On the whole we can hardly doubt that both in their land and in their oxen the villeins have had rights protected by law. Let us glance once more at the scheme of bót and wer that has been in force. A villein is slain; the manbót payable to his lord is marked off from the much heavier wergild that is payable to his kindred. If all that a villein could have belonged to his lord such a distinction would be idle.

The villein’s land and the geld.

Still we take it that for one most important purpose the villein’s land is the lord’s land:—the lord must answer for the geld that is due from it. Not that the burden falls ultimately on the lord. On the contrary, it is not unlikely that he makes his villeins pay the geld that is due from his demesne land; it is one of their services that they must ‘defend their lord’s inland’ against the geld. But over against the state the lord represents as well the land of his villeins as his own demesne land. From the great levy of 1084 the demesne lands of the barons had been exempted[176], but no doubt they had been responsible for the tax assessed on the lands held by their villani. We much doubt whether the collectors of the geld went round to the cottages of the villeins and demanded here six pence and there four pence; they presented themselves at the lord’s hall and asked for a large sum. Nay, we believe that very often a perfectly free tenant paid his geld to his lord, or through his lord[177]. Hence arrangements by which some hides were made to acquit other hides; such, for example, was the arrangement at Tewkesbury; there were fifty hides which had to acquit the whole ninety-five hides from all geld and royal service[178]. And then it might be that the lord, enjoying a special privilege, was entitled to take the geld from his tenants and yet paid no geld to the king; thus did the canons of S^t. Petroc in Cornwall[179] and the monks of S^t. Edmund in Suffolk[180]. But as regards lands occupied by villeins, the king, so it seems to us, looks for his geld to the lord and he does not look behind the lord. This is no detail of a fiscal system. A potent force has thus been set in motion. He who pays for land,—it is but fair that he should be considered the owner of that land. We have a hint of this principle in a law of Cnut:—‘He who has “defended” land with the witness of the shire, is to enjoy it without question during his life and on his death may give or sell it to whom he pleases[181].’ We have another hint of this principle in a story told by Heming, the monk of Worcester:—in Cnut’s time but four days of grace were given to the landowner for the payment of the geld; when these had elapsed, anyone who paid the geld might have the land[182]. It is a principle which, if it is applied to the case of lord and villein, will attribute the ownership of the land to the lord and not to the villein.

The villein’s services.

And then we would ask: What services do the villeins render? A deep silence answers us, and as will hereafter be shown, there are many reasons why we should not import the information given us by the monastic cartularies, even such early cartularies as the Black Book of Peterborough, into the days of the Confessor. No doubt the villeins usually do some labour upon the lord’s demesne lands. In particular they help to plough it. A manor, we can see, is generally so arranged that the ratio borne by the demesne oxen to the demesne land will be smaller than that borne by the villeins’ oxen to the villeins’ land. Thus, to give one example out of a hundred, in a Somersetshire manor the lord has four hides and three teams, the villeins have two hides and three teams[183]. But then the lord gets some help in his agriculture from those who are undoubtedly free tenants. The teams of the free tenants are often covered by the same phrase that covers the teams of the villeins[184]. Radknights who are liberi homines plough and harrow at the lord’s court[185]. The very few entries which tell us of the labour of the villeins are quite insufficient to condemn the whole class to unlimited, or even to very heavy work. On a manor in Herefordshire there are twelve bordiers who work one day in the week[186]. On the enormous manor of Leominster there are 238 villani and 85 bordarii. The villani plough and sow with their own seed 140 acres of their lord’s land and they pay 11 pounds and 52 pence[187]. On the manor of Marcle, which also is in Herefordshire, there are 36 villani and 10 bordarii with 40 teams. These villani plough and sow with their own seed 80 acres of wheat and 71 of oats[188]. At Kingston, yet another manor in the same county, ‘the villani who dwelt there in King Edward’s day carried venison to Hereford and did no other service, so says the shire[189].’ On one Worcestershire manor of Westminster Abbey 10 villeins and 10 bordiers with 6 teams plough 6 acres and sow them with their own seed; on another 8 villeins and 6 bordiers with 6 teams do the like by 4 acres[190]. This is light work. Casually we are told of burgesses living at Tamworth who have to work like the other villeins of the manor of Drayton to which they are attached[191], and we are told of men on a royal manor who do such works for the king as the reeve may command[192]; but, curiously enough, it is not of any villeins but of the Bishop of Worcester’s riding men (radmanni) that it is written ‘they do whatever is commanded them[193].’

Money rents paid by villeins.

