That such an arrangement was common in the eleventh century we know; a solitary instance of it comes to us professedly from the first year of the tenth, and certainly from a cartulary that is full of lies. To draw general inferences from a few such instances would be rash. What should we believe of ‘the English village of the eleventh century’ if the one village of which we had any knowledge was Orwell in Cambridgeshire[1140]? What should we believe of ‘the English village of the thirteenth century’ if our only example was a village on the ancient demesne? The traces of a manorial economy that have been discovered in yet remoter times are few, slight and dubious. A passage in the laws of Ine[1141] seems to prove that there were men who had let out small quantities of land, ‘a yard or more,’ to cultivators at rents and who were wrongfully endeavouring to get from their lessees work as well as gafol. The same law may prove the highly probable proposition that some men had taken ‘loans’ of manses and were paying for them, not only by gafol, but by work done on the lord’s land. That already in Ine’s day there were many free men who were needy and had lords above them, that already the state was beginning to consecrate the relation between lord and man as a security for the peace and a protection against crime is undoubted[1142]. But this does not bring us very near to the Roman villa. Nor shall we see a villa wherever the dooms or the land-books make mention of a hám or a tún, for the meanest ceorl may have a tún and will probably have a home of his own[1143]
The villa and the vicus.
It is said that the England of Bede’s day was full of villae and that Bede calls the same place now villa and now vicus[1144]. But before we enter on any argument about the use of such words, we ought first to remember that neither Bede nor the scribes of the land-books were trained philologists. London is a villa[1145], but it is also a civitas, urbs, oppidum, vicus, a wíc, a tún, a burh, and a port. When we see such words as these used promiscuously we must lay but little stress upon the occurrence of a particular term in a particular case. Suppose for a moment that in England there were many villages full of free landholders: what should they be called in Latin? They should, it is replied, be called vici and they should not be called villae, for a villa is an estate. But it is part of the case of those who have used this argument that at the time of the barbarian invasions the Roman world was full of villae, so full that every or almost every vicus was situated on and formed part of a villa[1146]. We are therefore exacting a good deal from Bede, from a man who learnt his Latin in school, if we require him to be ever mindful of this nice distinction. We are saying to him: ‘True it is that a knot of neighbouring houses with the appurtenant lands is habitually called a villa; but then this word introduces the notion of ownership; the villa is an unit in a system of property law, and, if your village is not also an estate, a praedium, then you should call it vicus and not villa.’ To this we must add that, while the word villa did not until after the Norman Conquest force its way into English speech, the word vicus became an English word at a very early period[1147]. It became our word wick and it became part of a very large number of place-names[1148]. The Domesday surveyors found herdwicks and berewicks in many parts of the country[1149]. Moreover we can see that in the Latin documents villa is used in the loosest manner. London is a villa; but a single house, a single ‘haw,’ in the city of Canterbury or the city of Rochester is a villa[1150].
Notices of manors in the charters.
If we carefully attend to the wording of the land-books, we shall find the manorial economy far more visible in the later than in the earlier of them. The Confessor gives to Westminster ‘ða cotlife Perscore and Dorhurste’ with all their lands and all their berewicks[1151]. He gives the cotlif Eversley and all things of right belonging thereto, with church and mill, with wood and field, with meadow and heath, with water and with moor[1152]. From 998 we have a gift of a ‘heafod-botl,’ a capital mansion, we may say, and its appurtenances[1153]. In earlier times we may sometimes find that the subject matter of the royal gift is spoken of as forming a single unit; it is a villa, or it is a vicus. But rarely is the thing that is given called a villa except when the thing that is given is just a single hide[1154]. If a charter freely disposes of several villae, meaning thereby villages, we shall probably find some other reasons for assigning that charter, whatever date it may bear, to the eleventh, the twelfth or a yet later century[1155]. Sometimes in old books the king will say that he is giving a vicus, a vicus of five or eight or ten tributarii[1156]. Much more frequently he will not speak thus; he will not speak as though the subject matter of his gift had a physical unity and individuality. ‘I give,’ he will say, ‘so many manentes, tributarii, or casati in the place known as X,’ or ‘I give a certain part of my land, to wit, that of so many manentes, tributarii, or casati at the spot which men call Y.’ Such language does not suggest that the manses thus given are subservient to one dominant and dominical manse or manor; it is very unlike the language of the twelfth century[1157]. Such words as fundus and praedium are conspicuously absent, and ager usually means but a small piece of land, an acre. Foreign precedents would have suggested that when an estate was to be conveyed it should be conveyed cum servis et ancillis, or cum mancipiis et accolabus; such clauses are rare in our English land-books[1158].
The mansa and the manens.
But, it will be said, at all events the king is giving persons, men, as well as land; he is giving manentes, casati, tributarii. What is more these are foreign words and they describe the ‘semi-servile’ occupants of the soil. Now it is true that sometimes he gives manentes, casati, tributarii, though more often he gives either so many manses (mansas), or ‘the land of so many manentes, casati, tributarii,’ while in Kent he gives plough-lands or sullungs. But we think it plain that in England these Latin words were used simply to describe the extent, or rather the rateable extent, of land, without much reference to the number or the quality of its occupants. The terra unius manentis, even the unus casatus when that is the subject of a conveyance, is like Bede’s terra unius familiae, the unit known to Englishmen as the hiwisc, or hide[1159]. Hence it is that reference is so often made to repute and estimation. ‘I give,’ says Egbert, ‘a certain portion of land to the amount, as I estimate, of five casati,’ or (it may be) ‘of twenty manentes[1160].’ Nothing can be easier than to count whether there be four, five, or six ‘semi-servile’ households on a given piece of land. Far easier would it be to do this than to do what is habitually done, namely, to set forth the boundaries of the land with laborious precision. But there is already an element of estimation, of appreciation, in these units. Already they are units in a system of taxation. Hence also it is that so very frequently what the king gives is just exactly five, or some multiple of five, of these units[1161]. Rating is a rough process; five and ten are pleasant numbers.
The hide.
But against the argument which would see in every conveyance of ‘five manentes’ or of ‘the land of five casati’ a conveyance of five semi-servile households with their land we have another objection to urge. Here we will state it briefly; a fuller statement would take us far away from our present theme. If the land-books of the churches are to lead up to Domesday Book, the unit conveyed as terra unius manentis (casati, tributarii) is a hide with some 120 acres of arable land, the land appropriate to a plough-team of eight oxen. Had the semi-servile manens as a general rule 120 arable acres, a plough-team of eight oxen? We do not believe it, and those who have most strongly insisted on the servility or ‘semi-servility’ of the tillers of the soil, do not believe it. They would give the gebúr but a quarter of a hide and but two beasts of the plough. That being so, it should be common ground that the terra unius manentis (casati, tributarii) can not be construed as ‘the land occupied by one semi-servile tenant.’ An explanation of the fact that land is conveyed by reference to units so large as the hide of 120 acres and that these units are spoken of as though each household would normally have one of them must be sought elsewhere; we can not here pause to find it. But in any case these foreign terms should give us little trouble. When he hears such words as manens, casatus, tributarius, the man who has lived in Gaul may hear some undertone of servility or ‘semi-servility.’ We do not discuss this matter; it may be so. But look at the words themselves, what do they primarily mean? A manens is one who dwells upon land, a casatus is one to whom a casa has been allotted, a tributarius pays tributum; the free English landowner pays a tributum to the king[1162]. We must make the best we can of a foreign, an inappropriate tongue, and the best that we make is often very bad, especially when we have a taste for fine writing. And so England is full of villas which are Roman and satraps who, no doubt, are Persian.
The strip-holding and the villa.