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

by Frederic William Maitland

A word to explain this conception. In very old times when men thought of land as the subject-matter of grants and taxes they spoke only of arable land[1310]. If we are to understand their sayings and doings, we must think ourselves into an economic arrangement very different from that in which we are now immersed. We must well-nigh abolish buying and selling. Every village, perhaps every hide, must be very nearly self-sufficient. Now when once population has grown so thick that nomadic practices are forsaken, the strain of supporting mankind falls almost wholly on the ploughed land. That strain is severe. Many acres feed few people. Thus the arable becomes prominent. But further, arable implies pasture. This is not a legal theory; it is a physical fact. A householder can not have arable land unless he has pasture rights. Arable land is land that is ploughed; ploughing implies oxen; oxen, pasture. Our householder can not use a steam-plough; what is more, he can not buy hay. If he keeps beasts, they must eat. If he does not keep beasts, he has no arable land. Lastly, as a general rule men do not possess pasture land in severalty; they turn out their beasts on ‘the common of the vill.’ Therefore, in very old schemes of taxation and the like, pasture land is neglected: not because it is unimportant, but because it is indispensably necessary. It may be taken for granted. If a man has 120 acres of arable land, he must have adequate pasture rights; there must be in Domesday’s language pastura sufficens carucis. And in the common case there will be not much more than sufficient pasture. If there were, it would soon be broken up to provide more corn. Every village must be self-supporting, and therefore an equilibrium of arable and pasture will be established in every village. Thus if, for fiscal and governmental purposes, there is to be a typical tenement, it may be a tenement of x arable acres, and nothing need be said of any other kind of ground.

The hide of 120 acres.

We are going to argue that the Anglo-Saxons give 120 acres, arable acres, to the hide. Our main argument will be that the equation 1 H. = 120 A. is implied in the fiscal system revealed by Domesday Book. But, by way of making this equation probable, we may notice that, if we had no evidence later than the Conquest, all that we should find on the face of the Anglo-Saxon land-books would be favourable to this equation. In the first place, on the only occasion on which we hear of the content of a hide, it is put at 120 acres[1311]. In the second place, when a number of acres is mentioned, it is commonly one of those numbers, such as 150, 90, 80, 60, 30, which will often occur if hides of 120 acres are being partitioned[1312]. The force of this last remark may seem to be diminished if we remember how excellent a dividend is 120. It is neatly divisible by 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12. But then we must reflect that this very quality recommended it to organizers, more especially as there were 240 pence in the pound.

Real and fiscal hides.

Supposing for a moment that we bring home this equation to the Anglo-Saxon financiers, there would still remain the question how far it truthfully represented agrarian facts. To that question no precise answer can be given: the truth lies somewhere between two extremes. We must not for one instant believe that England was so neat a chess-board as a rude fiscal theory paints, where every pawn stands on its square, every ‘family’ in the centre of 120 acre-strips of 4 by 40 perches. The barbarian, for all his materialism, is an idealist. He is, like the child, a master in the art of make-believe. He sees things not as they are, but as they might conveniently be. Every householder has a hide; every hide has 120 acres of arable; every hide is worth one pound a year; every householder has a team; every team is of eight oxen; every team is worth one pound. If all this be not so, then it ought to be so and must be deemed to be so. Then by a Procrustean process he packs the complex and irregular facts into his scheme. What is worse, he will not count. He will assume that a large district has a round 1200 hides, and will then ordain that those hides must be found. We see this on a small scale if we study manorial ‘extents’ or village maps. The virgates are not equal; the acres are far from equal; but they are deemed to be equal[1313]. Nevertheless, we must stop short of the other extreme or we shall be over-estimating the power of such government and the originality of such statesmanship as existed. Theories like those of which we are speaking are born of facts and in their turn generate new facts. Our forefathers really lived in a simpler and a more chess-board-like England than that which we know. There must have been much equality among the hides and among the villages. When we see that a ‘hundred’ in Cambridgeshire has exactly 100 hides which are distributed between six vills of 10 hides apiece and eight vills of 5 hides apiece, this simple symmetry is in part the unreal outcome of a capricious method of taxation, but in part it is a real economic fact. There was an English conquest of England, and, to all seeming, the conquest of eastern England was singularly thorough. In all probability a great many villages were formed approximately at one time and on one plan. Conveniently simple figures could be drawn, for the slate was clean[1314].

