1. in_ernet_dli_2015_163986_2015_163986_Life-On-The-English-Manor-a-Study-Of-Peasant-Conditions-1150-1400

CAMBRIDGE STUDIES

IN

MEDIEVAL LIFE AND THOUGHT

Edited by G. G. COULTON, Litt.D., Hon.D.Litt., Hon.LL.D., F.B.A.

Fellow of St John's College, Cambridge, Honorary Fellow of

St Catharine's College

LIFE ON THE

ENGLISH MANOR

Acc. 12686

Class ! G.28.

Book i!c.

LONDON

Cambridge University Press

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LIFE

ON

THE

ENGLISH

MANOR

A

Study

of

Peasant

Conditions

1150–1400

by

H.

S.

BENNETT,

M.A.

Fellow

and

Librarian

of

Emmanuel

College,

Cambridge,

and

University

Lecturer

in

English

CAMBRIDGE

AT

THE

UNIVERSITY

PRESS

1938

First

Edition

1937

Reprinted

1938

Acc.

12686

Class

G.28.

Book

No.

PRINTED

IN

GREAT

BRITAIN

GENERAL PREFACE

THERE is only too much truth in the frequent complaint that history, as compared with the physical sciences, is neglected by the modern public. But historians have the remedy in their own hands; choosing problems of equal importance to those of the scientist, and treating them with equal accuracy, they will command equal attention. Those who insist that the proportion of accurately ascertainable facts is smaller in history, and therefore the room for speculation wider, do not thereby establish any essential distinction between truth-seeking in history and truth-seeking in chemistry. The historian, whatever be his subject, is as definitely bound as the chemist "to proclaim certainties as certain, falsehoods as false, and uncertainties as dubious". Those are the words, not of a modern scientist, but of the seventeenth-century monk, Jean Mabillon; they sum up his literary profession of faith. Men will follow us in history as implicitly as they follow the chemist, if only we will form the chemist's habit of marking clearly where our facts end and our inferences begin. Then the public, so far from discouraging our speculations, will most heartily encourage them; for the most positive man of science is always grateful to anyone who, by putting forward a working theory, stimulates further discussion.

The present series, therefore, appeals directly to that craving for clearer facts which has been bred in these times of storm and stress. No care can save us altogether from error; but, for our own sake and the public's, we have elected to adopt a safeguard dictated by ordinary business commonsense. Whatever errors of fact are pointed out by reviewers or correspondents shall be publicly corrected with the least possible delay. After a year of publication, all copies shall be provided with such an erratum-slip without waiting for the chance of a second edition; and each fresh volume in this series shall contain a full list of the errata noted in its immediate predecessor. After the lapse of a year from the first publication of any volume, and at any

vi

GENERAL PREFACE

time during the ensuing twelve months, any possessor of that

volume who will send a stamped and addressed envelope to

the Cambridge University Press, Bentley House, 200 Euston

Road, London, N.W. 1, shall receive, in due course, a free

copy of the errata in that volume. Thus, with the help of our

critics, we may reasonably hope to put forward these mono-

graphs as roughly representing the most accurate information

obtainable under present conditions. Our facts being thus

secured, the reader will judge our inferences on their own

merits; and something will have been done to dissipate that

cloud of suspicion which hangs over too many important

chapters in the social and religious history of the Middle Ages.

G. G. C.

July 1930

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

THIS essay aims at building a little further upon the

foundations laid by Maitland and Vinogradoff. Both,

being lawyers and philosophers, naturally stressed the

"legal" and abstract point of view. They pierced through the

differences to get at the similarities; they were often forced to

ignore the actual in order to establish the theoretical. Again and

again they ask, "Is this man free, or is he not free?"—a most

important question, and we owe them an incalculable debt for

their pioneer labours in clearing away much rubbish which the

centuries had accumulated about the discussions of peasant

status. Yet their preoccupation with this capital question neces-

sarily involved a rigid adherence to strictly legal considerations,

and hence the obvious economic differences often involved were

frequently outside their investigations. They knew, of course,

that a free man with but a few acres of his own was considerably

worse off in everything but status than an unfree man, holding

his thirty acres or more; but, in general, the bias of their studies

caused them to insist on the man's legal freedom, and to ignore

his possible economic slavery.

And this, I believe, has had a great influence on the study of

medieval peasant life. It has seemed to allow less acute observers

to concentrate on legal status, and the natural balance has been

disturbed. Our present knowledge of the legal position far

outweighs our vaguer conception of the economic and social life

in those thousands of English villages and hamlets scattered up

and down the countryside. This is the disproportion which I

am striving to reduce in the following pages. But, it must be

remembered, that vast as are the accumulated records of the

Middle Ages in England, they are not particularly favourable to

the social historian—more especially to the historian of the

illiterate masses who formed some eighty to ninety per cent. of

the population of England between 1150 and 1400. "The short

and simple annals of the poor" are wellnigh non-existent, and

we are forced to piece together our picture from materials that

viii

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

were never meant to serve such a purpose. A modern enquirer,

confined to the documents in a big country solicitor's office,

would gain a very one-sided view of contemporary English

countryside life. And so with the Middle Ages: we have, it is true,

a mass of documentary material but how much of it we would

willingly abandon for the letters of a thirteenth-century family,

who had kept their correspondence as carefully as did the

Pastons two centuries later? How many cartularies, or assize

rolls, or compoti or Manor rolls would we not barter for one brief

diary of a peasant of the fourteenth century set down as faith-

fully as the seventeenth-century diarists recorded their adventures

in life and affairs?

Deprived of these, our task is infinitely more difficult, and we

can only proceed by the examination of innumerable documents

of the most various descriptions, from which we may hope to

pick out a phrase or incident, here and there, which will help

to lighten some dark corner of the medieval scene. The compara-

tively safe waters of legal status and the like, so well charted for

us by Maitland, Vinogradoff, and others, must be left for the

open seas, where the bald legal phrases of court roll and terrier

on the one hand, and snatches of ballads, or biased fabliaux, or

ex parte pleas on the other, represent our poor sailing directions.

And even such directions as these would have been infinitely

harder to come by had I not been able to rely on the aid of others

to help me in my search. The Bibliography will sufficiently

indicate the main sources from which my evidence has been

drawn. Manuscript materials abound: the only difficulty is how

to use them. The masses of documents available at the Public

Record Office, for example, have yielded up but a fraction of

their secrets: a lifetime spent among them would only scratch

the surface. Both there, and at the British Museum, expert help,

so generously given by the officials, enabled me to do much that

would otherwise have been impossible. Here, in Cambridge,

my indebtedness is overwhelming: the staff of the University

Library (and in particular Mr H. L. Pink, in charge of the

Anderson Room); many College Librarians (especially Mr H. M.

Adams of Trinity); the Secretary of the University Press, the

University Printer and their assistants, as well as many friends

and scholars, have all come to my aid on many occasions. Among

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

ix

them I must mention Mrs G. G. Coulton, Miss H. M. Cam, Dr F. M. Page, Professor Eileen Power, Mr W. S. Mansfield, Mr R. H. Robbins, Professor A. Hamilton Thompson and Mr E. Welbourne. Nor must I neglect to thank the Council of Trinity College for very kindly allowing me to reproduce pictures from several manuscripts in the possession of the College, nor the Master and Fellows of Sidney Sussex College for depositing their Abbots Langley rolls in the University Library for my use.

My greatest debts, however, have still to be recorded. In the Preface to The Pastons and their England, published in 1921, I wrote: “Finally, two names remain. Dr G. G. Coulton, the general editor of the series, has given of his time, his thought and his learning unstintingly to this study. In other directions I am almost equally indebted to my wife. To both I owe more than I can express here.” The years between have immeasurably deepened my indebtedness to both. To one of them I owe the suggestion from which this study originated: to the other, as a token of my manifold indebtedness, I have dedicated this book.

H. S. BENNETT

August 1937

CONTENTS

General Preface

page v

Author's Preface

vii

Dedicatory Letter

xvii

Prologue A faire felde ful of folke

1–26

Difficulties of the subject—An imaginary picture of medieval England—A June morning, 1320—In the fields—Preparations for Church—The churchyard—Within the Church—The Mass—After the service—Sunday at home—The village green—The “love-boon”—Haymaking scenes—The evening meal—Daily tasks—Further boons—The “mad sheep”—The sporting chance—The Manor Court—After the Court—The countryside

Chapter I The Church

27–37

Importance of the Church—The Church militant—The fear of death—The Poor Man's Bible—The village priest—“The Devil and all his works”—Superstition—Magic—Popular beliefs

Chapter II The Manor and its Cultivation

39–60

Rural England—Manor and village—The manorial “web”—The “common fields”—Communal operations—Complicated holdings—Subdivision of the fields—Difficulties of cultivation—Village by-laws—Assarts—The meadows—“Right of common”—The commons—The wastes

Chapter III The Manorial Population

61–73

Subdivisions of the peasantry—The undermanni—The village craftsmen—Village names and nicknames—Need for the small tenants—Their characteristic duties—The life of labour—The manorial system

Chapter IV The Peasant's Year

75–96

Difficulties of medieval agriculture—The jus faldae—Lack of manure—The “exhaustion” theory—The fallows—The common fields.—The yearly round—Sowing—Harrowing—Haymaking—Harvesting—Winter work—Wet weather occupations—Loss and gain—The livestock—Oxen, cows and sheep—Pigs and poultry—Wild life—The peasant's resources

Chapter V Rents and Services

97–125

Servile burdens—“The custom of the manor”—The customals—“The power of the lord”—Week-work—A day's work—Works not demanded—Types of services—“Boon” work—The “mad sheep”—Negligent services—Excuses for absence—Observance of holy-days—Military service—The peasant and war—Compulsion—A nation at arms

xii

CONTENTS

Chapter VI Servile Burdens 127-150

The mill—The miller—The manorial oven—Other forms of oppression—"Tallage at will"—Fixed tallage—The joyeux avènement—Forced hospitality—Heriot—Mortuary—"Worms feeding upon the corpse"

Chapter VII Manorial Administration 151-192

The need for manorial officers—Manorial treatises—The administrators—The steward—The bailiff—The reeve—Length of service—Election of reeve—The reeve's duties—The reeve and the auditors—The reeve's rewards and privileges—The hayward—The beadle—The famuli—Their duties and rewards—Pierce the Ploughman's Crede—The manorial accounts—The auditors

Chapter VIII The Manor Court 193-221

Manorial jurisdiction—Excessive claims—The Coroner on the manors—Seigneurial rights and regalities—Lack of uniformity in administration—Frequency of courts—The obligation to attend—Notice of meeting—The meeting place—Free and serf in court—'The essoigns—The "dooms"—"Curia domini debet facere judicium et non dominus"—Jury—Juries of presentment—Juries of inquisition—Duties of juries—The peasant before the court—The business of the court—General conclusions

Chapter IX Everyday Life 223-256

Medieval houses—Methods of construction—Skilled labour—The village craftsmen—Repair of houses—"By hook or by crook"—The peasant's garden—His household goods—Food and drink—Meals—Family life—Population—Difficulties of peasant marriages—Marriages, on and off the manor—"Mixed" marriage—Compulsory marriage—Marriage and Canon Law—Leyrwite—Ecclesiastical courts and incontinency—Wills—The widow—Old age arrangements—"Borough English"

Chapter X "Merrie England" 257-274

The peasant's lot—The unending struggle—Stow's picture—Christmas festivities—Ecclesiastical feasts—Birth, marriage and death—The "ales"—The ale-house—Dancing—The countryside and the pleasures of the chase

Chapter XI The Road to Freedom 275-317

Widespread desire for freedom—Causes for this—Dislike of fixed services—Hatred of seigneurial exactions—Attitude of the Church to serfdom—Manumission—Semi-manumission—The price of freedom—Constructive manumission—Holy Orders and serfdom—Knighthood—The attraction of the towns—Towns and freedom—Towns partially free—Town and village—The new boroughs—"A year and a day"—Limiting conditions—"The gilds and the peasant—The serf in the towns—Privileges of towns—The peasant's immobility—Leave of absence—Flight—The law and the fugitive—The proceedings before the justices—Various types of writ used by lord and peasant—The production of kin—Complications of pleading—Failure to prosecute—Summary

CONTENTS

xiii

Chapter XII The Church

319-336

Importance of the Church in medieval life—Peasant’s attitude to religion—

The village church—The services—Art and symbolism—“Dumb dogs”—

Status of clergy—Their education—Their stipends—Limited capabilities of

the ordinary peasant-priest—Worldly occupations of the clergy—Tithe—

Visitation records and the parish clergy—The good priest and his influence—

“The Mother of us all”

Glossary

337

Abbreviations and Authorities

341

Index

353

ILLUSTRATIONS

With one exception, the illustrations (including those re-cut in wood) have been selected from the magnificent collection of illuminated manuscripts in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, and are here reproduced by the permission of the College Council.

PLATES

I. (a) “The three naked souls” facing p. 10

MS. B. 11. 7, folio 108 v

(b) Asking the way

MS. B. 11. 5, folio 47

II. The peasant at work 82

MS. B. 11. 31, folios 2, 6, 7, 10

III. Country Sport 94

MS. B. 11. 22, folios 39 v, 59 v, 67, 68 v

IV. The thresher and the swineherd 184

MS. B. 11. 31, folios 8, 11

V. Domestic scenes 234

MS. B. 11. 22, folios 25 v, 37 v, 92 v, 144 v, 169

VI. The Last Judgment 324

MS. B. 11. 4, folio 5 v

WOODCUTS

Peasant transport 75

MS. B. 11. 22, folio 12 v

God speed the plough 96

(From a MS. of Piers Plowman) MS.R. 3. 14, folio 3 v

The overseer’s rod 125

(From “ Queen Mary’s Psalter” in the British Museum)

Carrying to the mill 127

MS. B. 11. 22, folio 29 v

DEDICATORY LETTER

TO

G. G. COULTON

My dear Coulton,

It is now almost nineteen years since I was thrown up at Cambridge as a part of the refuse of war, and first entered your lecture-room. There, during that memorable autumn, while our troops were steadily advancing, I heard you speak of the Middle Ages, and realised what they could reveal to a mind and imagination worthy of understanding them. Under your inspiring guidance I turned to study one part of the medieval scene in detail, and The Pastons and their England was the result; and from that, in due time, I began the investigations which are the subject of the present study.

But you do not need to be told that a busy University lecturer and teacher has no longer the freedom of an ardent research student, nor that my task has been interrupted again and again since then. Indeed, I doubt if it would ever have been finished, but for your constant inspiration and encouragement—an encouragement not limited to my special studies alone. You will remember how Lord Bryce speaks of J. R. Green’s inspection of some new town, “darting hither and thither through the streets like a dog following a scent”. That phrase of his has frequently come to my mind, in our many travels together, as I have watched you making a first survey of some new town. How many times we have hastily dropped our bags at the first hotel; and then, despite the call of the dinner-bell, at once you have led us at a rapid pace through the streets, and with a quick glance here and there, and at times a halt, have thrust aside the modern additions, and have revealed the essentials of the medieval town! Wherever we have been together, you have always interpreted the medieval world for me as no one else can do, and have encouraged me to see the past in the present, even in Alpine châlet or French hamlet.

xviii

DEDICATORY LETTER

Hence almost every page in this book speaks of some experience shared together: our talks of the medieval church on

the hills above Ballagues and looking across to Mont Blanc;

our pilgrimages to churches and villages in Normandy, Provence

and the Morvan; our daily labours, side by side, at La Forclaz

(while the June snows and biting winds raged without); and,

most constantly, of course, our innumerable walks and talks by

the side of the Cam.

So I dedicate to you what is in every valuable respect your

own; well knowing that you will welcome what is good in it as

a little step forward in the studies which we both have at heart;

and, above all, hoping that you will regard it as a token of

abiding gratitude and affection from your pupil and friend.

H. S. B.

August 1937

PROLOGUE

A faire felde ful of folke

PROLOGUE

A FAIRE FELDE FUL OF FOLKE

THE writing of a book on medieval life necessitates the

scrutiny, assembly, and arrangement of innumerable docu-

ments and pieces of evidence, from which, by slow degrees,

some coherent pictures emerge. In this way a writer is enabled

to build up a series of studies, each revealing some facet of his

subject. But, while this enables him to put these various aspects

into focus the more clearly, it is apt to divert him from what many

will hold to be his chief duty—to see life steadily and see it

whole, and to present this vision to his readers. Such a vision,

however, is even more difficult to communicate than it is to

receive. It is comparatively easy to assemble detailed accounts

of various sides of the peasant's life, but each of these accounts

must deal with the mass, so that the individual tends to recede

into the background. Yet it is as an individual human being,

living his normal life, that he is of interest.

Thomas Hardy's poem, In Time of “The Breaking of Nations”,

tells us of his fundamental place in the scheme of things:

Only a man harrowing clods

In a slow silent walk

With an old horse that stumbles and nods

Half asleep as they stalk.

Only thin smoke without flame

From the heaps of couch-grass;

Yet this will go onward the same

Though Dynasties pass.

This is the man our ideal picture would show us. Short of this,

in an attempt to show what I believe to have been his normal life,

I make bold at the outset of this book to draw an imaginary

picture of one such man during a few days of the year. In doing

so, I have not chosen one of the most well-to-do of the manorial

peasants, nor do I forget that many lacked even the rudimentary

1-2

4

PROLOGUE

comforts and the limited possessions which this man had. And although my picture is frankly imaginary, it is based on a wealth of definite evidence and backed up by an almost equal wealth of suggestions and hints, none of them in themselves clear or weighty enough, perhaps, to be vouched as evidence, but, nevertheless, possessed of a cumulative power which could not be denied.

The sun rose early, for it was late June, but not much earlier than the peasants of the little village of Belcombe, in the year 1320. As the light strengthened, bit by bit the village became visible, and the confused medley, in which here a roof and there a bit of wall stood out, began to arrange itself as a narrow street with flimsy houses dotted about in little groups. In the centre of it all the stone-built church loomed up high and very new-looking above everything about it, and made the peasants' houses appear small and insignificant. On closer view, the village was seen to radiate from the church and down each of the winding ways that led up to it the peasants had built their homes. There they stood, some neat and trim, with their thatched roofs and roughly finished walls in good repair, while others were dilapidated and showed evident signs of neglect and decay. The larger houses stood a little back from the lane, so that the ground in front of each of them was roughly enclosed and set with young cabbage, onions and parsley, and here and there a few herbs were growing along the sides of the pathway to the house. Most of them had a rudely constructed shed or lean-to at the back of the house, and running away from this stretched another enclosed piece of ground. This was mainly broken up and planted with vegetables, and both here and in the rough grass beyond there were a few apple and cherry trees. At the bottom of the garden where it ran down to the stream the pigs had their styes, and any villager fortunate enough to own a cow tethered it there in among the rankly growing grass. Smaller houses had meagre

plots about them, with sparse room for cabbage or onion, and only rarely a pig or a few fowls.

Within most of these houses men were stirring, and before long began to appear at their cottage doors, taking a look at the sky before they ate a brief meal (if such it might be called) of a lump of bread and a draught of ale.

Then they came out again, fetched their scythes and rakes from the sheds, and started off down the street, so that for a few minutes the noisy chatter and greetings of neighbours broke the silence.

They soon passed by the church and came out into open country, for no hedges or fences were to be seen.

One large tract, however, had clearly been cultivated recently, for as they passed they saw how it was divided into narrow plots, each with grassy raised strips dividing it from its neighbours.

Now, however, this field was fallow, and, early as it was, one of their fellows was there before them, and was guarding the sheep which were quietly feeding on such sparse vegetation as was to be found, for the first ploughing had already taken place, and next month any weeds the sheep might leave would all be ploughed in.

A little farther on they passed a stone cross.

Almost unconsciously (some even in perfunctory fashion) they crossed themselves, and a moment later turned from the main path to follow a track which led to a piece of meadow land.

This, unlike the fallow, was enclosed on three sides with a hedge, whilst a little stream formed its other boundary.

On entering the field the peasants broke up in little groups, some going to one and some to another part of the meadow, for amongst the long grass there were little pegs and twigs marking off one portion of the field from another.

By this time the sun was well up and the dew was drying rapidly as they prepared for work.

The wide blade of the scythe was sharpened with the whetstone, and then they turned, and with rhythmic movement began to mow the grass in wide sweeping swathes.

In one corner of the field John Wilde and his two sons, Richard and Roger, kept to their task for some time without pause.

6

PROLOGUE

younger son moved steadily across the strip, turning the hay

which had been cut on the previous morning, while his brother

Richard worked on side by side with his father at the mowing.

Save for a pause when the scythes were re-sharpened they

worked without resting and with but little to say, for there was

much to do and time was short, since this was Sunday, and ere

long they would have to leave their work for Mass. Indeed, they

were fortunate to be on the field at all on such a day, but Sir

William, their vicar, had always been lenient in times of harvest;

and, although he looked with concern at such work, he did not

absolutely forbid it, so long as the Mass itself were not neglected.

So all three continued until the sun was getting well up in the

heavens, when they stopped their work and left the field together

with many others. As they passed the church John glanced at the

Mass clock on its wall near the door, and saw by the shadow of

its style that they had good time before the service, as it was not

yet eight.