With our thirteenth century cartularies before us, we might easily underrate the amount of money that was already being paid as the rent of land at the date of the Conquest. In several counties we come across small groups of censarii, censores, gablatores who pay for their land in money, of cervisarii and mellitarii who bring beer and honey. Renders in kind, in herrings, eels, salmon are not uncommon, and sometimes they are ‘appreciated,’ valued in terms of money. The pannage pig or the grass swine, which the villeins give in return for mast and herbage, is often mentioned. Throughout Sussex it seems to be the custom that the lord should have ‘for herbage’ one pig from every villein who has seven pigs[194]. But money will be taken instead of swine, oxen or fish[195]. The gersuma, the tailla, the theoretically free gifts of the tenants, are sums of money. But often enough the villanus is paying a substantial money rent. We have seen how at Leominster villeins plough and sow 140 acres for their lord and pay a rent of more than £11[196]. At Lewisham in Kent the Abbot of Gand has a manor valued at £30; of this £2 is due to the profits of the port while two mills with ‘the gafol of the rustics’ bring in £8. 12s.[197] Such entries as the following are not uncommon—there is one villein rendering 30d.[198]—there is one villein rendering 10s.[199]—46 cotarii with one hide render 30 shillings a year[200]—the villeins give 13s. 4d. by way of consuetudo[201]. No doubt it would be somewhat rare to find a villein discharging all his dues in money—this is suggested when we are told how on the land of S^t. Augustin one Wadard holds a large piece ‘de terra villanorum’ and yet renders no service to the abbot save 30s. a year[202]. At least in one instance the villeins seem to be holding the manor in farm, that is to say, they are farming the demesne land and paying a rent in money or in provender[203]. We dare not represent the stream of economic history as flowing uninterruptedly from a system of labour services to a system of rents. We must remember that in the Conqueror’s reign the lord very often had numerous serfs whose whole time was given to the cultivation of his demesne. In the south-western counties he will often have two, three or more serfs for every team that he has on his demesne, and, while this is so, we can not safely say that his husbandry requires that the villeins should be labouring on his land for three or four days in every week.

The English for villanus.

As a last question we may ask: What was the English for villanus? It is a foreign word, one of those words which came in with the Conqueror. Surely, we may argue, there must have been some English equivalent for it. Yet we have the greatest difficulty in finding the proper term. True that in the Quadripartitus and the Leges villanus generally represents ceorl; ceorl when it is not rendered by villanus is left untranslated in some such form as cyrliscus homo. But then ceorl must be a wider word than the villanus of Domesday Book, for it has to cover all the non-noble free men; it must comprehend the numerous sochemanni and liberi homines of northern and eastern England. This in itself is not a little remarkable; it makes us suspect that some of the lines drawn by Domesday Book are by no means very old; they can not be drawn by any of those terms that have been current in the Anglo-Saxon dooms or which still are current in the text-books that lawyers are compiling. To suppose that villanus is equivalent to gebúr is impossible; we have the best warrant for saying that the Latin for gebúr is not villanus but colibertus[204]. Nor can we hold that the villanus is a geneat. In the last days of the old English kingdom the geneat, the ‘companion,’ the ‘fellow,’ appears as a horseman who rides on his lord’s errands; we must seek him among the radmanni and rachenistres and drengi of Domesday Book[205]. We shall venture the guess that when the Norman clerks wrote down villanus, the English jurors had said túnesman. As a matter of etymology the two words answer to each other well enough; the villa is the tún, and the men of the villa are the men of the tún. In the enlarged Latin version of the laws of Cnut, known as Instituta Cnuti, there is an important remark:—tithes are to be paid both from the lands of the thegn and from the lands of the villeins—‘tam de dominio liberalis hominis, id est þegenes, quam de terra villanorum, id est tuumannes (corr. tunmannes)[206].’ Then in a collection of dooms known as the Northumbrian Priests’ Law there is a clause which orders the payment of Peter’s pence. If a king’s thegn or landlord (landrica) withholds his penny, he must pay ten half-marks, half to Christ, half to the king; but if a túnesman withholds it, then let the landlord pay it and take an ox from the man[207]. A very valuable passage this is. It shows us how the lord is becoming responsible for the man’s taxes: if the tenant will not pay them, the lord must. It is then in connexion with this responsibility of the lord that the term townsman meets us, and, if we mistake not, it is the lord’s responsibility for geld that is the chief agent in the definition of the class of villani. The pressure of taxation, civil and ecclesiastical, has been forming new social strata, and a new word, in itself a vague word, is making its way into the vocabulary of the law[208].

Summary.

