹¹³⁴.' The more carefully these three documents are examined, the more difficult will the critic find it to acquit the Winchester monks of falsifying their 'books' and improving Edward's gift. Therefore this famous statement about the ceorls' services is not the least suspicious part of a highly suspicious document. It is to this effect:—'From each hiwisc (family or hide), at the autumnal equinox, forty pence and six church mittan of ale and three sesters of loaf-wheat. In their own time they shall plough three acres and sow them with their own seed, and in their own time bring it [the produce of the sown land] to barn. They shall pay three pounds of gafol barley and mow half an acre of gafol-mead in their own time and bring it to the rick; four fothers of split gafol-wood for a shingle-rick in their own time and sixteen yards of gafol-fencing in their own time. And at Easter two ewes with two lambs, but two young sheep may be counted for an old one; and they shall wash and shear sheep in their own time. And every week they shall do what work they are bid, except three weeks, one at Midwinter, one at Easter and the third at the Gang Days.' Here no doubt, as in the account of Tidenham, as in the Rectitudines, we see what may fairly be called the manorial economy. The lord has a village; he has demesne land (inland) which is cultivated for him by the labour of his tenants; these tenants pay gafol in money or in kind; some of them (the geneat of Tidenham, the geneat of the Rectitudines) assist him when called upon to do so; others work steadily from day to day; in many particulars the extent of the work due from them is ascertained; whether they are free men, whether they are bound to the soil, whether the national courts will protect them in their tenure, whether they are slaves, we are not told.

That such an arrangement was common in the eleventh century we know; a solitary instance of it comes to us professedly from the first year of the tenth, and certainly from a cartulary that is full of lies. To draw general inferences from a few such instances would be rash. What should we believe of 'the English village of the eleventh century' if the one village of which we had any knowledge was Orwell in Cambridgeshire¹¹³⁵? What should we believe of 'the English village of the thirteenth century' if our only example was a village on the ancient demesne? The traces of a manorial economy that have been discovered in yet remoter times are few, slight and dubious. A passage in the laws of Ine¹¹³⁶ seems to prove that there were men who had let out small quantities of land, 'a yard or more,' to cultivators at rents and who were wrongfully endeavouring to get from their lessees work as well as gafol. The same law may prove the highly probable proposition that some men had taken 'loans' of manses and were paying for them, not only by gafol, but by work done on the lord's land. That already in Ine's day there were many free men who were needy and had lords above them, that already the state was beginning to consecrate the relation between lord and man as a security for the peace and a protection against crime is undoubted¹¹³⁷. But this does not bring us very near to the Roman villa. Nor shall we see a villa wherever the dooms or the land-books make mention of a hám or a tún, for the meanest ceorl may have a tún and will probably have a home of his own¹¹³⁸.

It is said that the England of Bede's day was full of villae and that Bede calls the same place now villa and now vicus¹¹³⁹. But before we enter on any argument about the use of such words, we ought first to remember that neither Bede nor the scribes of the land-books were trained philologists. London is a villa¹¹⁴⁰, but it is also a civitas, urbs, oppidum, vicus, a wíc, a tún, a burh, and a port. When we see such words as these used promiscuously we must lay but little stress upon the occurrence of a particular term in a particular case. Suppose for a moment that in England there were many villages full of free landholders: what should they be called in Latin? They should, it is replied, be called vici and they should not be called villae, for a villa is an estate. But it is part of the case of those who have used this argument that at the time of the barbarian invasions the Roman world was full of villae, so full that every or almost every vicus was situated on and formed part of a villa¹¹⁴¹. We are therefore exacting a good deal from Bede, from a man who learnt his Latin in school, if we require him to be ever mindful of this nice distinction. We are saying to him: 'True it is that a knot of neighbouring houses with the appurtenant lands is habitually called a villa; but then this word introduces the notion of ownership; the villa is an unit in a system of property law, and, if your village is not also an estate, a praedium, then you should call it vicus and not villa.' To this we must add that, while the word villa did not until after the Norman Conquest force its way into English speech, the word vicus became an English word at a very early period¹¹⁴². It became our word wick and it became part of a very large number of place-names¹¹⁴³. The Domesday surveyors found herdwicks and berewicks in many parts of the country¹¹⁴⁴. Moreover we can see that in the Latin documents villa is used in the loosest manner. London is a villa; but a single house, a single 'haw,' in the city of Canterbury or the city of Rochester is a villa¹¹⁴⁵.