During their absence the house had not been untended, and after a while the good wife Agnes and her daughter Alice appeared

from a room which led out of the main living room. Alice ran

out in the garden close, and soon the clucking of the hens was

heard, and a little later she returned and set down on the wooden

bench inside the door a rough earthenware jar of milk which she

had just taken from the cow. Meanwhile, her mother had

brushed up the embers and had piled together the kindling and

a few logs, and already a fire was burning cleanly, and over it

hung a large metal pot of water. Then she and her daughter

went into the small inner room, which was cleaner and less

sooty than its neighbour, and pulled back the thick coverlets

and remade the only two beds that stood there. Once this was

done, the rough earthen floors of both rooms were swept out

with a brush of large twigs, and then the trestle-table was put in

its place near the side of the room. Some bread and a little ale

satisfied Agnes' hunger, while Alice took a drink of the milk she

had just brought in. All being done, they turned to prepare for

PREPARATIONS FOR CHURCH

7

Mass. A large wooden tub on the trestle-table served for a wash-bowl, and after a little washing they occupied themselves for some time in plaiting and arranging their hair, before they drew out of a wooden chest, that stood at the foot of the bed, the bright coloured dresses which they wore only on Sundays and festivals. There were other childish garments in the chest, but they had not been worn these many days, for they were those of the two little girls, both dead now for ten years and more, one of the plague, and one lost by what the coroner called “misadventure”. What this was exactly her mother never knew; for, while she was at play, she had fallen from the bridge over the big river, but no one could be found to say what had taken her so far from home, or how the end had come. Other children there had been, but like so many others they had died at birth or very soon after, and were no more than distant memories.

The return of the men-folk threw the cottage into confusion, for there was little room, and they all tried to wash and dress themselves for Mass at the same time. It did not take them long, however—the old “tabard” or sleeveless smock with all its traces of weekday work (“baudy tabard” Chaucer called it) was discarded for that kept for Sundays and special occasions, and they were ready. The bell was already ringing, and they moved off and were soon joined by friends and neighbours as they made their short journey to the church. John noticed that the low wall which enclosed the church and the graveyard was rapidly breaking down in several places: for many months now it had been cracking and stones falling away from it here and there, but nothing had been done to repair it, in spite of the archdeacon’s periodical warnings. On two or three occasions John had noticed that pigs and sheep had wandered into the graveyard itself and had started to graze among the tombs. But he had little time to reflect on this, for his neighbours were pressing into the church since the time for service had come, and even the men-folk, who habitually lingered outside in little groups till the last moment, had turned to go in.

8

PROLOGUE

So he entered with his wife through that selfsame door at

which they had stood when the priest had married them over

twenty-five years ago. They touched the holy water, and crossed

themselves as they moved into the nave, and there they parted

to take up their places on either side of the aisle. They remained

standing, as there were not yet even rudimentary seats or pews

for them, for this was not one of the richest village churches.

Only behind the chancel-screen were there any seats, but these

were reserved for the clergy, although the lord of Hemings

Manor and his family, when they were at the manor house, were

also privileged to seat themselves there. Hubert Longfellow,

the parish clerk, was the only other parishioner who had his seat

within the chancel, and that because he was a bachelor. His

predecessor had been a married man, and therefore, although he

was in Minor Orders, he was kept out and had to stand with the

ordinary congregation in the nave.

While they were waiting an animated conversation was going

on, but at last Sir William, the vicar, entered followed by the

parish clerk, and for a moment the congregation was still. As the

service began, however, many resumed their whisperings and

mutterings, while some lounged by pillars and seemed to be

taking but small notice of the service. The priest's voice droned

on : here and there it was raised for a moment while he intoned

a prayer, or while he and the clerk sang their versicles and brief

responses. But, for the most part, even the keenest ear could

catch little more than an unintelligible murmur, interspersed with

a Dominus vobiscum, or Oremus, or Amen, which, by countless

repetitions, had familiarised itself to the ear. Even in those

churches where traditionally the priest read the service aloud,

it was not audible even to a Latinist, and the village congregation

rarely had any such lettered person among its number.

So the service went on its way, and John meditated awhile. It

was all very familiar to him, for ever since he was a child he had

faithfully attended the Sunday Mass—now these fifty years and

more—and, when his lord's service did not forbid it, he fre-

WITHIN THE CHURCH

9

quently came on holy-days as well. He understood little, but yet there was something about it all that was dear to him. He knew that in some mysterious way Christ’s body was made anew at this service: the bell would ring while the priest prayed, and then, after a pause, Sir William would turn and hold up before them all the blessed bread and wine now made God. But that great moment had not yet come, and his thoughts wandered as he looked about him in the high-roofed church. For a moment his eyes fell on the painting of the Last Judgment which had recently been renewed on the wall over the chancel arch. It fascinated him to contemplate the calm and severe majesty of Christ, as He sat enthroned in glory and meting out doom. The ecstasy of the saved as they were caught up in the arms of the angels, or the three naked souls cosily nestling in Abraham’s bosom, were so vividly portrayed that his eyes lingered on them, and only with reluctance turned to gaze on those damned souls, who stood on the left hand of the throne of grace, and in varying attitudes of pleading, fear and bewilderment expressed their horrible condition. Others, even more fearful to behold, were already enduring the tortures destined for them, as the devils savagely seized them with flesh-hooks and pitched them into the cauldron and the everlasting fire.

Other pictures painted on the walls also told their story, and recalled to him fragments of sermons and tales, especially some of those told in the vivid and understandable language of a passing friar. Their own priest had no such gift. Indeed, how should he have such powers? The marvel was that now, at this very minute, the Latin phrases were flowing from his lips and he was God’s minister to them all. Yet he had been born in this selfsame village, and was the youngest brother of John’s own wife Agnes. He had always been about the church as a boy, and was taught how to read and to sing the service by their old priest Sir John Walters. Then, he had become the holy-water carrier, and, little by little, had learnt all Sir John could teach him, and had been sent away to school. And now, here he was, back in the

10

PROLOGUE

parish, and living in the vicar's house with its garden and stone wall round it, hard by the church, and standing at the head of them all. As John looked at him he recalled some of his kindly actions: no parishioner was too distant for him to visit if need arose, and no one led a more model life than he. "If gold rust, what shall iron do?", was his watchword, and he taught his flock more by what he was than by anything he was able to say. All men knew him to be their friend, and yet there was something about him which forbade men to be too familiar. Even his sister regarded him with the awe born of more than one snibhing he had administered to her, and which her conscience admitted to be just.

By this time, however, the Creed had been said, and Sir William had come from the altar steps to the door of the rood-screen. He looked grave, for it was but seldom that he attempted to teach his flock in a set discourse, rather than by short explanations of the main points of the Faith. But the bishop was constantly urging upon the clergy the need for more sermons, and he must obey. As he waited, his people settled themselves down, most of them squatting in the rushes which covered the floor, while a few lounged against the pillars and seemed to care little for what was to come. When all were settled, he reminded them of earlier sermons he had preached at intervals on the seven deadly sins, and then turned to speak of the fourth of these, namely sloth. Slothfulness kept men from church, and encouraged them to be inattentive at Mass, and to put off the day of repentance till it was too late. All this, as he said, would inevitably have to be paid for in purgatory, unless they were truly penitent and shriven. Not only in church, but in ordinary worldly affairs, idleness was to be shunned, and young men and women should be made to work and serve their masters with love and cheerfulness. Therefore, parents must chastise naughty children, or they would grow up idle and disobedient as were the sons of Eli. The tale of the death of the prophet and his two sons followed, and Sir William concluded his short sermon by bidding his hearers to think on Eli

PLATE I

"The three naked souls"

Asking the way

AFTER THE SERVICE

11

and his sons, and to chastise their children, and to see they learnt to labour well and truly while there was yet time, and further to think how best to labour for their souls as well as their bodies.

All this was listened to in comparative quiet, although a few took but little notice of the discourse, and kept up a desultory conversation among themselves; and throughout the nave there was more whispering and occasional chatter than Sir William liked to hear, but he was powerless to stop it, for no one could remember when a little talking or even joking in church had been forbidden.

When the sermon was ended he went back to the altar, and the service continued. Ere long the ringing of the bell called even the most inattentive to their devotions, since the great moment of the Mass had now come.

Paternoster, Ave and Creed were all that John could say, but these he repeated again and again; and later, when he heard the priest intoning the Paternoster, he joined in heartily.

Then, while Sir William was rinsing his holy vessels, he prayed silently again until the service came to an end with its Ite, missa est, and after the priest had retired, he too rose to leave.

Many “sons of Belial” had not waited so long, and had hurried off, as soon as the consecration had been finished, as if they had seen not God but the Devil, for some wanted to get to their work again, while others were only concerned to cross the green to the ale-house where they might refresh themselves and gossip at their ease.

Once out in the churchyard again John stopped to talk with his neighbours.

One group was looking with interest at the platform, which was as yet but half-erected, at the one end of the churchyard.

Here, in a week’s time, they would see the actors from the neighbouring town, as well as some of their own folk performing in the Miracle Plays.

Hubert, the parish clerk, was particularly skilful, and all remembered his performance as Herod, “that moody King”, two years before, and also how masterful it had been.

Besides this, however, there had been much to amuse them in the rough boisterous performances of many of the actors.

They hoped to see Cain bullying his boy at

12

PROLOGUE

the plough and ranting at his brother Abel, or Pilate shouting

and raging as he had done the last time the plays had come. On

the other hand, John recalled the affecting scenes in which the

players had presented to them many of the poignant moments of

the Gospel story, and he and his mates discussed with zest the

scenes they would like to see again.

When he left this group he was stopped by two neighbours

who wanted him to join with them in some work waiting to be

done on their strips which lay side by side in the great east field.

This he promised to do towards the end of the week when he

had carried his hay; and, with a parting look at the sundial, he

moved from the churchyard, and caught up his wife and daughter

near their home. Agnes was full of news she had gleaned from

her gossips: Cicely Wode was to marry John Freman of the

neighbouring town, and she and her old mother were to leave the

manor as soon as the marriage could take place. Matilda, the

reeve's daughter, was in trouble, and would be accused at the

next Manor Court of incontinency. Agnes Atwater had scalded

her legs badly by overturning a vat of boiling water in her brew-

house—and so on.

They soon reached their cottage; and, while the women-folk

went indoors to prepare the midday meal John went behind the

house and down to the bottom of the close where the pig was

kept. He emptied into the trough the remainder of a bucket

containing some sour milk and scraps of household waste, and

pulled up a few rank-growing weeds and threw them into the

trough. Then he turned to his garden and worked at this and

that, for he had a good conscience, and his brother-in-law, Sir

William, took a reasonable view of the Fourth Commandment.

At last Roger came to call him in to dinner. Meanwhile, Agnes

and her daughter had been busy in the house. The fire had been

made up, and the large pot, in which the soup of peas and beans

had been prepared on the previous day, was hung over it and

heated. The trestle-table was now standing in the middle of the

room, and the beechcn bowls and spoons arranged on it. A few

SUNDAY AT HOME

13

mugs and an earthen jug filled with good ale stood ready, for

John was not one of those landless labourers in whom it was

presumptuous to drink anything more than penny ale. They all

sat down, and soon were supping noisily the thick pottage and

eating with it large chunks of a dark coloured bread. A good lump

of home-made green1 cheese followed, and with this and mugs

of the good ale they made their simple meal.

There was much to be done in the garden at this time of year,

and John and his sons spent part of the afternoon in weeding and

thinning out their cabbages. Some of their neighbours returned

to the meadows and continued their haymaking, but John knew

how much Sir William disliked this, and how often he had

spoken against Sunday work, unless it were absolutely necessary

to avoid spoiling the crop. Hence he stayed at home, and did a

little here and there to clear things up in his garden. In this way

the afternoon wore on, and when John went into the house he

found that his wife and daughter had gone off to Vespers at the

church. Sir William liked to see a good congregation at this

service, especially on Sundays, and most of the women, and a

considerable number of men, attended this short simple service

as the day began to close. John’s sons, however, had but little

thought for this, for they were more interested in the pleasure

they hoped for a little later in the evening, and after a while

both left the house to forgather with their companions. When

Agnes returned, the evening meal was soon on the table, for

as it was Sunday they had already eaten the most substantial

meal of the day. Now they fared on a few eggs, a bit of oatcake

and some cheese. Both the women drank milk, but John refused

this, and said he preferred a mug of ale since some still remained

of his wife’s last brewing.

As the shadows lengthened they left the house, and a short

walk brought them on to the green, which looked at its best in

the evening light, and already many of the villagers were there.

Soon, to the sound of a rebeck and pipe the dancing began, for

1 Green = fresh, new.

14

PROLOGUE

here again Sir William's moderate and friendly rule did not

prohibit the dance, although he had a sharp word for any whose

behaviour on these occasions seemed to call for correction. The

measures were simple, and were trodden with an unaffected

grace which seemed to recall a happier and more innocent age—

far removed from the toil and difficulties of everyday life. Young

men and maidens with linked hands went through the evolutions

of the dance and smiled one at the other, and “dallied with the

innocence of love”. Yet, even so, there were some matrons who

looked on with but half-approving eye, as if underneath the

seeming innocence there lurked who knew what dangers? Agnes,

partly from native prudery and partly as Sir William's sister,

would not let Alice join in the dances, although her friends called

to her from time to time, and she darted envious eyes on Joan

and Cicely as they moved in concert to the music. Even while

they stood there the airs seemed to grow a little less restrained,

and very soon Alice and her mother moved away towards home.

The dances, however, went on, and as dusk fell and journeys

to the ale-house on the edge of the green became more common,

the shrill cries of the rebeck were answered by the shrill cries

and laughter of the girls, and by the lower laughter and snatches of

song of some of the men. John watched all this with an indulgent

eye, and sat for a while with some of his cronies on the ale-house

bench, and listened to the shouts and sounds of revelry coming

from within the devil's chapel, as a friar had once called it, in a

sermon which told of how three men, after drinking and dicing

there, had set off to find Death so that they might slay him, and

of what had befallen them. The noise within grew louder: “there

was laughing and lowering, and ‘let the cup go’”, and at last

Clement Cooke, notorious in the village for his inability to carry

his liquor, got up to go

...like a gleeman's bitch,

Sometimes aside and sometimes backwards,

Like one who lays lures to lime wild-fowl.

As he drew to the door all dimmed before him,

He stumbled on the threshold and was thrown forwards.

THE “LOVE-BOON”

15

John thought it was time for him also to get home, for there

was a good day's work to do with the hay on the morrow, and

with a “Good-night” to his friends set off quickly. He soon

came to the church, which seemed very tall and new in the fast

fading light, and then, in a few minutes, he was once again at his

door. The house was dark, since for some time now their scanty

stock of rush-lights had been spent, though this was of small

moment for they were seldom to be found out of bed long after

dusk. He turned to go in, when a glance down the street showed

him Walter, the beadle, going from door to door. He knew well

what that meant, and had half feared his coming, so that he

waited only for a moment while Walter called out to him that the

lord had asked for a “love-boon” on the morrow. His own hay,

he reflected, would have to wait, and with a last look at the sky

and a hope for a few fine days, he went in and closed the

door.

The next morning saw another early start, for John knew well

the Lord Prior's officers would be on the look-out for late-

comers; and indeed, it was only a few years since they had tried

to insist on every one appearing at dawn. Though that had been

declared contrary to the custom of the manor when it had been

discussed at the Manor Court, and therefore had been quietly

dropped, nevertheless, it was still unwise to appear much later

than the neighbours. So John roused up the two boys, and Alice

as well, for on these days every one, save the housewife, had to

appear, and help with the lord's hay. As they started they soon

met many neighbours: it was a far larger party than that of

yesterday, all making their way to the lord's great meadow (for

on this manor all the Prior's pasture was in one immense field)

which lay in the little valley to the west of the village, and through

the midst of which the streamlet flowed so sweetly. Soon after

they arrived they had been divided up into groups, and placed

in different parts of the field by the reeve and the hayward, who

bustled about from place to place to see that all was well and that

work was beginning in good earnest.

16

PROLOGUE

So to the music of whetstone striking on scythe the work began, and the mowers bent to their task, sweeping down the

grass in wide swathes, as they slowly moved from side to side of the piece allotted to them. John was glad to see old William

Honiset already in the field. He could no longer use a scythe, but he was very crafty in the straightening and sharpening of

obstinate blades, and the whole day long sat under a great beech tree in one corner of the field with hammer and stone and put a

new edge on many a scythe before nightfall. As the sun rose higher and higher the blades swung to and fro, while up and down the

field moved a man, with a stave in his hand, whose duty it was to oversee the workers. John looked at him as he passed, recalling

his own early days, and how often he and the father of this man who now stood over him had worked together in this very

meadow, for they had been partners, or "marrows", as the country people termed it, and so did whatever was possible to

help one another. But, in his old age, his friend had bought his freedom at a great price, for he had paid to the Lord Prior six

marks of silver, the savings of a lifetime, and as much as the yearly income of Sir William, the vicar, himself. Now, therefore,

his son was free of everything except a few small services from time to time, of which this was one.

The workers paused to sharpen their scythes, or for a momentary rest, or better still to listen while some belated arrival

poured his tale into the ear of an incredulous reeve, or while some careless fellow, who was working in lazy or incompetent

fashion, was soundly berated by the hayward. At other moments, "wet boon", and old Alice atte Mere, who had only a tiny cot on

the edge of the village, held it on the homely tenure of carrying ale to the workers at these boons. Hence, she was continuously

going to and fro from the manor house for reinforcements of ale which the thirsty labourers seemed to consume almost as

soon as it was doled out to them. Although this was only the drink rationed out to the manorial servants, and was not exactly

THE EVENING MEAL

17

the corny ale—the melior cerevisia—brewed for the brethren of

the priory, yet, perhaps this secunda cerevisia was a more prudent

drink for the labourers, and certainly it seemed doubly delicious

in the heat of the day. Steadily the work went on till wellnigh

noon, when at last the hayward's horn was heard. John

straightened himself, and made for the shade with his com-

panions. There they threw themselves down, and soon the manor

servants appeared, some carrying great loaves and cheeses, while

others brought the ever-welcome barrels of ale. John and his

family were given four of the loaves for themselves, and as they

cut them open they saw that these were the good wheaten loaves,

which so seldom came their way. They ate ravenously of these

and of the cheese after their six hours in the open air, and called

again and again for ale, of which there was no stint, for this was

one of the few days of the year on which the customal specified

that they were to "drink at discretion".

After this meal there was a short welcome rest, and then they

went back to the field once more. Steadily the work went on, and

from time to time the now tiring mowers looked at the sky, and

watched the slow course of the sun over the big trees which

bordered the field. The girls and women busied themselves in

raking and turning the first cut hay, while the officials were

moving busily from place to place trying to keep the workers at

their tasks. At last the long-awaited sound of the hayward's horn

was heard, and in a few minutes the field was deserted, and old

and young were making their way and chattering together as they

went towards the manor house. The toil of the day was over, and

all that remained was the good evening meal that the Lord Prior

always gave them as a reward for their labours. As they reached

the manor house they saw that one of the large outhouses had

been made ready with trestle-tables down the centre and at the

sides of the building, and platters and mugs were soon laid out

ready for the repast. In the courtyard the great cauldrons were

steaming, and the hungry people were busy carving into hunks

the remainder of their midday loaves. Soon the manorial ser-

B L

2

18

PROLOGUE

vants brought in the cauldrons, and a mess of thick pease pot-

tage was served out, to which had been added a little meat for

flavouring. This, and a draught of ale, took the sharp edge off

their hunger, and they awaited with pleasurable anticipation the

next course. The winter had been a hard one, and few of them

had been able to buy flesh, or to expect more than a bit of boiled

bacon from time to time. Some could afford to keep but few

chickens or geese, and had to exist as best they might on their

scanty produce, and on cheese and curds, with oatmeal cake or

thick oatmeal pottage to satisfy their ever-hungry children. This

and a sour bread of peas and beans had been the lot of many for

several months, so that the entry of the servants with great dishes

of roast meat caused a hum of satisfaction to go up around the

room. Each group tackled the portion set down before them

with eagerness, and with many a call to a friend here and a joke

with a neighbour at another table, the meal wore on. Ale flowed

liberally, and there was "cheese at call" for those who were still

hungry. When some of the women showed signs of wishing to

leave, the hayward blew his horn for silence, and the reeve

announced that if the weather remained fine there would be two

more boons on the Wednesday and the following Monday, and

by then he hoped all the hay would be cut and carried into the

great manor courtyard. Little by little the company dispersed,

most of them ready enough to get home and do whatever was

necessary about the house before they went to bed. John and his

family walked back together, and saw as they passed their own

meadow that Agnes had been at work during the day. The hay

that was dry had been raked up into small cocks, and she had

turned most of that which had only been cut the previous

morning.

Much of their time in the next few days was spent by the

peasants either on the lord's hayfield or on their own. John had

but little more to cut on his allotted portion, and all was done by

the Wednesday evening. The following Friday he and his boys

spent the afternoon in loading it onto a wagon they borrowed

THE “MAD SHEEP”

19

from a friend, Roget the ox pulled it home, and they stored it

away in the little shed behind the house.

What little time John and his sons had from the haymaking

seemed to go all too rapidly in a variety of tasks. The work which

he had promised to do in the east field with his neighbours took

up the Thursday afternoon, and besides this they were hard at

work on an “assart” or clearing they were making near the edge

of the great wood. The prior had granted this to John only the

previous autumn; and, although it was but three acres in extent,

the work of grubbing up the furze and briars and cleaning the

land so that they could sow it this coming autumn seemed end-

less. Richard spent all the time he could at this, for he hoped

one day to make this plot the site of a home for himself, since he

was now fully grown and eager to marry Johanna, the daughter

of William Sutton, an old friend of his father.

