Object of this Essay.
No one can spend patient hours in examining the complex web disclosed by Domesday Book without making some theories, at least some guesses, about the political, social and economic threads of which that web has been woven. But if we here venture to fashion and state a few such theories or such guesses, it is with no hope that they will be a complete explanation of old English history. For, in the first place, we are to speak mainly of the things of the law, of legal ideas and legal forms, and once for all we may protest that we have no wish to overestimate their importance. The elaborate and long continued development to which we point when we speak of ‘feudalism,’ can not be fully explained by any discussion of legal ideas and legal forms. On the other hand, it can not be fully explained without such discussion, for almost all that we can know about it is to be found in legal documents. In the second place, we are to make a selection. Certain phases of our oldest legal history, notably those which are called ‘constitutional,’ have been so fully treated by classical books, that at the present moment there is no good reason why we should traverse the ground that has been covered. Therefore if, for example, we say little or nothing of the ancient Germanic comitatus or of the relationship between lord and man in so far as it is a merely personal relationship, this will not be because we have overlooked these matters; it will be because there is nothing to be gained by our repeating what has been well and sufficiently said by Dr Konrad Maurer, Dr Reinhold Schmid, Dr Stubbs and others. And if, again, we lay great stress on what may be called the ecclesiastical phase of the feudalizing process, this will not be because we think it the only phase, it will be because we think that too little attention has been paid by English writers to the influence which the churches exercised upon temporal affairs by means of their endowments. The day for an artistically proportioned picture of the growth of feudalism has not yet come; the day for a quantitative analysis of the elements of feudalism may never come; for the present we must be content if we can bring out a few new truths or set a few old truths in a new light. The vast and intricate subject may be approached from many different quarters. If we can make some little progress along our chosen path, we shall be all the more willing to admit that progress along other paths is possible.
Fundamental controversies as to Anglo-Saxon history.
It can not but be, however, that this part of our work should be controversial, though it need not be polemical. We are told that ‘in spite of all the labour that has been spent on the early history of England, scholars are still at variance upon the most fundamental of questions: the question whether that history began with a population of independent freemen or with a population of dependent serfs[854]’. Some exception may be taken to this statement. No one denies that for the purposes of English history slavery is a primitive institution, nor that in the seventh and eighth centuries there were many slaves in England. On the other hand, no one will assert that we can ascertain, even approximately, the ratio that the number of slaves bore to the number of free men. Moreover such terms as ‘dependent’ and ‘independent’ are not words that we can profitably quarrel over, since they are inexact and ambiguous. For all this, however, it may well be said that there are two main theories before the world. The one would trace the English manor back to the Roman villa, would think of the soil of England as being tilled from the first mainly by men who, when they were not mere slaves, were coloni ascript to the land. The other would postulate the existence of a large number of free men who with their own labour tilled their own soil, of men who might fairly be called free ‘peasant proprietors’ since they were far from rich and had few slaves or servants, and yet who were no mere peasants since they habitually bore arms in the national host. What may be considered for the moment as a variant on this latter doctrine would place the ownership of the soil, or of large tracts of the soil, not in these free peasants taken as individuals, but in free village communities.
The Romanesque theory unacceptable.
Now we will say at once that the first of these theories we can not accept if it be put forward in a general form, if it be applied to the whole or anything like the whole of England. Certainly we are not in a position to deny that in some cases, a Roman villa having come into the hands of a Saxon chieftain, he treated the slaves and coloni that he found upon it in much the same way as that in which they had been theretofore treated, though even in such a case the change was in all probability momentous, since large commerce and all that large commerce implies had perished. But against the hypothesis that this was the general case the English language and the names of our English villages are the unanswered protest. It seems incredible that the bulk of the population should have been of Celtic blood and yet that the Celtic language should not merely have disappeared, but have stamped few traces of itself upon the speech of the conquerors.[855] This we regard as an objection which goes to the root of the whole matter and which throws upon those who would make the English nation in the main a nation of Celtic bondmen, the burden of strictly proving their thesis. The German invaders must have been numerous. The Britons were no cowards. They contested the soil inch by inch. The struggle was long and arduous. What then, we must ask, became of the mass of the victors? Surely it is impossible that they at once settled down as the ‘dependent serfs’ of their chieftains. Again, though it is very likely that where we find a land of scattered steads and of isolated hamlets, there the Germanic conquerors have spared or have been unable to subdue the Britons or have adapted their own arrangements to the exterior framework that was provided by Celtic or Roman agriculture, still, until Meitzen[856] has been refuted, we are compelled to say that our true villages, the nucleated villages with large ‘open fields,’ are not Celtic, are not Roman, but are very purely and typically German. But this is not all. Hereafter we shall urge some other objections. The doctrine in question will give no rational explanation of the state of things that is revealed to us by the Domesday Survey of the northern and eastern counties and it will give no rational explanation of seignorial justice. This being so, we seem bound to suppose that at one time there was a large class of peasant proprietors, that is, of free men who tilled the soil that they owned, and to discuss the process which substitutes for peasant proprietorship the manorial organization.
Feudalism as a normal stage.
Though we can not deal at any length with a matter which lies outside the realm of legal history, we ought at once to explain that we need not regard this change as a retrogression. There are indeed historians who have not yet abandoned the habit of speaking of feudalism as though it were a disease of the body politic. Now the word ‘feudalism’ is and always will be an inexact term, and, no doubt, at various times and places there emerge phenomena which may with great propriety be called feudal and which come of evil and make for evil. But if we use the term, and often we do, in a very wide sense, if we describe several centuries as feudal, then feudalism will appear to us as a natural and even a necessary stage in our history: that is to say, if we would have the England of the sixteenth century arise out of the England of the eighth without passing through a period of feudalism, we must suppose many immense and fundamental changes in the nature of man and his surroundings. If we use the term in this wide sense, then (the barbarian conquests being given us as an unalterable fact) feudalism means civilization, the separation of employments, the division of labor, the possibility of national defence, the possibility of art, science, literature and learned leisure; the cathedral, the scriptorium, the library, are as truly the work of feudalism as is the baronial castle. When therefore we speak, as we shall have to speak, of forces which make for the subjection of the peasantry to seignorial justice and which substitute the manor with its villeins for the free village, we shall—so at least it seems to us—be speaking not of abnormal forces, not of retrogression, not of disease, but in the main of normal and healthy growth. Far from us indeed is the cheerful optimism which refuses to see that the process of civilization is often a cruel process; but the England of the eleventh century is nearer to the England of the nineteenth than is the England of the seventh—nearer by just four hundred years.