If we carefully attend to the wording of the land-books, we shall find the manorial economy far more visible in the later than in the earlier of them. The Confessor gives to Westminster 'ða cotlife Perscore and Dorhurste' with all their lands and all their berewicks¹¹⁴⁶. He gives the cotlif Eversley and all things of right belonging thereto, with church and mill, with wood and field, with meadow and heath, with water and with moor¹¹⁴⁷. From 998 we have a gift of a 'heafod-botl,' a capital mansion, we may say, and its appurtenances¹¹⁴⁸. In earlier times we may sometimes find that the subject matter of the royal gift is spoken of as forming a single unit; it is a villa, or it is a vicus. But rarely is the thing that is given called a villa except when the thing that is given is just a single hide¹¹⁴⁹. If a charter freely disposes of several villae, meaning thereby villages, we shall probably find some other reasons for assigning that charter, whatever date it may bear, to the eleventh, the twelfth or a yet later century¹¹⁵⁰. Sometimes in old books the king will say that he is giving a vicus, a vicus of five or eight or ten tributarii¹¹⁵¹. Much more frequently he will not speak thus; he will not speak as though the subject matter of his gift had a physical unity and individuality. 'I give,' he will say, 'so many manentes, tributarii, or casati in the place known as X,' or 'I give a certain part of my land, to wit, that of so many manentes, tributarii, or casati at the spot which men call Y.' Such language does not suggest that the manses thus given are subservient to one dominant and dominical manse or manor; it is very unlike the language of the twelfth century¹¹⁵². Such words as fundus and praedium are conspicuously absent, and ager usually means but a small piece of land, an acre. Foreign precedents would have suggested that when an estate was to be conveyed it should be conveyed cum servis et ancillis, or cum mancipiis et accolabus; such clauses are rare in our English land-books¹¹⁵³.

But, it will be said, at all events the king is giving persons, men, as well as land; he is giving manentes, casati, tributarii. What is more these are foreign words and they describe the 'semi-servile' occupants of the soil. Now it is true that sometimes he gives manentes, casati, tributarii, though more often he gives either so many manses (mansas), or 'the land of so many manentes, casati, tributarii,' while in Kent he gives plough-lands or sullungs. But we think it plain that in England these Latin words were used simply to describe the extent, or rather the rateable extent, of land, without much reference to the number or the quality of its occupants. The terra unius manentis, even the unus casatus when that is the subject of a conveyance, is like Bede's terra unius familiae, the unit known to Englishmen as the hiwisc, or hide¹¹⁵⁴. Hence it is that reference is so often made to repute and estimation. 'I give,' says Egbert, 'a certain portion of land to the amount, as I estimate, of five casati,' or (it may be) 'of twenty manentes¹¹⁵⁵.' Nothing can be easier than to count whether there be four, five, or six 'semi-servile' households on a given piece of land. Far easier would it be to do this than to do what is habitually done, namely, to set forth the boundaries of the land with laborious precision. But there is already an element of estimation, of appreciation, in these units. Already they are units in a system of taxation. Hence also it is that so very frequently what the king gives is just exactly five, or some multiple of five, of these units¹¹⁵⁶. Rating is a rough process; five and ten are pleasant numbers.

But against the argument which would see in every conveyance of 'five manentes' or of 'the land of five casati' a conveyance of five semi-servile households with their land we have another objection to urge. Here we will state it briefly; a fuller statement would take us far away from our present theme. If the land-books of the churches are to lead up to Domesday Book, the unit conveyed as terra unius manentis (casati, tributarii) is a hide with some 120 acres of arable land, the land appropriate to a plough-team of eight oxen. Had the semi-servile manens as a general rule 120 arable acres, a plough-team of eight oxen? We do not believe it, and those who have most strongly insisted on the servility or 'semi-servility' of the tillers of the soil, do not believe it. They would give the gebúr but a quarter of a hide and but two beasts of the plough. That being so, it should be common ground that the terra unius manentis (casati, tributarii) can not be construed as 'the land occupied by one semi-servile tenant.' An explanation of the fact that land is conveyed by reference to units so large as the hide of 120 acres and that these units are spoken of as though each household would normally have one of them must be sought elsewhere; we can not here pause to find it. But in any case these foreign terms should give us little trouble. When he hears such words as manens, casatus, tributarius, the man who has lived in Gaul may hear some undertone of servility or 'semi-servility.' We do not discuss this matter; it may be so. But look at the words themselves, what do they primarily mean? A manens is one who dwells upon land, a casatus is one to whom a casa has been allotted, a tributarius pays tributum; the free English landowner pays a tributum to the king¹¹⁵⁷. We must make the best we can of a foreign, an inappropriate tongue, and the best that we make is often very bad, especially when we have a taste for fine writing. And so England is full of villas which are Roman and satraps who, no doubt, are Persian.