The other two days of work on the lord’s meadow passed much

like the first, except that there was no ale provided at the second

boon, for it was a “dry-reap”, but they had to work only till

midday. The last boon, however, surpassed all the rest, for not

only was there ale again, but other pleasures as well. As the last

load was carried from the field the hayward loosed a sheep in their

midst. All watched this poor frightened beast with interest, for

if it remained quietly grazing they could claim it for a feast of

their own, but if it wandered out of the field they lost it, and it

remained the lord’s property. As they looked on, restraining the

children from noise or sudden movement, the sheep gazed around

and then began to eat what it could find. Little did it think how

in lingering over this Esau’s mess it had sealed its fate.

All was not yet over, however. Indeed, many thought the best

was yet to come, and John and the other householders next

moved off to a part of the field where the reeve stood by a very

large cock of hay. Everyone knew what was to be done, and no

one wished to be the first to start. At last the reeve called on

Robert Day to begin, and with a sly look at some of his neigh-

bours he gathered together a great mass of hay, and rapidly

2-2

20

PROLOGUE

bound it into a bundle. Then, carefully placing his scythe-head

under the bundle, he slowly raised it from the ground amidst the

encouraging cries of the onlookers. Others were not so fortunate,

and some through greed or lack of skill were unable to raise the

load without letting the scythe-handle touch the ground, or still

more unfortunate, without breaking the handle altogether. Ac-

companied by the laughter and rude criticisms of their fellows,

they retired in confusion. So the ceremony went on till all had

had a sporting chance. Once this was over the farm servants

rapidly forked the remainder into a small cart, and accompanied

by the reeve and hayward left the field. John and his friends,

bearing their trophies aloft in victory, started happily for home.

For them it was a moment for rejoicing: the three "boons" were

over, and they knew that there were no further calls to be made

on them beyond the weekly service that went on from year end

till year end. Not before the Gules of August would any extra

works be again demanded of them.

Their happiness, however, was a little dashed within a few

minutes, for as they rounded a corner a small cavalcade rapidly

drew towards them. As the riders came nearer, John and his

friends recognised them, and when the party reached them all

the peasants doffed their hats and louted low, for the imperious

looking man who rode at their head, clothed in flowing garments

of fine black cloth, was none other than the cellarer himself. Two

others of the brethren rode just behind him, followed by two

servants. A few moments later John overtook old Margery who

had been at work at the Manor Court all day strewing the rooms

with rushes, and making the beds with sheets and counterpanes

-for these great ones demanded every comfort. On the morrow

the Manor Court would be held, and much time would be lost,

so John and his friends hurried on to do what they could

overnight.

On the next morning John was up and about his close from an

early hour, and this kept him busy until it was time to go to the

Manor Court. He called his two sons, for it was no ordinary

THE MANOR COURT

court, but a Leet Court, at which all over twelve years of age

were bound to attend. Thus they started out, and reached the

manor house a little before eight, and waited about outside

chatting aimlessly with their friends. At last the beadle came

out, and summoned them all into the court room. They entered,

and found themselves in a long panelled room with a fine timber

roof which showed up well from the light that streamed in from

the large east window, as well as from the smaller mullioned

windows on either side. They took up their places on the rush-

strewn floor, and chattered away until the reeve and hayward

entered, followed by the beadle, whose command for silence was

still echoing in the hall when the cellarer entered from a side

door at the west end of the room. He took his seat on a raised

dais with his clerk by his side, and after the clerk had unfolded

the great parchment Court Roll, and had begun to write with his

quill the day and year of the Court, the cellarer nodded, and the

beadle cried out an "Oyez" thrice repeated, and ordered all who

had business and owed service to the Lord Prior of Honiwell to

draw near.

At once several men stepped forward: one asked for a neigh-

bour to be excused attendance since he was sick in bed; another

pleaded that his friend was absent in the King's wars, while

others told the cellarer that their man was unable to attend for

various reasons, and pledged themselves to produce him at the

next Court. All these facts were noted by the clerk on his roll,

and then the reeve was told to put forward his pleas. First, he

presented Roger le Bacheler to the cellarer, and said that he

asked permission to take over the land of Alice Tunstall since

she was a widow with no children, and could not work the

twenty acres which were her holding. The cellarer allowed this,

and told Roger that he might hold the land at the same rent and

services as had Alice's husband, and that he would have to pay

6s. 8d. as a fine for entry. Since he willingly agreed to this, he

was called forward, and the cellarer formally admitted him to the

holding, handing him, in token of the exchange, a white wand.

22

PROLOGUE

This done, Roger fell on his knees, and placing his hands between those of the cellarer, swore “so help me God and all His Saints” that from this day forth he would be true and faithful to the Lord Prior, and should owe fealty for the land which he held of him in villeinage, and that he would be justified by him in body and goods, and would not take himself off the lord’s manor.

Next, the reeve told a long tale of many dilapidations that had accrued since the last Court : some houses were falling into serious disrepair; the path outside certain cottages was continuously foul; many men had taken timber from the Lord Prior’s wood without leave; three men….So he droned on, and John paid but slight attention, for he was not conscious of having broken any of the manorial laws, and only noticed with dismay that the name of his brother Henry was constantly mentioned. All these matters took but a short time, for no one denied his guilt, and a fine of twopence or threepence was generally imposed by the cellarer. The reeve then told the cellarer of the misdemeanours of several men at the recent haymaking—of their late-coming, their laziness or their impudence. These received short shrift, and were fined twopence each, all except Richard Cook, who spoke opprobrious words to the cellarer, for which he was sternly rebuked and fined sixpence. Lastly, the reeve brought forward Thomas Attegate, who told the cellarer how his son was eager for book-learning, and how Sir William thought so well of him that he wanted to send him to the grammar school in the near-by town if this were allowed. After some questions the cellarer gave his consent, on the assurance that the boy wished to devote himself to learning in the hope of rising to the dignity of the priesthood in due course. His father thanked the cellarer in halting words, and paid the sixpence demanded of him for the permission, and then fell back among his fellows once more.

After this the beadle called for the tithing men to come forward and make their reports. Each in his turn told the steward of how matters stood in so far as he was responsible. William Sleaford presented that Richard Tubbing and Johanna atte Grene

A PEASANT'S THOUGHTS

were common brewers and had broken the prior's orders about

the sale of ale, and they were each fined twelcepence. John

Morgan presented that a stray horse had been found by one of

his tithing and surrendered to the beadle and was now in the

village pound. He also asked that William Bonesay might be

enrolled in his tithing as he was now twelve years of age. William

Cook complained that Richard Jamys had received one John

Freeman into his house, and that John was not in any tithing and

was suspected of being a night-walker and eavesdropper. Richard

was ordered to produce John at the next Court and to be ready

to answer for him. Lastly, John atte Hethe was removed from his

office of tithing man, and in his place William Craft was elected

and sworn.

So the proceedings came to an end ; and, after the cellarer had

reminded them that the next Court would be held on that day

six weeks, he withdrew to his private chamber, and amid a general

chattering the peasants began to disperse. John left the Court

with his sons who soon joined their own friends and set off home-

wards. He, however, made a roundabout circuit so as to pass by

the great west field, for he was anxious to see how things were

coming on, for the whole week past had been so taken up with

haymaking and work elsewhere that he had had no time even to

do an hour's work there. As he came round by the field his eye

rapidly moved from strip to strip and he saw there was much to

be done. St John's Day was already past, so they must set to

work at once at the weeding, he thought, and he determined to

spend the rest of the day at this. For a few minutes before turning

homeward to his midday meal he sat down and looked across the

great field at the village as it straggled over the neighbouring

slope—a familiar sight, but dearer to him than any other place on

earth. There stood the church, clean and white in the midday sun,

and there a few hundred yards to the right his own little house

and its narrow close which, with his land in the common fields,

represented all he had in the world.

It seemed little enough, yet, he reflected, things might be

24

PROLOGUE

worse. The last winter had been hard, and the death of his only

cow had made life even harder. Now, however, his twenty-four

half-acre pieces were all ploughed and planted with crops which

promised well, but everyone knew that twelve acres was none

too much, if more than the barest existence was hoped for. Last

year the crops had been poor, and for several months food had

been scarce, so that many of his neighbours had been half

starved, and nearly everyone in the village was forced to live on

victuals lacking in flavour or variety. The oats had been their

salvation : with oatcake and porridge, and with the bread they

had made from a mixed corn of barley and rye they had been able

to hold off the worst pangs of hunger ; but for weeks on end no

meat or flesh, except an occasional chicken or something snared

by night in the prior's woods, had come their way. Since then,

however, the summer had come, and the hay crop had been a

good one, and hope sprang up once again. At the next Court, he

thought, he would ask for leave to build a little cot on the piece

of new land they had been clearing near by the great wood.

Then Richard and Johanna could be married and live there, and

could grow something on the three acres to help them all to live.

His wife would know how to make the best of everything that

came into the house: no one could make a bushel of corn go

farther than she. That was the root of his brother Harry's

trouble. His wife had been careless and slatternly, and their

home was always uncared for and the meals ill-prepared. And

yet, despite it all, Harry had been heartbroken when she went off

with Thomas Oxenden, a rising burgess of Thorpston near by.

Since then, Harry had gone down hill fast : his holding was badly

kept, his house a disgrace, while his time was mainly spent with

bad friends snaring in the prior's woods, or in drinking and

"Hi tooral hay" at the ale-house. John reflected sadly as to the

end of all this, but what was to be done to stay it he could not

tell. Life was so strange and in his fifty odd years he had seen

ups and downs in the village. Some he had played with as a boy

had stolen away by night, and had been heard of no more; some,

THE MEDIEVAL COUNTRYSIDE

25

like his wife's brother, had become priests, and were now important people; some, like his own brother, had lost their grip on life, and had become a byword in the village. But there it was, and each must abide his fate. As Sir William had often told them, they were in the hand of God, and He and His holy angels would protect them all their days. Then, as he rose to go, the sound of the midday bell rang out clear over the fields. He crossed himself, and after repeating an Ave, went quickly to his own home.

Such, in my imagination, might have been a week in the life of one of these peasants who will occupy our attention throughout this book. It is imaginary, and as such may be sternly set on one side by some. Nevertheless, there is little in it, I believe, that cannot be supported by documentary evidence, and even that little is sufficiently close to the documents to have a confident chance of satisfying the majority of readers if they had time to consider all the details which have gone to its making. It is true that it represents but a few days in the life of one man, and that at a particularly favourable moment of the year, and in a parish blessed with a priest as worthy as was Chaucer's parson. The remainder of this book will show clearly enough the difficult existence which was all that most peasants could hope for. Many such sketches would be necessary before any very clear and valuable picture of the medieval scene could be obtained. Yet a knowledge that medieval life was complex and infinitely various must not dismay us, and prevent our attempting some such synthesis. While medieval life had so many points at which it was at variance with our own, so much of it was very like. The life of the fields, in many particulars, has preserved its main characteristics from earliest times. The rhythm of the seasons carries with it all those whose lot it is to till the earth; and, despite the unfamiliar conditions in which they lived, the people seem as recognisable as does that countryside so vividly drawn for us by the unknown author of Mum and the Sothsegger,1 a poem of

1 Edited for the E.E.T.S. by M. Day and R. Steele, 1936.

26

PROLOGUE

the first few years of the fifteenth century.1 In this the writer

tells us of how he climbed to the top of a hill, and there

I tournyd me twyes and totid2 aboute,

Beholding heigges and holt3 so grene,

The mansions and medues mowen al newe,

For suche was pe saison of pe same yere.

I lifte vp my eye-ledes and lokid ferther

And sawe many swete sight3, so me God helpe,

The wodes and pe waters and pe welle-springes

And trees y-traylid fro toppe to perthe,4

Coriou3ly y-courid5 with curtelle of grene,

The flours on feildes flavryng6 swete,

The corne on pe croftes y-croppid ful faire,

The rennnyng riuere russhing faste,

Ful of fyssh and of frie of felefold7 kinde,

The breris8 with paire beries bent ouer pe wayes

As honysoucles hongyng vpon eche half,

Chesteynes9 and chiries pat children destren

Were logged vnder leues ful lusty to scen.

The havthorne so holsum I behelde eeke,

And hough pe benes blowid and pe broome-floures;

Peres and plumme3 and pesecodd3 grene,

That ladies lusty loken muche after,

Were gadrid for gomne3 10 ere pay gunne ripe....

The conyng311 fro couert courid pe bankes

And raughte12 oute a raundom and retournyd agaynes,

Pleyed forthe on pe playne, and to pe pitte after,

But any hownd hente13 paym, or pe hay-nettes14....

The shepe fro pe sunne shadued paymself

While pe lambes laikid a-long by pe heigges.

The cow with hire calfe and coltes ful faire

And high hors15 in haras hurtelid to-gedre,

And pri3id16 pe pasture pat prime-saute17 paym made....

I moued downe fro pe mote to pe midward3

And so a-downe to pe dale, dwelled I no longer,

But suche a noise of nestling3 ne18 so swete not319

I herde not pis halfe yere, ne so heuenly soune3

As I dide on pat dale adowne among pe heigges.

1 Op. cit. xxiv.

2 peered.

3 woods.

4 the earth.

5 covered.

6 smelling.

7 manifold.

8 briars.

9 chestnuts.

10 men.

11 rabbits.

12 went.

13 caught.

14 hedge-nets.

15 stallions.

16 praisid.

17 spirited.

18 nor.

19 notes.

The Church

CHAPTER I

THE CHURCH

T is customary to set out on any survey of medieval peasant life by attempting a description of the manor and its occupants, and this we shall have to do, however briefly, although throughout our emphasis will be more on actualities than on legal distinctions. But, before we come to that, it is essential to realise that the peasant (in this respect like his betters) was part of a great organisation whose power, now light, now heavy, continuously pressed upon him. The Church meant more to medieval man than we are ever likely to understand, but a little imagination allows us to glimpse its force and its prestige. The building itself, standing commonly in the centre of the village, symbolised the place of the Church in medieval life. The great moments of man's story on earth--baptism, marriage, burial--centred in the sacred building. There, on Sundays at least, the villagers heard Mass, and perhaps mattins and evensong as well: there they learnt what little they were capable of retaining from staring at the pictures on the walls or in the windows, or from the infrequent and halting sermon of their village priest, or from the picturesque and dramatic outpourings of a preaching friar.

And the village Church was the more important because medieval worship was still mainly a matter of congregational worship--the altar, the chantry, the shrine were the places the villager came to naturally when he wished to express his religious aspirations. Whatever part family devotions may have played (and we have little evidence of any such happenings) it was to their parish church and to the parish clergy that men turned for instruction, consolation and refreshment.

Nor must we think that religion was a thing for Sundays, hastily assumed as men approached the church. It is probable that the peasant was unable to attend except on Sundays or great Saints' days, but his life was not thereby divided into two compartments--religious and secular. Rather the shadow of the Church was about him in his fields or in his close; as he laboured on the edge of the forest or carried his load to the neighbouring

30

THE CHURCH

mill. The Angelus, which J. F. Millet's nineteenth-century

peasants heard at midday in their fields, was a post-Reformation

-practice, but the Mass-bell earlier in the day had sounded down

the ages, and had summoned the fourteenth-century peasant in

similar manner:

And 3ef pow may not come to chyrche,

Where euer pat pow do worche,

When pow herest to masse knylle,

Prey to God wyp herte stylle.1

And there was much besides to remind him of his fellowship and

of his duty to the Church. As he moved about the manor he

would see the wayside crosses and the local shrines, where from

time immemorial prayers had been said and offerings made. In

most places he could see from the hillside the spires of many a

church, and the walls of abbeys and priories enclosing great

buildings which were bywords in the village for their opulent

splendour and vast design. If we add to this the constant passage

of wandering friars, of ecclesiastics on business, the occasional

palmer and the more frequent groups of pilgrims, the daily

meetings with the parish priests or his assistants and underlings,

we begin to realise how omnipresent the Church of the Middle

Ages must have seemed to the toilers of the fields.

Nor did it rest at this. The Church was not passive—a kindly

mother waiting the coming of her children. The medieval Church

was the Church militant in many ways, and her contacts with the

peasant were not solely those of love and mansuetude. When her

rights or privileges were in question no medieval lay-lord was

more instantly in arms, or fiercer upon his quarrel. 'The tithe

barn was an ever-present reminder of the power and needs of

the Church; and many a man must have played the part of Cain

in the Towneley play of The Killing of Abel, where we see him

grudgingly looking over his sheaves, selecting the worst for his

tithe, and grumbling all the time.2 Again, at the death of any

man the Church frequently stepped in and claimed his second-

best beast as a mortuary. This was a severe tax, and was felt the

more since the lord of the manor claimed the best beast as a

1 Myrc, Instructions for Parish Priests (E.E.T.S.), ll. 1603ff.

2 Towneley Plays (E.E.T.S.), 15, and see p. 330.

THE FEAR OF DEATH

31

heriot on these occasions.1 Then there were the Mass pennies to

be paid, and the Peter's pence to be found from time to time,

while the light-scot and the church-scot recalled to the peasant

other of his obligations to Holy Church.

And, as if this were not sufficient, in the majority of villages

the priest strove with the serf to win a living from the products of

the earth. He was priest first, but agriculturist after; or, as an

early Parson Trulliber, he might even be primarily an agri-

culturist. His beasts fed side by side with those of his

parishioners on the commons, and he bargained at the neigh-

bouring market against his fellows in the hope of making a good

purchase, or of effecting a profitable exchange.

So it was not easy for the peasant to forget his Church with

these things set visibly about him and backed up by even more

powerful, though invisible, forces constantly at work upon his

conscience and his imagination. It is scarcely too much to say

that medieval life was haunted by the all-important fact that it

was a man's last moments which mattered. "In the place where

the tree falleth, there shall it lie" (Ecclesiastes xi. 3); as he died,

so would he live again. Nothing could overcome the fact of

death and its concomitants—judgment and doom. Not only in

those fearful paintings which covered the walls of many a church,

but in those more permanent "Last Judgments", carved in

stone on the façade of cathedral and abbey church, were to be

seen the sufferings of the damned and the joys of the faithful.

And since the Church taught that a soul, even in the article of

death, could be saved or lost, the idea of death and of preparation

for death was constantly brought before men's minds by these

things. And all this was emphasised by sermons and exhorta-

tions such as were to find their later and more artistic counter-

parts in Sir Thomas More's The Four Last Things, or in the

sombre eloquence of Donne. Well indeed might medieval men

have forestalled Marvell's cry:

Yet at my back I alwaies hear

Times winged Charriot hurrying near:

And yonder all before us lye

Desarts of vast Eternity.

1 See below, p. 143.

32

THE CHURCH

If we could imagine with any clarity the narrow warped minds of

the mass of the medieval English peasantry, we should easily

realise how much such men must have been influenced by the

carvings and paintings they saw about them in the church, and

by the legends of Saints and the Fathers, the main incidents of

the Gospel story and by the insistence on death and the life to

come. Even though it is probable that many men and women

were not eager and convinced believers, yet even these were more

prepared to believe than to disbelieve. They lacked an active

conviction, but yet had nothing strong enough to hearten them

in a denial of the accepted faith. So the insistence of the Church

was too strong for them: Timor mortis conturbat me had been so

often repeated that it beat its way into even the dullest brain in

time. And as with this, so with other of the doctrines of the

Church.

It is necessary to emphasise the part played by seeing and

hearing, for they were the peasants' only means of communica-

tion. Few indeed could have read the Mass Book and Prymer,

even had they been easily available, and the Church was, per-

force, the Poor Man's Bible, though it was a meagre substitute

for the book we know. Modern scholars have shown how little

of the Bible was ever depicted on the walls of the church, and in

how travestied a form it was often displayed. At the same time

large parts of what is religiously richest and best in it were

unsuitable and neglected as pictorial material. Symbolism (so

far as it was to be found in the village church) no doubt tried to

meet the needs of the illiterate, but symbolism was a very vague

and unsettled method of communication, and gave rise to in-

numerable errors and rash speculations.

Since these things helped him so little, the peasant could only

watch with dim comprehension "the blessed mutter of the

Mass". The Church had done her best, and had turned her

central service into a great mimetic rite. She had given this a

ceremonial elaboration that made it immediately popular, but its

very elaboration had excluded the simple from more than a dis-

tant participation. The author of the Lay Folks' Mass Book does

explain the meaning of the symbolical acts of the Mass to those

who can read, but all he can advise the unlettered to do is to say

the Pater and the Ave over and over again during the course of

THE VILLAGE PRIEST

33

the Mass.1 So the services, the symbolism, the paintings and the

rest were but dim imperfectly apprehended things which years of

use had made part of their being, but which demanded some .

living touch to make their meaning clear to such simple folk.

This touch should have come from the priest, but there can be

no doubt that the medieval priesthood was not fully prepared for

such an undertaking. The cry of Archbishop Peckham, that heads

his constitutions of 1281, "The ignorance of the priests casteth

the people into the ditch of error", is re-echoed centuries later

by Wolsey. Clerical ignorance was widespread throughout the

parishes, and the villager oftentimes could not hope to learn very

much from his priest. Langland's portrait of Sloth the parson,

who knew neither Beatus vir nor Beati omnes, but who rejoiced in

rhymes of Randolph of Chester and Robin Hood, would seem

impossible but for the strictest evidence of the Bishop's Registers

which confirm its main lines in a striking fashion. In many

parishes the priest only stumbled through some homily or sermon

(his own or another's) on the statutory four times a year, and

"left his shepe encombred in the mire" for the rest. In a good

many other instances the evidence suggests neglect even of these

statutory four. With so feeble a guide the villager could not get

far on his quest for Truth, and there is little wonder that his

religion was frequently a thing of " use and wont."—part sincere,

part convention, part pure magic.

