The English state.
If now we look at that English state which is the outcome of a purely English history, we see that it has already taken a pyramidal or conical shape. It is a society of lords and men. At its base are the cultivators of the soil, at its apex is the king. This cone is as yet but low. Even at the end of William’s reign the peasant seldom had more than two lords between him and the king, but already in the Confessor’s reign he might well have three[696]. Also the cone is obtuse: the angle at its apex will grow acuter under Norman rulers. We can indeed obtain no accurate statistics, but the number of landholders who were King Edward’s men must have been much larger than the tale of the Norman tenants in chief. In the geographical distribution of the large estates under William there is but little more regularity than there was under his predecessor. In Cheshire and in Shropshire the Conqueror formed two great fiefs for Hugh of Avranches and Roger of Montgomery, well compacted fiefs, the like of which England had not yet seen. But the units which William found in existence and which he distributed among his followers were for the more part discrete units, and seldom did the Norman baron acquire as his honour any wide stretch of continuous territory. Still a great change took place in the substance of the cone, or if that substance is made up of lords and men and acres, then in the nature of, or rather the relation between, the forces which held the atoms together. Every change makes for symmetry, simplicity, consolidation. Some of these changes will seem to us predestined. To speculate as to what would have happened had Harold repelled the invader would be vain, and certainly we have no reason for believing that in that case the formula of dependent tenure would ever have got hold of every acre of English land and every right in English land. The law of ‘land loans’ (Lehnrecht) would hardly have become our only land law, had not a conqueror enjoyed an unbounded power, or a power bounded only by some reverence for the churches, of deciding by what men and on what terms every rood of England should be holden. Had it not been for this, we should surely have had some franc alleu to oppose to the fief, some Eigen to oppose to the Lehn. But if England was not to be for ever a prey to rebellions and civil wars, the power of the lords over their men must have been—not indeed increased, but—territorialized; the liberty of ‘going with one’s land to whatever lord one chose’ must have been curtailed. As yet the central force embodied in the kingship was too feeble to deal directly with every one of its subjects, to govern them and protect them. The intermediation of the lords was necessary; the state could not but be pyramidal; and, while this was so, the freedom that men had of forsaking one lord for another, of forsaking even the king for the ambitious earl, was a freedom that was akin to anarchy. Such a liberty must have its wings clipt; free contract must be taught to know its place; the lord’s hold over the man’s land must become permanent. This change, if it makes at first for a more definite feudalism, or (to use words more strictly) if it substitutes feudalism for vassalism, makes also for the stability of the state, for the increase of the state’s power over the individual, and in the end for the disappearance of feudalism. The freeholder of the thirteenth century is much more like the subject of a modern state than was the free man of the Confessor’s day who could place himself and his land under the power and warranty of whatever lord he chose. Lordship in becoming landlordship begins to lose its most dangerous element; it is ceasing to be a religion, it is becoming a ‘real’ right, a matter for private law. Again, we may guess, if we please, that but for the Norman Conquest the mass of the English peasantry would never have fallen so low as fall it did. The ‘sokemen’ would hardly have been turned into ‘villeins,’ the ‘villeins’ would hardly have become ‘serfs.’ And yet the villeins of the Confessor’s time were in a perilous position. Already they were occupying lands which for two most important purposes were reckoned the lands of their lords, lands for which their lords gelded, lands for which their lords fought. Even in an English England the time might have come when the state, refusing to look behind their lords, would have left the protection of their rights to a Hofrecht, to ‘the custom of the manor.’
Last words.
It is, we repeat it, vain to speculate about such matters, for we know too little of the relative strength of the various forces that were at work, and an accident, a war, a famine, may at any moment decide the fate, even the legal fate, of a great class. And above all there is the unanswerable question whether Harold or any near successor of his would or could have done what William did so soon as the survey was accomplished, when he proved that, after all, the pyramid was no pyramid and that every particle of it was in immediate contact with him, and ‘there came to him all the land-sitting men who were worth aught from over all England, whosesoever men they were, and they bowed themselves to him, and became this man’s men[697].’
§ 9. The Boroughs.
Borough and village.
Dark as the history of our villages may be, the history of the boroughs is darker yet; or rather, perhaps, the darkness seems blacker because we are compelled to suppose that it conceals from our view changes more rapid and intricate than those that have happened in the open country. The few paragraphs that follow will be devoted mainly to the development of one suggestion which has come to us from foreign books, but which may throw a little light where every feeble ray is useful. At completeness we must not aim, and in our first words we ought to protest that no general theory will tell the story of every or any particular town[698].
The borough in cent. xiii.
In the thirteenth century a legal, though a wavering, line is drawn between the borough and the mere vill or rural township[699]. It is a wavering line, for stress can be laid now upon one and now upon another attribute of the ancient and indubitable boroughs, and this selected attribute can then be employed as a test for the claims of other towns. When in Edward I.’s day the sheriffs are being told to bid every borough send two burgesses to the king’s parliaments, there are somewhat more than 150 places to which such summonses will at times be addressed, though before the end of the middle ages the number of ‘parliamentary boroughs’ will have shrunk to 100 or thereabouts[700]. Many towns seem to hover on the border line and in some cases the sheriff has been able to decide whether or no a town shall be represented in the councils of the realm. Yet if we go back to the early years of the tenth century, we shall still find this contrast between the borough and the mere township existing as a contrast whence legal consequences flow. Where lies the contrast? What is it that makes a borough to be a borough? That is the problem that we desire to solve. It is a legal problem. We are not to ask why some places are thickly populated or why trade has flowed in this or that channel. We are to ask why certain vills are severed from other vills and are called boroughs.