The class of villeins may well be heterogeneous. It may well contain (so we think) men who, or whose ancestors, have owned the land under a political supremacy, not easily to be distinguished from landlordship, that belongs to the king; and, on the other hand, it may well contain those who have never in themselves or their predecessors been other than the tenants of another man’s soil. In some counties on the Welsh march there are groups of hospites who in fact or theory are colonists whom the lord has invited onto his land[209]; but this word, very common in France, is not common in England. Our record is not concerned to describe the nature or the origin of the villein’s tenure; it is in quest of geld and of the persons who ought to be charged with geld, and so it matters not whether the lord has let land to the villein or has acquired rights over land of which the villein was once the owner. Therefore we lay down no broad principle about the rights of the villein, but we have suggested that taken in the mass the villani of the Confessor’s reign were far more ‘law-worthy’ than were the villani of the thirteenth century. We can not treat either the legal or the economic history of our peasantry as a continuous whole; it is divided into two parts by the red thread of the Norman Conquest. That is a catastrophe. William might do his best to make it as little of a catastrophe as was possible, to insist that each French lord should have precisely the same rights that had been enjoyed by his English antecessor; it may even be that he endeavoured to assure to those who were becoming villani the rights that they had enjoyed under King Edward[210]. Such a task, if attempted, was impossible. We hear indeed that the English ‘redeemed their lands,’ but probably this refers only to those English lords, those thegns or the like, who were fortunate enough to find that a ransom would be accepted[211]. We have no warrant for thinking that the peasants, the common ‘townsmen,’ obtained from the king any covenanted mercies. They were handed over to new lords, who were very free in fact, if not in theory, to get out of them all that could be got without gross cruelty.

Depression of the villeins.

We are not left to speculate about this matter. In after days those who were likely to hold a true tradition, the great financier of the twelfth, the great lawyer of the thirteenth century, believed that there had been a catastrophe. As a result of the Conquest, the peasants, at all events some of the peasants, had fallen from their free estate; free men, holding freely, they had been compelled to do unfree services[212]. But if we need not rely upon speculation, neither need we rely upon tradition. Domesday Book is full of evidence that the tillers of the soil are being depressed.

The Normans and the peasants.

Here we may read of a free man with half a hide who has now been made one of the villeins[213], there of the holder of a small manor who now cultivates it as the farmer of a French lord graviter et miserabiliter[214], and there of a sokeman who has lost his land for not paying geld, though none was due[215]; while the great Richard of Tonbridge has condescended to abstract a virgate from a villein or a villein from a virgate[216]. But, again, it is not on a few cases in which our record states that some man has suffered an injustice that we would rely. Rather we notice what it treats as a quite common event. Free men are being ‘added to’ manors to which they did not belong. Thus in Suffolk a number of free men have been added to the manor of Montfort; they pay no ‘custom’ to it before the Conquest, but now they pay £15; Ælfric who was reeve under Roger Bigot set them this custom[217]. Hard by them were men who used to pay 20 shillings, but this same Ælfric raised their rent to 100 shillings[218]. ‘A free man held this land and could sell it, but Waleran father of John has added him to this manor[219]’:—Entries of this kind are common. The utmost rents are being exacted from the farmers:—this manor was let for three years at a rent of £12 and a yearly gift of an ounce of gold, but all the farmers who took it were ruined[220]—that manor was let for £3. 15s. but the men were thereby ruined and now it is valued at only 45s.[221] About these matters French and English can not agree:—this manor renders £70 by weight, but the English value it at only £60 by tale[222]—the English fix the value at £80, but the French at £100[223]—Frenchmen and Englishmen agree that it is worth £50, but Richard let it to an Englishman for £60, who thereby lost £10 a year, at the very least[224]. ‘It can not pay,’ ‘it can hardly pay,’ ‘it could not stand’ the rent, such are the phrases that we hear. If the lord gets the most out of the farmer to whom he has leased the manor, we may be sure that the farmer is making the most out of the villeins.

Depression of the sokemen.

But the most convincing proof of the depression of the peasantry comes to us from Cambridgeshire. The rural population of that county as it existed in 1086 has been classified thus[225]:—

But we also learn that the Cambridgeshire of the Confessor’s day had contained at the very least 900 instead of 200 sokemen[226]. This is an enormous and a significant change. Let us look at a single village. In Meldreth there is a manor; it is now a manor of the most ordinary kind; it is rated at 3 hides and 1 virgate, but contains 5 team-lands; in demesne are half a hide and one team, and 15 bordarii and 3 cotarii have 4 teams, and there is one servus. But before the Conquest this land was held by 15 sokemen; 10 of them were under the soke of the Abbey of Ely and held 2 hides and half a virgate; the other 5 held 1 hide and half a virgate and were the men of Earl Ælfgar[227]. What has become of these fifteen sokemen? They are now represented by fifteen bordiers and five cottiers; and the demesne land of the manor is a new thing. The sokemen have fallen, and their fall has brought with it the consolidation of manorial husbandry and seignorial power. At Orwell Earl Roger has now a small estate; a third of it is in demesne, while the residue is held by 2 villeins and 3 bordiers, and there is a serf there. This land had belonged to six sokemen, and those six had been under no less than five different lords; two belonged to Edith the Fair, one to Archbishop Stigand, one to Robert Wimarc’s son, one to the king, and one to Earl Ælfgar[228]. Displacements such as this we may see in village after village. No one can read the survey of Cambridgeshire without seeing that the freer sorts of the peasantry have been thrust out, or rather thrust down.