Not only this, but, as we have seen, the priest was far from

being the kindly cultured patron of the village such as he has

often shown himself in the past two hundred years. He was

more likely to be a hard-hearted man of business, and frequently

was a stranger brought into the parish, by influence or by his

ecclesiastical superiors, with little in common with his parishioners

except his determination to overcome the difficulties incident

upon medieval agriculture, and his eye for a bargain. As modern

observers in France and Italy have pointed out, the coming of

the priest into a house was often so rare an event that at his

arrival the village at once feared the worst! "E venuto il prete

sounds like a death-knell to the family."2

1 Myrc, op. cit. ll. 60, 82, 152, etc.

2 L. D. Gordon, Home Life in Italy, 231; cf. N. Sabord, Le Buisson d'Épines,

237, for modern examples, and the stories of J. de Vitry (ed. T. Wright),

77, 110, for medieval feeling on this matter.

B L

3

34

THE CHURCH

But when we think we have begun to appreciate the villager’s

mind, thus encompassed by his hopes and fears of the Church,

we have but half done. “The broad shadow of the Cross lay

over the whole medieval world”, Mr B. L. Manning writes;1

and, while we heartily agree with this, we have still to remember

that other—perhaps broader—shadow that darkened medieval

life and thought—the shadow of “the Devil and all his works”.

This was no abstraction for the peasant, but every corner of his

fields and every corner of his home were liable to harbour some

agent of Hell who could harm him unless it were exorcised and

overcome.

For we must remember how circumscribed was the world in

which the majority of these people lived. Their village was their

world: beyond, some ten or twenty miles led to the local shrine

or the great fair, and there, perhaps, once or twice a year they

made their way; but, for the most part, their lives were ground

out in a perpetual round from one field to another, and so to the

next. London seemed very far off—almost as far as Rome or

Jerusalem itself. Hence, they were easily impressed by “the

wonders of the world”—and fact and fiction were indistinguish-

able to them. Even the greatest minds were curiously limited

(according to our modern conceptions of knowledge): Aquinas

could talk of the power of miracles, and enforce his argument

that “it may seem miraculous to him who hath no comprehension

of that power; as to the ignorant it seemeth miraculous that the

magnet draweth iron, or that a little fish holdeth back a ship”.2

Similarly, all the chroniclers mingle fact and fiction in a be-

wildering fashion, and vagueness and confusion are of the very

stuff of their information. It is not surprising, therefore, that the

uneductated peasant, who relied on gossip and the stories of

passing travellers, should be credulous and superstitious.

Superstition, which feeds and grows on ignorance, was indeed

encouraged by the most powerful of the peasant’s teachers—the

clergy. The Church consistently showed itself slow to acknow-

ledge the claims of human reason, which it saw pressing for

recognition on all sides. Dissection, for example, was for long

1 The People’s Faith in the Time of Wyclif, 15.

2 Quoted from Summa Contra Gentiles, Lib. III, cap. 102, by Dr Coulton

in his Social Britain, 532, commenting on Trevisa’s account of this fish

“scarcely a foot long”1

forbidden, and the doctor of medicine was frequently suspect—

Ubi tres medici, duo athei. And it must be admitted that medicine

and magic had much in common, and the Church had reason to

fear these men whose “study was but little on the Bible”, and

whom her own restrictions had roused to antagonism. At the

same time the fear of reason was so great that wherever the

Church could do so it stifled free enquiry: even so great and

orginal a mind as that of Roger Bacon fought for wellnigh a

lifetime against the opposition of his ecclesiastical superiors.

Most men, possessed of a less robust and enquiring intellect,

jogged along unreflectingly content, and scarcely aware of the

cramping effects of Church discipline. With all the innocence in

the world they tended their congregations, unaware of any breath

of the advancing thought and knowledge which was to threaten

their own existence. Their very teaching was pernicious in so far

as it encouraged in the peasant those qualities of superstition

and belief in magic that lurk in the background of all uneducated

peoples.

From earliest times they had endeavoured to give a Christian

interpretation to old pagan customs and legends rather than to

stamp them out.1 Thus wells once under the protection of pagan

gods were placed under the care of the Saints. The setting of

the Midsummer Watch, the May Day ceremonies, the innu-

merable rites associated with the various agricultural seasons all

had their roots in the past, and had to be adapted to the Christian

religion as best they could.

Then again, there was a wealth of legend, fable, lives of saints

and myths, all of which were widely disseminated throughout the

Middle Ages and did much to increase the ready acceptance of

the supernatural. One example will serve: the fifteenth-century

translation of the Alphabetum Narrationum contains a collection

of stories such as were used by itinerant preachers to lard their

sermons for their unlettered audiences. Almost every story is

1

See the famous letter of Gregory the Great to Mellitus and St Augustine

(June 601) instructing them to so order their actions that “ the people will

have no need to change their places of concourse, where of old they were wont

to sacrifice cattle to demons, thither let them continue to resort on the day of

the saint to whom the church is dedicated, and slay their beasts no longer as

a sacrifice, but for a social meal in honour of Him whom they now worship ”.

Bede, Hist. Eccl. 1, 30.

36

THE CHURCH

concerned with the part played by magical agency : an angel saves

a damsel from death; the Ave Maria, said with devotion, over-

comes a devil; the crucifix makes a sign of anger and stops its

ears; the power of St Dominic's prayers draws down the Virgin

and two angels to anoint a sick man, and so on. The mere

reminder of such compilations as those earliest Lives of the

Fathers in the Desert; the Dialogus Miraculorum of Caesarius

of Heisterbach, or the Gesta Romanorum, should be sufficient to

satisfy us of the medieval belief in the widespread nature of

supernatural powers working for and against mankind.

Not only the teaching but the services did much to inculcate

the belief in magic. We have seen that the unlettered could but

imperfectly follow the service of the Mass, and superstition was

actively encouraged by the tales told of the wonders worked by

the Host, and of the benefits which came to those who had re-

cently received the Sacrament. Such tales reposed on the theo-

logical doctrine of the opus operatum—the virtue of Masses even

apart from the disposition of the worshipper or recipient. Hence,

there was no witchcraft which the Host could not perform, and

thus arose a body of tales.

Because these stories glorified the Sacrament the layman was en-

couraged to believe that the saying of a Mass could remove iron

fetters from a knight's body, or sustain a miner who had been buried

in a pit; that a man whose sickness prevented him from receiving the

bread in the usual way received it through his side near his heart; that

blindness would not strike the fortunate eyes which saw the Host

carried to the sick. To increase the offerings of the devout they were

told that a penny offered at Mass would secure an increase of worldly

wealth as well as freedom from their sins.1

What wonder if men went further for themselves, and regarded

the Host as a charm and placed it among the beehives to prevent

the death of the bees, or scattered it in fragments over the

cabbages to keep off caterpillars.2

In addition to the kindly magic of the Saints and of the re-

formed pagan gods there was still the fearful and ever-present

black magic of the Devil. He was all-powerful, and in lonely

places, by the shores of lake and forest, and in the desolate

1 Manning, op. cit. 79.

2 Caesarius of Heisterbach, Dist. ix, §§ 8

POPULAR BELIEFS

37

wastes and high mountains, his agents roamed about seeking whom they might devour, and at times could be heard and sometimes even seen. A quotation from a modern work describing the feelings and beliefs of a French peasant of yesterday indicates something of the world in which—to an intenser degree—his English brother of five hundred years ago lived and believed.

Blandin était de ceux qui, le matin du premier mai, plantent dans leur fumier, pour le préserver des serpents qui voudraient y faire leur nid, un arbuste orné de rubans. Le dimanche suivant il allait à l'église pour y faire bénir, à l'issue de la messe de huit heures, des baguettes de noisetier attachées en faisceau. De retour aux Vernes il les plantait dans ses deux champs et dans son jardin pour les préserver de la grêle. Il savait que, s'il venait à tonner lorsqu'il coupait du bois, il devait tenir sa hache le tranchant en l'air: la foudre, si elle s'avisait de tomber sur lui, serait fendue. Ni la Blandine, ni la petite Jeannette n'eussent fait la lessive pendant les Quatre-Temps, ni les jours de vigile et de jeûne, ni entre Noël et la Chandeleur. Ils savaient tous que le cri du geai est bon signe, que la chouette et la pie sont des oiseaux de mauvais augure, qu'il ne faut pas se marier au mois de mai, sous peine qu'un des nouveaux époux meure bientôt après. La poule qui veut imiter le chant du coq annonce un malheur.

Tout cela faisait partie des choses que l'on ne comprend pas. Ils n'étaient pas seulement au milieu de l'hiver et de la misère humaine; ils vivaient entourés de mystères. Le monde était habité par des forces obscures qu'ils divinisaient. Faibles, ils les sentaient liguées contre eux. Ils tâchaient tantôt de se les rendre favorables par des invocations et des signes, tantôt de conjurer leur mauvais vouloir par d'humbles sacrifices, tantôt, enfin, de deviner leurs dispositions au moyen d'indices sûrs qu'ils tenaient de leurs ancêtres.

Such then was the background of the peasant's life—a background full of terrors and haunting suggestions, as well as one bringing him comfort and hope of another world. We shall see more of this after we have studied the peasant's daily life and activities on the manor, but it was necessary at the outset to emphasise the presence of this all-important side of things—the more so because (quite naturally) our legal and economic historians, in writing about medieval life, do not often take it into account.

¹ H. Bachelin, Le Village, 36.

The Manor and its cultivation

CHAPTER II

THE MANOR AND ITS CULTIVATION

Medieval England was almost exclusively rural England, and rural England congregated in small groups of people, here fifty, here a hundred, and (much less often) here several hundreds, living in rude houses which clustered together in some places, while in others they straggled endlessly down the village street. Agriculture and its allied occupations engaged the energies of everyone as they strove to win a living from the soil. These small groups, on closer examination, are often found to be sharing certain rights and privileges and to be discharging certain duties, under the protection and control of a lord. There were many thousands of these little groups throughout England, and they formed the manorial society which existed for some hundreds of years after the Conquest. The origin of the manor, however, and how, and to what extent, the countryside had become manorialised are not discussed here : it is not the origination of the manor, but how men lived and what happened to them under the manorial system that is the main concern of this study. At the same time much of it will also necessarily be concerned with those peasants who were not directly controlled by manorial organisations, but who won a living with their hands as best they could, for both they and the villanus, or serf of the manorial system, were primarily agriculturists.

Even when we confine ourselves to those men who were under manorial control we do not necessarily find them living under identical conditions because they are living in the same area. The manor and the village were by no means interchangeable terms. Sometimes, it is true, everybody in the village was the tenant of a single lord, but frequently one village was divided up among two or more manors. This is admirably shown, for example, by Professor Kosminsky's study of the Hundred Rolls, where he finds that " out of 650 vills described and investigated, 336 are not identical with manors "; and, he adds, " In Northumbria, the Danelagh and East Anglia the co-incidence is (we

42

THE MANOR

already know) extremely rare".1 As a result of this it was

possible for two men to be living in the same village, and each

holding the same amount of land; but, because they served dif-

ferent lords, they might find themselves very unevenly burdened

with services and rents. Yet, heavy or light, they both led the

same type of life; and therefore, in seeking to understand the

medieval peasant, we need not place undue emphasis on these

differences so long as we remember their existence, and are

ready to consider what effects they finally encouraged.2

Our enquiry, then, will be mainly concerned with the effects

of the manorial organisation roughly between the years 1200 and

1350—a period which saw it at the height of its powers and yet

also certainly declining towards its fall. Only the conditions of

peasant life as determined by the manorial system will be dis-

cussed here, and many problems connected with the rise of the

manor and its relation to the vill will be left untouched.3 In so

doing we shall, no doubt, assume a uniformity of organisation and

conditions that more detailed investigations of limited areas will

challenge or even deny.4 “To ask for a definition of the manor”,

said Professor Maitland, "is to ask for the impossible", and

more recent workers have given us reason to believe that con-

siderable parts of England were never manorialised at all. Yet,

even so, one of the most brilliant of recent disintegrators of the

manorial system admits that, "although it is true that we can no

longer regard the large estate with villeins and labour service as

the ‘constituting cell’ of English society in the thirteenth cen-

tury, such estates do, nevertheless, form an important section of

economic life."5 Again, we may take encouragement from the

words of Professor Ashley when he writes:

The manorial system is no doubt often conceived of as more

1 Econ. Hist. Rev., vol. v, No. 2, p. 30. Cf. Year Book, 3/4 Ed. II, 15;

F. G. Davenport, op. cit. 7.

2 See chapter xi, where the question of the part played by unequal services

in the desire for freedom is discussed.

3 The standard books on this subject are still Vinogradoff's well-known

monographs: The Growth of the Manor; Villainage in England; and English

Society in the XIth Century. With these go Seebohm's masterpiece, The

English Village Community and Maitland's Domesday Book and Beyond.

4 See, for example, the excellent studies of F. M. Stenton on the Danelegh;

those of D. C. Douglass on Medieval East Anglia and those of J. E. A. Jolliffe

(E.H.R. 1926) on Northumbrian conditions.

5 Econ. Hist. Rev., vol. v, No. 2, p. 44.

THE MANORIAL “WEB”

43

symmetrical and universal than it ever was in fact. But was it not sufficiently similar over large stretches of time and space to make it the most useful preliminary framework round which to gather the new material, if only care be taken at once to lay stress on the multiformity of actual life?1

It is with this point of view in mind that this essay has been written.

Let us begin then with a single village and the lands surrounding it, assuming for the sake of simplicity that it is all held by one lord. Whatever shape the actual village took—a shape determined by many factors2—in nearly every village the peasants lived in small houses, placed side by side, each often having a little enclosure or plot of ground behind it. Around the village and stretching away lay the common fields—the arable land—which in many ways formed the most notable characteristic of the manorial organisation. The history of the origination of these field-systems, again, is not our subject:3 our concern is with their cultivation and the part they played in the life of the peasant. Besides these common fields there were the meadows : almost as vital to the community as the arable. Then, again, there were the commons on which the villagers had grazing rights, and beyond them stretched the “waste”, and the woods and forests.

Such was the enclosing framework, “the web”, as Dr Coulton calls it, “within which the medieval peasant lives and moves and has his being”; and, he adds, “it is a very complicated tissue, which we must take into account before we can understand his daily life”.4 It is indeed a “complicated tissue”, and one not easy to understand in all its details, but perhaps our best plan will be to start from the church in the centre of the village and so work out to the very edges of the manor. Imagine, then, a little village, with its groups of houses, each of them with its garden and here and there an enclosed stretch of meadow. Beyond them stretches the open country, and at a closer view it

1 Econ. Journ., June 1926, reviewing The Medieval Village, by G. G. Coulton.

2 For discussion of this, see Geographical Journal, xxix, 45–52.

3 The best monograph is that of H. L. Gray, English Field Systems. This investigates the geographical distribution of the two- and three-field system in England, and attempts to explain the way in which special conditions, such as those in Kent or East Anglia, are to be accounted for. His work must be corrected, however, by such special studies as those of Stenton, Douglas, etc. mentioned above.

4 Med. Village, 37.

44

THE MANOR

becomes clear that immediately in front of us is a large arable field. Unlike a modern farm it seems to have no boundaries—at least there are no hedges, dividing one part from another, and nothing to prevent us from walking across its length and out into the grazing lands beyond. A closer examination, however, will show us that this great field is, nevertheless, divided up into a number of compartments or large divisions. These go by many names—furlongs, shots, dells—and each of these compartments is again subdivided into a certain number of strips (or selions), each divided from the other by raised balks of unploughed land. The strips run parallel, one to the other, the whole length of the furlong or shot, and are generally found to contain half an acre or one acre of land. At right angles to them run the “headlands” —unploughed portions which give access to the strips in that furlong, and also to the other parts of the great field.

As we shall see, the peasant did not hold all his strips in one convenient block, but had them allocated to him in various parts of this, and of the other great fields of the manor. This was a principle of great antiquity : it is of the essence of these peasant holdings that they shall each be of comparatively small size and scattered over the whole of the common fields.

The very term, “the common fields”, reminds us that much medieval farming was a co-operative affair. But we are by no means as clear as we should like to be as to how far this was so in actual practice. The generally accepted theory envisages the peasants carrying out all the principal occupations of agriculture in common. Reasons will be given later for thinking that there was more individual enterprise than has been imagined, but we may begin by admitting that the fields were cultivated according to a plan which had the sanction of time immemorial, or of general village consent, and that everyone had to fall in with this. Individual cultivation of any particular crop was almost impossible and had to be reserved for the little “closes” round the home, or for the “assart” land newly brought into cultivation by the peasant, and which lay outside the “common fields” and was generally on the outskirts of the manor. In the common fields, however, when oats were sowed by one they were, perforce, sown by all. The most considerable operation, of course, was ploughing, and how far this was a communal affair it is hard to tell. Clearly,

COMMUNAL OPERATIONS

45

the most economical way would have been to yoke the oxen of

various peasants together in one plough-team, and to have worked

over the whole field, furrow by furrow, just as the peasants were

forced to plough the lord's demesne by communal labour. We

imagine that this is what was done, but little definite evidence

exists to support this view. On the other hand, Dr Coulton has

drawn attention to a passage in Piers Plowman which, as he says,

"seems to point clearly to a good deal of private ploughing and

reaping".1 The dishonest peasant in Piers Plowman confesses:

"If I went to the plough I pinched so narrowly that I would

steal a foot of land or a furrow, or gnaw the half-acre of my

neighbour; and if I reaped, I would over-reap (i.e. reach over

into my neighbour's ground), or gave counsel to them that reaped

to seize for me with their sickles that which I never sowed."

2 We may emphasise this point by noticing another example of

this kind of dishonesty which is mentioned in Robert Mannyng

of Brunne's Handlyng Synne. Here we read of "false husband-

men who falsely plough away men's lands, [and] take and plough

away a furrow of land through and through".3 And when we

turn from literature to the records we find some evidence of a

similar nature. An instance occurs at Thorner, in 1365, which

suggests that communal operations were unusual, and that

private agreements were resorted to at times. We read that "John

de Roch complains of Robert de Eltoft on a plea of agreement.

John comes and says that on a certain day and year he made a

pact with the said Robert that they should be partners for

ploughing the land of the said John and Robert with equal

animals going to the plough, which partnership is called mar-

rows, for a year only ; and concerning this Robert in no wise held

to the pact, etc."4 Now this phrase "which partnership is called

marrows" is defined in the fifteenth-century Promptorium Parvu-

lorum as "a felowe yn travayle (or mate)". A nineteenth-century

glossary of Antrim and Down states that the term still exists,

and means "to lend horses and men for labour to a neighbour,

and to receive a similar loan when needed"—exactly the meaning

1 Med. Village, 42. 2 Piers Plowman, B. xiii, 371 ; C. vii, 267.

3 Op. cit. ll. 2445–8. Cf. the original from which Mannyng was translating,

"Ki autru teres unt arer, Ou en autru semail a tort entrer." In France those

guilty of this offence were called mangeurs de raies. See M. Bloch, op. cit. 38.

4 Thoresby Soc. xv, 168.

46

THE MANOR

attaching to the term at Thorner in 1365.1 The survival of this

term centuries later, and in another part of the British Isles,

strongly suggests that the practice was persistent and widespread.

If this can be maintained, then we are forced to imagine that co-

operation was often left to individuals, and was not so universally

a village or manorial matter as has generally been believed. Such

a belief received encouragement from the undoubted fact that

the peasants were forced to yoke their animals side by side with

those of their neighbours so as to make up the teams they had to

supply when the lord’s demesne lands required ploughing. This,

and other activities, such as mowing the lord’s hay, or reaping his

corn, they discharged as a body, and because of this it was easy

(though unjustifiable) to think of them doing likewise on their

own acres. On the contrary, it would seem that individual enter-

prise was not at all uncommon. The fact that a man could en-

croach upon his neighbour’s strips, or that he is at times found

reaping another man’s corn suggests individual labour, and en-

courages the belief that co-operation was local, sporadic and a

matter for individual arrangement.

Perhaps the strongest argument against individual enterprise

is its absurdly wasteful character. But medieval agriculture was

absurdly wasteful, and there can be no doubt that the common-

field system exacted a heavy toll from its workers. This is abun-

dantly shown, both from contemporary records and from the

more scientific and detailed accounts of common-field conditions

given by investigators of more modern times who have inspected

those areas where the old conditions have survived from the past.

Waste of time and effort was caused by the piecemeal nature of

the normal holding. A man with thirty acres would find these

spread out in twice that number of strips which were distributed

over the east, south and west fields of his village. As time went

on, in some parts of England further subdivisions of these original

holdings made matters more complicated, and increased the

amount of time wasted.2 Again, one or two careless or lazy

1 In Germany the same practice was still observed in 1870. See Land

Tenure Reports, 406.

2 See, for example, the fields of Rampton (Cambs) where in a part of one of

the fields the strips are held by the following: M, D, H, B, N, G, B, G, D, C,

F, C, E, K, F, B, K, E, C, D, P, C, F, E, H, E, E, D, C, G, etc. The plan

is reproduced on p. 8 of J. A. Venn’s Foundations of Agricultural Economics.

For evidence of subdivision, see also below, p. 50.