Feudalism as progress and as retrogress.
This leads to a remark which concerns us more deeply. As regards the legal ideas in which feudalism is expressed a general question may be raised. If we approach them from the standpoint of modern law, if we approach them from the standpoint of the classical Roman law, they are confused ideas. In particular no clear line is drawn between public and private law. Ownership is dominium; but governmental power, jurisdictional power, these also are dominium. Office is property; taxes are rents; governmental relationships arise ex contractu. Then within the province of private law the ideas are few; these few have hard work to do; their outlines are blurred. One dominium rises above another dominium, one seisin over another seisin. Efforts after precision made in comparatively recent times by romanizing lawyers serve only to show how vague was the subject-matter with which they had to deal. They would give the lord a dominium directum, the vassal a dominium utile; but then, when there has been further subinfeudation, this vassal will have a dominium utile as regards the lord paramount, but a dominium directum as regards the sub-vassal. So again, as we shall see hereafter, the gift of land shades off into the ‘loan’ of land, the ‘loan’ into the gift. The question then occurs whether we are right in applying to this state of things such a word as ‘confusion,’ a word which implies that things that once were distinct have wrongfully or unfortunately been mixed up with each other, a word which implies error or retrogression.
Progress and retrogress in the history of legal ideas.
Now, no doubt, from one point of view, namely that of universal history, we do see confusion and retrogression. Ideal possessions which have been won for mankind by the thought of Roman lawyers are lost for a long while and must be recovered painfully. Lines that have been traced with precision are smudged out, and then they must be traced once more. If we regard western Europe as a whole, this retrogression appears as a slow change. How slow—that is a much controverted question. There are, for example, historians who would have us think of the Gaul of Merovingian times as being in the main governed by Roman ideas and institutions, which have indeed been sadly debased, but still are the old ideas and institutions. There are other historians who can discover in this same Gaul little that is not genuinely German and barbarous. But at any rate, it must be admitted that somehow or another a retrogression takes place, that the best legal ideas of the ninth and tenth centuries are not so good, so modern, as those of the third and fourth. If, however, we take a narrower view and fix our eyes upon the barbarian hordes which invade a Roman province, shall we say that their legal thought gradually goes to the bad, and loses distinctions which it has once apprehended? To turn to our own case—Shall we say that Englishmen of the eighth century mark the line that divides public from private law, while Englishmen of the eleventh century can not perceive it.
The contact of barbarism and civilization.
No one perhaps to such a question would boldly say: Yes. And yet, when it comes to a treatment of particulars, an affirmative answer seems to be implied in much that has been written even by modern historians. They begin at the beginning and attribute precise ideas and well-defined law to the German conquerors of Britain. If they began with the eleventh century and thence turned to the earlier time, they might come to another opinion, to the opinion that in the beginning all was very vague, and that such clearness and precision as legal thought has attained in the days of the Norman Conquest has been very gradually attained and is chiefly due to the influence which the old heathen world working through the Roman church has exercised upon the new. The process that is started when barbarism is brought into contact with civilization is not simple. The hitherto naked savage may at once assume some part of the raiment, perhaps the hat, of the white man. When after a while he puts these things aside and learns to make for himself clothes suitable to the climate in which he lives and the pursuits in which he is engaged, we see in this an advance, not a relapse; and yet he has abandoned some things that belong to the white man. Even so when our kings of the eighth century set their hands to documents written in Latin and bristling with the technical terms of Roman law, to documents which at first sight seem to express clear enough ideas of ownership and alienation, we must not at once assume that they have grasped these ideas. In course of time men will evolve formulas which will aptly fit their thought, for example, the ‘feudal’ charter of feoffment with its tenendum de me and its reddendo mihi. Externally it will not be so Roman or (we may say it) so modern a document as was the land-book of the eighth century, and yet in truth there has been progress not retrogress. Words that Roman lawyers would have understood give way before words which would have been nonsense to them, feoffamentum, liberatio seisinae and the like. This is as it should be. Men are learning to say what they really mean.
Our materials.
And now let us remember that our materials for the legal history of the long age which lies behind Domesday Book are scanty. A long age it is, even if we measure it only from the date of Augustin’s mission. The Conqueror stands midway between Æthelbert and Elizabeth. To illustrate five hundred years of legal history we have only the dooms and the land-books. The dooms are so much taken up with the work of keeping the peace and punishing theft that they tell us little of the structure of society or of the feudalizing process, while as to what they imply it is but too easy for different men to form different opinions. Some twelve hundred land-books or charters, genuine and spurious, are our best, almost our only, evidence, and it must needs be that they will give us but a partial and one-sided view of intricate and many-sided facts[857].
The lands of the churches.
Now these charters or land-books are, with hardly any exceptions, ecclesiastical title-deeds. Most of them are deeds whereby lands were conveyed to the churches; some are deeds whereby lands were conveyed to men who conveyed them to the churches. Partial, one-sided and in details untrustworthy though the testimony that they bear may be, there is still one general question that they ought to answer and we ought to ask. Domesday Book shows us many of the churches as the lords of wide and continuous tracts of land. Now about this important element in the feudal structure the land-books ought to tell us something. They ought to tell us how the churches acquired their territories; they ought to tell us what class of men made gifts of land to the churches; they ought to tell us whether those gifts were of big tracts or of small pieces. For example, let us remember how Domesday Book shows us that four minsters, Worcester, Evesham, Pershore and Westminster, were lords of seven-twelfths of Worcestershire, that the church of Worcester was lord of one quarter of that shire and lord of the triple hundred of Oswaldslaw. How did that church become the owner of a quarter of a county, to say nothing of lands in other shires? We ought to be able to answer this question in general terms, for among the charters that have come down to us there is no series which is longer, there is hardly a long series which is of better repute, than the line of the land-books which belonged to the church of Worcester. They come to us for the more part in the form of a cartulary compiled not long after the Conquest by the monk Heming at the instance of Bishop Wulfstan[858].
