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

by Frederic William Maitland

But so careful must we be in drawing inferences from singular instances, so wary of forgeries, that in the end we can not dispense with arguments which rest rather upon probabilities than upon recorded facts. It is conceded that the ‘immunist’ (it is convenient to borrow a term that French writers have coined) is entitled to many of the fines and forfeitures that arise from offences committed within his territory. Is it, we must ask, probable that any ealdorman or sheriff will be at pains to exact and collect these fines and forfeitures for the immunist’s benefit? Now it is true that in later days a few lords enjoyed a comparatively rare franchise known as amerciamenta hominum. When their men were amerced in the king’s court the amercements were paid into the exchequer, and then the lord would petition to have them paid out to him[985]. But this was an uncommon and an exalted franchise. As a general rule, the person in whose name a court is held, be he king or lord, gets the profits of the court. No one in the middle ages does justice for nothing, and in the ninth century the days when national officers would be paid by salary were far distant. When the king declares that nothing is to ‘go out’ of the immunist’s lands ‘by way of wite,’ then to our thinking he declares that, save in exceptional cases, he and his officers will neither meddle nor make with offences that are committed within that territory. Again, though we may reject this charter and that, there can be little doubt that before the end of the tenth century, the territory held by a church sometimes coincided with a jurisdictional district, with a hundred or group of hundreds. When this was so, and the church enjoyed a full immunity, it was almost of necessity the lord of the court as well as the lord of the land. Why should the sheriff hold that court, why should he appoint a bailiff for that hundred, if never thereout could he get one penny for his own or the king’s use.

Justice and jurisdiction.

We must once more remember that even in the days of full grown feudalism the right to hold a court was after all rather a fiscal than a jurisdictional right. We call it jurisdictional, but still, at least normally, the lord was, neither in his own person, nor yet in the person of his steward, the judge of the court[986]. His right was not in strictness a right ius dicendi, for the suitors made the judgments. When analysed it was a right to preside over a court and to take its profits. Very easy therefore is the transition from a right to ‘wites’ to such ‘jurisdiction’ as the feudal lord enjoys. When once it is established that all the fines of a hundred court are to go to a bishop, that no sheriff or bailiff will get anything by going to hold that court, then the court already is ‘in the bishop’s hands.’

The Frankish immunity.

This, however, can not be treated as a merely English question. Parallel to the English fréols-bóc runs the Frankish carta immunitatis, and, if the former has given rise to the question whether it conceded jurisdictional rights, the latter has given rise, not merely to the same question, but to much learned controversy. Now it is highly probable that the English ‘immunity’ is not independent of the Merovingian ‘immunity’; still the terms of the former do not seem to have been copied from those of the latter, and it is a significant fact that two different formulas should be equally open to the blame of not deciding just that most important question which according to our ideas they ought to decide. The Frankish formula is addressed by the king to his subordinates and declares that no public officer (nullus iudex publicus) is to enter the land of the immunist for the purpose of hearing causes, levying freda (which answer to our ‘wites’), making distresses or exacting pledges; but, like our English formula, it says no word of any court to be held or any jurisdiction to be exercised by the immunist. It would be impertinent to give here any lengthy account of the various opinions about this matter that have been held by foreign scholars, still more impertinent to pronounce any judgment upon them, but even those writers who seem most inclined to minimize the scope of the immunity are forced to admit that, as a mere matter of fact, the immunist by virtue of his immunity is enabled to hold a court for his territory. That seignorial courts were growing up even in the Merovingian time, that such courts there were even in the sixth century, there seems little or no doubt, even though it be denied that they were the creatures of these clauses of immunity. On the whole, to whichever side of the channel we look, we seem compelled, alike by the words of the charters and by the controversies which they have occasioned, to believe that in the eyes of the kings and the immunists seignorial jurisdiction, that right to hold a court which seems to us so strange a right, was not a matter of the first importance, not worth conceding, not worth denying. Who is to have the profits of justice?—that is a momentous question. But if it be decided that they are to go to the bishop, then the king will have no further care for them:—the bishop may and must get them for himself. As to the ‘justiciables,’ it may well be that they are very indifferent about the matter, not impossible that the burden of suit will be alleviated if the lord establishes a court of his own, or if an old court passes into his hands[987]

Seignorial and ecclesiastical jurisdiction.