SUBDIVISION OF THE FIELDS

47

peasants, or the neglect incident on a holding being vacant for a

time, caused much trouble. Weeds neglected, and ground left to

go to waste, encouraged the broadcast dissemination of harmful .

seeds, and the growth of unwanted vegetation.

Even to get onto the fields was not always easy. Unless a

watchful eye were kept, a path or headway gradually got ploughed

in, or some enclosure was made which separated the field from

the village, save by a roundabout route. Thus we find a chaplain

covenanting to give a right of droveyway for ploughs, carts and

beasts over his pasture to the land of Sparkeford.1 Without such

permission there was nothing for it but to trample over the

holdings of others, as was complained of, for instance, at Hales-

owen, and the lord was appealed to for protection. In this, no

doubt, the men of Halesowen were within their rights, but what

enisled amid those of his neighbours, and to which he had no way

of entry save by walking across their holdings ?2 Then, again, as

we are told, “ much vagueness often resulted from the custom of

scattered possessions : a tenant sometimes found he had, by mis-

take, sown the strip of a neighbour, or had lost one of his own

strips ”.3 We might think this impossible but for two facts. First,

the immense number of subdivisions which took place, especially

in the fourteenth century, and secondly, the definite evidence we

have of the difficulty which men found in knowing exactly where

their own strip ended and that of a neighbour began. Often

there was nothing but an imaginary line between them, or at

best a line of hazel twigs such as we still see in Alpine pastures,

dividing one man’s share from another’s. In such conditions

strips lost or gained in size (not always deliberately), or even

disappeared altogether. The surveyors of the Dean and Chapter

of St Paul’s were quite unable in 1222 to trace a holding of

three acres held by one of the tenants according to an earlier

survey and they had to make a new entry: “ tres acrae. . . inveniri

non possunt ”.4

We cannot say, any more than could the men of 1222, what

happened to the three acres, but we can certainly say that one of

1 Ancient Deeds, III, 13.

2 Hales Rolls, 468. Cf. Wakefield Rolls, III, 148, where a man expressly

stipulates for “ right of ingress and regress for his manure and corn ”.

3 V.C.H. Berks, II, 170.

4 D.S.P. II.

48

THE MANOR

the greatest difficulties of the common-field system was the problem of how to cope with one's neighbours who sat cheek by jowl on every side. Men had to take their chance: a neighbour might be a careless worker who allowed weeds to flourish unchecked, or a helpful and friendly partner with whom one could share the common labours. But the real difficulty arose much more from the man who could not keep to his own, but who, as we have seen in Piers Plowman, would "pinch" on his neighbour's holding in some way or another. Sometimes he would move the stones marking off one strip from another and thus gain a few feet more of land for himself,1 or he would plough up a balk between himself and another man.2 When the time came for gathering in the crops he would falsely reap some of his neighbour's oats, and pitch into his cart a few sheaves from a convenient stook.3 In short, such was the system (or lack of system) that it was hard for anyone to know exactly what was his own; and, even if he knew this quite well, it was harder still to be constantly on the watch to protect it against other men's carelessness or worse.

Offences of this nature were common enough to be mentioned by the medieval moralists. Take, for example, the story from Caesarius of Heisterbach, translated in the fifteenth-century English Alphabet of Tales, which related how a man on his deathbed was terrified by visions of a great burning stone coming towards his mouth to scorch him. The priest was called, and told him to think whether he had harmed anyone with such a stone. And he thought awhile and then said, "Ah, sir! I have now a good mind of how I removed this stone in the field to the intent that I would enlarge my own ground and lessen other men's ground", etc.4

Difficulties such as these were, of course, well enough known to the peasants, and they did what they could to alleviate them, either as we have seen by private arrangement, or by appeal to their lord for protection, or else by common agreement. Common

1 E.g. Durham Halmote Rolls, 26, 27, 142, 158.

2 Select Pleas in Manorial Courts (Selden Soc.), 93, and see also Ramsey Cart. I, 344, where a peasant holding two virgates has, inter alia, got possession of thirteen strips formerly belonging to four other peasants.

3 E.g. Hales Rolls, 305–6.

4 Alphabet of Tales (E.E.T.S.), 31.

VILLAGE BY-LAWS

49

agreement often meant no more than the sanction given by

old-established custom. Often a path ran from one point to

another because it had always done so, or the occupant of one

holding knew that for as long as the oldest memory could look

back that particular holding could not be ploughed till every one

else had finished, and passed with their ploughs and teams across

his particular strip for the last time. Common sense and give

and take were at the back of such arrangements, which led in the

course of time to the more formal common agreements which

were enacted by the peasants in concert, and enrolled at the

lord's court so as to give them permanent and added prestige.

Mr W. O. Ault has investigated these "village by-laws", one of

which may serve as an example: "No-one", says the Halton

(Bucks) by-law of 1329, "shall have egress from his close over

another man's land; and if his egress be over his own land he

shall save his neighbour harmless" (i.e. he shall do no harm to

his neighbour's property). Or again, in the same list: "No one

shall make paths to his neighbour's damage by walking or driving

[his beasts] or by carrying grain, be it by night or by other

time."1 Offenders against these by-laws were brought before the

Manor Court and fined.2 Nevertheless, Mr Ault agrees that the

more usual practice of the peasants was to rely on ancient custom,

and that by-laws and the use of the manorial machinery are a late

and comparatively rare occurrence.3

The most damning evidence of the inefficiency of the common-

field method of agriculture comes from modern observers, for

their accounts are of conditions still obtaining, despite much that

has been done for the improvement of crops since the fourteenth

century. Mr G. H. Fowler writes, "I once saw an open field at

harvest-time: on the whole the foulest land under a crop which

I ever saw",4 and the accounts given by English investigators of

the conditions of common-field farming in parts of Germany, in

1870, disclose a frightful state of affairs.5

Such a system was so patently difficult to work that every here

and there we find men sufficiently wideawake to attempt reform,

and this clearly could most easily—and most effectively—be

1 E.H.R. xlv, 212 ff.

2 Ibid. 220–1.

3 Cf. Vinogradoff, Growth of the Manor, 184.

4 Catalogue of Maps (Bedford County MSS.), ed. G. H. Fowler, 7 n. 2.

5 See, for example, Land Tenure Reports, 306, 386, 436, etc.

B L

4

50

THE MANOR

brought about by the consolidation of holdings. If a man could

reduce his strips from sixty to thirty he had obviously saved

himself considerable time and labour in getting from one place

to another. This is what Maurice II, Lord Berkeley, attempted

to bring about by exchanging strips whenever he could so as to

consolidate his holdings, and to get them all closer to his manor

houses. His biographer writes, "also other husbandry was

laboured by this prudent lord, whereby he drew much profit to

his tenants and increase of rents, etc., to himself, which was by

making and procuring to be made exchange of lands mutually

with one another, thereby casting convenient parcels together".1

But we cannot fail to note that the whole tenour of this passage is

to emphasise the unusual nature of Lord Berkeley's prudence;

and indeed, far from consolidation of holdings becoming at all

common, we have evidence to show that the contrary was often

true, at least in the east of England, and that in the course of

time, division and subdivision took place to an amazing extent.

For instance, an inquisition of Edward I's time shows that there

were no less than 35 joint tenures among the villani of Ashfield

Magna, consisting of groups of from two to seven holders.2

This was, no doubt, the result of division among the peasant's

children and relatives that went on continuously, and the results

of such a process on one manor have been worked out in great

detail by Mr William Hudson, who showed that on the Norfolk

manor of Martham the 68 tenants of Domesday time had in-

creased by 1201 to 107—a not unnatural growth—but, quite

unexpectedly, subdivision had progressed so enormously that

the land formerly held by the 68 had been split up into no less

than 935 holdings in some 2000 separate strips. A further

extremely interesting piece of detective work on his part has en-

abled him to show how one six-acre block—once two tofts—

had been split up among ten tenants, so that several of them had

only a few perches which they could call their own, and there

could have been "but one way of distribution. The total number

of sheaves of (say) barley would be divided proportionally

according to the size of each tenant's holding and the due number

1 Smyth, Lives of the Berkeleys, I, 141, 160. Cf. Ramsey Cart. I, 344;

Levett, op. cit. 52.

2 Powell, Suffolk Hundred in 1283, 76.

handed to him or her".1 However doubtful we may feel of the

practice of communal agricultural operations, such minute

holdings as these force us to imagine some such method. Often.

the sharers were linked by marriage or other ties, so that the

difficulties were minimised, but the division of labour and of

proceeds inevitably led to friction and family feuds.

Besides his strips in the common fields the peasant had other

land. About his house he usually had a small "close" (i.e. an

enclosure) in which he grew such vegetables and fruits as were

possible at that time. We shall see more of this in later chapters,

and need do no more than to record it here. But, besides this

close, many peasants had still other plots of ground they culti-

vated as a private matter. These were usually on the outskirts of

the manor and were originally rough uncultivated waste, or land

often bordering on the forest edge. A small yearly rent gave

permission to break in a patch of some few acres of such virgin

soil, and many peasants eked out their scanty livelihood by such

a holding, technically called an "assart". For a family burdened

with more children than their shares in the common fields would

warrant such assart land was a godsend. Here they could utilise

their spare labour, and produce something to help fill the many

hungry mouths at home. Furthermore, the land was cultivated in

their own way. On the common fields, of necessity, the whole

community acted in common. The animals which had pastured

on the stubble throughout the winter were driven away upon a

certain day, which was agreed upon by the peasants, or deter-

mined by immemorial custom.2 Then there followed the plough-

ing, and the sowing of the crop for the year, and in all this there

was but little room for any individual choice. The peasant was

chained down to a routine that was, seemingly, unbreakable. On

his assarted land, however, he was his own master, and could

grow how and what he liked. Against this advantage we must

set certain drawbacks: his "assart" was frequently at the edge of

the manor, and was land not yet broken into cultivation, so that

it required constant hard work to reclaim it from the forest or

heath that was ever in wait to snatch it back again. Nor did

1 Hist. Teachers' Misc. i, 165ff.; Norf. Arch. xx, 179ff. See also many

examples of subdivision in Univ. Lib. Camb. MSS. Kk. v. 29.

2 See Durham Halmote Rolls, 41.

4-2

52

THE MANOR

the possession of an “assart” carry with it any communal

privileges such as went with the strips in the common fields. It

did not give a man the right to put any extra beasts on the

common, nor was the yearly rent relaxed on it when its holder

served as reeve and all his other manorial services and dues were

relaxed or diminished. His assart was an extra, and had to bear

its own burdens.1

We cannot expect to know much in detail about the piecemeal

parcelling out of small portions of the waste for assarts.2 Some-

times they were granted by the lord for a fixed rent; sometimes

the land was just seized by the peasant and cultivated, and when

he was found out he accepted the fine imposed on him as an

additional charge for his new holding.3 However it was done,

assarting went on continuously: we read of “old assarts” and

“new assarts”, and every cartulary reminds us of their existence.4

But we have nothing to tell us what persuaded lords of manors to

allow of their cultivation. We may perhaps guess with some de-

gree of certainty that assarting within limits was acceptable to

the lord: it provided him with a yearly rent, and it broke up

virgin soil that hitherto had been unremunerative. He naturally

objected if land was taken without his knowledge and consent,

but otherwise must often have found it a solution for those of his

tenants whose families had grown too numerous for their original

holding.5

Although, as we have seen, our information is mainly frag-

mentary, yet here and there a more connected account of what

was happening is available, and may serve as an example of how

assarts were being carved out of the waste of innumerable

English manors. Let us take as an example what was happening

in the great Forest of the Peak of Derbyshire. We must re-

member that the technical medieval term “forest” was not

confined to a densely wooded domain, but included much open

waste country suitable for agriculture. Throughout the centuries

1

V.C.H. Berks, II, 183. The author of this article draws attention to the

comparative lowness of assart rents. This we may confirm by a study of

Eynsham Cart. II, xxxiii-xxxv. See also Villainage, 333.

2

See Growth of Manor, 170–73.

3

See, for example, Wakefield Rolls, I, 149 ; II, 53 ; III, 147, 152, 157.

4

D.S.P. 8; Ramsey Cart. I, 342; II, 90, 296, 297; Worc. Priory Reg.

12a; Early Yorks Charters, passim, etc.

5

See p. 66.

ASSARTING

53

after the Conquest, the dwellers on the fringes of the great area

preserved for the King in Derbyshire were nibbling away acres

here and there, and bringing them into cultivation. Since this

was mainly without permission, whenever the Court of the Forest

was held such offences had to be presented, and thus it is that

we find out what was going on. The evidence fills many pages

when extracted from the Rolls, and only a few examples can be

given here. In one area (Hayfield) during the first twenty-six

years of Henry III's reign some 140 acres in various small

parcels had been taken into cultivation, while at Combes in the

first eleven years 160 acres had been occupied by some twenty

men. Or again, during a brief period the abbots of Basingwork,

who had rights in the forest, had assarted no less than 291 acres

in various places.1 All these encroachments on the King's rights

were presented to his officials, and we may well wonder what

was happening on the manors of lesser lords when this could

happen on the King's demesnes, and with the terrors of the

Forest Law hanging over the wrongdoers.

Another form of forest encroachment was called "purpres-

ture", a term difficult to define because it was somewhat dif-

ferently applied to different forests. More usually, as was the

case at this eyre (1251), it signified the building of a house or

homestead within the forest bounds. Since the last pleas of 1216

one hundred and thirty-one persons had built new houses with-

out warrant, and were therefore in mercy, and liable to fines. In

almost a like number of cases, namely one hundred and twenty-

seven, new houses had been raised in the King's demesnes with

the license of the bailiff.2

If we turn from a forest area to a less highly protected part of

the country we see much the same was happening there. The

detailed researches of Mr H. J. Hewitt on medieval Cheshire

have shown how much was being done there in the twelfth and

thirteenth centuries. He writes:

An increasing population had already necessitated some enlarge-

ment of the bounds of cultivation, and throughout the period under

consideration the work of reclamation was being gradually pushed

forward. The work proceeded slowly and laboriously, and some of it

1 J. P. Yeatman, Feudal History of Derbyshire, III, 237ff.

2 V.C.H. Derby, II, 403. For detailed evidence, see Yeatman, op. cit.

54

THE MANOR

would, of course, escape mention in any document. Yet the “Forest Rolls and Rentals” of the period afford abundant evidence of assarting, -new ploughing and enclosing in many parts of the county and especially in Wirral.1

Mr Hewitt goes on to show with a great deal of detail “how in all parts of the county the work of enlarging the cultivated area was making gradual progress”. Again, the more recent work of Mr T. A. M. Bishop shows with beautiful clarity how parts of Yorkshire were brought into cultivation, and turned from waste into useful and integral parts of the near-by villages.2

While on the King's forest and in some places progress was comparatively slow, since it proceeded in defiance of the lord's rights, on many manors the lord was willing to allow assarting, and something like a considered scheme of development was possible. Miss Neilson, in her introduction to the Bilsington Cartulary,3 has shown this in detail for the manors of the Arch-bishop of Canterbury and other ecclesiastical bodies which lay in Romney Marsh. Sometimes the tenant had to win back and protect the land he was assarting from the sea; sometimes the lord had already built a sea-wall, in which case heavier rents or services were demanded of the incoming tenant. But in either case there seems to have been a definite policy: “land grants permitting the inning [assarting] of land were made in gavelkind; the holds were often of uniform size in a given marsh, and were burdened with the defence of walls and waterways, according to the law and custom of the marsh. The tenements so gained were subject sometimes to strict regulations with regard to improvement, the tenant being required to build on them, unless he already had a house in the vill to which the marsh belonged.”4

Further research may show that other lords had similar schemes for developing their lands. We constantly hear, for example, of permission being given by the King to lords to include considerable areas within their domains. These, however, were not necessarily part of the manor since they formed part of the great empty wastes that lay between one village and another, but before we turn to them we must look nearer home at the peasant's other lands-the meadows and commons.

1 Mediaeval Cheshire, 10.

2 E.H.R. xlix, 386, and the Econ. Hist. Rev. VI, 10.

3 Op. cit. passim.

4 Op. cit. 53 ff.

THE MEADOWS

First, the meadows. These lay near the village, and generally adjacent to the great open fields, but unlike them were fenced about or protected by a ditch. The Lammas lands, as they are often called, were a vital part of the village economy, and were carefully enclosed soon after Christmas until the crop had been taken off them in the summer.1 They were under the special protection of the hayward, whose job it was to see the fences were not broken down, or that the villagers' cattle did not get into the growing grass, to impound straying animals and to present their owners as offenders at the Manor Court.2 The meadows, like the other fields, were held in common, and each man had his portion allocated to him, either by a system of rotation or by the drawing of lots. Unfortunately, no early account of this custom appears to have survived, although we constantly read of the "lot-meadows", and hear of the sale of lands "lying at Middel dole as the lot geuyth", and so on.3 The custom itself, however, survived to within living memory, and we have a number of detailed accounts of the way in which the meadows were divided. In most cases it was by lot: either small pieces of stick were drawn out of a pocket, as in Sussex,4 or a number of apples with distinctive marks cut on them were distributed from a hat by a boy, as in Somerset,5 or pieces of wood were cut from an arrow and marked to correspond with the landmarks in the field, as in Northamptonshire.6

Imagine that the crop has been gathered. At once the meadows become common land once again. Both here and in the arable this principle applied, and was of the greatest importance. Of course the occupier alone had any right to the crop (whether of grain or of hay), but once that had been lifted the fields reverted to the whole community. This was a wellnigh inevitable consequence of the whole common-field arrangements, for any other system would have been unworkable. On the one hand let us

1 Generally this period was from Candlemas (2 Feb.) until Lammas (1 Aug.), but local custom varied these dates.

2 The term hayward comes from the Middle English, "haye=a hedge". For details concerning the hayward and the court, see p. 178.

3 See, for example, Godstow Cart. (E.E.T.S.), 220, 446, 447.

4 Sussex Arch. Soc. Coll. iv, 307.

5 Collinson, History of the Antiquities of Somerset, iii, 586.

6 Bridges, History of Northants, I, 219. See also Gomme, The Village Community, 268–71; Oxford Hist. Soc. xxiv, 308–11.

56

THE MANOR

suppose each man had enclosed his own strip of arable, so that

when the time came he could have put his own cattle to graze on

its stubble, and could have excluded those of other men. At once

great difficulties would have arisen: he could not have got his

plough or carts on to his own strips because of his fences and

those of others, nor could he have had room to turn his plough

or harrow without wasting much of his land. On the other hand,

in a field without any enclosures, to have kept one's own cattle

strictly to one narrow strip, and to have prevented them from

straying would have been almost beyond a man's power, and at

best would have led to all kinds of disputes. "Right of com-

mon", therefore, as it was called, was one of the most valued of

the peasant's rights, and allowed him to make use, not only of the

uncultivated pastures which were specially assigned to that use-

the "commons" of popular speech—and of the "wastes" which

stretched away on every side, but also of the open arable fields

and of the meadows as soon as they were cleared.

The value of the arable and the meadows to the peasant once

they were thrown open was considerable. We are apt to think of

the manorial flocks and herds as roaming only on the "com-

mons" and the waste, but this is to disregard those lands more

centrally placed in the village, and open, at the least, for several

months of the year to all comers. The meadows, as we have seen,

were available throughout the autumn and part of the winter,

and must have afforded much welcome feeding for men's cattle.

The arable also was not neglected. If the two-field system was in

vogue there was always a considerable part of the arable available

for the herds, and even under the three-field system a good deal

of land was open for such purposes. And, although technically

it was "empty", there was much feeding to be obtained, first

from the stubble and afterwards from such small plants and

weeds as rapidly springing up on any uncultivated plot of land. The

"empty" lands were a considerable asset to the peasant through-

out the year, for always some part of the open fields was at his

disposal. In general, every one who had the right turned their

beasts loose, with those of their neighbours, to crop what they

could both here and in the meadows.

Closely connected with the manorial economy were the com-

mons and open spaces—"the wastes" as they were frequently

termed—of the vill. No completely satisfactory interpretation of

their early history has yet been formulated; but, whatever may be

the tangled legal theory that lies behind them, we may begin by,

noting that "right of common" was vital to the villager. He

relied on pasture to keep his plough beasts in good condition,

and therefore "common of pasture" was what he most tena-

ciously clung to. This was not an unlimited right, but was con-

trolled by the number of acres he held in the common fields;

and further, only those who had cattle levant e couchant en le

maner could claim even this limited use. And since the whole

object of common was to support and sustain the manorial agri-

cultural routine only those animals thus directly engaged were

"commonable", viz. horses and oxen for the plough, and sheep

and cows for manuring. Other common rights, apparently of

later date, treated by some writers as "common appurtenant",

allowed the villager to pasture his goats, swine and geese on the

waste, and were extended so as to include those who had no

holding in the common fields, but had only a close or an assart

which they held of the lord.

The gradual assarting of land, as we have seen, meant the

enclosure of pieces of the waste for the individual use of some

one person, and this obviously meant that there was that much

land less for the common use of the vill. Now as long as the

waste was large, and not overcharged by the number of cattle

put on it, no difficulties or hardship arose. But as soon as the

licences to assart became too numerous, then the tenants found

themselves deprived of "sufficient pasture", and the lords' actions

had to be restricted. The Statute of Merton (1235) laid it down

that the lord was to leave "sufficient pasture" for his free

tenants according to their holdings. But this was not satisfactory :

it made no attempt to define what was "sufficient pasture"; it

did not touch the question of rights of neighbours to inter-

common, and it only legislated for free men, and therefore left

the main body of villagers unprotected. A second statute

(Westminster II, 1285) rectified this a little: it extended the

privilege of "sufficient pasture" to neighbours who had hitherto

inter-commoned, but did nothing else. There has been much

controversy as to what were the exact implications of these two

statutes, but "the better opinion of our books" suggests that

58

THE MANOR

once they were passed, the lord could enclose his common lands without any assent of the free tenants being necessary. This still left him "the custom of the manor" to deal with, and this was generally a powerful force.1 The "common assent" of the whole vill determined the dates at which various parts of the common should be open, or the number of cattle which each member of the manor might pasture thereon. Any infringement of these arrangements caused instant trouble and litigation. Nevertheless, after these two statutes came into force, the lords gradually exercised more and more pressure, and the peasants were slowly deprived of their sometime powers and privileges.