Further illustrations of depression.

Evidence so cogent as this we shall hardly find in any part of the record save that which relates to Cambridgeshire and Bedfordshire. But great movements of the kind that we are examining will hardly confine themselves within the boundaries of a county. A little variation in the formula which tells us who held the land in 1066 may hide from us the true state of the case. We can not expect that men will be very accurate in stating the legal relationships that existed twenty years ago. Since the day when King Edward was alive and dead many things have happened, many new words and new forms of thought have become familiar. But taking the verdicts as we find them, there is still no lack of evidence. In Essex we may see the liberi homines disappearing[229]. But we need not look only to the eastern counties. At Bromley, in Surrey, Bishop Odo has a manor of 32 hides, 4 of which had belonged to ‘free men’ who could go where they pleased, but now there are only villeins, cottiers, and serfs[230]. We turn the page and find Odo holding 10 hides which had belonged to ‘the alodiaries of the vill[231].’ In Kent Hugh de Port is holding land that was held by 6 free men who could go whither they would; there are now 6 villeins and 14 bordiers there, with one team between them[232]. Students of Domesday were too apt to treat the antecessores of the Norman lords as being in all cases lords of manors. Lords of manors, or rather holders of manors, they often were, but as we shall see more fully hereafter, when we are examining the term manerium, such phrases are likely to deceive us. Often enough they were very small people with very little land. For example these six free men whom Hugh de Port represents had only two and a half team-lands. We pass by a few pages and find Hugh de Montfort with a holding which comprises but one team-land and a half; he has 4 villeins and 2 bordiers there. His antecessores were three free men, who could go whither they would[233]. They had need for but 12 oxen; they had no more land than they could easily till, at all events with the help of two or three cottagers or slaves. To all appearance they were no better than peasants. They or their sons may still be tilling the land as Hugh’s villeins. When we look for such instances we very easily find them. The case is not altered by the fact that the term ‘manor’ is given to the holdings of these antecessores. In Sussex an under-tenant of Earl Roger has an estate with four villeins upon it. His antecessores were two free men who held the land as two manors. And how much land was there to be divided between the two? There was one team-land. Such holders of maneria were tillers of the soil, peasants, at best yeomen[234]. If they were of thegnly rank, this again does not alter the case. When in the survey of Dorset we read how four thegns held two team-lands, how six thegns held two team-lands, eight thegns two team-lands, nine thegns four team-lands, eleven thegns four team-lands[235], we can not of course be certain that each of these groups of co-tenants had but one holding; but thegnly rank is inherited, and if a thegn will have nine or ten sons there will soon be tillers of the soil with the wergild of twelve hundred shillings. Now if these things are being done in the middling strata of society, if the sokemen are being suppressed or depressed in Cambridgeshire, the alodiaries in Sussex, what is likely to be the fate of the poor? They will have to till their lord’s demesne graviter et miserabiliter. He can afford to dispense with serfs, for he has villeins.

The peasants on the royal demesne.

A last argument must be added. What we see in the thirteenth century of the ancient demesne of the crown[236] might lead us to expect that in Domesday Book ‘the manors of S^t. Edward’ would stand out in bold relief. Instead of a population mainly consisting of villeins shall we not find upon them large numbers of sokemen, the ancestors of the men who in after days will be protected by the little writ of right and the Monstraverunt? Nothing of the kind. The royal manor differs in no such mode as this from any other manor. If it lies in a county in which other manors have sokemen, then it may or may not have sokemen. If it lies in a county in which other manors have no sokemen, it will have none. Cambridgeshire is a county in which there are some, and have been many, sokemen; there is hardly a sokeman upon the ancient demesne. In after days the men of Chesterton, for example, will have all the peculiar rights attributed by lawyers to the sokemen of S^t. Edward. But S^t. Edward, if we trust Domesday Book, had never a sokeman there; he had two villeins and a number of bordiers and cottiers[237]. It seems fairly clear that from an early time, if not from the first days of the Conquest onwards, the king was the best of landlords. The tenants of those manors that were conceived as annexed to the crown, those tenants one and all, save the class of slaves which was disappearing, got a better, a more regular justice than that which the villeins of other lords could hope for. It was the king’s justice, and therefore—for the king’s public and private capacities were hardly to be distinguished—it was public justice, and so became formal justice, defined by writs, administered in the last resort by the highest court, the ablest lawyers. And so sokemen disappear from private manors. Some of them as tenants in free socage may maintain their position; many fall down into the class of tenants in villeinage. On the ancient demesne the sokemen multiply; they appear where Domesday knew them not; for those who are protected by royal justice can hardly (now that villeinage implies a precarious tenure) be called villeins, they must be ‘villein sokemen’ at the least. Whether or no we trust the tradition which ascribes to the Conqueror a law in favour of the tillers of the soil, we can hardly doubt that the villani and bordarii whom Domesday Book shows us on the royal manors are treated as having legal rights in their holdings. And if this be true of them, it should be true of their peers upon other manors. Yes, it should be true; the manorial courts that are arising should do impartial justice even between lord and villeins; but who is to make it true?