How the churches acquired their lands.
Now the answer that they give to our question is this:—With but few exceptions, the donors of these lands were kings or under-kings, kings or under-kings of the Mercians, kings of the English, and the gifts were large gifts. Very often the charter comprised a tract of land which in Domesday Book appears as a whole vill or as several contiguous vills. Seldom indeed is the subject-matter of the gift described as being a villa or a vicus:—the king merely says that he gives so many manses or the land of so many manentes at a certain place. Still, if we compare these charters with Domesday Book, we shall become convinced that very often the land given was of wide extent. For example, Domesday Book tells us that the church of Worcester holds Sedgebarrow (Seggesbarue) where it has four hides for geld, but eight plough teams. How was this acquired? The monks answer that three centuries ago, in 777, Aldred the under-king of the Hwiccas gave them viculum qui nuncupatur aet Segcesbaruue iiii. mansiones, that land having been giving to him by Offa king of the Mercians in order that the soul of the subregulus might have something done for it[859]. In the Conqueror’s reign the Archbishop of Canterbury held a great estate in Middlesex of which Harrow was the centre, and which contained no less than 100 hides. Already in 832 the archbishop or his church had 104 hides at Harrow[860]. Here we will state our belief, its grounds will appear in another essay, that the ‘manses’ that the kings throw about by fives and tens and twenties, are no small holdings, but hides each of which contains, or is for fiscal purposes deemed to contain, some 120 acres of arable land together with stretches, often wide stretches, of wood, meadow and waste, the extent of which varies from case to case. From the seventh century onwards the kings are giving large territories to the churches. One instance is beyond suspicion, for Bede attests it. In 686 or thereabouts Æthelwealh king of the South Saxons gave to Bishop Wilfrid the land of eighty-seven families in the promontory of Selsey, and among its inhabitants were two hundred and fifty male and female slaves[861]. This gift comprised a spacious tract of country; it comprised what then were, or what afterwards became, the sites of many villages[862]. But to whichever of our oldest churches we turn, the story that it proclaims in its title-deeds is always the same:—We obtained our lands by means of royal grants; we obtained them not in little pieces, here a few acres and there a few, but in great pieces. Canterbury and Winchester echo the tale that is told by Worcester. Another example may be given. It is one that has been carefully examined of late. In 739 King Æthelheard of Wessex gave to Forthhere bishop of Sherborne twenty cassati at the place called ‘Cridie.’ Thereby he disposed of what now are ‘the parishes of Crediton, Newton St. Cyres, Upton Pyne, Brampford Speke, Hittesleigh, Drewsteignton, Colebrooke, Morchard Bishop, Sandford, Kennerleigh and the modern parish of Sherwood, part of Cheriton Bishop, and possibly the whole of Clannaborough.’ He disposed of the whole and more than the whole of the modern ‘hundred’ of Crediton[863]. Then, to choose one last instance, it is said that already in 679 Osric of the Hwiccas gave to an abbess centum manentes qui adiacent civitati quae vocatur Hát Bathu[864]. It is not unlikely that this means that a king newly converted to Christianity disposed by one deed of many square leagues of land, namely, of the hundred of Bath[865]. The kingdom of the Hwiccas was not boundless. If Osric executed a few more charters of this kind he would soon have ‘booked’ it all.
The earliest books.
Let us then examine with some care the charters that come to us from the earliest period, a period which shall begin with the year 600 and end with the year 750. From this time we have some forty charters sufficiently genuine for our present purpose. With hardly an exception the grantor is a king or an under-king, while the grantee is a dead saint, a church, a bishop, an abbot, or a body of monks. If the grantee is a layman, the gift is made to him in order that he may found a minster. If this purpose is not expressed, it is to be understood. Thus in 674 or thereabouts Wulfhere king of the Mercians gives five manses to his kinsman Berhtferth as a perpetual inheritance. Berhtferth is to have full power to give them to whom he pleases, and we are not told that he proposes to devote them to pious uses. Nevertheless, the king makes the gift ‘for the love of Almighty God and of his faithful servant St. Peter[866].’ In other cases the lay donee is to hold the land ‘by church right’ or ‘by minster right[867].’ Indeed there seems to be no single deed of this period which does not purport upon its face to be in some sort an ecclesiastical act, an act done for the good of the church[868].
Exotic character of the book.
These charters are documents of ecclesiastical origin; they are also documents of foreign origin. The bishops and abbots have brought or have imported models from abroad. The ‘books’ that they induce the kings to sign are full of technical phrases which already have an ancient history. By way of illustration we will notice one point at which there is an instructive resemblance and an instructive contrast. On the Continent a grantor of lands ends his conveyance with a ‘penal stipulation.’ If an heir of his controverts the deed, he is to pay a certain sum, and none the less the conveyance is to remain in full force. In England we can not thus stipulate for a pecuniary penalty; the land-book is still so purely an ecclesiastical affair that the punishment of its violator must be left to the church and to God. So instead of stipulating that he shall pay money, we stipulate that he shall be excommunicated and, if impenitent, damned, but we do not forget to add that none the less the conveyance shall remain as valid and effectual as ever. ‘If anyone,’ says Eadric of Kent, ‘shall attempt to go against this gift, let him be separated from all Christianity and the body and blood of Jesus Christ, manentem hanc donationis chartulam[869] in sua nihilominus firmitate.’ Such words may look somewhat out of place in their new surroundings; but they are part of a venerable formula[870].
The book purports to confer ownership.