And whence, we must ask, comes that system of intermixed 'strip-holding' that we find in our English fields? Who laid out those fields? The obvious answer is that they were laid out by men who would sacrifice economy and efficiency at the shrine of equality. Each manse is to have the same number of strips; the strips of one manse must be neither better nor worse than those of its neighbour and therefore must be scattered abroad over the whole territory of the village. That this system was not invented by men who owned large continuous tracts is plain. No such owner would for one moment dream of cutting up his land in this ridiculous fashion, and of reserving for his own manse, not a ring-fenced demesne, but strips lying here and there, 'hide-meal and acre-meal' among the strips of his serfs. That is not the theory. No one supposes that a Roman landowner whose hands were free allowed the soil of his villa to be parcelled out in accordance with this wasteful, cumbrous, barbarous plan. So his hands must not be free; the soil of which he becomes the owner must already be plotted out in strips, and these strips must be so tightly bound up into manses, that he scruples to overturn an existing arrangement, and contents himself with appropriating a few of the manses for his own use and compelling the occupants of the others to labour for him and pay him rents. In this there is nothing impossible; but we have only deferred, not solved the problem. Who laid out our English fields and tied the strips into manses? That this work was done by the Britons before they were brought under the Roman yoke does not seem very probable. Celtic rural economy, whenever it has had a chance of unfettered development, has made for results far other than those that are recorded by the larger half of the map of England. If throughout England the Romans found so tough a system of intermixed manses that, despite all its absurdities, they could not but spare it, then the Britons who dwelt in the land that was to be English were many centuries in advance of the Britons who dwelt in the land that was to be Welsh. To eke out this hypothesis another must be introduced. The Teutonic invaders of Britain must be brought from some manorialized province. So, after all, the model of the English field may have been 'made in Germany.' Somehow or another it was made in South Germany by semi-servile people, whose semi-servility was such a half-and-half affair that they could not be prevented from sacrificing every interest of their lords at the shrine of equality¹¹⁵⁸.

We are far from saying that wherever there is strip-holding, there liberty and equality have once reigned¹¹⁵⁹. It is very possible that where a barbarian chieftain obtained a ring-fenced allotment of conquered soil, he sometimes divided it into scattered strips which he parcelled out among his unfree dependants. But if he did this, he did it because his only idea of agriculture was derived from a village formed by men who were free and equal. The maintenance of a system of intermixed strip-holding may be due to seignorial power, and a great deal of the rigidity of the agrarian arrangements that we see in the England of the thirteenth century may be due to the same cause. Seignorial power was not, at least in origin, absolute ownership. It had to make the best it could of an existing system. For the lord's purposes that system was at its best when it was rigid and no tenement was partible. But assuredly this plan was not originally invented by great proprietors who were seeking to get the most they could out of their land, their slaves and their capital.

That we have not been denying the existence of slavery will be plain. Indeed we may strongly suspect that the men who parcelled out our fields were for the more part slave-owners, though slave-owners in a very small way. To say nothing of Welshmen, there was quite enough inter-tribal warfare to supply the ceorl with a captive. But it was not for the sake of slaves or serfs or 'semi-servile' folk that the system of intermixed strips was introduced.

Lastly, the theory which would derive the English manor from the Roman villa must face the grave problem presented to it by the account which Domesday Book, when speaking of the Confessor's day, gives of the eastern and northern counties, of a large quarter of all England, and of just that part of England which was populous. We see swarms of men who are free men but who are subject, they and their land, to various modes and degrees of seignorial power. The modes are many, the degrees are gentle. Personal, tenurial, justiciary threads are woven into a web that bewilders us. Here we see the work of commendation, there the work of the land-loan, and there again what comes of grants of sake and soke. We see the formation of manors taking place under our eyes, and as yet the process is by no means perfect. In village after village there is nothing that our economic historians would consent to call a manor. Now, no doubt, the difference between the east and the west is, at least in part, due to Danish invasions and Danish settlements. But how shall we picture to ourselves the action of the Danes? Is it to be supposed that they found the Anglo-Roman manor-villa a prevalent and prosperous institution, that they destroyed it and put something else in its place, put in its place the village of free peasants who could 'go with their land' to what lord they pleased? If so, then we have to face the question why these heathen Danes acted in a manner so different from that in which their predecessors, the heathen Angles and Saxons, had acted. Surely one part of the explanation is that the inswarming barbarians checked the manorializing process that was steadily at work in Wessex and Mercia. We do not say that this is the whole explanation. We have seen how free were many of the Cambridgeshire villages and have little reason to believe that they had been settled by Danes¹¹⁶⁰. The west country is the country to which we shall naturally look for the most abundant traces of the Wealh theow. There it is that we find numerous servi, and there that we find rather trevs than villages. But also we have hardly a single land-book of early date which deals with any part of the territory that became the Danelaw. Many a book the Danes may have burnt when they sacked the monasteries. They sacked the monasteries, burnt the books and freed the land. But still we may doubt whether the practice of booking lands to the churches had gone far in East Anglia and the adjacent shires when they were once more overwhelmed by barbarism. No doubt in course of time the churches of the east became rich: Ely and St Edmunds, Peterborough and Ramsey, Croyland and Thorney. But, even when supplemented by legend and forgery, their titles to wide territories can seldom be compared for antiquity to the titles that might have been pleaded by the churches of Kent and Wessex and the Severn Valley. Richly endowed churches mean a subjected peasantry. And thus we may say of the Danes that if in a certain sense they freed the districts which they conquered, they in the same sense enslaved the rest of England. Year by year Wessex and Mercia had to strain every nerve in order to repel the pagans, to fit out fleets, build burgs and keep armies always in the field. The peasant must in the end bear the cost of this exhausting struggle. Meanwhile in the north and the east the process that makes manors has been interrupted; it must be begun once more. It was accomplished by men some of whom had Scandinavian blood in their veins, but who were not heathens, not barbarians: it was accomplished by Normans steeped in Frankish feudalism.

§ 6. The Village Community.

