Domesday Book and Beyond: Three Essays in the Early History of England

by Frederic William Maitland

Customary acres and forest acres.

But we must be cautious in drawing inferences from loose reports about ‘customary’ measures. Village maps and village fields have yet to be seriously studied. We may in the meanwhile doubt whether in some districts to which the largest acres are ascribed, such acres are normal or are drawn in the oldest villages. We may suspect them of being ‘forest acres.’ If once a good many of these abnormal units are distributed in a district, they will by their very peculiarity attract more than their fair share of attention and will be spoken of as characteristic of that district. In Germany, as well as in England, we find forest acres which are much larger than common acres and are meted by a rod which is longer than the common rod[1273]. Possibly men have found a long rod convenient when they have large spaces to measure, but we fancy that the true explanation would illustrate the influence exercised by taxation on systems of measurement. Some scheme of allotment or colonization is being framed; an equal tribute is to be reserved from the allotted acres. If, however, there is uncleared woodland to be distributed, rude equity, instead of changing the tribute on the acre, changes the acre’s size and uses a long rod for land that can not at once be tilled[1274]. Also fields that were plotted out by Normans were likely to have large acres, and as the perches of Normandy seem to have been longer than most of the perches that were used in France, we may perhaps infer that the Scandinavian rods were long and find in them an explanation of the big acres of northern England. But at present such inferences would be precarious.

The acre and the day’s work.

Whether in its origin the land-measuring rod is a mere representative of a certain number of feet or is some instrument useful for other purposes seems to be dubious. One of the names that it has borne in English is goad; but most of our rods would be extravagantly long goads[1275]. Possibly the width of four oxen yoked abreast has exercised some influence upon its length[1276]. When a rod had once found acceptance, it must speedily have begun to convert that ‘time-labour-unit,’ the acre, into a measured space. Already in the land-books we read of acres of meadow[1277]; this is no longer a contradiction in terms. Still there can be no doubt that our acre, like the jurnale, Tagwerk, Morgen of the Continent, has at its root the tract that can be ploughed in a day, or in a forenoon:—in the afternoon the oxen must go to the pasture[1278]. Now, when compared with their foreign cousins, our statute perch is a long rod and our statute acre is a decidedly large ‘day-work-unit[1279].’ It seems to tell of plentiful land, sparse population and poor husbandry. This is of some importance. There is a good deal of evidence pointing to the conclusion that, whereas in the oldest days men really ploughed an acre in a forenoon, the current of agricultural progress made for a while towards the diminution of the space that was covered by a day’s labour. In Ælfric’s dialogue the ploughman complains that each day he must till ‘a full acre or more[1280].’ His successor, the poetic Piers, had only a half-acre to plough[1281]. In monastic cartularies which come from southern counties, where we have no reason to suspect exceptionally large acres, the villein seems often to plough less than an acre[1282]. Then that enlightened agriculturist, Walter of Henley, enters upon a long argument to prove to his readers that you really can plough seven-eighths of an acre in a forenoon, and even a whole acre if you are but engaged in that light kind of ploughing which does for a second fallowing[1283]. Five centuries later another enlightened agriculturist, Arthur Young, discovered that ‘from North Leach, through Gloucestershire, Monmouthshire, and Glamorganshire, light and middling turnip-land etc.’ was being ploughed at the rate of half an acre to one acre a day by teams of ‘eight oxen; never less than six; or four and two horses.’ This, he says, was being done ‘merely in compliance with the obstinacy of the low people,’ for ‘the labourers will not touch a plough without the usual number of beasts in it[1284]’. Mr Young could not tell us of ‘these vile remnants of barbarity without a great degree of disgust[1285]’. But we are grateful. We see that an acre of light land was the maximum that these ‘low people’ with their eight oxen would plough in a day, and we take it that at one time the voice of reforming science had urged men to diminish the area ploughed in a given time, to plough deeper and to draw their furrows closer. The old tradition was probably well content with a furrow for every foot. Walter of Henley proposed to put six additional furrows into the acre[1286]. Hereafter we shall see that some of the statistics given by Domesday Book fall in with the suggestion that we are here making. Also we may see on our maps that the strip which a man has in one place is very often not an acre but a half-acre. Now, in days when men really ploughed an acre at a stretch, such an arrangement would have involved a waste of time, since, when the morning’s work was half done, the plough would be removed from one ‘shot’ to another[1287].

The real acres in the fields.

At length we reach the fields, and at once we learn that there is something unreal in all our talk of acre and half-acre strips. In passing we may observe that some of our English meadows which show by their ‘beds’ that they were not always meadows, seem to show also that the boundaries of the strips were not drawn by straight rods, but were drawn by the plough. The beds are not straight, but slightly sinuous, and such, it is said, is the natural course of the old plough; it swerves to the left, and this tendency is then corrected by those who guide it[1288]. But, apart from this, land refuses to be cut into parallelograms each of which is 40 rods long and 4 wide. In other words, the ‘real acres’ in an open field diverge widely from the ideal acre that was in the minds of those who made them.

The ‘shots.’

Let us recall a few features of the common field, though they will be familiar to all who have read Mr Seebohm’s book[1289]. A natural limit to the length of the furrow is set by the endurance of oxen. From this it follows that even if the surface that lies open is perfectly level and practically limitless, it will none the less be broken up into what our Latin documents call culturae[1290]. The cultura is a set of contiguous and parallel acre-strips; it tends to be a rude parallelogram; two of its sides will be each a furlong (‘furrowlong’) in length, while the length of the other sides will vary from case to case. We commonly find that every great field (campus) is divided into divers culturae, each of which has its own name. The commonest English equivalent for the word cultura seems to have been furlong, and this use of furlong was very natural; but, as we require that term for another purpose, we will call the cultura a shot. So large were the fields, that the annual value of an acre in one shot would sometimes be eight times greater than that of an acre in another shot[1291]. To such differences our ancestors were keenly alive. Hence the dispersion of the strips which constitute a single tenement.

Delimitation of shots.

But to make ‘shots’ which should be rectangular and just 40 feet long was often impossible. Even if the surface of the field were flat, its boundaries were the irregular curves drawn by streams and mounds. In order to economize space, shots running at right angles to other shots were introduced, and of necessity some furlongs were longer than others. If, however, as was often the case, men were laying out their fields among the folds of the hills, their acres would be yet more irregular both in size and in shape. They would be compelled to make very small shots, and the various furrows if ‘produced’ (in the geometer’s sense of that word) would cut each other at all imaginable angles. On the maps we may still see them struggling with these difficulties, drawing as many rectilinear shots as may be and then compelled to parcel out as best they can the irregularly shaped patches that remain. And then we see that even these patches have been allotted either as acres or as half-acres.