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

by Frederic William Maitland

binnan burh and butan burh

on stræte and of stræte.

Surely this alliteration and this rude rhythm tell us that the clause has long been fashioning itself in the minds and mouths of the people and is no piece of a new-fangled ‘chancery-style[949].’ And one other remark about language will occur to us. In many respects the law Latin of the middle ages went on becoming a better and better language until, in the thirteenth century, it became a very good, useful and accurate form of speech. But it gained this excellence by frankly renouncing all attempts after classicality, all thought of the golden or the silver age, and by freely borrowing from English whatever words it wanted and making them Latin by a suffix. The Latin of the Anglo-Saxon land-books is for all practical purposes a far worse language, just because it strives to be far better. It wanted to be good Latin, and even at times good Greek. The scribe of the ninth or tenth century would have been shocked by such words as tainus, dreinus, smalemannus, sochemannus which enabled his successors to say precisely what they wanted. He gives us provincia instead of scira, satrapes instead of aldermanni, and we read of tributum and census when we would much rather have read of geldum and gablum. It was out of the question that he should be guilty of such barbarisms as saca et soca. If he is to speak to us of these things, he will do so in some phrase which he thinks would not have disgraced a Roman orator—in a phrase, that is, which will not really fit his thought.

Traditional evidence of sake and soke.

The traditions, the legends, current in later times, can not be altogether neglected. The prelates of the thirteenth century often asserted that some of their franchises, and in particular their hundred courts, had been given to their predecessors in an extremely remote age. Thus the bishop of Salisbury claimed the hundred of Ramsbury in Wiltshire by grant of King Offa of Mercia[950]; the Abbot of Ramsey claimed the hundred of Clackclose in Norfolk by grant of King Edgar[951]. On such claims we can lay but very little stress, for if the church had held its ‘liberties’ from before the Conquest, the exact date at which it had acquired them was of little importance and their origin would easily become the sport of guess-work and myth. But occasionally we can say that there must in all probability be some truth in the tale. Such is the case with the famous hundred of Oswaldslaw in Worcestershire. When the Domesday survey was made this hundred belonged to the church of Worcester. Worcestershire was deemed to comprise twelve hundreds and Oswaldslaw counted for three of them[952]. Oswaldslaw contained 300 hides, and to all seeming the whole shire contained 1200 hides or thereabouts. Even in the thirteenth century a certain tripleness seems to be displayed by this hundred; the bishop holds his hundred court in three different places, namely, outside the city of Worcester, at Dryhurst and at Wimborntree[953]. Now the story current in S^t. Mary’s convent was that this triple hundred of Oswaldslaw received its name from Oswald, the saintly bishop who ruled the church of Worcester from 960 to 992. A charter was produced, perhaps the most celebrated of all land-books, that Altitonantis Dei largiflua clementia, which, after many centuries, was to prove the King of England’s dominion over the narrow seas[954]. According to this charter Edgar, Oswald’s patron, threw together three old hundreds, Cuthbertslaw, Wolfhereslaw, and Wimborntree to form a domain for the bishop and his monks[955]. Could we accept the would-be charter as genuine, could we even accept it as a true copy of a genuine book (and this we can hardly do)[956], there would be an end of all controversy as to the existence of seignorial justice in the year 964, for undoubtedly it contains words which confer jurisdiction[957]. Upon these we will not rely: the fact remains that in Domesday Book there appears this hundred of Oswaldslaw, that it is treated as a triple hundred, as three hundreds, that the bishop has jurisdiction over it, that the sheriff has no rights within it, that it looks like a very artificial aggregate of land, for pieces of it lie intermixed with other hundreds and pieces of it lie surrounded by Gloucestershire. In 1086 the church of Worcester had to all appearance just those rights which the Altitonantis professed to grant to her; already they were associated with the name of Oswald; already they were regarded as ancient privileges. ‘Saint Mary of Worcester has a hundred called Oswaldslaw, in which lie 300 hides, from which the bishop of the said church, by a constitution of ancient times, has the profits of all sokes and all the customs which belong thereto for his own board and for the king’s service and his own, so that no sheriff can make any claim for any plea or for any other cause:—this the whole county witnesses[958].’ Surely the whole county would not have spoken thus of some newfangled device of the half-Norman Edward. Such a case as this, so great a matter as the utter exclusion of the sheriff from one quarter of the shire, we shall hardly attempt to explain by hypothetical usurpations. These liberties were granted by some king or other. If they were granted by the Confessor, why was not a charter of the Confessor produced? Why instead was a charter of Edgar produced, perhaps rewritten and revised, perhaps concocted? The easiest answer to this question seems to be that, whatever may be the truth about this detail or that, the Altitonantis tells a story that in the main is true. The diplomatist’s scepticism should in this and other instances be held in check by the reflexion that kings and sheriffs did not permit themselves to be cheated wholesale out of valuable rights, when the true state of the facts must have been patent to hundreds of men, patent to all the men of Oswaldslaw and to ‘the whole county’ of Worcester[959]