§ 4. The Sokemen.

Now of a large part of England we may say that all the occupiers of land who are not holding ‘manors[238]’ will belong to some of those classes of which we have already spoken. They will be villeins, bordiers, cottiers, ‘boors’ or serfs. Here and there we may find a few persons who are described as liberi homines. In some of the western counties, Gloucester, Worcester, Hereford, Shropshire, there are rachenistres or radmans; between the Ribble and the Mersey we may find a party of drengs. Still it is generally true that two of those five classes that seem to have been mentioned in King William’s writ[239], the sochemanni and the liberi homines, are largely represented only in certain counties. They are to be seen in Essex, yet more thickly in Suffolk and Norfolk. In Lincolnshire nearly half of the rural population consists of sokemen, though there is no class of persons described as liberi homines. There are some sokemen in Yorkshire, but they are not very numerous and there are hardly any liberi homines. We have seen how in Cambridgeshire and Bedfordshire the sokemen have fared ill; but still some are left there. Traces of them may be found in Hertford and Buckingham; they are thick in Leicester, Nottingham and Northampton; there are some in Derbyshire. There have been sokemen in Middlesex[240] and in Surrey[241]; but they have been suppressed; a few remain in Kent[242]; so we should be rash were we to find anything characteristically Scandinavian in the sokemen. Even in Suffolk they are suffering ill at the hands of their new masters[243], while in Cambridgeshire, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire they have been suppressed or displaced.

Lord and man.

We have now to enter on a difficult task, a discussion of the relation which exists between these sochemanni and liberi homines on the one hand and their lord upon the other. The character of this relation varies from case to case. We may distinguish three different bonds by which a man may be bound to a lord, a personal bond, a tenurial bond, a jurisdictional or justiciary bond. But the language of Domesday Book is not very patient of this analysis. However in the second volume we very frequently come upon two ideas which are sharply contrasted with each other; the one is expressed by the term commendatio, the other by the term soca[244]. To these we must add the great vague term consuetudo, and we shall also have to consider the phrases which describe the various degrees of that freedom of ‘withdrawing himself with his land’ that a man may enjoy.

Bonds between lord and man.

In order that we may become familiar with the use made of these terms and phrases we will transcribe a few typical entries:

Thus commendation seems put before us as the slightest bond that there can be between lord and man. Very often we are told that the lord had the commendation and nothing more[247]. Thus it is contrasted with the soke:—

And the commendation is contrasted with the ‘custom,’ the consuetudo, perhaps we might say the ‘service’:—

And the soke is contrasted with the consuetudo:—

In a given case all these bonds may be united:—

Then if the man ‘withdraws,’ or gives or sells his land, we often read of the soke ‘remaining’; we sometimes read of the commendation, the custom, the service ‘remaining.’

But after all, these distinctions are not maintained with rigour, for the soke is sometimes spoken of as though it were a species of consuetudo. We have a tangled skein in our hands.

Commendation.

The thread that looks as if it would be the easiest to unravel, is that which is styled ‘mere commendation.’ The same idea is expressed by other phrases—‘he committed himself to Bishop Herman for his defence[258]’—‘they submitted themselves with their land to the abbey for defence[259]’—‘he became the man of Goisfrid of his own free will[260]’—‘she put herself with her land in the hand of the queen[261].’ ‘Homage’ is not a common term in Domesday Book, but if, when speaking of the old time, it says, as it constantly does, that one person was the man of another, no doubt it is telling us of a relationship which had its origin in an oath and a symbolic ceremony[262]. ‘She put herself into the hands of the queen’—we should take these words to mean just what they say. An Anglo-Saxon oath of fealty (hyldáð) has been preserved[263]. The swearer promises to be faithful and true to his lord, to love all that his lord loves and eschew all that his lord eschews. He makes no distinct reference to any land, but he refers to some compact which exists between him and his lord:—He will be faithful and true on condition that his lord treats him according to his deserts and according to the covenant that has been established between them.

Commendation and protection.

