The paper which gives its title to this volume of unpublished studies deals with a subject of great interest, the origin of the City Corporation. In my previous work, ‘Geoffrey de Mandeville’ (1892), and especially in the Appendix it contains on ‘The early administration of London,’ I endeavoured to advance our knowledge of the government and the liberties of the City in the 12th century. In the present volume the paper entitled “London under Stephen” pursues the enquiry further. I have there argued that the “English Cnihtengild” was not the governing body, and have shown that it did not, as is alleged, embrace a religious life by entering Holy Trinity Priory en masse. The great office of “Justiciar of London,” created, as I previously held, by the charter of Henry I., is now proved, in this paper, to have been held by successive citizens in the days of Stephen.

The communal movement, which, even under Stephen, seems to have influenced the City, attained its triumph under Richard I.; and the most important discovery, perhaps, in these pages is that of the oath sworn to the Commune of London. From it we learn that the governing body consisted at the time of a Mayor and “Échevins,” as in a continental city, and that the older officers, the Aldermen of the Wards, had not been amalgamated, as has been supposed, with the new and foreign system. The latter, I have urged, is now represented by the Mayor and Common Council. That this communal organization was almost certainly derived from Normandy, and probably from Rouen, will, I think, be generally admitted in the light of the evidence here adduced. This conclusion has led me to discuss the date of the “Établissements de Rouen,” a problem that has received much attention from that eminent scholar, M. Giry. I have also dwelt on the financial side of London’s communal revolution, and shown that it involved the sharp reduction of the ‘firma’ paid by the City to the Crown, the amount of which was a grievance with the citizens and a standing subject of dispute.

The strand connecting the other studies contained in this volume is the critical treatment of historical evidence, especially of records and kindred documents. It is possible that some of the discoveries resulting from this treatment may not only illustrate the importance of absolute exactitude in statement, but may also encourage that searching and independent study of ‘sources’ which affords so valuable an historical training, and is at times the means of obtaining light on hitherto perplexing problems.

The opening paper (originally read before the Society of Antiquaries) is a plea for the more scientific study of the great field for exploration presented by our English place-names. Certain current beliefs on the settlement of the English invaders are based, it is here urged, on nothing but the rash conclusions of Kemble, writing, as he did, under the influence of a now abandoned theory. In the paper which follows, the value of charters, for the Norman period, is illustrated, some points of ‘diplomatic’ investigated, and the danger of inexactitude revealed.

Finance, the key to much of our early institutional history, is dealt with in a paper on “The origin of the Exchequer,” a problem of long standing. On the one hand, allowance is here made for the personal equation of the author of the famous ‘Dialogus de Scaccario,’ and some of his statements critically examined, with the result of showing that he exaggerates the changes introduced under Henry I., by the founder of his own house, and that certain alleged innovations were, in truth, older than the Conquest. On the other, it is shown that his treatise does, when carefully studied, reveal the existence of a Treasury audit, which has hitherto escaped notice. Further, the office of Chamberlain of the Exchequer is traced back as a feudal serjeanty to the days of the Conqueror himself, and its connection with the tenure of Porchester Castle established, probably, for the first time. The geographical position of Porchester should, in this connection, be observed.

In two papers I deal with Ireland and its Anglo-Norman conquest. The principal object in the first of these is to show the true character of that alleged golden age which the coming of the invaders destroyed. It is possible, however, of course, that a “vast human shambles” may be, in the eyes of some, an ideal condition for a country. Mr. Dillon, at least, has consistently described the Soudan, before our conquest, as “a comparatively peaceful country.”[1] In the second of these papers I advance a new solution of the problem raised by the alleged grant of Ireland, by the Pope, to Henry II. As to this fiercely contested point, I suggest that, on the English side, there was a conspiracy to base the title of our kings to Ireland on a Papal donation of the sovereignty of the island, itself avowedly based on the (forged) “donation of Constantine.” No such act of the Popes can, in my opinion, be proved. Even the “Bull Laudabiliter,” which, in the form we have it, is of no authority, does not go so far as this, while its confirmation by Alexander III. is nothing but a clumsy forgery. The only document sent to Ireland, to support his rights, by Henry II. was, I here contend, the letter of Alexander III. (20th September, 1172), approving of what had been done. That he sent there the alleged bull of Adrian, and that he did so in 1175, are both, I urge, although accepted, facts without foundation.[2]

The method adopted in this paper of testing the date hitherto adopted, and disproving it by the sequence of events, is one which I have also employed in “The Struggle of John and Longchamp (1191).” The interest of this latter paper consists in its bearing on the whole question of historic probability, and on the problem of harmonising narratives by four different witnesses, as discussed by Dr. Abbott in his work on St. Thomas of Canterbury. This is, perhaps, the only instance in which I have found the historic judgment and the marvellous insight of the Bishop of Oxford, if I may venture to say so, at fault; and it illustrates the importance of minute attention to the actual dates of events.