Causes of divergence of fiscal from real hides.

However, at an early time the hide becomes an unit in a system of assessment. The language of the land-books tells us that this is so[1315]. Already in Ine’s day we hear of the amount of victual that ten hides must find for the king’s support[1316]. About the end of the tenth century the duty of maintaining burgs is bound up with the possession of hides[1317]. Before the end of that century heavy sums are being raised as a tribute for the Danes. For this purpose, as we shall try to show hereafter, ‘hides’ are cast upon shires and hundreds by those who, instead of counting, make pleasantly convenient assumptions about the capacity of provinces and districts, and in all probability the assumptions made in the oldest times were the furthest from the truth. Now and again the assessments of shires and hundreds were corrected in a manner which, so far as we are concerned, only made matters worse. It becomes apparent that hides are not of one value or nearly of one value. This becomes painfully apparent when Cornwall and other far western lands are brought under contribution. So large sums of hides are struck off the poorer counties. The fiscal ‘hide’ becomes a lame compromise between an unit of area and an unit of value. Then privilege confounds confusion; the estates of favoured churches and nobles are ‘beneficially hidated.’ But this is not all. Probably the real hides, the real old settlers’ tenements, which you could count if you looked at a village and its fields, are rapidly going to pieces, and the fragments thereof are entering into new combinations. In the lordless villages economic forces of an easily imaginable kind will make for this end. Not only may we suppose some increase of population, especially where Danes swarm in, and some progress in the art of agriculture, but also the bond of blood becomes weaker and the familia that lives in one house grows smaller. So the hides go to pieces. The birth of trade and the establishment of markets help this process. It is no longer necessary that every tenement should be self-sufficient; men can buy what they do not grow. The formation of manors may have tended in some sort to arrest this movement. A system of equal (theoretically equal) tenements was convenient to lords who were collecting ‘provender rents’ and extending their powers; but under seignorial pressure virgates, rather than hides, were likely to become the prominent units. We may well believe that if to make two ears of corn grow where one grew is to benefit mankind, the lords were public benefactors, and that the husbandry of the manors was more efficient than was that of the lordless townships. The clergy were in touch with their fellows on the Continent; also the church’s reeve was a professional agriculturist and might even write a tract on the management of manors[1318]. There was more cooperation, more communalism, less waste. A family could live and thrive upon a virgate[1319].

Effects of the divergence of fiscal from real hides.

But, what concerns us at the present moment is the, for us disastrous, effect of this divergence of the fiscal from the real hide. Even if finance had not complicated the problem, we should, as we have already seen, have found many difficulties if we tried to construe medieval statements of acreage. Already we should have had three different ‘acres’ to think of. We will imagine that a village has 590 ‘acre strips’ in its field. In one sense, therefore, it has 590 acres. But the ideal to which these strips tend and were meant to conform is that of acres measured by a rod of 15 feet. Measured by that rod there would, we will suppose, be 550 acres. Then, however, we may use the royal rod and say that there are 454 acres or thereabouts. But the field was divided into five tenements that were known as hides, and the general theory is that a hide (householder’s land) contains, or must be supposed to contain, 120 acres. Therefore there are here 600 acres. And now a partitionary method of taxation stamps this as a vill of four hides. Consequently the ‘hide’ of this village may have as many as 150 or as few as 90 ‘acres.’ It ought not to be so. It would not be so if men were always distinguishing between ‘acre strips’ and measured acres, between ‘real’ hides (which, to tell truth, are no longer real, since they are falling to pieces) and ‘fiscal’ or ‘geld’ hides. But it will be so. Here and there we may see an effort to keep up distinctions between the ‘carucate for gelding’ and the ‘carucate for ploughing,’ between the real acre and the acre ‘for defence (acra warae)[1320]’; but men tire of these long phrases and argue backwards and forwards between the rateable and the real. Hence some of the worst puzzles of Domesday Book[1321].

Acreage of the hide in later days.