But what is the model to which in the last resort these documents go back? A conveyance by a Roman landowner. He has in the land full and absolute dominium and is going to transfer this to another. Let us observe that the recorded motive which prompts a king to set his cross, or rather Christ’s cross, to a land-book is a purely personal motive. He wishes to save his soul, he desires pardon for his crimes[871]. Of the welfare of his realm he says nothing; but his soul must be saved. Sometimes he will give land to an under-king or to an ealdorman, for they also have souls and may desire salvation[872]. He is acting as a private landowner might act. Then he uses terms and phrases which belong to the realm of pure private law. He asserts in the most energetic of all the words that the law of the lower empire could provide that he is a landowner and that he is going to transfer landownership. The land in question is tellus mea[873] or it is terra iuris mei[874]. Then it is the very land itself that he gives, the land of so many manses, ‘with all the appurtenances, fields, pastures, woods, marshes.’ It is no mere right over the land that he gives, but the very soil itself. Next let us observe the terms in which the act of conveyance is stated:—perpetualiter trado et de meo iure in tuo transscribo terram ... ut tam tu quam posteri tui teneatis, possideatis et quaecunque volueris de eadem terra facere liberam habeatis potestatem[875]. The Latin language of the time had no terms more potent or precise than these. Or again: aliquantulam agri partem ... Waldhario episcopo in dominio donare decrevimus[876]. Or again: aeternaliter et perseverabiliter possideat abendi vel dandi cuicumque eligere voluerit[877]. But it is needless to multiply examples.
Does the book really confer ownership?
No doubt then, if we bring to the interpretation of these instruments the ideas of an earlier or of a later time, the ideas of ancient Rome or of modern Europe, we see the king as a landowner conferring on the churches landownership pure and simple. The fact on which our constitutional historians have laid stress, namely, that sometimes (for we must not overstate the case) the king says that the bishops and his great men are consenting to his deed, important though it may be in other contexts, is of little moment here. The king is put before us as the owner of the land conveyed; it is, he says, terra mea, terra iuris mei. The rule, if rule it be, that he must not give away his land without the consent of bishops and nobles in no way denies his ownership. However, we are at the moment more concerned with the fact, or seeming fact, that what he gives to the churches is ownership and nothing less.
The book really conveys a superiority.
But if we loyally accept this seeming fact and think it over, to what conclusions shall we not be brought, when we remember how wide were the lands which the churches acquired from the kings, when we think once more how by virtue of royal gifts the church of Worcester acquired a quarter of a county? When these lands were given to the church were they waste lands? It is plain that this was not the common case. Already there were manses, there were arable fields, there were meadows, there were tillers of the soil. One of two conclusions seems to follow. Either the king really did own these large districts, and the tillers of the soil were merely his slaves or coloni, who were conveyed along with the soil, or else the clear and emphatic language of the charters sadly needs explanation. Now if we hold by the letter of the charters, if we say that the king really does confer landownership upon the churches, there will be small room left for any landowners in England save the kings, the churches and perhaps a few great nobles. This is a theory which for many reasons we can not adopt; no one can adopt it who is not prepared to believe that Britain was conquered by a handful of chieftains without followers. The only alternative course seems that of saying that many of the land-books even of the earliest period, despite their language, convey not the ownership of land, but (the term must be allowed us) a ‘superiority’ over land and over free men.
A modern analogy.
Let us for a moment remember that the wording of a modern English conveyance might easily delude a layman or a foreigner. An impecunious earl, we will say, sells his ancient family estate. We look at the deed whereby this sale is perfected. The Earl of A. grants unto B. C. and his heirs all the land delineated on a certain map and described in a certain schedule. That in substance is all that the deed tells us. We look at the map; we see a tract of many thousand acres, which, besides a grand mansion, has farm-houses, cottages, perhaps, entire villages upon it. The schedule tells us the names of the fields and of the farm-houses. Like enough no word will hint that any one lives in the houses and cottages, or that any one, save the seller, has any right of any kind in any part of this wide territory. But what is the truth? Perhaps a hundred different men, farmers and cottagers, have rights of different kinds in various portions of the tract. Some have leases, some have ‘agreements for leases,’ some hold for terms of years, some hold from year to year, some hold at will. The rights of these tenants stand, as it were, between the purchaser and the land that he has bought. He has bought the benefit, and the burden also, of a large mass of contracts. But of these things his conveyance says nothing[878]. And so again, in the brief charters of the thirteenth century a feoffor will say no more than that he has given manerium meum de Westona, as though the manor of Weston were some simple physical object like a black horse, and yet under analysis this manerium turns out to be a complex tangle of rights in which many men, free and villein, are concerned.
Conveyance of superiority in early times.
But it will be said that all this is the result of ‘feudalism.’ It implies just that dismemberment of the dominium which is one of feudalism’s main characteristics. Undoubtedly in the twelfth century the free tenant in fee simple who holds land ‘in demesne’ can have, must have, a lord above him, who also holds and is seised of that land and who will speak of the land as his. But we are now in the age before feudalism, in the seventh and eighth centuries. Are we to believe that the free owner of Kemble’s ‘ethel, hid, or alod’ might have above him, perhaps always had above him, not merely a lord (for a personal relation of patronage between lord and man is not to the point), but a landlord: one who would speak of that ‘ethel, hid or alod’ as terra iuris mei: one who to save his soul would give lsquo;that land to a church and tell the bishop or abbot to do whatever he pleased with it? If we believe this, shall we not be believing that so far as English history can be carried there is no age before ‘feudalism’.
Illustrations.
We will glance for a moment at two transactions which took place near the end of the seventh century. Bede tells how Æthelwealh king of the South Saxons was persuaded to become a Christian by Wulfhere king of the Mercians. The Mercian received the South Saxon as his godson and by way of christening-gift gave him two provinces, namely the Isle of Wight and the territory of the Meanwari in Wessex, perhaps the hundreds of Meon in Hampshire[879]. Then the same Bede tells us that the same Æthelwealh gave to Bishop Wilfrid a land of eighty-seven families, to wit, the promontory of Selsey: he gave it with its fields and its men, among whom were two hundred and fifty male and female slaves[880]. A modern reader will perhaps see here two very different transactions. In the one case he sees ‘the cession of a province’ by one king to another, and possibly he thinks how Queen Victoria ceded Heligoland to her imperial grandson:—the act is an act of public law, a transfer of sovereignty. In the other case he sees a private act, the gift of an estate for pious uses. But Bede and his translator saw little, if any, difference between the two gifts: in each case Bede says ‘donavit’; the translator in the one case says ‘forgeaf,’ in the other ‘geaf and sealde.’ Now it will hardly be supposed that the Isle of Wight had no inhabitants who were not the slaves or the coloni of the king, and, that being so, we are not bound to suppose that there were no free landowners in the promontory of Selsey. May it not be that what Æthelwealh had to give and gave to Wilfrid was what in our eyes would be far rather political power than private property.