Another point that I have tried to illustrate is the tendency to erect a theory on a single initial error. In “The Marshalship of England” I have shown that the belief in the existence of two distinct Marshalseas converging on a single house rests only on a careless slip in a coronation claim (1377). A marginal note scribbled by Carew, under a misapprehension, in the days of Elizabeth, is shown (p. 149) to be the source of Professor Brewer’s theory on certain Irish MSS. Again, the accepted story of the Cnihtengild rests only on a misunderstanding of a mediæval phrase (p. 104). Stranger still, the careless reading of a marginal note found in the works of Matthew Paris has led astray the learned editors of several volumes in the Rolls Series, and has even been made, as I have shown in “the Coronation of Richard I.,” the basis of a theory that a record of that event formerly existed, though now wanting, in the Red Book of the Exchequer.

The increasing interest in our public records—due in part to the greater use of record evidence in historical research, and in part, also, to the energy with which, under the present Deputy-Keeper of the Records, their contents are being made available—leads me to speak of the contributions, in these pages, to their study.

A suggestion will be found (p. 88) as to the origin of the valuable “Cartæ Antiquæ,” of which the text too often is corrupt, but which, it may be hoped, will soon be published, as they are at present difficult to consult. In the paper on “The Inquest of Sheriffs” I have proved beyond question the identity of the lost returns discovered at the Public Record Office, and so lamentably misunderstood by their official editor. But the most important, and indeed revolutionary, theory I have here ventured to advance deals with what are known as the Red Book Inquisitions of 12 and 13 John. It is my contention that this Inquest, the existence of which has not been doubted,[3] though it rests only on the heading in the Red Book of the Exchequer, never took place at all, and that these ‘Inquisitions’ are merely abstracts, made for a special purpose, from the original returns to that great Inquest of service (as I here term it) which took place in June, 1212 (14 John). It is singular that this conclusion is precisely parallel with that which experts have now adopted on another great Inquest. “Kirkby’s Quest,” it is now admitted, having been similarly misdated in an official transcript, and again, in our own time, by an officer of the Public Record Office, was similarly shown by a private individual to consist, as a rule, “of abridgments only of original inquisitions” ... “extracts from the original inquisitions made for a special purpose.”[4] Thus, under John, as under Edward I., “the enquiry itself was a much wider one” than would be inferred from the Red Book Inquisitions and “Kirkby’s Quest” respectively. And, in both cases, its date was different from that which has been hitherto assigned.

I cannot doubt that the theory I advance will be accepted, in course of time, by the authorities of the Public Record Office. In the meanwhile, I have endeavoured to identify all the material in the ‘Testa de Nevill’ derived from the returns to this Inquest, and thus to make it available for students of local and family history.

It is needful that I should say something on the Red Book of the Exchequer. One of the most famous volumes among our public records, it has lately been edited for the Rolls Series by Mr. Hubert Hall, F.S.A., of the Public Record Office.[5] The inclusion of a work in the Rolls Series thrusts it, of necessity, upon every student of English mediæval history. It also involves an official cachet, which gives it an authority, as a work of reference, that the public, naturally, does not assign to the book of a private individual. That a certain percentage of mistakes must occur in works of this kind is, perhaps, to be expected; but when they are made the vehicle of confused and wild guesswork, and become the means of imparting wanton heresy and error, it is the duty of a scholar who can prove the fact to warn the student against their contents.[6] It is only, the reader must remember, a stern sense of duty that is likely to compel one to turn aside from one’s own historical researches and devote one’s time and toil to exposing the misleading theories set forth in an official publication issued at the national expense. A weary and a thankless task it is; but in Mr. Eyton’s admirable words: “the dispersion of error is the first step in the discovery of truth.”

In my ‘Studies on the Red Book of the Exchequer,’ issued last year for private circulation only, and in two special articles,[7] I have partially criticised Mr. Hall’s work and the misleading theories it contains. Of these criticisms it need only be said that the ‘English Historical Review,’ in a weighty editorial notice, observes that “The charges are very sweeping, but in my opinion they are made out.... I am bound to say that, in my opinion, Mr. Round has proved his case.”[8] The further exposures of this official work, contained in these pages[9]—especially in the paper on “the Inquest of Sheriffs,” which illustrates its wanton heresies—justify my demand that the authorities should withdraw it, till revised, from circulation.

The paper on “Castle-ward and Cornage” not only proves that the two were distinct, and gives the real explanation of their juxtaposition in the ‘Red Book,’ but contains novel information, to which I would invite attention, on the constableship of Dover Castle. The early history of this important office has been altogether erroneous.

Lastly, I must speak, very briefly, of the criticism to which my work has been exposed, although I do so with much reluctance. Honest criticism one welcomes: difference of opinion one respects. But for that uncandid criticism which endeavours to escape from facts, and which is animated only by the wish to obscure the light, no excuse is possible. The paper on “Anglo-Norman Warfare” will illustrate the tactics to which I refer; and the weight to be attached to Mr. Oman’s views may be gathered from that on “Bannockburn.” But, apart from the necessity of these exposures in the cause of historical truth, the papers which contain them will, I trust, be found of some service in their bearing on the tactics and poliorcetics of mediæval England, and on the introduction, in this country, of tenure by knight service. It is the object also of the “Bannockburn” paper to illustrate the grossly-exaggerated figures of mediæval chroniclers, a point which, even now, is insufficiently realized. Here, and elsewhere, it has been my aim to insist upon the value of records as testing and checking our chronicles, placing, as they do, the facts of history on a relatively sure foundation.