To all seeming there need not be any land in the case; and, if the man has land, the act of commendation will not give the lord as a matter of course any rights in that land. Certainly Domesday Book seems to assume that in general every owner or holder of land must have had a lord. This assumption is very worthy of notice. A law of Æthelstan[264] had said that lordless men ‘of whom no right could be had’ were to have lords, but this command seems aimed at the landless folk, not at those whose land is a sufficient surety for their good behaviour. The law had not directly commanded the landed men to commend themselves, but it had supplied them with motives for so doing[265]. What did a man gain by this act of submission? Of advantages that might be called ‘extra-legal’ we will say nothing, though in the wild days of Æthelred the Unready, and even during the Confessor’s reign, there was lawlessness enough to make the small proprietor wish that he had a mightier friend than the law could be. But there were distinct legal advantages to be had by commendation. In the first place, the life of the great man’s man was protected not only by a wer-gild, but by a man-bót:—a man-bót due to one who had the power to exact it; and if, as one of our authorities assures us, the amount of the man-bót varied with the rank of the lord[266], this would help to account for a remarkable fact disclosed by Domesday Book, namely, that the chosen lord was usually a person of the very highest rank, an earl, an archbishop, the king. Then, again, if the man got into a scrape, his lord might be of service to him. Suppose the man accused of theft: in certain cases he might escape with a single, instead of a triple ordeal, if he had a lord who would swear to his good character[267]. In yet other cases his lord would come forward as his compurgator; perhaps he was morally bound to do so; and, being a man of high rank, would swear a crushing oath. And within certain limits that we can not well define the lord might warrant the doings of his man, might take upon himself the task of defending an action to which his man was subjected[268]. What the man has sought by his submission is defensio, tuitio; the lord is his defensor, tutor, protector, advocatus, in a word, his warrantor[269].

Commendation and warranty.

Of warranty we are accustomed to think chiefly in connexion with the title to land:—the feoffor warrants the feoffee in his enjoyment of the tenement. But to all appearance in the eleventh century it is rather as lord than as giver, seller or lender, that the vouchee comes to the defence of his man. If the land is conceived as having once been the warrantor’s land, this may be but a fiction:—the man has given up his land and then taken it again merely in order that he may be able to say with some truth that he has it by his lord’s gift. But we can not be sure that as yet any such fiction is necessary. ‘I will defend any action that is brought against you for this land’:—as yet men see no reason why such a promise as this, if made with due ceremony, should not be enforced. A certain amount of ‘maintenance’ is desirable in their eyes and laudable.

Commendation and tenure.

Though we began with the statement that where there is commendation there may yet be no land in the case, we have none the less been already led to the supposition that often enough land does get involved in this nexus between man and lord. No doubt a landless man may commend himself and get no land in return for his homage; but with such an one Domesday Book is not concerned. The cases in which it takes an interest are those in which a landholder has commended himself. Now we dare not say that a landholder can never commend himself without commending his land also[270]. Howbeit, the usual practice certainly is that a man who submits or commits himself for ‘defence’ or ‘protection’ shall take his land with him; he ‘goes with his land’ to a lord. Very curious are some of the instances which show how large a liberty men have enjoyed of taking land wherever they please. ‘Tostig bought this land from the church of Malmesbury for three lives’:—in this there is nothing strange; leases for three lives granted by churches to thegns have been common. But of course we should assume that during the lease the land could have no other lord than the church of Malmesbury. Not so, however, for during his lease Tostig ‘could go with that land to whatever lord he pleased[271].’ In Essex there was before the Conquest a man who held land; that land in some sort belonged to the Abbey of Barking, and could not be separated from the abbey; but the holder of it was the man (‘merely the man’ say the jurors) of one Leofhild the predecessor of Geoffrey de Mandeville[272]. In this last case we may satisfy ourselves by saying that a purely personal relation is distinguished from a tenurial relation; the man of Leofhild is the tenant of the abbey. But what of Tostig’s case? Land that he holds of the church of Malmesbury, and that too by no perpetual tenure, he can commend to another lord. From the man’s point of view, protection, defence, warranty, is the essence of commendation, and the warranty that he chiefly needs is the warranty of his possession, of the title by which he holds his land. It can not but be therefore that the lord to whom he commends himself and his land, should be in some sort his landlord.

The lord’s interest in commendation.

