In another important respect the manorial system survived long after serfdom had begun to decline. This was the method of doing farm work. A universal and insistent tradition had fixed agricultural method on the medieval manor and tended to preserve it unaltered well into modern times. The tradition was that of the "three-field system" of agriculture. The land of the manor, which might vary in amount from a few hundred to five thousand acres, was not divided up into farms of irregular shape and size, as it would be now. The waste-land, which could be used only for pasture, and the woodland on the outskirts of the clearing, were treated as "commons," that is to say, each villager, as well as the lord of the manor, might freely gather fire-wood, or he might turn his swine loose to feed on the acorns in the forest and his cattle to graze over the entire pasture. The cultivable or arable land was divided into several—usually three—great grain fields. Ridges or "balks" of unplowed turf divided each field into long parallel strips, which were usually forty rods or a furlong (furrow-long) in length, and from one to four rods wide. Each peasant had exclusive right to one or more of these strips in each of the three great fields, making, say, thirty acres in all; [Footnote: In some localities it was usual to redistribute these strips every year. In that way the greater part of the manor was theoretically "common" land, and no peasant had a right of private ownership to any one strip.] the lord too had individual right to a number of strips in the great fields.
[Sidenote: Disadvantages of Three-field System of Agriculture]
This so-called three-field system of agriculture was distinctly disadvantageous in many ways. Much time was wasted in going back and forth between the scattered plots of land. The individual peasant, moreover, was bound by custom to cultivate his land precisely as his ancestors had done, without attempting to introduce improvements. He grew the same crops as his neighbors—usually wheat or rye in one field; beans or barley in the second; and nothing in the third. Little was known about preserving the fertility of the soil by artificial manuring or by rotation of crops; and, although every year one-third of the land was left "fallow" (uncultivated) in order to restore its fertility, the yield per acre was hardly a fourth as large as now. Farm implements were of the crudest kind; scythes and sickles did the work of mowing machines; plows were made of wood, occasionally shod with iron; and threshing was done with flails. After the grain had been harvested, cattle were turned out indiscriminately on the stubble, on the supposition that the fields were common property. It was useless to attempt to breed fine cattle when all were herded together. The breed deteriorated, and both cattle and sheep were undersized and poor. A full-grown ox was hardly larger than a good-sized calf of the present time. Moreover, there were no potatoes or turnips, and few farmers grew clover or other grasses for winter fodder. It was impossible, therefore, to keep many cattle through the winter; most of the animals were killed off in the autumn and salted down for the long winter months when it was impossible to secure fresh meat.
[Sidenote: Peasant Life on the Manor]
Crude farm-methods and the heavy dues exacted by the lord [Footnote: In addition to the dues paid to the lay lord, the peasants were under obligation to make a regular contribution to the church, which was called the "tithe" and amounted to a share, less than a tenth, of the annual crops.] of the manor must have left the poor man little for himself. Compared with the comfort of the farmer today, the poverty of sixteenth-century peasants must have been inexpressibly distressful. How keenly the cold pierced the dark huts of the poorest, is hard for us to imagine. The winter diet of salt meat, the lack of vegetables, the chronic filth and squalor, and the sorry ignorance of all laws of health opened the way to disease and contagion. And if the crops failed, famine was added to plague.
On the other hand we must not forget that the tenement-houses of our great cities have been crowded in the nineteenth century with people more miserable than ever was serf of the middle ages. The serf, at any rate, had the open air instead of a factory in which to work. When times were good, he had grain and meat in plenty, and possibly wine or cider, and he hardly envied the tapestried chambers, the bejeweled clothes, and the spiced foods of the nobility, for he looked upon them as belonging to a different world.
In one place nobleman and peasant met on a common footing—in the village church. There, on Sundays and feast-days, they came together as Christians to hear Mass; and afterwards, perhaps, holiday games and dancing on the green, benignantly patronized by the lord's family, helped the common folk to forget their labors. The village priest, [Footnote: Usually very different from the higher clergy, who had large landed estates of their own, the parish priests had but modest incomes from the tithes of their parishioners and frequently eked out a living by toiling on allotted patches of ground. The monks too were ordinarily poor, although the monastery might be wealthy, and they likewise often tilled the fields.] himself often of humble birth, though the most learned man on the manor, was at once the friend and benefactor of the poor and the spiritual director of the lord. Occasionally a visit of the bishop to administer confirmation to the children, afforded an opportunity for gayety and universal festivity.
[Sidenote: Rural Isolation and Conservatism]
At other times there was little to disturb the monotony of village life and little to remind it of the outside world, except when a gossiping peddler chanced along, or when the squire rode away to court or to war. Intercourse with other villages was unnecessary, unless there were no blacksmith or miller on the spot. The roads were poor and in wet weather impassable. Travel was largely on horseback, and what few commodities were carried from place to place were transported by pack- horses. Only a few old soldiers, and possibly a priest, had traveled very much; they were the only geographies and the only books of travel which the village possessed, for few peasants could read or write.
Self-sufficient and secluded from the outer world, the rural village went on treasuring its traditions, keeping its old customs, century after century. The country instinctively distrusted all novelties; it always preferred old ways to new; it was heartily conservative. Country-folk did not discover America. It was the enterprise of the cities, with their growing industries and commerce, which brought about the Commercial Revolution; and to the development of commerce, industry, and the towns, we now must turn our attention.