We have argued for an England in which there were many free villages. It remains for us to say a word of the doctrines which would fill England with free landowning village communities. Here we enter a misty region where arguments suggested by what are thought to be 'survivals' and inferences drawn from other climes or other ages take the place of documents. We are among guesses and little has as yet been proved.

A popular theory teaches us that land belonged to communities before it belonged to individuals. This theory has the great merit of being vague and elastic; but, as it seems to think itself precise, and probably owes some of its popularity to its pretence of precision, we feel it our duty to point out to it its real merit, its vague elasticity.

It apparently attributes the ownership of land to communities. It contrasts communities with individuals. In so doing it seems to hint, and yet to be afraid of saying, that land was owned by corporations before it was owned by men. The hesitation we can understand. No one who has paid any attention to the history of law is likely to maintain with a grave face that the ownership of land was attributed to fictitious persons before it was attributed to men. But if we abandon ownership by corporations and place in its stead co-ownership, then we seem to be making an unfortunate use of words if we say that land belonged to communities before it belonged to individuals. Co-ownership is ownership by individuals. When at the present day an English landowner dies and his land descends to his ten daughters, it is owned by individuals, by ten individuals. If each of these ten ladies died intestate leaving ten daughters, the land would still be owned by individuals, by a hundred individuals.

The distinction that modern law draws between the landowning corporation and the group of co-owners is as sharp as any distinction can be. It will be daily brought home to any one who takes an active share in the management of the affairs of a corporation, for example, a small college which has a master, six fellows and eight scholars. A conveyance of land to the college and a conveyance of land to these fifteen men would have utterly different effects. A corporation may be deep in debt while none of its members owes a farthing. Now we may suspect, and not without warrant, that in a remote past these two very different notions, namely that of land owned by a corporation and that of land owned by a group of co-owners, were intimately blent in some much vaguer notion that was neither exactly the one nor exactly the other. We may suspect that could we examine the conduct of certain men who lived long ago we should be sorely puzzled to say whether they were behaving as the co-owners of a tract of land or as the members of a corporation which was its owner. But to fashion for ourselves any clear and stable notion of a tertium quid that is neither corporate ownership nor co-ownership, but partly the one and partly the other, seems impossible¹¹⁶¹. Therefore if, in accordance with the popular theory, we attribute the ownership of lands to 'communities,' we ought to add that we do not attribute it to corporations and that we are fully aware that co-ownership can not be sharply contrasted with ownership by individuals.

Also since we are apt to fall into the trick of talking about possession when we mean ownership or proprietary right, we need not perhaps ask pardon for the remark that land owned by a group of three joint tenants may be possessed in many different ways. The three may be jointly possessing the whole; each may be severally possessing a physically divided third; the whole may be possessed by one of them or by some fourth person; the possession may be rightful or wrongful.

But there is a graver question that must be raised. When we say that land belonged to communities before it belonged to individuals, are we really speaking of ownership or of something else?

At the present day no two legal ideas seem more distinct from each other than that of governmental power and that of proprietary right. The 'sovereign' of Great Britain (be the sovereignty where it may) is not the owner of Great Britain, and if we still say that all land is 'held of' the king, we know that the abolition of this antique dogma, this caput mortuum, might be easily accomplished without any perceptible revolution in the practical rules of English law. A landowner in the United States does not 'hold of' the State or the people or the government of the State. The 'eminent domain' of the State is neither ownership nor any mode of ownership. Further, we conceive that the sovereign person or sovereign body can, without claiming any ownership in the soil, place many restrictions on the use that an owner may make of his land. A law may prohibit owners from building on certain lands: those lands are still their lands. Again, the supposed law may be not a negative but a positive rule; it may require that the owners of certain lands shall build upon them, or shall till them, or shall keep them as pasture¹¹⁶²: still neither state nor sovereign will be owner of those lands or have any proprietary interest in them. Our law may subject certain lands to a land-tax to be paid to the state in money, or to a tithe to be paid to the church in kind, but the state will not and the church will not be part-owner of those lands. Our state may habitually expropriate owners, may take their lands from them because they are felons or because their lands are wanted for the construction of railways. We may conceive it expropriating owners who have done no wrong and yet are to have no compensation; but until the expropriation takes place the state does not own the land. As with land, so with chattels. The owner of a cart may find that it is impressed for the purpose of military transport¹¹⁶³ and yet the cart is his and not the state's.

Similar powers may be exercised by persons or bodies that are not sovereign, for example, by the governor of a province, by a county council or a municipal corporation. Suppose that the owners of land situate within a certain borough are prohibited by a by-law from placing on their soil any buildings the plans of which have not been approved by the town council. Carry this supposition further:—suppose that the town council is a 'folk-moot' which every inhabitant of the borough may attend. Still, according to our thinking, there would here be no communal ownership and no division of ownership between individuals and a corporation. If we thought it well to say that in such a case the community would have some kind of 'eminent domain' over the land of individuals, we should have to add that this kind of eminent domain was not a proprietary right, but merely governmental power, a power of making general rules and issuing particular commands. Nor would the case be altered if the expressed object of such rules and commands was the interest, it may even be the pecuniary interest, of the men of the town. The erection of buildings may be controlled in order that the town may be wholesome and sightly, or we may conceive that landowners in the suburbs are compelled to keep their land as market-gardens or as dairy-farms in order that vegetables or milk may be cheap:—for all this the town council or community of townsfolk would have no property in the land.