Not that he need pay rent, or perform other services in return for the land. The land is his land; he has not obtained it from his lord; on the contrary he has carried it to his lord. Mere commendation is therefore distinguished by a score of entries from a relation that involves the payment of consuetudines. Doubtless however the lord obtains ‘a valuable consideration’ for all that he gives. Part of this will probably lie without the legal sphere. He has a sworn retainer who will fight whenever he is told to fight. But even the law allows the man to go great lengths in his lord’s defence[273]. In a rough age happy is the lord who has many sworn to defend him. When at a later time we see that the claimant of land must offer proof ‘by the body of a certain free man of his,’ we are taught that the lords have relied upon the testimony and the strong right arms of their vassals. That in all cases the lord got more than this we can not say, though perhaps commendation carried with it the right to the heriot, the horse and armour of the dead man[274]. The relation is often put before us as temporary. Numerous are the persons who ‘can seek lords where they choose’ or who can ‘go with their land wherever they please.’ How large a liberty these phrases accord to lord and man it were hard to tell. We can not believe that either party to the contract could dissolve it just at the moment when the other had some need to enforce it; but still at other times the man might dissolve it, and we may suppose that the lord could do so too. But the connexion might be of a more permanent kind. Perhaps in most cases in which we are told that a man can not withdraw his land from his lord the bond between them is regarded as something other than commendation—there is commendation and something more. But this is no universal truth. You might be the lord’s man ‘merely by commendation’ and yet be unable to sell your land without the lord’s leave[275]. At any rate, in one way and another ‘the commendation’ is considered as capable of binding the land. The commended man will be spoken of as holding the land under (sub) his lord, if not of (de) his lord[276]. In many cases if he sells the land ‘the commendation will remain to his lord’—by which is meant, not that the vendor will continue to be the man of that lord (for the purposes of the Domesday Inquest this would be a matter of indifference) but that the lord’s rights over the land are not destroyed. The purchaser comes to the land and finds the commendation inhering in it[277].

The seignory over the commended.

And so, again, the lord’s rights under the commendation seem to constitute an alienable and heritable seignory. It is thus that we may best explain the case, very common in East Anglia, in which a man is commended half to one and half to another lord[278]. Thus we read of a case in which a free man was commended, as to one-third to Wulfsige, and as to the residue to Wulfsige’s two brothers[279]. In this instance it seems clear that the commendation has descended to three co-heirs. In other cases a lord may have made over his rights to two religious houses; thus we hear of a man who is common to the Abbots of Ely and S^t. Edmund’s[280]. In some cases a man may, in others he may not, be able to prevent himself being transferred from lord to lord, or from ancestor to heir. What passes by alienation or inheritance may be regarded rather as a right to his commendation than as the commendation itself[281]. Of course there is nothing to hinder one from being the man of several different lords. Ælfric Black held lands of the Abbot of Westminster which he could not separate from the church, but for other lands he was the man of Archbishop Stigand[282]. Already a lofty edifice is being constructed; B, to whom C is commended, is himself commended to A; and in this case a certain relation exists between C and A; C is ‘sub-commended’ to A[283].

Commendation and service.

In a given case the somewhat vague obligation of the commended man may be rendered definite by a bargain which imposes upon him the payment of rent or the performance of some specified services. When this is so, we shall often find that the land is moving, if we may so speak, not from the man but from the lord. The man is taking land from the lord to hold during good behaviour[284], or for life[285], or for lives. A form of lease or loan (lǽn) which gives the land to the lessee and to two or three successive heirs of his, has from of old been commonly used by some of the great churches[286]. Also we see landowners giving up their land to the churches and taking it back again as mere life tenants. During their lives the church is to have some ‘service,’ or at least some ‘recognition’ of its lordship, while after their deaths the church will have the land in demesne[287]. This is something different from mere commendation. We see here the feuda oblata or beneficia oblata which foreign jurists have contrasted with feuda or beneficia data. The land is brought into the bargain by the man, not by the lord. But often the land comes from the lord, and the tenancy is no merely temporary tenancy; it is heritable. The king has provided his thegns with lands; the earls, the churches have provided their thegns with lands, and these thegns have heritable estates, and already they are conceived as holding them of (de) the churches, the earls, the king. But we must not as yet be led away into any discussion about the architecture of the very highest storeys of the feudal or vassalic edifice. It must at present suffice that in humbler quarters there has been much letting and hiring of land. The leases, if we choose to call them so, the gifts, if we choose to call them so, have created heritable rights and perdurable relationships.

Land-loans and services.

There is no kind of service that can not be purchased by a grant or lease of land. Godric’s wife had land from the king because she fed his dogs[288]. Ælfgyfu the maiden had land from Godric the sheriff that she might teach his daughter orfrey work[289]. The monks of Pershore stipulate that their dominion shall be recognized by ‘a day’s farm’ in every year, that is, that the lessee shall once a year furnish the convent with a day’s victual[290]. The king’s thegns between the Ribble and the Mersey have ‘like villeins’ to make lodges for the king, and fisheries and deer-hays, and must send their reapers to cut the king’s crops at harvest time[291]. The radmen and radknights of the west must ride on their lord’s errands and make themselves generally useful; they plough and harrow and mow, and do whatever is commanded them[292].

The man’s consuetudines.