Criticism of the earlier books.

We may now turn to the genuine books of an earlier time and patiently examine their words. It is well known that an Anglo-Saxon land-book proceeding from the king very commonly, though not always, contains a clause of immunity. Sometimes a grant of immunity is the essence of the book; the land in question already belongs to a church, and the bishop or abbot now succeeds in getting it set free from burdens to which it has hitherto been subject. What is now granted to him is ‘freedom,’ ‘liberty,’ ‘freóls’; the book is a freóls-bóc[960]; it may be that he is willing to pay money, to give land, to promise prayers in return for this franchise, this libertas[961]. Thus, for example, King Ceolwulf of Mercia grants a libertas to the Bishop of Worcester, freeing all his land from the burden of feeding the king’s horses, and in consideration of this grant the bishop gives to the king five hides of land for four lives and agrees that prayers shall be said for him every Sunday[962]

The clause of immunity.

Now in an ordinary case the clause of immunity will first contain some general words declaring the land to be free of burdens in general, and then some exceptive words declaring that it is not to be free from certain specified burdens[963]. Both parts of the clause demand our attention. The burdens from which the land is to be free are described by a large phrase. Usually both a substantive and an adjective are employed for the purpose; they are to be freed ab omni terrenae servitutis iugo—saecularibus negotiis—mundiali obstaculo—mundialibus causis—saecularibus curis—mundialibus coangustiis—cunctis laboribus vitae mortalium. The adjectives are remarkable, for they seem to suggest a contrast. The land is freed from all earthly, worldly, secular, temporal services. Does this not mean that it is devoted to services that are heavenly, sacred, spiritual[964]? True, that in course of time we may find this same formula used when the king is giving land, not to a church, but to one of his thegns; but still in its origin the land-book is ecclesiastical; ‘book-right’ is the right of the church, ius ecclesiasticum[965], and we may well believe that the phraseology of the books, which in substance remains unaltered from century to century, was primarily adapted to pious gifts. It is by no means improbable that in the middle of the eighth century Æthelbald of Mercia by a general decree conceded to all the churches of his kingdom just that freedom from all burdens, save the trinoda necessitas, that was usually granted by the clause of immunity contained in the land-books, and we can hardly say with certainty that half a century before this time Wihtræd had not granted to all the churches of Kent a yet larger measure of liberty, a liberty which absolved them even from the trinoda necessitas[966]. Turning from the adjectives to the substantives that are used, we find them to be wide and indefinite words; the lands are to be free from all worldly services, burdens, troubles, annoyances, affairs, business, causes, matters and things. Sometimes a more definite word is added such as tributum, vectigal, census, and clearly one main object of the clause is to declare that the land is to pay nothing to the king or his officers; it is to be free of rent and taxes, scotfree and gafolfree[967]. Occasionally particular mention is made of a duty of entertaining the king, his court, his officers, his huntsmen, dogs and horses, also of a duty of entertaining his messengers and forwarding them on their way[968]. Thus, for example, Taunton, which belonged to the bishop of Winchester, had been bound to provide one night’s entertainment for the king and nine nights’ entertainment for his falconers and to support eight dogs and a dog-ward, to carry with horses and carts to Curry and to Williton whatever the king might need, and to conduct wayfarers to the neighbouring royal vills. To obtain immunity from these burdens the bishop had to give the king sixty hides of land[969]

Discussion of the words of immunity.