Where the commons merged into the wastes would be difficult to say. Some manors had only a limited amount of common strictly reserved for its own members, but in many parts of the country there were large tracts of waste lying between one vill and another. They were no-man's-land, and frequently so vast in extent that no very clear delimitation of ownership had ever been made.2 The vills surrounding them inter-commoned thereon at will. Such, for example, was the waste in the district of Whalley, where some 36,000 acres were used as pasture and woodland by various vills, and only 3500 acres were cultivated as arable.3 The waste of the New Forest was calculated at about 60,000 acres and fringed upon some twenty-one vills; that of Ashdown contained nearly 14,000 acres, and being Crown land formed part of no manor. Epping Forest contained about 6000 acres and extended into seventeen manors, and so the list might be continued.4

These vast stretches of waste were utilised by all those vills which were near enough to do so and their rights run back into time immemorial. These vills inter-commoned in the waste in groups roughly determined by their geographical position. To take an example: Miss Neilson, in her introduction to A Terrier of Fleet, has analysed with great care the arrangements made in

1 See, for example, A Terrier of Fleet (ed. N. Neilson), lxxviii, and also below, p. 100, for a discussion of the force of custom.

2 See, for example, Bracton's Note Book, Case 1194, where the jury say a certain piece of waste "ampla est et magna, et nescitunt aliquas divisas quantum pertinet ad unam villam quantum ad aliam".

3 Whitaker, Whalley, I, 233.

4 Dartmoor Preservation Association, I, xxviii.

the Fens for inter-commoning, and has shown clearly how far back in time these arrangements had existed. Any attempt to partition the wastes, on the theory that the waste was the lord's, led to trouble, and to a claim that the vill had inter-commoned thereon from time out of mind, with the other vills of the group, and that the waste was held pro indiviso by them.1

One important fact should be emphasised. So far we have been mainly thinking of the wastes as an auxiliary means of helping to maintain their stock, but there is also the possibility that they were far more than that. It may well be that future detailed investigation will show that a considerable number of peasants were mainly dependent on these wastes for their means of livelihood. At Rossendale, in Lancashire, for example, we are told that "Facilities of common in this district were not so much the complement of a holding, as an extension of the chief means the tenement provided of earning a livelihood".2 In neighbourhoods such as this, where the soil and climate were unfavourable to arable farming, a more pastoral type of farming was a necessity. Not only this: every manor had a number of inhabitants who had but little share in the common fields (and hence in the commons), and who were therefore forced to pasture their beasts in the adjoining wastes.3

The waste was much more than extra or even a main pasturage. To it the peasant looked for a hundred other things essential to his daily life. To begin with, it provided him with wood—a primary requisite. His house, his farm implements, and his household utensils were all mainly made of wood. He relied on it almost entirely for fuel. Hence his rights of house-bote, and haye-bote and of fire-bote were of great importance to him. These varied in details from manor to manor, but commonly the peasant was allowed to take what wood he could get "by hook or by crook"—that is to say, such timber as he could knock off, or pull down from standing trees. Then again, he was often allowed to cut so many trees a year for repairs to his house, and implements and hedges, or to take undergrowth, or loppings, or

1 Terrier of Fleet, p. 1.

2 G. H. Tupling, Econ. Hist. Rossendale, 98.

3 For a full discussion of the position and importance of such people, see p. 65.

60

THE MANOR

any dead wood lying about on the ground.1 In areas where the waste was large and under little control, he obviously had even

greater opportunities to take what he would.

Many other things were available: for example, turves were cut in immense numbers. Some of these were used for roofing

sheds or for making up balks; some were dried and used for fuel. Clay was dug for use in mill dams or for dikes; sand and

gravel were excavated for building purposes. Bracken was cut and used for litter; the sedges of the fens and ponds were much

sought after for thatching. Wild fruits and berries were gathered for the kitchen, and on every side the peasants found something

of value which would help them in their struggle to live.

This, then, was the peasant's world. Naturally conditions varied throughout England. Some villagers had but little

"waste" at their disposal, others had unlimited areas: in some parts the meadows were rich and provided ample crops, in others

they yielded but poorly, and so on. The reader must constantly bear this in mind: it is one of the inevitable drawbacks of a

general picture that it fails to show individual details and interesting variations. We must be on our guard against imagining too

great a uniformity: on the other hand we need not let this reduce us to a pessimistic belief that no general account of the medieval

manor and its occupants is possible. It is possible if only we will bear these conditioning factors clearly in mind.

1 See, for example, Yorks Inquis. I, 28 (Pickering Forest, 1251); Ramsey Cart. I, 307 (1251); Cust. Rents, 83.

The

Manorial

Population

CHAPTER III

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

Now that we have considered the very complicated web within which the medieval peasant lived and moved and had his being we may turn to the man himself. And first, in thinking of the manorial population, we must be careful to differentiate between the many grades that even this humble society comprised. We are apt to rest content with the lawyer's easy division of free and serf; but, while this is an obvious difference which needs no labouring here, it is necessary to insist again that, if we pay overmuch attention to such a classification, we shall be ignoring equally important considerations of an economic rather than of a juridical nature. We must think of the manorial population as a body of people whose material circumstances were of the most varied nature. A man might well be a free man and yet possess only a mere two or three acres, and his only hope of keeping body and soul together was to find employment—probably on the holding of one of these despised villeins who had more land than he could work without help. True he could cease to work whenever it pleased him, with the knowledge that no one could compel him to return—until hunger drove him forth once again to seek his bread. But, in fact, it is clear that such men were no more free then than is the mill operative or the typist now: to throw down his tools may be the privilege of a free man, but it is one he but sparingly uses if he is prudent.

Even if we omit any question of free or serf, a glance at any cartulary shows us that there were many subdivisions, even among the servile population. First, we have the aristocracy, as it were, of the peasantry: men holding 30 or sometimes 60 acres in the common fields, followed by others holding only half this “full land” of 30 acres. Others again have to be content with “fardels” or “furlongs” of 10 or 15 acres, and below them come the cottars, and crofters, and “pytel-holders” who eke out an existence as best they can, for their land is only an acre or two, or sometimes only the bare croft or garden about their little

64

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

house.1 It is obvious that the 30-acre holder who owes his lord

manifold rents and services is in a different category from the

holder of some miserable pitel, who perhaps renders a couple of

hens once a year, or does a day's work at harvest as the sole pay-

ment required of him for his holding. Yet, in the Manor Court,

as in the King's Court, both are equal, and in certain circum-

stances, both are null: for both have the stain of serfdom upon

them, and may be called upon by their lord "to answer for their

villeinage as a villein ought".

The essential point to emphasise, however, is that so far as

the manor is concerned there was considerable differentiation

among the peasantry, and it is wrong to underestimate this. The

lord certainly did not. In his Manor Court he constantly em-

panelled certain men to act as a jury, and we find that these

generally included the large holders of the village. Again, it is

the large holders who have to find a plough of their own to work

on the lord's demesnes at certain seasons of the year: lesser

holders are allowed to come with a team made up by two, three

or more of them putting their resources together. Then again,

at harvest, the greater tenants are forced to act as overseers to

the rest of their fellows, and ride or walk about with white wands of

office in their hands.2 They provide carts and horses for carrying

services, and generally are used by the lord in proportion to their

holding and equipment. So with lesser men, according to their

capacities, until we reach a level at which the agricultural tools

the man has at his disposal are confined to spade, hoe, mallet and

the like. This indeed is a dividing line in the village, for now we

are dealing with the "poor labourers who live by their hands",3

1 There seems to be little need to linger over the differences between

cottars, crofters and other lesser holders. They were all of the same class:

perhaps the cottars held rather larger pieces of land, and therefore were called

on to render greater services. The medieval clerks did not discriminate very

clearly. In the Ramsey Cart. (I, 397) some men are described as holding

crofts, but a few lines later they are called cottars. Cf. I, 489 ("viginti

quatuor cottarii, quorum quidam tenent croftas, quidam curtilagia", etc.);

Vinogradoff, Villeinage, 148: "The constant denomination for those who have

no part in the common arable fields, but who only hold crofts, or small plots

with their homesteads, is cotters"; and cf. p. 256. A special note, perhaps,

should be made of the Lundinarii, men who are bound to work for the lord on

one day a week (generally Monday) throughout the whole year.

2 Mon. Exon. 352 b; Ramsey Cart. I, 309, 311; II, 47; Eynsham Cart. II, 8

and 29, etc.

3 Inquis. Nonarum, 13 a.

THE SMALL HOLDERS

65

and whose small holdings are quite insufficient to keep them, however intensively they are cultivated. These men are the "undermanni", the "crofters" and the like, and their history is as important as it is difficult to unravel.

Many years ago Vinogradoff drew attention to "the remarkable history of the small tenants", and added that this had "hardly been appreciated rightly by modern scholars". The years that have intervened since this was written have left the position but little changed. Mr Lipson in his Economic History of England has devoted some attention to the problem, but little else seems to have been done, although some writers in the Victoria County Histories have shown themselves aware of the importance of the small tenant in the manorial economy. Such neglect is the more surprising, for it seems clear that we shall not understand the daily life of the medieval village with any clarity all the while we ignore this section of its population.

Naturally the number and importance of these small tenants varied from manor to manor, but everywhere they were to be found working as an essential part of the manorial organisation.

Modern scholars, however, may plead in justification that these men were equally neglected by their contemporaries. The clerks, who drew up the medieval extents and customals, spent but little time on such small fry. They held but small parcels of land—five acres seem to have been a common maximum, and often a beggarly two or three acres, or even a toft, is all the stake they have in a manor.1 Hence the payments and services they were called upon to render were commensurately small, and the customals rapidly recite their meagre commitments in a few words after they have dealt with the greater tenants. All this is clear enough: small tenants, small services—but what is not so clear (because it was no business of the lord's clerks to make it so) is how these men managed to exist. Their holdings, in themselves, were insufficient to support them—even five acres, it is certain, could not do so—and they had to find other means of support. Hence their importance: they provided that pool of free or semi-free labour which was constantly available to all who could afford to pay for it by one means or another.

1 Econ. Hist. Rev. vol. v, No. 2, p 37 n. 1, gives an excellent analysis of the average size of villein holdings in Cambridgeshire Manors.

B L

5

66

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

virgater with no children, the widow left with a young family,

the holder of land burdened with difficult or onerous services—

all these, as well as the lord himself, whose demesne lands cried

out for daily, as also for seasonal labour, were ready enough to

make use of the small tenant; and without his presence life on the

medieval manor would have been very much more difficult 1.

These smaller tenants steadily grew in number as lords allowed

more and more new land to be assarted, or as new-comers to the

manor were given an odd corner here for a small money rent, or a

pytel there in exchange for a few minor services.2 Little by little

we may imagine the growth of a body of men standing almost

apart from the rigid compulsions of communal ploughings and

other works,3 as well as the presence in the countryside of those

who had the fortune to live on manors where labour services

were small or non-existent.4 Their lack of shares in the common

fields, which was part of their lot, also left them freer than

many of their fellows, and this freedom they used in many ways.

Some of them found a livelihood by supplying needs which their

neighbours had but little time to fulfil for themselves: they be-

came the village carpenters, or smiths, or weavers, or miller’s

assistants, and so on. For example, on the Bishop of Chichester’s

manor of Amberley, in Sussex, as well as the great tenants, who

held virgates and the like, we find Benet Smith (Faber) who holds

only “four acres belonging to the smithy”, and in return for this

his duties and obligations are as follows: “He shall mend with

the lord’s iron all the iron-gear belonging to two ploughs, but

do nothing new. He shall shoe two horses, and the sergeant’s

horses with the lord’s iron, and receive nothing….He shall

grind all the scythes used in the lord’s meadows, and all the

shears while they shear the lord’s sheep”, etc.5

Another small tenant, Alexander Carpenter, held only a house

and half an acre, and for this he paid but sixpence a year. His

living was evidently made by means of his craft, for every village

1 Lipson, op. cit. 44, 45; Medieval East Anglia, 121 n. 3; V.C.H. Berks, 11,

182; Herts, 1v, 184, 190; Page, op. cit. 39.

2 See, for example, V.C.H. Durham, 11, 209; Hatfield’s Survey (Surtees

Soc.), 32.

3 Neilson, Ramsey, 27 ff.; Page, op. cit. 41.

4 Econ. Hist. Rev. vol. v, No. 2, passim.

5 Sussex Rec. Soc. XXXI, 48; cf. 37, 75, 82, 92.

VILLAGE NAMES

67

found plenty of work for a skilled man who could repair and

build the ploughs, carts, harrows and other agricultural imple-

ments, as well as oversee, and carry out the more difficult pieces

of joinery needed for the medieval house. Contemporary account-

rolls almost universally contain entries of payments made to both

the smith and the carpenter for work of this kind.1 Similarly,

on these Sussex manors, we find many other small holders who

were of some consequence to the easy working of the village. We

have Robert of the Mill, holding three acres about the mill as

well as one acre he has assarted, for which he makes an annual

cash payment, but also has to attend the harvest boon work as

one of the officials.2 Such names among these smaller men as

Robert Mason (cementarius), Adam Baker (pistor) or Geoffrey

Weaver (textor) are indicative of the way in which these men

found a living for themselves.3

These detailed accounts of the conditions on one or two

manors are confirmed by a recent extensive examination of the

Hundred Rolls.

Names and nicknames of the villagers suggest that they did not all

live on the yield of the land (writes Professor Kosminsky). Crafts con-

nected with the manufacture of textiles are indicated by such names as

Draper, Comber, Fuller, Napper, Cissor, Parmentarius, Tailur,

Tinclor, Textor, Textrix; with metal-work, by such names as Faber,

Ironmonger, le Ferrour; with leatherwork, by such names as Tannur,

Sulor, Corduarius; with woodwork, building and carpentry, by

such names as Carpentarius, Couper, Cementarius, Masun, Pictor;

or with food-production, by names such as Cornificus, Cocus,

Braciator, Baker, Pistor, Espicer….Rural pursuits other than agri-

cultural are indicated by such names as Bercarius, Gardiner, Grazier,

Porker, Vaccarius, Piscator, Venator. Of course, not every Taylor

engaged in tailoring, and not every Cooper made vats.4

Nevertheless these names are indicative of the occupations which

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 100; Neilson, Ramsey, 79.

2 Ibid. xxxi, 65; cf. 21, 38.

3 Ibid. xxxi, 38, 97; cf. Knoop and Jones, The Medieval Mason, 107, 108.

A great deal of evidence on these lines is available in any of the Cartularies or

Rentals. See, for example, Glastonbury Rentalia, 34 (R. Carpentarius holds

only two acres of assarted land); 93 (R. Taillur, J. Textor and W. Pistor all

have small holdings and few duties). Ramsey Cart. I, 329 (Smith and

Carpenter); 351 (Carpenter); 391 (Cooper and Carpenter) etc.

4 Kosminsky, “The Hundred Rolls of 1279-80”, Econ. Hist. Rev. vol. III,

No. 1, p. 36. Or see for one occupation only the wide distribution of bakers

in Worc. Hist. Soc. Collectanea, 1912.

5-2

68

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

were an inseparable part of country life, and which constantly

absorbed a portion of the manorial surplus population.

Not only this : these men, as well as providing necessary services

for their fellows within the village, were also among those who

most easily got free from the manorial organisation. As we have

seen, they were burdened with but small duties, and it was com-

paratively easy for them to get the lord to commute their work

for a money payment.1 This left them almost free, and we should

be wrong not to consider the great if indirect effect this had in

stimulating their neighbours to approximate to their status. 'The

virgater with a multitude of claims upon him must frequently

have sighed for the comparative freedom of the little man, who

held only a few acres, it is true, but who could do what he wished

in his own time and in his own way. We must not press this too

far : the virgater frequently enough found his family could easily

divide up among them the duties their holding imposed, and

still leave plenty of time for their own strips and crofts; but,

nevertheless, this was a freedom attaching to many of these

small tenants that must have given some virgaters cause for

reflection.

Their comparative freedom will be seen when it is realised

that, once they had done the limited amount of work their little

holding imposed upon them, they could turn their attention from

one master or occupation to another more easily than could the

greater tenants. They were able, therefore, to make experiments

in crop production, or to cultivate their small holdings in ways

impossible to the virgaters who were bound by age-long custom

and the necessity for co-operative work at frequent intervals.

Hence, we may with some justice think of this section of the

medieval villagers as being far more important in several ways

than at first sight might appear to be the case.

We must also note how the gradual spread of a desire to com-

mute works for money payments increased the need for such

men as these. The more the lord allowed his tenants to buy their

freedom from week or boon works, the more necessary it was that

he should be able to command a steady supply of labour for his

various needs. This he would have found it very much more diffi-

cult to do unless there had already existed on his manor, or

1 See e.g. Neilson, Ramsey, 26, 28.

MANORIAL FLUX AND CHANGE

69

near by, a number of men whose comparative freedom from the

incessant cares of husbandry left them leisure to "live by their

hands" in serving whosoever cared to employ them.1

On these manors where money rents were predominant, and

services few or nil, much the same state of affairs prevailed. Small

holders could not exist on their own few acres; they were forced

to seek work wherever it could be found, and obviously it could

be found on the acres of larger holders. Free or serf, the land

had to be cultivated, and the labour came from the multitude of

small tenants and their sons who formed part of every manor.

One further point must be considered. We must always re-

vealed in the extents and customals there was a constant state

of flux and change on the manor. The extent was concerned

almost solely with the holding: the individual units of father,

mother, children and other relatives which each holding might

be supporting were of comparatively minor importance from

this point of view. But, as we may easily imagine, a man who

had only a small part in the common fields and yet was burdened

with a large family was forced to do what he could to provide an

outlet for them. Hence we find him purchasing assarts, or taking

over extra cots and plots within the vill so as to accommodate his

numerous progeny. In short, a constant movement was going on

between the various sections of the manorial tenantry: some were

leaving their father's home to start a life for themselves in some

empty house and toft, or were prepared to build one on the

assart clearing at the edge of the village. Others again were

turning to seek a living by labour connected with the normal

manorial arrangements: they engaged themselves as ploughmen,

or carters, or shepherds who served the lord all the year round in

return for a fixed wage, or they came to the aid of a fellow peasant

unable, or unwilling, to discharge the duties incumbent upon his

holding. The pressure of work at special seasons also called for a

body of workmen who could be recruited at harvest or other

times of stress, and who could aid the normal servants in a

multiplicity of ways which varied according to the special and

local needs of the many manors.

So far we have been stressing the differences between the

1 V.C.H. Berks, II, 175, 182; Herts, IV, 184; Dorset, II, 233.

70

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

greater and the lesser tenants. It remains to note wherein their

paths ran side by side. The lesser tenants, as we have seen, had

little or nothing to do with the communal cultivation of the

common fields. Nor had they any but the most insignificant of

shares in the common meadows, and therefore they were not

called on for plough and other services on the lord's demesne to

the same extent as were their fellows. But some return they had

to make for their holdings, and this return usually took the form

of a day's work from time to time at the lord's will. Since they

were not liable to perform the major works they were usually

turned on to the many odd jobs always waiting to be done. They

spread dung, or hedged, or ditched; they drove pigs and cattle

to and from market; they helped to repair walls and thatches, to

make new barns and pigstyes; to toss, and rake and collect the

hay; to bundle and stook and load the sheaves on to the wagons;

to winnow and thresh in the barns; to clear out the manor

buildings before the coming of the lord; to gather reeds or rushes,

or to plant potherbs or beans—these and a thousand other

things were their usual lot.

If any one duty more than another attached to them it was the

housing and guarding of thieves and prisoners awaiting judg-

ment. Sometimes they are ordered to house them in their own

homes for the time being as part of their duties, while at others

they are responsible for them in the village lock-up.1 They have

to produce them for judgment and to take them to higher courts

when required. When we recall how difficult it was for the king's

officers to keep men from breaking gaol, we may imagine the

troubles which beset a man charged with such a duty, with

nothing better than a fragile structure of lath and plaster to keep

his prisoner under arrest.

Another duty which commonly devolved on them was the

carrying of letters and writs. They are made responsible for

warning their fellows of the coming of the steward to hold a

court, or they carry writs within limited areas (generally within

the county).2 They go from one manor to another carrying

1 Ramsey Cart. I, 484; Yorks Inquis. I, 75; Worc. Priory Reg. 15 a, 66 b;

Suff. Inst. Arch. III, 244; Econ. Docs. (Tawney) 61; Banstead, 54; V.C.H.

Surrey, III, 29; Cal. Inquis. II, No. 443.

2 Econ. Docs. (Tawney) 63; Black Book St Augustine, 27, 28; Sussex Rec.

Soc. XXXI, 48, 114, 117, 120.