What had the king to give?
But over the free land of free landowners what rights had the king which he could cede to another king or to a prelate, saying withal that the subject of his gift was land? He had, as we think, rights of two kinds that were thus alienable; we may call them fiscal rights and justiciary rights, though such terms must be somewhat too precise when applied to the vague thought of the seventh and eighth centuries. Of justiciary rights we shall speak below. As to the rights that we call fiscal, we find that the king is entitled to something that he calls tributum, vectigal, to something that he calls pastus, victus, the king’s feorm; also there is military service to be done, and the king, when making a gift, may have a word to say about this.
The king’s alienable rights.
Now it must at once be confessed that the charters of this early period seldom suggest any such confusion between political power and ownership as that which we postulate. Still from time to time hints are given to us that should not be ignored. Thus a Kentish king shortly after the middle of the eighth century gave to the church of Rochester twenty ploughlands, not only ‘with the fields, woods, meadows, pastures, marshes and waters thereto pertaining,’ but also ‘with the tributum which was paid thence to the king[881].’ Such a phrase would hardly be appropriate if the king were giving land of which he was the absolute owner, land cultivated for him by his slaves.
Military service as a burden on land.
A little more light is thrown on the matter by the first rude specimens of a clause that is to become common in after times, the clause of immunity. Already in the seventh century Wulfhere of Mercia, having made a gift of five manses, adds: ‘Let this land remain free to all who have it, from all earthly hardships, known or unknown, except fastness and bridge and the common host[882].’ So in 732 a king of Kent says: ‘And no royal due shall be found in it henceforth, saving such as is common to all church lands in this Kent[883].’ Æthelbald of Mercia says: ‘By my royal power I decree that it be free for ever from all tribute of secular payments, labours and burdens, so that the said land may render service to none but Almighty God and the church[884].’ Yet more instructive, if we may rely upon it, is the foundation charter of Evesham Abbey. Æthelweard has given twelve manses: he then says, ‘I decree that for the future this land be free from all public tribute, purveyance, royal works, military service (ab omni publico vectigali, a victu, ab expeditione, ab opere regio) so that all things in that place which are valuable and useful may serve the church of St. Mary, that is to say, the brethren serving [God] there; save this, that if in the island belonging to the said land there shall chance to be an unusual supply of mast, the king may have pasture for fattening one herd of pigs, but beyond this no pasture shall be set out for any prince or potentate[885].’ Now in the first place, these charters speak as though military service is due from land:—I (says the king) declare this land to be free from the ‘fyrd,’ from the expeditio—or—I declare that it is free from all earthly burdens, except military service and the duty of repairing bridge and burh. We are not saying that there is already military tenure, but we do say that already the ‘fyrd’ is conceived as a burden on land, in so much that the phrase ‘This land is—or is not—to be free of military service’ has a meaning. But after all, land never fights: men fight. Of what men then is the king speaking when he says that the land is, or is not, free from the expeditio? Not of the donees themselves, for they are bishops and monks and serve in no army but God’s. Not of the slaves who are on the land, for they are not ‘fyrd-worthy.’ He is speaking of free men who live on the land; he is declaring that when he has, if so modern a term be suffered, ‘attorned’ them to the church, they will still have to serve in warfare, or he is declaring that they will be free even from this duty to the state in order that the land may be the more absolutely at the service of God and His stewards.
The king’s feorm.
Then military service, along with the duty of repairing bridges and fastnesses, belongs to a genus of dues, of which unfortunately we get but a vague description. There are vectigalia publica, opera regia, onera saecularia, there is tributum, there is victus. How much of the information that we get about these matters from later days we may carry back with us to the earliest period it is difficult to say. Apparently the king, the under-king, even the ealdorman, has a certain right of living at the expense of his subjects, of making a progress through the villages and quartering himself, his courtiers, his huntsmen, his dogs and horses upon the folk of the townships, of exacting a ‘one night’s farm’ from this village, a ‘two nights’ farm’ from that. The men who have to bear these exactions may well be free men and free landowners; still over them the king has certain rights and rights that he can give away. According to our interpretation of the charters, it is often enough such rights as these that the king is giving when he says that he is giving terram iuris mei. He declares, it will be observed, that the land is to be free from vectigalia and opera to which it has heretofore been subject. But does he mean by this to benefit the occupiers of the soil? No, he has no care whatever to relieve them. Bent on saving his soul, his care is that the land shall be wholly devoted to the service of God. As we understand the matter, whatever vectigalia and opera the king has hitherto exacted from these men the church will now exact. The king has conveyed what he had to convey, a superiority over free landowners.
Nature of the feorm.