But we would here speak chiefly of the lowly ‘free men’ and sokemen of the eastern counties. Besides having their commendation and their soke, the lord very often has what is known as their consuetudo or their consuetudines. Often they are the lord’s men de omni consuetudine. In all probability the word when thus employed, when contrasted with commendation on the one hand and with soke on the other, points to payments and renders to be made in money and in kind and to services of an agricultural character. Of such services only one stands out prominently; it is very frequently mentioned in the survey of East Anglia; it is fold-soke, soca faldae. The man must not have a fold of his own; his sheep must lie in the lord’s fold. It is manure that the lord wants; the demand for manure has played a large part in the history of the human race. Often enough this is the one consuetudo, the one definite service, that the lord gets out of his free men[293]. And then a man who is consuetus ad faldam, tied to his lord’s fold, is hardly to be considered as being in all respects a ‘free’ man. Those who are not ‘fold-worthy’ are to be classed with those who are not ‘moot-worthy’ or ‘fyrd-worthy.’ We are tempted to say that a man’s caput is diminished by his having to seek his lord’s fold, just as it would be diminished if he were excluded from the communal courts or the national host[294]. From the nature of this one consuetudo and from the prominence that is given to it, we may guess the character of the other consuetudines. Suit to the lord’s mill would be analogous to suit to his fold[295]. Of ‘mill-soke’ we read nothing, but often enough a surprisingly large part of the total value of a manor is ascribed to its mill, and we may argue that the lord has not invested capital in a costly undertaking without making sure of a return. We may well suppose that like the radmen of the west the free men and sokemen of the east give their lord some help in his husbandry at harvest time. From a document which comes to us from the abbey of Ely, and which is slightly older than the Domesday Inquest, we learn that certain of S^t. Etheldreda’s sokemen in Suffolk had nothing to do but to plough and thresh whenever the abbot required this of them; others had to plough and weed and reap, to carry the victual of the monks to the minster and furnish horses whenever called upon to do so[296]. This seems to point rather to ‘boon-days’ than to continuous ‘week-work,’ and we observe that the sokemen of the east like the radmen of the west have horses. Occasionally we learn that a sokeman has to pay an annual sum of money to his lord; sometimes this looks like a substantial rent, sometimes like a mere ‘recognition’; but the words that most nearly translate our ‘rent,’ redditus, census, gablum are seldom used in this context. All is consuetudo

Nature of consuetudines.

It is an interesting word. We perhaps are eager to urge the dilemma that in these cases the land must have been brought into the bargain either by the lord or by the tenant:—either the lord is conceived as having let land to the tenant, or the theory is that the tenant has commended land to the lord. But the dilemma is not perfect. It may well be that this relationship is thought of as having existed from all time; it may well be that this relationship, though under slowly varying forms, has really existed for several centuries, and has had its beginning in no contract, in no bargain. In origin the rights of the lord may be the rights of kings and ealdormen, rights over subjects rather than rights over tenants. The word consuetudo covers taxes as well as rents, and, if the sokeman has to do work for his lord, very often, especially in Cambridgeshire and Hertfordshire, he has to do work for the king or for the sheriff also. If he has to do carrying service for the lord, he has to do carrying service (avera) for the sheriff also or in lieu thereof to pay a small sum of money[297]. And another aspect of this word consuetudo is interesting to us. Land that is burdened with customs is customary land (terra consuetudinaria)[298]. As yet this term does not imply that the tenure, though protected by custom, is not protected by law; there is no opposition between law and custom; the customary tenant of Domesday Book is the tenant who renders customs, and the more customs he renders the more customary he is[299].

Justiciary consuetudines.

This word consuetudo is the widest of words. Perhaps we find the best equivalent for consuetudines in our own vague ‘dues[300].’ It covers what we should call rents; it covers what we should call rates and taxes; but further it covers what we should call the proceeds and profits of justice. Let us construe a few entries. At Romney there are burgesses who in return for the service that they do on the sea are quit of all customs except three, namely, larceny, peace-breach and ambush[301]. In Berkshire King Edward gave to one of his foresters half a hide of land free from all custom, except the king’s forfeiture, such as larceny, homicide, hám-fare and peace-breach[302]. In what sense can a crime be a custom? In a fiscal sense. A crime is a source of revenue. In what sense should we wish to have our land free of crimes, free even, if this be possible, of larceny and homicide? In this sense:—we should wish that no money whatever should go out of our land, neither by way of rent, nor by way of tax, rate, toll, nor yet again by way of forisfactura, of payment for crime committed. We should wish also that our land with the tenants on it should be quit or quiet (quieta) from the incursions of royal and national officers, whether they be in search of taxes or in search of criminals and the fines due from criminals, and we should also like to put those fines in our own pockets. Justice therefore takes its place among the consuetudines: ‘larceny’ is a source of income. A lord who has ‘his customs,’ is a lord who has among other sources of revenue, justice or the profits of justice[303]. ‘Justice or the profits of justice,’ we say, for our record does not care to distinguish between them. It is thinking of money while we are engaged in questioning it about the constitution and competence of tribunals. It gives us but crooked answers. However, we must make the best that can be made of them, and in particular must form some opinion about the consuetudines known as sake and soke.