But though this be so, we can not doubt that could we trace back these ideas to their origin, we should come to a time when they were hardly distinct from each other. The language of our medieval law tells us that this is so. The one word dominium has to cover both proprietary rights and many kinds of political power; it stands for ownership, lordship, sovereignty, suzerainty. The power that Edward I. wields over all England, the power that he claims over all Scotland, all Gascony, the right that he has in his palace of Westminster, the right that he has in his war-horse, all these are but modes of dominium. Then we imagine a barbarous horde invading a country, putting its inhabitants to the sword and defending it against all comers. Doubtless in some sort the land is its land. But in what sort? In the sort in which Queen Victoria or the British nation has lands in every quarter of the globe, the sort in which all France belongs to the French Republic, or the sort in which Blackacre is the land of John Styles? Have the barbarians themselves answered this question? Have they asked it¹¹⁶⁴?

Now if we are going to confuse sovereignty with ownership, imperium with dominium, political power with proprietary right, why then let our socialists and collectivists cease their striving and sing Te Deum. Already their ideal must be attained. Every inch of the soil of France, to name one instance, 'belongs' to the French Republic. But, if we would not be guilty of this confusion, then we must be very careful before we assent to the proposition that in the normal course of history (if indeed in such a context history can be said to have a normal course) the ownership of land by communities appears before the ownership of land by individuals. Even if we put aside all such criticisms as would be legal quibbles in the eyes of impatient theorists, and refuse to say whether the 'community' is a mass of men, an ideal person or tertium quid, we still are likely to find that the anthropologists will be against us. We are now told by one of the acutest of explorers that, if we leave out of account as no true case of ownership the sort of inchoate sovereignty which an independent tribe of hunters may exercise over a piece of the world's surface, 'ownership of land by individuals' is to be found at a much lower grade in the scale of civilization than that at which 'communal ownership' makes its first appearance¹¹⁶⁵. Communal ownership, it is said, is not seen until that stage is reached at which the power of the chieftain is already a considerable force and the work of centralization is progressing. With these inductions we do not meddle; but if the anthropologist will concede to the historian that he need not start from communalism as from a necessary and primitive datum, a large room will be open for our guesses when we speculate about the doings of a race of barbarians who have come into contact with Roman ideas. Even had our anthropologists at their command materials that would justify them in prescribing a normal programme for the human race and in decreeing that every independent portion of mankind must, if it is to move at all, move through one fated series of stages which may be designated as Stage A, Stage B, Stage C and so forth, we still should have to face the fact that the rapidly progressive groups have been just those which have not been independent, which have not worked out their own salvation, but have appropriated alien ideas and have thus been enabled, for anything that we can tell, to leap from Stage A to Stage X without passing through any intermediate stages. Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors did not arrive at the alphabet, or at the Nicene Creed, by traversing a long series of 'stages'; they leapt to the one and to the other.

But in truth we are learning that the attempt to construct a normal programme for all portions of mankind is idle and unscientific. For one thing, the number of such portions that we can with any plausibility treat as independent is very small. For another, such is the complexity of human affairs and such their interdependence, that we can not hope for scientific laws which will formulate a sequence of stages in any one province of man's activity. We can not, for instance, find a law which deals only with political and neglects proprietary arrangements, or a law which deals only with property and neglects religion. So soon as we penetrate below the surface, each of the cases whence we would induce our law begins to look extremely unique, and we shall hesitate long before we fill up the blanks that occur in the history of one nation by institutions and processes that have been observed in some other quarter. If we are in haste to drive the men of every race past all the known 'stages,' if we force our reluctant forefathers through agnatic gentes and house-communities and the rest of it, our normal programme for the human race is like to become a grotesque assortment of odds and ends.