THE LIFE OF LABOUR

71

letters from the lord or his officials ; and, indeed, so long as it was

something that could be conveniently super dorsum they were

commonly pressed into service. If the journey should be un-.

usually long they received a small payment, but otherwise it

merely counted as one of the duties they owed to the lord.1

We see then that the manorial population was a complex social

group. The comparatively easy circumstances of the larger

holders have to be set against the struggles of the undermanni, and

every manor was a world of change, and rising and falling for-

tunes-not at all the ordered static affair we read of in the ex-

tents. And this state of things was common whatever else varied.

It is true that in different parts of the country certain conditions

varied a great deal. For example, the men on many Yorkshire

manors were principally occupied in driving and tending their

sheep, while their brethren on more southern manors were

mainly engaged with plough, harrow and reap-hook. The life of

the peasant on the Lincolnshire fens was very different in some

ways from that of his fellow on the edge of the great Wealden

forest. The prevailing occupation of any area-agricultural or

pastoral-naturally made a great deal of difference as to how a

man spent his day; but, nevertheless, for our purpose, it is

sufficient that there rested on all these men, in their degree, the

curse pronounced on Adam: “ Cursed is the ground for thy

sake; in toil shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life ; thorns

also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee ; and thou shalt eat

of the herb of the field ; in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat

bread, till thou return unto the ground.”

It is with this in our minds that we may turn to study in some

detail the everyday life of the medieval peasant on whatever

manor he found himself, and in so doing we shall be deliberately

limiting ourselves to a certain extent, for we shall be forced to

ignore something of what was happening in many parts of

England where the manorial system had but partially and

sporadically obtained a hold. Recent investigations have con-

siderably modified the views of Seebohm and Vinogradoff con-

cerning the origin and development of the manor. They formed

their conclusions mainly from evidence taken from the centre of

1 Cust. Rents, 66; D.S.P. 27, 68; Ramsey Cart. I, 302; Sussex Rec. Soc.

xxxi, 20, 27, 36, 74, 82.

72

THE MANORIAL POPULATION

England, and from ecclesiastical estates, but were forced to see

that the conditions of the north and west would not fit into their

theory. As a result they propounded the view that commutation

took place more easily and at an earlier date in these areas than

in the south. They also are mainly responsible for the theory that

the peasantry was considerably depressed in status after the

Conquest, and that many who were free became serfs. We are

no longer able to accept these views in their entirety, for the

researches of Professor Stenton, Mr Jolliffe and Mr Douglas

alone have made it clear that in large areas "the typical manor"

never became at all common. Professor Kosminsky writes:1

Stenton's researches have shown that in the Northern Danelaw

(East Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Lin-

colnshire and Rutland) the typical manor, with serfdom and labour

dues, was never a predominating institution. Gray's well-known

work, English Field Systems (1915), revealed the existence in medieval

England of a whole variety of local field types, and thereby forces us to

consider the possibility of local variations in the structure and

organisation of rural institutions as well….Jolliffe's article further

subtracted from the area of the "typical" manor the extreme North

of England–Northumbria, which includes Lancashire, the Lothians

and the highlands of Yorkshire.

Then again there must be added the work done by Mr Douglas

in East Anglia, and in view of all this we are forced to realise the

truth of his contention2 that

the social history of this epoch must no longer concern itself with

"English Society in the Eleventh Century", but rather with a

number of diverse social structures varying greatly from district to

district….Research, therefore, is tending to become more localised

in its scope, and the interest and importance of this period is that

therein the Norman government is attempting to apply a uniform

feudal theory to the whole of England. This affected materially the

upper ranks of society throughout England, but, underneath, the

peasant substructure in each district long remained substantially

unchanged; and only slowly and imperfectly was it made to conform

to the new order.2

Our knowledge, therefore, of conditions on the land between

the time of the Conquest and the early thirteenth century is still

very fragmentary, and it would be rash to venture any wide

1 Econ. Hist. Rev. vol. v, No. 2, p. 28.

2 Feudal Documents, xviii, and cf. clxviii.

THE MANORIAL SYSTEM

73

generalisations, or to attempt to give any full-scale picture of what was happening to the peasant during that time. From the thirteenth century onwards, however, things are clearer. The Norman attempt to impose a feudal organisation has spent its force, and the manorial system is seen in its full flower. While we may no longer believe that the whole of England was manorialised almost completely—indeed we now know that some parts were never manorialised at all—yet the most recent studies, such as those of Professor Kosminsky, show that when all allowances are made, the manorial system had a very firm hold on large areas, especially in Central England.

1

It still remains true, therefore, that hundreds of thousands of men in twelfth- and thirteenth-century England were born to live and die in villages which were under the control of this or that lord, and that these men knew no other life than that conditioned by the enclosing web of the feudal manor.

Yet, while our main concern will be to follow the lives and fortunes of these manorial peasants, we shall in effect be describing the lives of many others as well. The serf had much in common with his free, or half-free brother. Both were engaged in agriculture and in the pastoral life, and both were subject to the routine such pursuits necessitate. Much of the time of both was spent in the fields and about their closes. Although we shall see how many things there were which separated them, we must never lose sight of the fact that, free or serf, they were engaged on similar tasks.

1 Econ. Hist. Rev. vol. v, No. 2, p. 44: “Although it is true that we can no longer regard the large estate with villeins and labour services as the ‘constituting cell’ of English society in the thirteenth century, such estates do, nevertheless, form an important section of economic life.”

The

Peasant's

Year

CHAPTER IV

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

LET us now turn to the actual day-to-day operations which medieval agriculture made necessary, and let us consider for convenience the task confronting a manorial peasant, who, as we have seen, had his strips in the common fields. In those parts of England where the two-field system prevailed he found himself working on one field during one year while the other field lay fallow, and the next year vice versa. In those areas where the three-field system was in vogue, one field was planted in the autumn with wheat (and perhaps rye) as its main crop, another with oats, vetches, or barley in the following spring, while the third field was fallow. The next year the fallow field was used for wheat, the first for oats, etc., while the second field rested. The third year completed the cycle, and in this elementary fashion men sought to keep their land fertile. It was a wellnigh impossible task, for the number of species they had at their command was very limited: wheat, oats, rye, barley, vetches, beans and peas were the main crops; roots and artificial grasses were unknown, so that any serious rotation of crops which would give the ground a chance to recover was impossible.

The peasants were even worse off than their lords in this respect, for not only had the lord the unrestricted right to the manure of his own herds, but he had also a jus faldæ—a right of folding all the manorial sheep (and sometimes all cattle) on his own lands. This privilege he sometimes was able to exercise for a limited period only, but on some manors he could exercise it throughout the year. The lord's shepherd, therefore, was expected to see to it that his master's fold was moved about from place to place on the demesne, and also to report any peasants who were so bold as to keep their sheep on their own holdings. The privilege to do this could be got only by a cash payment. Cattle markets and fairs were also a welcome aid in fertilising the ground, but here also the lord usually insisted that these

78

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

were held on his land, and even that the dung in the streets of

the vill should be reserved for his own use.1

All this evidence clearly indicates that medieval farmers under-

stood quite well the need for constant manuring, and yet at the

same time it was very difficult for the peasant to accomplish this

on his own holding. When we recall the slender resources which

were at his command and the reasons for his constant defeat are

obvious. First, as we have seen, the lord had the jus faldae.

Secondly we must bear in mind that the peasant could not keep

any large number of animals himself owing to the difficulty of

feeding them throughout the winter. He had great difficulty in

keeping the comparatively limited numbers he owned, and was

forced to feed them on what would now be considered very

scanty rations. The amount of manure, therefore, he could hope

for from animals fed in this way was limited. The peasant was

caught; he had neither the number of animals, the unrestricted

use of them, nor adequate fodder to produce the quantity of

manure that soil, cultivated under the medieval cropping system,

required if it were not to lose its productive power. He did what

he could: he worked to get his land manured, and even at times

went to the great labour of carrying marl or lime and treating his

land with this, but it was an uphill task.

Indeed, some writers have gone so far as to declare that the

soil was becoming exhausted in the thirteenth and fourteenth

centuries, and that the comparatively wretched crops which were

then produced were mainly occasioned by this. So far, however,

very little evidence of any value has been produced which would

suggest that the yield per acre was falling decade by decade, and

it is difficult to see on what grounds such a theory can be sup-

ported.2 Exhaustion would probably have shown itself much

earlier than this, for most of the common fields date back for

several centuries; and, again, the experiments at Rothamsted

seem to be strongly against the “exhaustion” theory. There for

nearly 100 years a plot has been sown with wheat and left with-

out manure. For the first 30 years the crop diminished rapidly,

but then seemed to reach a stationary condition, and has re-

1 Denton, op. cit. 152.

2 The case against the “exhaustion” theory has been best argued by

R. Lennard in the Econ. Journ.; March 1922, where the authorities for and

against this view are quoted and discussed.

THE FALLSOWS

79

mained at an average of about 12½ bushels for many years, "and will in the future diminish very slowly, if at all".1 Few medieval holdings could have been starved to a greater extent than this, and if the "exhaustion" theory is to be sustained it will require better evidence than has yet been produced in its support. The comparatively low yield of medieval cropping is sufficiently accounted for by the poor supply of manure, the lack of variety of crops and the inefficient methods of preparing the soil at the disposal of the medieval husbandman.

With these difficulties in mind let us assume that we are dealing with an energetic and reasonably successful peasant who has thirty acres under the three-field system, and follow him throughout the year as he works upon them. First, the ten acres of fallow. These present a comparatively simple problem. As we have seen, they form part of one of the common fields and are open to all to feed upon, and the peasants turn their cattle out upon them, in part to manure them, in part to graze upon the scanty vegetation that they supply, each acre of which should be sufficient to support two sheep at the very least.2 From time to time, however, preparations for the coming crop have to be made, and the field is ploughed on three occasions. April is a good time for this first ploughing, Walter of Henley tells us, for then the earth breaks up well, and it is good to do it again in a couple of months' time, taking care not to plough too deeply, but just sufficiently to destroy the thistles.3 After this it can be left until the autumn, and then in October it is ploughed for the last time before the winter corn is sown. This time the plough should go some two finger lengths deeper than before, "then the plough will find sure ground, and clear and free it from mud, and make fine and good ploughing".4

The other two fields, however, took up much of the peasant's time. In January he could do little upon them, save perhaps cart out manure or spread marl ready to be ploughed in as soon as the weather was suitable. These were his main means of

1 A. D. Hall, The Book of the Rothamsted Experiments (1905), 37, as quoted by Lennard.

2 Walter of Henley, 143.

3 Ibid. 11, 13. Fitzherbert advises two "stirrings": one in June and a second early in September.

4 Ibid. 15.

80

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

fertilising the soil and were most important. The straw of the

previous year's harvest was carefully saved, and was used in the

cowsheds and stables during the winter, and then piled up out-

side and mixed with earth, or even thrown in roads and paths for

a time.1 Before the drought of March it was carted on to the

fields, and ploughed into the earth;2 and so valuable was it

considered that we are told that the straw kept for this purpose

was worth half the price of the corn.3 The peasant, therefore,

did his best to have some of this precious manure ready for his

fields, even though his lord had exercised his rights of folding

his cattle for part of the year, and thus deprived him of part of

this most valuable fertiliser. Marl was less commonly used, and

it must have been an exceedingly laborious and slow business to

cart the large quantities required on to the land, break it up

sufficiently small and then spread it about.4

Ploughing in the early spring kept the peasant busy on his

strips, and once this was done, harrowing and then the sowing

of the spring corn (oats, barley) or the peas and beans followed.

Something has already been said about the problem of co-opera-

tion among the peasants, but a few more words may be added.

The plough was a comparatively light and simple affair, and in

many types of soil did not require a large plough team. 'There is

abundant evidence to show that it was possible to manage with

only a yoke of oxen or-pair of horses, and this, it is arguable (at

the least) is what many men did do. They had, or could assemble,

a plough with two beasts to pull it, and with this could quite

well plough their strips. It is true that the ploughing was not

very deep, but it was all the ploughs of those days could manage.

Once the ground was ready the seeds were sown. 'These were

brought on to the field in a sack, and then a quantity from this

was placed in a wooden basket or box slung round the sower's

neck, or tied round the waist. This box was called a seed-lip, or

hopper,5 and from it the sower took seed and scattered it abroad

1 Walter of Henley, 19, 20, 101.

2 Ibid. 20.

3 Ibid. 143. Cf. Sixth Report Hist. MSS. Commission, 598.

4 "Marle mendeth all manner of grounde, but it is costly." Fitzherbert,

Surveyenge, cap. 32.

5 Cf. Piers Plowman, B. vi, 63 :

"And hang myn hoper at myn hals in stede of a scrippe;

A bushel of bredcorne brynge me ther-inne."

AGRICULTURAL OPERATIONS

81

with a rhythmic movement of the body: "when as thou walkest

thy left foot be up, let thy right hand cast abroad—and when thy

right foot be up then fling from thy left hand."1 At other times

a kind of apron was worn instead of the seed-lip, and the seed

scattered from this. Peas and beans, on the other hand, were

"dibbled": a small hole was made with a pointed stick, and the

seeds at once dropped in2—a task which, as it seems, was usually

performed by women.

After the sowing came the harrow—"or els crowes, doves, and

other byrdes wyll eate and beare away the cornes"; else, as

Walter of Henley says, "to pull the corn into the hollow" which is

between the two ridges.3 The harrow was much as we know it

to-day, if we follow the illustration in the Luttrell Psalter. There

is pictured a solid cross-barred wooden frame with teeth pro-

jecting on its under side.4 It is drawn by a horse, and a boy

follows, scaring off the birds by the use of a sling and stones.5 No

doubt many peasant farmers could not afford so expensive a

thing, and made use of a rude bush-harrow, formed of black-

thorn or whitethorn which was dragged across the ground at the

tail of a horse, and served its purpose reasonably well.6 Some-

1 "But howe to sowe? Put thy pees in-to thy hopper, and take a brode

thonge of ledder, or of garthe-webbe of an elle longe, and fasten it to both

endes of the hoper, and put it over thy heed, lyke a leyshe; and stande in the

mydes of the lande, where the sacke lyethe, the whiche is mooste con-

veniente for the fyllynge of thy hopper, and set thy lefte foote before, and

take an handefull of pees: and whan thou takeste up thy ryghte foote, than

caste thy pees fro the all abrode; and whan thy lefte foot ryseth, than cast

them fro the." This extract from Fitzherbert's Book of Husbandry (1534 ed.),

§ 10, although some two centuries later than our period, no doubt embodies

long-standing country custom.

2 For illustrations see D. Hartley's Thomas Tusser, 57, 97, 130 and her

Life and Work of the People of England, Fourteenth Century, 24 e; Luttrell

Psalter, Pl. 93.

3 Walter of Henley, 15.

4 Ibid., Plate 94.

5 Cf. Rogers, Prices, I, 540: "In 1334 a sling is bought, to drive away the

birds, with which a boy is armed." In Joan Evans' Medieval France, 28,

is reproduced an illumination of the late fourteenth century, showing the

wooden harrow, and a man with bow and arrow dealing with the birds. For

other pictures see Hartley, Thomas Tusser (1931), 57, 95.

6 A. Neckham, De Utensilibus, 113; Rogers, Prices, I, 540. Thorold

Rogers was quite mistaken in saying (p. 16) "I find no trace of harrowing or

rolling," and again on p. 540: "We cannot conceive that an article like a

harrow could have escaped entry in the accounts had it been in use." There is,

for example, a hersiarius on the Glastonbury Manor of Longbridge (p. 139)

and harrowing is one of the most common of duties. See pp. 81, 87, 91, 96,

100, etc. Cf. Battle Customals, 53.

B L

6

82

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

times on hard clotted ground where the harrow could make but

little impression it was necessary for the peasant to break up the

. clods with wooden mallets, as they are seen to be doing in the

Luttrell Psalter.1

Once all this was finished the peasant's labours were not so

pressing, and he could turn to the many other secondary jobs

waiting to be done. If the land was heavy, draining operations

were constantly necessary and worth while; ditches wanted

digging out after the winter floods, and the good earth put on to

the land again; hedges and enclosures round the little home or

any private bit of enclosure required attention, and so on. Then,

as we have seen, it was time for the first ploughing of the fallow

field, and the busy activities in the garden where such vegetables

and fruits as were then available were grown.2

So the days went by with plenty to occupy men till the end of

May. The coming of June saw them making renewed efforts.

The haymaking called for all their strength : first, there were the

numerous compulsory days which they had to spend in getting

in the lord's hay; and, as well as this, there was their own crop

waiting in the enclosed meadows which had been carefully

guarded and reserved for this purpose since Christmas. The

mowers used a long scythe, not very different from that in

present use, the blade almost at right angles to the handle, and

perhaps a little shorter and broader than the modern scythe.3

With this they appear to have mowed not more than one acre in

a day.4

After the haymaking, the strips again called for much attention.

Thistles had to be uprooted, but this was not done before

St John's Day (June 24) as a country tradition asserted that

thistles cut before this would but multiply threefold.5 The fallow

ground was also ploughed up again to destroy weed—the

"second-stirring ", or rebinatium, as it was called in the books.

Hemp and flax were gathered by the good-wife, and dried before

being spun into yarn for thread, rope or linen yarn. Both of these

plants were pulled up by the roots, not cut like corn, and then

1 Ibid., Plate 94.

2 For the peasant's garden, see below, p. 232.

3 For illustrations see Joan Evans, Medieval France, 50, and Hartley,

Thomas Tusser, 77.

4 Wilts Arch. Mag. xxxii, 318.

5 Walter of Henley, 17.

PLATE

I

The

peasant

at

work

THE HARVEST

laid out on the ground to dry a little before being put into a convenient stream to rot away the fleshy part. This was vigorously rubbed away, and the remainder dried thoroughly, and then beaten so as to get the fibres clean and separate. Then it was ready to hang up in “strikes” to finish drying, before it was combed out and ready for the spinning-wheel.1 Meanwhile the men-folk were busy weeding in the two fields under cultivation; they used two long sticks, the one held in the left hand had a forked end, while the other had a small curved blade. With these they worked up and down their strips, cleaning the corn of dock and other weeds.2

With the coming of August the peasant’s activities reached their climax. Once again the demands made upon him by his lord were often very heavy. He had to appear in person again and again to gather in the lord’s crops—and, although he usually worked one or two days more a week from August to Michaelmas than at other times in the year, this was not enough, and he had to give several extra days of his time as a boon or gift to his lord. And further, he had to come with all his family: everyone able to work, save perhaps the housewife, was pressed into service for so many days. This made the getting-in of his own crops a more difficult and anxious matter, and work during these crucial weeks must have been wellnigh unending. The scythes were at work mowing down the barley, rye, oats, peas and beans, but the wheat was cut with a reap-hook or sickle as in recent times. The ear was cut off high up on the stalk leaving the straw standing. The author of Seneschaucie speaks of five people as making a team for this work, which suggests four to cut and one to bind. Men working thus, he says, can gather some two acres of corn a day.3 The cocks and sheaves were small so that they could dry the more quickly, and be the more easily carried from the field.4 The band tying the sheaf together is said to have been twice the

1 For full details see Bartholomew Anglicus, Medieval Lore, ed. R. Steele, 106. Cf. Chaucer’s Pardoner (C.T. Prologue, 676), whose yellow hair hung smoothly “as dooth a strike of flex”.

2 See illustration, Luttrell Psalter, Pl. 96. Here again Fitzherbert’s Husbandry, § 20, has much to tell us of “wedes as thistyls, dockes, kedlokes, cocledrake, darnolde, gouldes, haudoddes, dogfenell, mather, ter, and dyvers other small wedes”. Kedloke=charlock; cocledrake = cockle; mather = dog-fennel; ter=tares; gouldes=marigolds.

3 Op. cit. 69.

4 Ibid. 97; Fleta, Bk. II, cap. 81, § 2.

84

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

circumference of a man's head, or that of a cord stretching from his knee to the sole of his foot,1 and the Luttrell Psalter shows us men walking in the fields each carrying two sheaves to put on to the great pile.2 Gloves were worn to protect the hands while at work, and these were usually issued freely by the lord to his men3

After the corn was cut and put into sheaves the Church's portion—the tithe—had to be selected.4 We see this being done by Cain in the Towneley play of Cain and Abel, and may there glimpse something of the grudging spirit with which many men paid their dues to Holy Church.5

Now the heaviest part of the year's work was over, and the strips in the common fields all stood bare, and once again the cattle wandered over them to seek what they could. This they were allowed to do until the time came for the autumn ploughing. Then they were moved away from the field that had stood fallow for a twelvemonth and there a third and last ploughing preluded the planting of the wheat and other seed for the coming year. On the other fields manuring or marling were all that was necessary, and the peasant then turned towards home and to making provision for the coming winter. First, such fruits and nuts as were available were gathered and stored; then, the supply of winter fuel had to be assured. The right of taking timber from the nearby woods was jealously controlled, and it was only such dead wood or timber not exceeding a certain dimension that was at the peasant's disposal. The cutting down of oak or ash, without permission, meant a fine at the Manor Court; and, in general, the lord's officers were here, there and everywhere, on the look out for over-zealous appropriators of wood. Yet wood was essential, not only for fuel to help pass the long winter nights, but also for the thousand and one things about the medieval home.6

1 Delisle, op. cit. 309. Cf. Gras, Economic and Social History of an English Village, 235.

2 Luttrell Psalter, Pls. 97, 98.

3 Eynsham Cart. II, lxxxiv; V.C.H. Berks, 176.

4 See Owst, Literature and Pulpit, 261. For a long discussion (with references) of the reasons for believing that tithe was normally deducted from the corn crop in sheaves and on the fields, see R. Lennard, Econ. Journ. (Supplement), Feb. 1936, 173. Tithe is here more fully discussed on p. 330.