One other question should be raised, even if we can find for it no certain answer. Is not seignorial jurisdiction very closely connected at its root with ecclesiastical jurisdiction? Of course in more recent times the two are thoroughly distinct from each other. The bishop, besides being a spiritual judge, will be a feudal lord with many manorial courts and many chartered franchises; but any court that he holds as a lord will have nothing to do with the court that he holds as a bishop. The constitution and procedure of the one will differ at every point from the constitution and procedure of the other. The one belongs to the temporal order and is subject to the king’s court, the other belongs to the spiritual order and is in no sense below the royal tribunal. Thus it is when feudal law and canon law have reached their full stature. But even from the twelfth century we may get a hint that the distinction has not always been so sharply marked. We may read how in Henry I.’s day the Bishop of Bath ‘with his friends and barons’ heard a cause in which Modbert claimed lands that were held by the monks of Bath. The proceedings took place under a royal writ and ought, we should say, to have been in all respects temporal proceedings; but in framing the judgment two bishops, three archdeacons and several ‘clerks and chaplains’ took the leading part, while the lay tenants of the bishop stood by as witnesses[988]. In this context we must remember that in the twelfth century the clergy were contending that land given to a church in frankalmoin is outside the sphere of secular justice[989], and, while this contention was being urged, it was easily possible that a bishop should hold an amphibious court:—Over the claim that Modbert is making the bishop has jurisdiction, either because the monks are holding the land of him as his tenants, or because that land has been given to God and the saints by an ancient book which denounced the anathema against all who should violate it. Going back yet further, we see, at all events in France, that the claim of the clergy to hold their lands and seignories exempt from all temporal jurisdiction has been intimately connected with the claim of the clergy that they themselves need not answer before a lay tribunal. A learned man has said that the exemption of the clergy from the temporal courts was ‘the first step towards the feudalization of justice[990].’ If our English documents do not make this plain, if the relations between church and state were more harmonious in England than elsewhere (and because more harmonious therefore more indefinite and to the modern student more perplexing), still we can see that the main idea of the English fréols-bóc is the liberation of a tract of ground from all secular troubles, all temporal burdens, all earthly service. The land is dedicated to God and the saints, or, if it is not dedicated in the strictest sense, it is given for God’s sake and the welfare of the donor’s soul; it is within the ban of the church. And so the men who sit upon the land of the church of Abingdon, laymen though they be, are homines Dei, the men of God[991]. As such, should they not be subject to the jurisdiction of the church.

Criminal justice of the Church.

At this point we may profitably remember that the jurisdiction which in later days appears as the ‘criminal jurisdiction’ of ecclesiastical tribunals (the jurisdiction which, for example, those tribunals exercise when they chastise a man for incest, fornication or perjury) was but slowly disengaged from the general mass of penal jurisdiction that was wielded by moots in which the bishop occupied a prominent seat. Moreover, the bishop’s justice did not escape that fiscal taint which pervaded the whole system of criminal law. As in some cases the king is entitled to a wite, so in others the wite falls to the bishop. For instance, we see traces of a rude concordat, which, when incest or adultery is committed, subjects the woman to the bishop, the man to the king[992]; and then from Domesday Book we learn that in the borough of Lewes the upshot of this partition is that the king will get 8s. 4d. from the man while the adulteress pays a like sum to the archbishop of Canterbury[993]. And so ecclesiastical jurisdiction becomes a source of income, a matter to be fought for and bargained for. The monks of Battle will claim that within the banlieu of their abbey all the ‘forfeitures of Christianity’ belong to them and not to the bishop of Chichester[994]. What is more, they will connect their claim to purely temporal justice with their possession of ordeal pits, and here we may see another link between the hundred-moots and the churches[995]. The churches have made money out of the ordeal. Long after the English prelates had been forbidden to hold spiritual pleas in the hundred courts, Alexander III. was compelled to speak sharply to the archbishop of Canterbury touching the conduct of archdeacons who exacted thirty pence from every man or woman who went to the fire or the water for purgation[996].

Antiquity of seignorial courts.