It is an interesting question whether in the history of our own people we ought to suppose any definite 'stage' intermediate between the introduction of steady agriculture and the ownership of land by individuals. To say the least, we have no proof that among the Germans the land was continuously tilled before it was owned by individuals or by those small groups that constituted the households. This seems to be so whether we have regard to the country in which the Germans had once lived as nomads or to those Celtic and Roman lands which they subdued. To Gaul and to Britain they seem to have brought with them the idea that the cultivable land should be allotted in severalty. In some cases they fitted themselves into the agrarian framework that they found; in other cases they formed villages closely resembling those that they had left behind them in their older home. But to all appearance, even in that older home, so soon as the village was formed and had ploughed lands around it, the strips into which those fields were divided were owned in severalty by the householders of the village. Great pains had been taken to make the division equitable; each householder was to have strips equal in number and in value, and to secure equivalence each was to have a strip in every part of the arable territory. But our evidence, though it may point to some cooperation in agriculture, does not point to a communistic division of the fruits¹¹⁶⁶. Nor does it point to a time when a village council or a majority of villagers conceived that it had power to re-allot the arable strips at regular or irregular intervals¹¹⁶⁷. On the contrary, the individual's hold upon his strips developed very rapidly into an inheritable and partible ownership. No doubt this ownership grew more intense as time went on. It is a common remark that during yet recent ages the ownership of land that is known to our law has been growing more intense. This is true and patent enough; the landowner has gained powers of alienation that his predecessors did not enjoy. Possibly the only ownership of land that was known to the Lex Salica was inalienable and could be inherited only by sons of the dead owner. Then again, in old days a trespass that did no harm would have been no trespass. 'Nominal damages' are no primitive institution, and for a long time a man may have had no action if strange cattle browsed over land on which no crop of corn was ripening¹¹⁶⁸. But this growing intensity of ownership may be seen also in the case of movable goods. Indeed there is a sense in which English law may be said to have known a full ownership of land long ages before it knew a full ownership of chattels¹¹⁶⁹. What, however, we are concerned to observe is that the German village community does not seem to have resisted this development of ownership or set up for itself any antagonistic proprietary claim. It sought no more as regards the arable fields than a certain power of regulating their culture, and in old times the Flurzwang, the customary rotation of crop and fallow, must have appeared less as the outcome of human ordinance than as an unalterable arrangement established by the nature of things in general and of acre strips in particular¹¹⁷⁰.

Thus, so far back as we can see, the German village had a solid core of individualism. There were, however, lands which in a certain sense belonged to it and which were not allotted for good and all among its various members. For one thing, the meadows were often subjected to a more communal scheme. In the later middle ages we may see them annually redistributed by rotation or by lot among the owners of the arable. The meadows, which must be sharply distinguished from the pasture, were few, and, as we may see from Domesday and other records, they were exceedingly valuable. Probably their great but varying value stood in the way of any permanent partition that would have seemed equitable. Still they were allotted annually and the right to an allotment 'ran with' the house and the arable strips. But again, there were woods and pastures. If we must at once find an owner for this Almende, we may be inclined to place the ownership in a village community, though not without remembering that if this community may develop into a land-owning corporation, it may develop into a group of co-owners. But in all likelihood the question as to the whereabouts of ownership might go unanswered and unasked for a long time. Rights of user exercisable over these woods and pastures were attached to the ownership of the houses and the arable strips, and such 'rights of common' may take that acutely individualistic form which they seem to have taken in the England of the thirteenth century. The freeholder of 'ancient arable,' whose tenement represents one of the original shares, has a right to turn out beasts on the waste, on the whole waste and every inch of it, and of this right nor lord, nor community can deprive him¹¹⁷¹. Perhaps we may attribute to our law about this matter an unusual and, in a certain sense, an abnormal individualism. In the much governed England of the Angevin time, the strong central power encouraged every freeholder to look to it for relief against all kinds of pressure seignorial or communal. Elsewhere a village moot may assume and retain some control over these pasture rights. But still the untilled land, the waste, the Almende, exists mainly, if not solely, for the benefit of a small group of tenements that are owned and possessed in severalty. As to the ownership of the land that is subject to the rights of pasture, it is a nude, a very nude dominium, and for a long while no one gives it a thought.

In a favourable environment the German village community may and will become a landowning corporation. But many dangers lie before it: internal as well as external dangers. We must not think of it as a closely knit body of men. The agrarian is almost the only tie that keeps it together. Originally the men who settle down in a village are likely to be kinsmen. Some phrases in the continental folk-laws, and some perhaps of our English place-names, point in this direction. But (explain this how we will) the German system of kinship, which binds men together by the sacred tie of blood-feud, traces blood both through father and through mother, and therefore will not suffer a 'blood-feud-kin' to have either a local habitation or a name¹¹⁷². Very soon, especially if daughters or the sons of daughters are allowed (and very ancient Frankish laws allow them) to inherit the dead man's land, a man who lives in one village will often be closer of kin to men who live in other villages than to his neighbours. The village community was not a gens. The bond of blood was sacred, but it did not tie the Germans into mutually exclusive clans. Nor did it hold them in large 'house-communities,' for the partible inheritance seems as a general rule to have been soon partitioned¹¹⁷³. Nor again may we ascribe to the German house-father much power over his full-grown sons¹¹⁷⁴.

Moreover, the village community was not a body that could declare the law of the tribe or nation. It had no court, no jurisdiction. If moots were held in it, these would be comparable rather to meetings of shareholders than to sessions of a tribunal. In short, the village landowners formed a group of men whose economic affairs were inextricably intermixed, but this was almost the only principle that made them an unit, unless and until the state began to use the township as its organ for the maintenance of the peace and the collection of taxes. That is the reason why we read little of the township in our Anglo-Saxon dooms¹¹⁷⁵. Only as the state's pressure increases, does the vill become one of the public institutions of the kingdom. We may even exaggerate the amount of agricultural cooperation that was to be found within it. Beyond the age in which the typical peasant is a virgater contributing two oxen to a team of eight, our English evidence seems to point to a time when the normal 'townsman' held a hide and had slaves and oxen enough for its cultivation. Nor in all probability was the village community a large body. We may doubt whether in the oldest days it usually comprised more than some ten shareholders¹¹⁷⁶.