It is permissible to doubt whether modern historians have fully realized the extent of the rights which the king had over the land of free landowners. In the middle of Ine’s laws, which follow each other in no rational order, we suddenly come upon an isolated text, which says this: ‘For 10 hides “to foster” 10 vessels of honey, 300 loaves, 12 ambers of Welsh ale, 30 of clear [ale], 2 old [i.e. full grown] oxen or 10 wethers, 10 geese, 20 hens, 10 cheeses, an amber full of butter, 5 salmon, 20 poundsweight of fodder and a hundred eels[886].’ The context throws no light upon the sentence; but in truth no sentence in Ine’s laws has a context. What is its meaning? We can not but think that this foster is the king’s victus[887]. Once a year from every ten hides he is entitled to this feorm. Perhaps it is a ‘one night’s feorm’; for it may be enough to support a king of the seventh century and a modest retinue during twenty-four hours. Still it will be no trifling burden upon the land, even if we suppose the hide to have 120 arable acres or thereabouts. Suppose that the king transfers his right over a single hide to some bishop or abbot, the donee will be entitled to receive from that hide a rent which can not be called insignificant. We dare not argue that this law is a general law for the whole of Wessex. It may refer only to some newly settled and allotted districts. There are other hints in these laws of Ine of some large land-settlement, an allotment of land among great men who have become bound to bring under cultivation a district theretofore waste[888]. But it is difficult to dissociate the foster of these laws from the victus of the charters, and, quite apart from this disputable passage, we have plenty of proof that the king’s victus was an incumbrance which pressed heavily upon the lands of free landowners[889]. If in England the duty of feeding the king as he journeys through the country developed into a regular tax or rent this would not stand alone. That duty plays a considerable part in the Scandinavian law-books, and in the Denmark of the thirteenth century we may find arrangements which are very like that set forth in Ine’s law. Every hundred (herad), taken as a whole, has to contribute something towards the king’s support. Often it is a round sum of money; but often it will consist of provisions necessary to maintain the king’s household during a night or two or three nights (servicium unius noctis, servicium duarum noctium). Then the ‘service of two nights’ is accurately defined. It consists of, among other things, 26 salted pigs, 14 live pigs, 16 salted oxen, 16 salted sheep, 360 fowls, 180 geese, 360 cheeses, corn, malt, fodder, butter, herrings, stock-fish, pepper and salt. This revenue stands apart from the revenue derived from the crown lands; it is regarded as a tax rather than a rent; but it is to this extent rooted in the soil, that the amount due from each hundred (herad) is fixed[890]. There is a great deal to make us think that at a quite early time in England such arrangements as this had been made. If we look at the charters we find that the king is always giving away manses in fives and tens, fifteens and twenties. This symmetry, this prevalence of a decimal system, we take to be artificial; already the manse, or hide, is a fiscal unit, a fraction of a district which has to supply the king with food or with money in lieu of food[891]
Tribute and rent.
Whatever be the origin of the king’s feorm—and if we find it in the voluntary gifts which yet barbarous Germans make to their kings, we may none the less have to admit that it has been touched by the influence of the Roman tributum—it becomes either a rent or a tax. We may call it the one, or we may call it the other, for so long as the recipient of it is the king, the law of the seventh and eighth centuries will hardly be able to tell which it is[892]. The king begins to give it away: in the hands of his donees, in the hands of the churches, it becomes a rent. This is not all, however, that the king has to give, or that the king does give, when he says that he is giving land. That he may be giving away the profits of justice, that he may be giving jurisdiction itself, we shall argue hereafter. But probably he has even in early days yet other things to give, and at any rate in course of time he discovers that such is the case. He can give the right to take toll, he can give market rights[893]. It is by no means impossible that he has forest rights, some general claim to place uncultivated land under his ban, if he would hunt therein, and some general claim to the nobler kinds of fish[894]. Then again, in the eleventh century we find men owing services to the king which he still receives rather as king than as landlord, and the sporadic distribution of these services seems to show that they are not of modern origin. Such are, for example, the ‘inwards’ and the ‘averages’ which are done by the free men of Cambridgeshire[895]. We are told in a general way that the thegn owes fyrdfare, burh-bót and lang="ang" xml:lang="ang">brycg-bót, but that from many lands—the lands comprised within no privilege, no franchise—‘a greater land-right arises at the king’s ban’; for there is the king’s deer-hedge to be made, there are warships to be provided, there are sea-ward and head-ward[896]. Every increase in the needs of the state, in the power of the state, gives the king new rights in the land, consolidates his seignory over the land. If a fleet be formed to resist the Danes, the king has something to dispose of, a new immunity for sale. If a geld be levied to buy off the Danes, the king can sell a freedom from this tax, or he can tell the monks of St. Edmundsbury that they may levy the tax from their men and keep it for their own use[897]. This, we argue, is not a new abuse, a phenomenon which first appears in the evil feudal time when men began to confuse imperium with dominium, kingship with landlordship, office with property, tax with rent. On the contrary, we must begin with confusion. In some of the very earliest land-books that have come down to us what the king really gives, when he says that he is giving land, is far rather his kingly superiority over land and landowners than anything that we dare call ownership[898]
Mixture of ownership and superiority.
Not that this is always the case. Very possible is it that from the first the king had villages which were peopled mainly by his theows and læts, and intertribal warfare may have increased their number. But the charters, for all their apparent precision, will not enable us to distinguish between these cases and others in which the villages are full of free landowners and their slaves. The charters are not engendered by the English facts; they are foreign, ecclesiastical, Roman. By such documents, to our thinking, the king gives what he has to give. In one case it may be a full ownership of a village or of some scattered steads; in another it may be a superiority, which when analyzed will turn out to be a right of exacting supplies of provender from the men of the village; in a third, and perhaps a common case, the same village will contain the mansi serviles of the king’s slaves and the mansi ingenuiles of free landowners. He no more thinks of distinguishing by the words of his charter his governmental power over free men and their land from his ownership of his slaves and the land that they are tilling, than his successor of the eleventh or twelfth century will think of making similar distinctions when he bestows a ‘manor’ or an ‘honour.’
The king’s superiority.
We have been suggesting and shall continue to suggest that at a very early time, a time beyond which our land-books will not carry us, the king is beginning to discover that the whole land which he rules is in a certain and a profitable sense his land. He can give it away; he can barter it in exchange for spiritual benefits, and this he can do without wronging the free landholders who are in possession of that land, for what he really gives is the dues (it is too early to say the ‘service’) that they have owed to him and will henceforth owe to his donee. Let us remember that his successors will undoubtedly be able to do this. In a certain sense, Henry II., for example, will have all England to give away. If we were to put an extreme case, we might have to reckon with possible rebellions; but every single hide of England Henry can give without wronging any one. Suppose that C has been holding a tract as the king’s tenant in chief by service worth £5 a year, Henry can make a grant of that land to B, and by this grant C will not be wronged. Henceforth C will hold of B, and B of the king. Suppose that, on the occasion of this grant, services worth £2 a year are reserved, then the king has it in his power to grant the land yet once more: to grant it, let us say, to the Abbot of A, who is to hold in frankalmoin; C will not be wronged, B will not be wronged. What the king has done with one hide he can do with every hide in England; piece by piece he can give all England away. We have been suggesting and shall continue to suggest that at a very early time, even in the first days of English Christianity, the king is beginning to discover that he has some such power as that which his successors will exercise. This barbarous chieftain learns that his political sway over the folk involves a proprietary and alienable element of which he can make profit. It involves a right to feorm and a right to wites. The beef and the cheese and the Welsh ale that he might have levied from a district he invests, if we may so speak, in what he is being taught to regard as the safest and most profitable of all securities. He obtains not only remission of his sins, but also the friendship and aid of bishops and clergy. And so large stretches of land are ‘booked’ to the churches. It is to be feared that if the England of the sixth century had been visited by modern Englishmen, the Saxon chieftains would have been awakened to a consciousness of their ‘booking’ powers by offers of gin and rifles.