Whatever might come in course of time, we must not suppose that the village had much that could be called a constitution. In particular, we must be careful not to carry too far back the notion that votes will be counted and that the voice of a majority will be treated as the voice of all. When that marvellous title De migrantibus raises a corner of the curtain and gives us our only glance into a village of newly settled Salian Franks, the one indisputable trait that we see among much that is disputable is that the new-comer must leave the village if one villager objects to his presence. His presence, we may suppose, might be objectionable because it might add to the number of those who enjoyed wood, waste and water in common; but any one villager can insist on his departure. Out of this state of things 'communal ownership' may grow; but all the communalism that we see at present is very like individualism¹¹⁷⁷. Above all, we must not picture these village lands as 'impressed with a trust' in favour of unborn generations or as devoted to 'public purposes.' If in course of time small folk, cottiers, 'under-settles' and the like, are found in the village, they will have to struggle for rights in the waste, and the rights, if any, that they get will be meagre when compared with those of the owners of 'whole lands' and 'half lands.' An oligarchy of peasant proprietors may rule the waste and the village.

Thus even in favourable circumstances there were many difficulties to be overcome if the communalism, such as it was, of the village community was to be maintained and developed. But where the village was founded upon conquered soil the circumstances were not favourable. If the Germans invaded Gaul or Britain, the very fields themselves seemed to rebel against communalism and to demand a ring-fenced severalty. Throughout large tracts in Gaul the barbarians were content to adapt themselves to the shell that was provided for them. A certain aliquot share of every estate might be taken from its former owner and be allotted to a Burgundian or a Goth according to a uniform plan¹¹⁷⁸. Throughout other large tracts villages of the Germanic type were founded; a large part of northern Gaul was studded with such villages, and it may be well for us to remember that some of our Norman subjugators came to us from a land of villages, if others came from a land of isolated homesteads¹¹⁷⁹. There can be little doubt that in Britain numerous villages were formed which reproduced in all essentials the villages which Saxons and Angles had left behind them on the mainland, and as little doubt that very often, in the west and south-west of Britain, German kings and eorls took to themselves integral estates, the boundaries and agrarian arrangement whereof had been drawn by Romans, or rather by Celts¹¹⁸⁰.

Then the invasions and the long wars called for a rapid development of kingship. Very quickly the Frankish kingship became despotism. In England also the kings became powerful and the hereditary nobles disappeared. There was taxation. The country was plotted out according to some rude scheme to provide the king with meat and cheese and ale¹¹⁸¹. Then came bishops and priests with the suggestion that he should devote his revenues to the service of God and with forms of conveyance which made him speak as if the whole land were his to give away. Here, so we have argued, was the beginning of a process which placed many a village under a lord. The words of this lord's 'book' told him that he was owner, or at least lord, of this village 'with its woods and its pastures.' The men of the village might or might not maintain all their accustomed rights, but at any rate no expansion of those rights beyond the ancient usage was possible. The potentialities of the waste (if we may so speak) had been handed over to a lord; the future was his.

We must not, however, repeat what has been lengthily said above touching the growth of the manorial system, though we are painfully aware that we have neglected many phases of the complicated process. Here let us remember that this process was not complete in the year 1066, and let us look once more at the free villages in the east; for example, at Orwell¹¹⁸². Who owned the land that served as a pasture for the pecunia villae? Shall we place the ownership in the thirteen holders of the arable strips into which the four hides were divided, or in a corporation whereof they were the members, or in their various lords, those eight exalted persons to whom they were commended, or shall we say that here is res nullius? The supposition that the lords are owners of the waste we may briefly dismiss. The landholders are free to 'withdraw themselves' and seek other lords. That the land is res nullius we may also positively deny, if thereby be meant that it lies open to occupation. Let a man of the next village turn out his beasts there and he will find out fast enough that he has done a wrong. But who will sue him? Will all the villagers join as co-plaintiffs or will the village corporation appear by its attorney? Far more in accordance with all that we see in later days is it to suppose that any one of the men of Orwell who has a right to turn out beasts can resent the invasion¹¹⁸³. This brings to our notice the core of individualism that lies in the centre of the village. The houses and the arable strips are owned in severalty, and annexed to these houses and arable strips are pasture rights which are the rights of individuals and which, it may be believed, seem to exhaust the utility of the waste. What remains to dispute about? A nude, a very nude dominium, which is often imperceptible.

Not always imperceptible. From time to time these Orwell people in town meeting assembled may have taken some grave resolution as to the treatment of the waste. They may now and then have decided to add to the amount of arable and diminish the amount of pasture. But occasional measures of this sort, for which a theoretical, if not a real, unanimity is secured, will not generate a regulative organ, still less a proprietary corporation. In decade after decade a township-moot at Orwell would have little to do. The moot of the Wetherley hundred is the court that deems dooms for the men of Orwell. If the lands of Orwell had been steadily regarded as the lands of a corporation they would have passed in one lump to some one Norman lord. But such corporate feeling as there was was weak. The men of Orwell had been seeking lords, each man for himself, in the most opposite quarters. Many of the virgates that are physically in one village have, as we have seen¹¹⁸⁴, been made 'to lie in' other villages; for the free man can carry his land where he pleases. When this is so, he is already beginning to feel that the tie which keeps him in a village community is a restraint that has, perhaps unfortunately, been imposed upon him and his property by ancient history.