Book-land and church right.
In its original form and when put to its original purpose the land-book is no mere deed of gift; it is a dedication. Under the sanction of a solemn anathema, a tract of land is devoted to the service of God. A very full power of disposing of it is given to the bishop or the abbot, who is God’s servant. As yet the law has none of those subtle ideas which in after ages will enable it to treat him as ‘a corporation sole’ or as ‘a trustee,’ nor can the folk-law meddle much with the affairs of God. The bishop or abbot must be able to leave the land to whom he pleases, to institute an heir. Thus ‘book-land’ stands, as it were, outside the realm of the folk-law. In all probability the folk-law of this early period knows no such thing as testamentary power. Testamentary power can only be created by the words of a book, by an anathema. But laymen are not slow to see that they can make use of this new institution for purposes of their own, which are not always very pious purposes. By a pretext that he is going to construct a minster, a man will obtain a book garnished with the crosses of bishops. One day calling himself an abbot and the next day calling himself a king’s thegn, a layman among ecclesiastics, an ecclesiastic among laymen, he will shirk all duties that are owed to state and church. Already Bede complains of this in a wise and famous letter. He advocates a resumption of these inconsiderate and misplaced gifts, and reproves the prelates for subscribing the books[899]. His letter may have done good; but laymen still obtained books which authorized them to hold land ‘by church right.’ Thus Offa of Mercia gave to an under-king lands at Sedgebarrow ‘in such wise that he might have them during his life, and in exercise of full power might leave them to be possessed by church right[900].’ Thereupon the subregulus, as a modern English lawyer might say, executed this power of appointment in favour of the church of Worcester. The same Offa gave land to his thegn Dudda so that by church right he might enjoy it during his life and leave it on his death to whom he would[901]
Book-land and testament.
We must wait for a later age before we shall find the kings freely booking lands to their thegns without any allusion to ecclesiastical purposes. Indeed it may be said that the Anglo-Saxon land-book never ceases to be an ecclesiastical instrument. True that in the tenth century the kings are booking lands to their thegns with great liberality; true also that there is no longer any pretence that the land so booked will go to endow a church; but let us observe these books and let us not ignore the recitals that they contain. Why does the king make these grants? He says that it is because he hopes for an eternal reward in the everlasting mansions. This has perhaps become an empty phrase: but it has a history. Also it is needed in order to make the deed a logical whole. Let us observe the sequence of the clauses:—‘Whereas the fashion of this world passeth away but the joys of heaven are eternal; therefore I give land to my thegn so that he may enjoy it during his life and leave it on his death to whomsoever he pleases, and if any one shall come against this charter may he perish for ever; I have confirmed this gift with the sign of Christ’s holy cross[902].’ Some piety in the harangue (arenga) is necessary in order to lead up to the anathema and the cross; it justifies the intervention of the bishops, who also will make crosses and thereby will be denouncing the church’s ban against any one who violates the charter. And who, we may ask, is likely to violate the charter? The donee’s kinsfolk may be tempted to do this if the donee makes use of that testamentary power which has been granted to him (as, for instance, by leaving the land to a church) more especially because it may be very doubtful whether in impeaching such a testament they will not have the folk-law on their side. Such in brief outline is—so we think—the history of book-land. It is land (or rather in many cases a superiority) held by royal privilege[903] under the sanction of the anathema.
What is folk-land?
With ‘book-land’ is contrasted ‘folk-land.’ Therefore of folk-land a few words must be said. What is folk-land? A few years ago the answer that historians gave to this question was this: It is the land of the folk, the land belonging to the folk. Dr Vinogradoff has argued that this is not the right answer[904]. His argument has convinced us; but, as it is still new, we will take leave to repeat it with some few additions of our own.
Folk-land in the texts.
The term ‘folk-land’ occurs but thrice in our texts. It occurs in one law and in two charters. The one law comes from Edward the Elder[905] and all that it tells us is that folk-land is the great contrast to book-land. Folk-land and book-land seem to cover the whole field of land tenure. Possibly this law tells us also that while a dispute about folk-land will, a dispute about book-land will not, come before the shiremoot:—but we hardly obtain even this information[906]. Then we have the two charters. Of these the earlier is a deed of Æthelbert of Kent dated in 858[907]. The king with the consent of his great men and of the prelates gives to his thegn Wulflaf five plough-lands at Washingwell (aliquam partem terrae iuris mei) in exchange for land at Marsham. He declares that the land at Washingwell is to be free from all burdens save the three usually excepted, the land at Marsham having enjoyed a similar immunity. The boundaries of Washingwell are then stated. On the west it is bounded by the king’s folk-land (cyninges folcland) which Wighelm and Wulflaf have. So much for the deed itself. On its back there is an endorsement to the following effect: ‘This is the land-book for Washingwell that Æthelbert the king granted to Wulflaf his thegn in exchange for an equal amount of other land at Marsham; the king granted and booked to Wulflaf five sullungs of land at Washingwell for the five sullungs at Marsham and the king made that land at Marsham his folk-land (“did it him to folk-land”) when they had exchanged the lands, save the marshes and the salterns at Faversham and the woods that belong to the salterns.’ Now this deed teaches us that there was land which was known as ‘the king’s folk-land,’ and that it was in the occupation of two men called Wighelm and Wulflaf, the latter of whom may well have been the Wulflaf who made an exchange with the king. The endorsement tells us that when the king received the land at Marsham he made it his folk-land, ‘he did it him to folk-land.’
The will of Alfred the Ealdorman.
The other charter is of greater value. It is the will of the Ealdorman Alfred and comes from some year late in the ninth century[908]. He desires in the first place to state who are the persons to whom he gives his inheritance and his book-land. He then gives somewhat more than 100 hides, including 6 at Lingfield and 10 at Horsley, to his wife for her life, ‘with remainder,’ as we should say, to their daughter. More than once he calls this daughter ‘our common bairn,’ thus drawing attention to the fact that she is not merely his daughter, but also his wife’s daughter. This is of importance, for in a later clause we hear of a son. ‘I give to my son Æthelwald three hides of book-land: two hides on Hwætedune [Waddon], and one at Gatatune [Gatton] and therewith 100 swine, and, if the king will grant him the folk-land with the book-land, then let him have and enjoy it: but if this may not be, then let her [my wife] grant to him whichever she will, either the land at Horsley or the land at Lingfield.’ Such are the materials which must provide us with our knowledge of folk-land.
Comment on Alfred’s will.
We must examine Alfred’s will somewhat carefully. The testator has a wife, a son, a daughter. He leaves the bulk of his book-land to his wife for life with remainder to his daughter. For his son he makes a small provision (only three hides) out of his book-land, but he expresses a wish that the king will let that son have the folk-land, and, if this wish be not fulfilled, then that son is to have either ten or else six hides out of the book-land previously given to the wife and daughter. We see that, even if he gets these few hides, the son will obtain but a small part of a handsome fortune. ‘If the king will grant him the folk-land’—this may suggest that a man’s folk-land will not descend to his heir. But another, and, as it seems to us, a far more probable explanation is open. The son is ‘my son,’ the daughter is ‘our common bairn.’ May not the son be illegitimate, or may not his legitimacy be doubtful, for legitimacy is somewhat a matter of degree? The ealdorman may have contracted a dubious or a morganatic marriage. We can see that he does not feel called upon to do very much for this son of his. He expresses a hope that the king as supreme judge will hold the son to be legitimate, or sufficiently legitimate to inherit the folk-land, which he does not endeavour to bequeath.
The king booking land to himself.
The king like other persons can have both folk-land, and book-land. We have just heard of ‘the king’s folk-land’: we turn to the important deed whereby King Æthelwulf booked land to himself[909]. Alms, it says, are the most perdurable of possessions; one ought to minister to the necessities of others and so make to oneself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; therefore I King Æthelwulf with the consent and leave of my bishops and great men have booked to myself twenty manses so that I may enjoy them and leave them after my death to whomsoever I please in perpetuity: the land is to be free from all tribute and the like, save military service and the repair of bridges. Then the description of the land thus booked is preceded by the statement: ‘These are the lands which his wise men (senatores) conceded to Æthelwulf.’ Now the full meaning of this famous instrument we can not yet discuss. To put it briefly, our explanation will be that over his book-land the king will have powers which he will not have over his folk-land; in particular he will have that testamentary power which will enable him to become friendly with the mammon of unrighteousness and secure those eternal mansions that he desires. But we have introduced this charter here because, though it says no word of folk-land, it forms an important part of the case of those who contend that folk-land is land belonging to the people[910]
The consent of the witan.
Another weighty argument is derived from the fact that there are but very few charters of the kings which do not in some formula or another profess that many illustrious persons have consented to or have witnessed the making of the deed. We have no desire to detract from the significance of this fact, still we ought to examine our documents with care. Such words as a charter has about ‘consent’ may occur in two different contexts. They may occur in close connexion with the words of gift, ‘the operative words,’ as our conveyancers say, or they may occur in the eschatocol, the clause which deals with the execution and attestation of the instrument. If we come across two deeds, one of which tells us how ‘I king Æthelwulf with the consent and leave of my bishops and great men give land to a church or a thegn,’ while the other says nothing of consent until it tells us how ‘This charter was written on such a day his testibus consentientibus,’ we must not at once treat them as saying the same thing in two different ways.
Consent and witness in the land-books.
For this purpose we may divide our charters into three periods. The first begins with the few genuine charters of the seventh century and ends in the reign of Egbert, the second endures until the reign of Edward the Elder, the third until the Norman Conquest. It will be well understood that we draw no hard line; each period has its penumbra; but the years 800 and 900 or 925 may serve to mark very rudely the two limits of the middle period. Now a clause in the body of the deed stating that the gift is made by the consent of the witan is characteristic of this middle period. Any one who wishes to forge a royal land-book of the ninth century should insert this clause; any one who wishes to forge a deed of the tenth or of the eighth century should think twice before he makes use of it. To be more exact, it becomes a common form under Cenwulf of Mercia and Egbert of Wessex; it grows very rare under Æthelstan[911]. In the meanwhile it serves as a common form, and it appears in deeds wherein the king says in forcible terms that he is disposing of his land and his inheritance[912]. During the last of our three periods all that is ascribed to the great men whose crosses follow the king’s cross is little, if anything, more than the function of witnesses. A deed of Æthelstan’s day will end with some such formula as the following: ‘this book was written at such a place and time, and its authority was confirmed by the witnesses whose names are written below.’ But very often there is no such concluding formula: we have simply the list of witnesses and their crosses, and of each of them it is said that he consented and subscribed. Later in the tenth century the formula which introduces the names of the witnesses will hardly admit that they in any sense confirmed the transaction; it will say merely, ‘This book was written on such a day his testibus consentientibus quorum nomina inferius caraxantur.’ On this will follow the names and crosses; and of each bishop—but not as a general rule of any other witness—it will be said that he has done something for the stability of the deed. To convey this information, the scribe rings the changes on a score of Latin words—subscripsi, consensi, consolidavi, corroboravi, confirmavi, conscripsi, consignavi, adquievi, praepinxi, praepunxi, praenotavi, and so forth, thereby showing that he has no very clear notion as to what it really is that the bishop does. But this degradation of what seems to be a formula of assent into a formula of attestation has been noticed by others[913], and it is more to our purpose to examine the charters of the earliest period, for then, if at any time, the folk-land should have appeared in its true character as the land of the people.
Attestation of the earliest books.
Now during our earliest period instruments which contain in conjunction with their operative words any allusion to the consent of the great men of the realm are exceedingly rare[914]. A commoner case is that in which the eschatocol says something about consent. We will collect a few examples.