The fate of these lordless communities and of their waste was still trembling in the balance when King Harold fell. To guess what would have happened had he held his own is not easy. It is possible that what was done by foreigners would have been done, though less rapidly, by lords of English race, and that by consolidating soke and commendation into a firm landlordship and then making among themselves treaties of partition, they would have acquired the ownership of the pasture land subject to the rights of common. It is perhaps more probable that in some cases the old indeterminate state of things might have been maintained until the idea of a fictitious personality had spread from the chapter-house to the borough and from the borough to the village. Then the ownership of the soil might have been attributed to a corporation of which the freeholders in the village were the members. One famous case which came to light in the seventeenth century may warn us that throughout the middle ages there were here and there groups of freeholders, and even of customary tenants, who were managing agrarian affairs in a manner which feudalism could not explain and our English law would not warrant, for they were behaving as though they were members of a landowning corporation¹¹⁸⁵. Often in the east of England the manors must have been so intermixed that village meetings, not however of a democratic kind, may have dealt with business which lay outside the competence of any seignorial court. We know little and, it is to be feared, must be content to know little of such meetings. They were not sessions of a tribunal; they kept no rolls; the law knew them not. But we dare not say that if all seignorial pressure had been removed, the village lands would have been preserved as communal lands for modern villagers. Where there was no seignorial pressure, no joint and several liability for dues, the tie was lax between the owners of the strips in the village fields; and if there was a corporate element in their union, there was also a strong element of co-ownership. Had they been left to themselves, we can not say with any confidence that they would not sooner or later have partitioned the waste. Was it not their land, and might they not do what they liked with their own?

One other question may be touched. It was the fashion in England some years ago that those who spoke of village communities should say something of 'the Germanic mark.' What they said seemed often to imply that the German village community was a mark community. This was a mistake. It seems indeed that there were parts of Germany in which the word 'mark' was loosely used¹¹⁸⁶; but the true Markgenossenschaft was utterly different from the Dorfgenossenschaft, and the lands with which it dealt were just those lands that belonged to no village¹¹⁸⁷. In the country which saw the Germans becoming an agricultural race, the lands belonging to the villages were but oases in a wild territory. In later days some large piece of this territory is found to be under the control of a 'mark-community,' whose members are dwelling here and there in many different villages and exercise rights over the land (for the more part it is forest land¹¹⁸⁸) that belongs to no village but constitutes the mark. Traces of what might have become 'the mark system' may perhaps be found in England; but not where they have been usually sought.

We read of a tract in Suffolk which is common pasture for the whole hundred of Coleness¹¹⁸⁹. Instances in which a piece of land is common pasture for many vills were by no means uncommon in the thirteenth century. They grow rarer as time goes on. Our law provided but a precarious and uncomfortable niche for them under the rubric common pur cause de vicinage¹¹⁹⁰. These are the traces of what in different surroundings might have become, and perhaps were near to becoming, mark communities. In the thirteenth century the state seems to have been already enforcing the theory that every inch of land ought to lie within the territory of some vill¹¹⁹¹. This was a police measure. The responsibility of one set of villagers was not to cease until the boundary was reached where the responsibility of another set began. But even in recent times there have been larger moors in the north of England which 'belonged' (we will use a vague word) to two or more townships in common. At any rate, we must not take back this theory that the vills exhaust the land into the days of the Germanic settlement¹¹⁹². In some districts the vills must have been separated from each other by wide woods, and in all likelihood large portions of these woods were not proper to any one village, but were regarded as belonging, in some sense or another, to a group of villages. However, land of this kind was just the land which was most exposed to an assertion of royal ownership, and we imagine that a mark community had from the first little chance of organizing itself in England¹¹⁹³. But we have already made too many guesses.

We must not be in a hurry to get to the beginning of the long history of law. Very slowly we are making our way towards it. The history of law must be a history of ideas. It must represent, not merely what men have done and said, but what men have thought in bygone ages. The task of reconstructing ancient ideas is hazardous, and can only be accomplished little by little. If we are in a hurry to get to the beginning we shall miss the path. Against many kinds of anachronism we now guard ourselves. We are careful of costume, of armour and architecture, of words and forms of speech. But it is far easier to be careful of these things than to prevent the intrusion of untimely ideas. In particular there lies a besetting danger for us in the barbarian's use of a language which is too good for his thought. Mistakes then are easy, and when committed they will be fatal and fundamental mistakes. If, for example, we introduce the persona ficta too soon, we shall be doing worse than if we armed Hengest and Horsa with machine guns or pictured the Venerable Bede correcting proofs for the press; we shall have built upon a crumbling foundation. The most efficient method of protecting ourselves against such errors is that of reading our history backwards as well as forwards, of making sure of our middle ages before we talk about the 'archaic,' of accustoming our eyes to the twilight before we go out into the night.