5 Towneley Plays (E.E.T.S.), 15.

6 For further details and references, see p. 229.

WET WEATHER OCCUPATIONS

85

Even when the wood-pile was large enough, and turves or peat had been stored wherever possible, much remained to be done. In some parts (especially in East Anglia) the sedge was cut, for this was well known to make the very best thatch ; bracken was gathered in great quantities to be used as bedding for the cattle in the coming winter. The stubble, which had been left standing when the corn was cut, was now gathered, either for thatching or bedding, or to be cut and mixed with hay as fodder. If it was not thus wanted, it was often ploughed in and allowed to rot and thus nourish the soil.1

In wet weather there was always plenty to do in threshing the corn. The lord, of course, was able to have his done in his great barn, but the peasants probably made shift with the more cramped space under a lean-to against their house, or anywhere which was dry and sufficiently large to allow of the easy swinging of the flail. This was made of two pieces of wood (frequently thorn) tied one to the other by a leathern thong. The worker stood over a pile of corn and by a rhythmical circular motion brought one end of the flail down smartly on to the ears, thus dislodging the grains of corn. Once this had been done, it was necessary to separate the chaff and straw from the grain. This they did either by winnowing the whole with a fan so that the lighter husks of the chaff were blown away leaving the grain, or by tossing it up in the air near the door of the barn so that the breeze could catch and bear away the chaff, leaving the grains of corn to fall to the ground. The chaff itself was not wasted, but swept up and mixed with damaged corn and used as food for the beasts.

The advent of Christmas saw the bad weather bringing work in the fields to a standstill; and, once the peasant had made his preparations outlined above and threshed his corn, he could estimate what return he had received for all these exacting labours throughout the year. We, unfortunately, have no exact means of knowing this, for no kind of peasant's accounts have survived, or indeed, in all probability, ever existed. We can only make an estimate based on figures obtained by an analysis of the yield on the lord's demesne, and from what has already been said, it is unlikely that the peasant's land would yield equally well. Nevertheless, this is our only method of approach, and so

1 See Medieval Lore, 105, 106.

86

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

long as we bear in mind that our figures are only approximations

we can proceed safely. To begin with the theory laid down by

Walter of Henley: he tells us that land which did not yield more

than three times the seed sown gained its owner nothing unless

the price of corn was high.1 It is generally agreed that something

like 22⁄5 bushels of wheat were commonly used to sow an acre in

medieval times, so that it is clear that nearly 8 bushels per acre

had to be harvested in order that there should be no loss.

Turning from theory to fact we find that, as a result of his

investigation of thousands of accounts, Thorold Rogers gave it

as his opinion that "the rate of increase was not more than four

times", i.e. (4 × 22⁄5) bushels2—say between 9 and 10 bushels.

A great deal of work has been done since then;3 and, although

even now the range of statistics is not sufficient to allow of cer-

tainty, the figures of Sir W. Beveridge (with certain small adjust-

ments) may be taken as our most accurate modern evidence. By

an examination of the account rolls of the Bishop of Winchester

he obtained records of wheat yields per acre from eight manors

in various counties—three in Hampshire and one each in Somer-

set, Wilts, Oxford, Bucks and Berks.4 His investigations led him

to the conclusion that the average yield for the period 1200 to

1250 was about 9.44 bushels.5 These figures have since been

examined by Mr M. K. Bennett who gives reasons for believing

the Winchester figures to be rather low as an average for all

England, and comes to the conclusion that "perhaps 10 bushels

would not be too high; but a conservative guess would be 8 to

9 bushels".6

If, then, we reckon the yield of wheat on demesne lands to

have been 8 to 9 bushels, we shall probably be over-estimating the

1 Walter of Henley, 19.

2 Hist. of Agric. I, 56.

3 See especially Milton Whitney, "The Yield of Wheat in England during

Seven Centuries", Science, Oct. 1923, p. 320; H. Bradley, The Enclosures in

England (Columbia Univ. Studies in History, Economics and Public Law,

Lxxx, No. 2); R. Lennard, "The Alleged Exhaustion of the Soil in Medieval

England", Econ. Journ. March 1922.

4 Econ. Journ. (Supplement), May 1927, "The Yield and Price of Corn in

the Middle Ages", 155.

5 The modern 60 lb. bushel is 20 per cent. heavier than the medieval

bushel, which would give us a figure of 7·5 bushels of 60 lb. The wheat sown

would be correspondingly less.

6 Econ. Journ. (Supplement), Feb. 1935, "British Wheat Yield for Seven

Centuries", 12.

THE PEASANT'S GAIN

87

peasant's actual return if we put it at some 8 bushels per acre.

But, of course, he did not sow the whole of his land with wheat,

and Sir William Ashley1 and others have argued very strongly

that wheat was only a small part of his crop, and that we must

envisage him as sowing rye, barley, oats, peas and beans, or

mixtures of these, all bringing in a varying return. If we sup-

pose, for the sake of argument, that these are all sown in equal

proportions, then the yield according to the author of Hose-

bonderie would be sixfold,2 or if we take Sir William Beveridge's

figures for wheat, barley and oats only, we get a figure of 11·4

bushels per acre.3

From the above figures it is obvious that we shall be weighing

the balance in the peasant's favour if we assume his holdings

could be cultivated as successfully as could those of his lord, and

that, at the maximum, his average yield from all kinds of seed

was about 11½ bushels per acre. We can be a little more definite

by saying that if he planted his 20 acres in equal areas of wheat,

barley and oats his crop would yield him 68 bushels of wheat,

95 bushels of barley and 70 bushels of oats. We need not, in this

connection, take any notice of the question of tithe, for, as

Mr Lennard has recently shown in so convincing a manner, tithe

was taken in the field, and before the sheaves ever reached the

grange where it had to be accounted for by the manorial officers.4

Two deductions, however, must be made from this total of

233 bushels. First we must deduct the amount required as seed

corn. Again, using the Winchester figures, we find that approxi-

mately 2½ bushels of wheat, or 3¾ of barley or 4¼ of oats were re-

quired for each acre,5 so that the 20 acres would use up 16⅔, 25

and 28⅓ bushels respectively, leaving 163 bushels to go to the

miller. Now if we assume the miller took an average multure of

one-sixteenth,6 this left the peasant with approximately 48, 66

and 39 bushels—a total of about 153 bushels.

The problem now faces us—what could the peasant do with

this 153 bushels of mixed corn? No answer of any great value

1 See Econ. Journ. xxxi, 285, and The Bread of Our Forefathers, passim.

For a rebuttal of Ashley's views see Econ. Journ. xxxii, 119.

2 Op. cit. 71.

3 Op. cit. 161. This would equal 9·12 modern bushels.

4 Econ. Journ. (Supplement), Feb. 1936.

5 Beveridge, op. cit. 158.

6 See below, p. 133.

88

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

can be given, for we lack nearly all the information which would enable us to proceed with any certainty. But several lines of investigation give us some insight into the peasant's standards of living, and are worthy of consideration. We may first of all deal with the corn allowances made to manorial servants. On those manors where the lord employed a permanent staff of ploughmen, carters, shepherds, etc., they were paid, partly by a small yearly wage, partly by food provided at the hall, and partly by periodical gifts of corn. These, naturally, varied to some extent from manor to manor and from servant to servant; but, confining ourselves to the most highly rewarded servants—the ploughmen and carters—we find a constantly recurring figure asserting that they received one quarter of corn in ten weeks, or more usually in twelve weeks.1 When this was so, it follows that they had some 36 bushels (or in modern reckoning some 29 bushels) at their disposal in the course of the year. What, precisely, they did with these 36 bushels we do not know; the frequency with which some such allowance occurs suggests that it was a normal living allowance—but whether for a single man or for a family is more difficult to say. In later times it would certainly have been considered a family allowance. Writers in the eighteenth century, and more scientific critics of recent times, seem to agree that something like one quarter of wheat was consumed annually by each person in eighteenth-century England;2 so that, if we assume for the moment that the consumption of bread was the same in the thirteenth as in the eighteenth century, a medieval family of five (two adults and three children) would want between four and five quarters of grain a year. It may well be that the thirteenth-century peasant ate considerably more bread than his descendant, owing to the more limited variety of foodstuffs at his disposal. But even if so, our 20-acre holder had plenty of margin between his 151 bushels and the 36 bushels which are in question. All that we need to argue here is that

1 The evidence for this figure comes from a large number of manorial accounts, printed and unprinted: see, for example, Davenport, op. cit. 24; E.H.R. IX, 422; Neilson, Ramsey Econ. Conditions, 83; Rogers, Prices, I, 288; II, 626; and Ministers' Accounts, 751/18–21 (Berks); 859/23 (Glos); 843/31 (Essex); 998/25 (Suffolk). It also corresponds with what we are told by the author of Hosebonderie, 75.

2 See references and discussion in Elizabeth W. Gilboy, Wages in Eighteenth-Century England (Harvard Economic Studies, No. 45), 22 and n. 3.

GETTING AND SPENDING

89

151 bushels gave such a peasant much more than was sufficient for his needs.

Not all his corn was used for bread: indeed it is doubtful whether the peasant was so extravagant as to eat wheaten bread at all, save if and when it was provided for him by his lord.1 We may well imagine that whenever possible he sold his wheat to give him a little ready money for such things as he could not make or get by exchange from a neighbour. Rogers gives the average price of a quarter of wheat between 1261 and 1400 as 5s. 103⁄4d., so that if we suppose that the peasant sold the whole of his 48 bushels, he would have got 35s. 41⁄2d. in cash. The barley and oats he would be more likely to keep for domestic needs. Much of the barley doubtless went in the production of his home-brewed ale; while the remainder, and part of the oats, were used for bread-making, and the rest of the oatmeal provided the basis of that most common of the peasant's daily dishes—the pottage.

Thus we see that, taking a very favourable view of what the servile holder could produce on his 20 acres, and assuming a good year, it is clear that he could grow enough for his needs, and a good deal to spare for sale or exchange. But, of course, we must remember that all land would not yield anything like an average of 111⁄2 bushels per acre, and that every year would not be a good year. And further, we are here dealing with the village aristocracy—the virgaters with their 30 acres of strips. When we remember that they were a minority on the manors, and that tens of thousands of men had something less than a quarter of this as their main source of livelihood, it becomes evident that life for them was always a struggle—a struggle in which they were bound to lose unless the seasons were propitious to them.2

But the resources of the peasant were not limited to his sacks of grain. He had other means of livelihood, and of these the most important was his stock of animals. These, as we have seen, were limited in number, both by manorial custom or by-law, which determined how many of each kind should feed on the commons or fallows, and further by the fact that the peasant

1 See below, pp. 111, 235.

2 In Germany in 1871, on lands where conditions were still medieval, it was officially stated that 20 acres in some parts (Land Tenure Reports, Part II, 131) and 10 acres in others were necessary to support a family of five or six.

90

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

could not afford to have an unlimited number of beasts to feed

throughout the winter. For the average peasant, however, some

stock was vital, but when we come to enquire as to the numbers

of these kept by the peasantry we have no body of reliable in-

formation to help us. There are a few local Assessment Rolls for

taxes on moveables between 1290 and 1334 which give the stock

on which the villagers were assessed, but they are very few in

number and their evidence is difficult to interpret.1 It seems

probable that the number of sheep, for example, kept by any one

peasant depended on the nature of the country. Thus in pastoral

districts such as Holderness, or the South Downs, or Wiltshire,

peasants are found owning considerable numbers of sheep,

while in agricultural districts they own comparatively few.2

Oxen and cows demand attention first, for they came into the

peasant's everyday life in innumerable ways. The oxen, of

course, were invaluable for all kinds of farm work and were

widely used all over England. Horses, it is true, were more and

more used from the Conquest onwards, but, nevertheless, conser-

vative landowners, like Walter of Henley, still believed in oxen,

and thought them more useful and more economical than horses.

More than that, as he says, "When the horse is old and worn out

then there is nothing but the skin; and when the ox is old, with

ten pennyworth of grass he shall be fit for the larder."3 Similarly

the cow played a considerable part in all but the humblest house-

holds. It provided milk for most of the year, although the

quantity fell off considerably after Michaelmas, owing to the lack

of good feeding, and it was not till the following May that the

cow came into full milk once again. The difference is estimated

by the author of Hosebonderie to be such that the yield was worth

3s. 6d. during the summer months, but only 1od. for the rest of

the year. After Christmas, indeed, the yield was so small that

milk fetched three times its summer price.4 At the worst, how-

ever, even two or three cows were a real asset to a struggling

1 The best monograph is that of Willard, Parliamentary Taxes and Personal

Property.

2 By the kindness of Prof. Eileen Power I have had an opportunity of

studying her transcripts of a number of the existing assessment rolls which

show quite clearly the variations in stock in different parts of the country. It

is to be hoped that she will be able to publish an account of her researches in

this side of the pastoral economy before long.

3 Op. cit. 13.

4 Op. cit. 77.

OXEN, COWS AND SHEEP

91

family. If they wished they could make butter and cheese of the

milk, or sell it in the neighbouring vill. Each cow was reckoned

to produce seven stone of cheese and one stone of butter between

May and Michaelmas.1 If we take the average price of seven

stone of cheese to have been about 5s. od. from 1260 to 1400, and

that of a stone of butter at 9½d., it is clear that the cash value of a

cow in full milk was considerable, and cows were hired out at

from 5s. to 6s. 8d. a year.2

But, as Walter of Henley reminds us, both oxen and cows had

their value as food, and the peasant salted down his ox at

Martinmas, and it undoubtedly provided his main store of flesh

for the winter. It was probably tough and stringy, and lacking in

fat, but he had perforce to make the best of it. Then again the

hides were of the greatest importance, and were probably

tanned in the village, and afterwards used for innumerable pur-

poses both domestic and agricultural. Further, these animals

could always be sold for cash at the local market or elsewhere.

Oxen were worth some 13s. od. as an average price in the

thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, while cows and bulls fetched

about 10s. per head.3

After his oxen and cows, the sheep probably gave the peasant

most concern, for while they were not so easily managed nor so

productive as the pig, nor so useful on the farm as the ox, they

were almost a necessity. Their wool, their skins and their car-

cases were obviously all of prime importance to the peasant in

many ways, and even their milk was used to eke out other

supplies. Hence, although as we have seen, the villagers were

not always allowed to get full value from their sheep, since they

were from time to time folded on the lord’s land, and also were

not easily kept in some districts, yet, nevertheless, they were of

sufficient value and importance to form part of almost every

peasant’s stock. We may, therefore, picture our imaginary

peasant as striving, year by year, to preserve, or even to enlarge

his small flock, despite the terrible incidence of murrain and the

shortage of feed which were continuously warring against him,

since he could provide but little food for them other than that

1 Op. cit. 77. Cf. p. 27, where Walter of Henley says that 3 cows will only

produce 14 stone (1 wey) of cheese between Easter and Michaelmas.

2 Rogers, Prices, I, 397, 452.

3 Ibid. I, 361.

92

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

they could obtain for themselves as they wandered over the open

fallows and the waste surrounding the village.

Of all his animals, however, in some ways the pig (then as now)

ranked highest in the peasant's eyes, for no animal was so easily

fed, and no animal so easily put on flesh and was so soon prepared

for the slaughter according to medieval standards. The village

swineherd1 was of the first importance in village life: he it was

who gathered together the swine of his neighbours and led them

off into the woods when these were thrown open to them, and

the acorns were falling. At other times he drove them on to the

waste or on the fallows to get what they could; for, unless they

could obtain a great deal of food in this way, it was considered

highly unprofitable to keep them. Only during the hardest

months after Christmas was it thought economically sound to

supply them with anything but waste and what they could pick

up outside the house and on the manor. Thorold Rogers tells

us that "it would seem that the medieval farmer reckoned on

two to four bushels as necessary in order to bring what we should

call marketable pigs into sufficient condition".2 We may suspect,

however, that those pigs which were not destined for the market

seldom received such luxurious feeding, and that they were

slaughtered in what we should consider to be a miserable

condition.

These were their most valuable accessory food supplies after

their corn, but to these we must add poultry of many kinds.

Chickens were everywhere: we are constantly surprised at the

large number of eggs a peasant has to produce at given seasons

of the year, and the ideal of Henri IV that every peasant should

have a chicken for his pot must have been a fairly widespread

possibility in the thirteenth century. Walter of Henley tells us

that a hen ought to lay 180 eggs a year, but the author of

Hosebonderie is content with 115 eggs and 7 chicks. Besides these

chickens, geese were fairly common, and sometimes numerous

enough to demand the presence of a village gooseherd.3

1 For the swineherd's duties see Walter of Henley, 113. For illustration,

see Luttrell Psalter, Pl. 14.

2 Rogers, Prices, I, 337: "Some idea of the condition of these pigs may be

gathered from the note in vol. II, p. 383, in which we learn that 35 pigs gave

180 lb. of lard, that is, a little more than 5 lb. apiece."

3 See picture of gooseherd in Luttrell Psalter, Pl. 91.

WILD LIFE

93

Further food supplies were at times and in places available, but are very much more difficult to assess. At the edge of every manor, where great woods or waste or fen began, the wild animal life was abundant—more abundant, perhaps, than we have any means of estimating. Certainly the vast extent of cover provided by these wild uncultivated stretches gave shelter to almost endless numbers of wild beasts and birds. The great stretches of thorn, for example, housed myriads of small birds, and the wily villager had little difficulty in trapping these by means of small nets, much in the same way as the bird-snare worked within living memory on unwatched heaths and open places. These birds could be caught in great numbers and sold, or used as welcome additions to the housewife's pot. Such action may or may not have been tolerated by custom (depending to some extent on the local lord's rights); but, undoubtedly, much hunting and snaring went on that could by no means be thought of as lawful. Indeed, poaching seems to have been one of the most common of the pastimes of the peasant, and every manorial record is likely to bear evidence of the arrest or of the depredations of the village poacher.

All seem to have been implicated—the parson as well as the peasant, and it is clear that few men could resist the temptation offered to them by the sight of this “God's plenty”1 which was all about them, and which (to be fair to them) fed on their corn and constituted a formidable nuisance at their very doors. Take rabbits for example. We learn that in certain parts of the country they were little short of a pest. The men of Ovingdean (Sussex) say that there are 100 acres of arable, lying annihilated by the destruction of the rabbits of the lord Earl Warenne, valued at £1. 5s. od.;2 or, as another inquisition tells us, the holding “is of small value because the rabbits are beginning to burrow in that place”.3 In another part of England altogether, on the manor of Higham Ferrars, we are told that they abounded, and special enclosures were made by the lord for their protection.4

Another nuisance to the peasant was the dove or pigeon. The lord's dove-house was one of the most familiar of medieval

1 Durham Halmote Rolls, 91, 131, 178, 185; Davenport, op. cit. 75; Wakefield Rolls.

2 Sussex Arch. Soc. Coll. i, 62.

3 C. Pullein, Rotherfield, 70.

4 A.A.S.R. xxxiii, 135.

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THE PEASANT'S YEAR

sights. No peasant was allowed to have one, or to kill these birds however numerous they were, and however harmful to his crops.1 After a monotonous fare of salted fish or meat the dove was a great delicacy, and from Norman times onward the birds had been protected in the interests of the great. Large dove-houses, sometimes holding hundreds of birds, were built and from thence hordes of these voracious feeders descended on the unfortunate peasants' fields taking their fill and fattening themselves for the lord's table at his men's expense. Little wonder that the dove-house became one of the most hated landmarks of the lord's position and of the subjection of the villagers. Both doves and rabbits, however, found their way into the hands of others than their owners, and men were constantly presented at manorial courts for taking rabbits with snare or ferret, or for catching pigeons with nets or divers traps (diversa ingenia).2

Many kinds of wild animals were also abundant, but forbidden to the villager, for by the thirteenth century most manorial lords had got from the king a grant of "free-warren3" which prevented anyone entering their lands to hunt wild animals. The legal implications of such rights became very tangled in the course of time : no one might follow the hunt of a fox or a hare into warren land; but, on the other hand, to follow the hunt of a deer, in such circumstances, was no trespass, for deer were "beasts of the forest", and not "beasts of the warren". Further, the lack of any clearly marked boundaries delimiting a warren made matters more difficult. The forest had its "pale" or fence, but the warren lay open. Within its confines, however, the hare, rabbit, pheasant, plentiful, and it was impossible to prevent the peasant, either out of sheer desperation or sheer devilment, from taking what he could get whenever the chance offered.

Yet another source of supply was at the peasant's very door. The rivers were full of fish—sometimes carefully preserved, but

1 Y.B. 7 Ed. II, 183 n.

2 For illustrations and much information, see A. O. Cooke's Dovecotes, and A.A.S.R. xxxiii, 138 and 368, and many references there.

3 This is an excellent example of F. W. Maitland's dictum that when we read in medieval times of a man having a free this or that, in reality what was meant was that he was thereby free to oppress somebody else. So here: the lord's "free-warren" obviously was anything but free to the villager.

PLATE III

lus au peuplement du village

Country Sport

THE PEASANT'S RESOURCES

95

generally unwatched save for the sporadic care of one of the lord's servants. All great houses and large establishments also had their fishponds, and throughout the year fresh and salt fish from river as well as from the sea was a constant item in the diet of the upper classes. Here again the peasant could not be denied: in the north of England the salmon was a rich prize. If a man could be lucky enough by a bit of quiet night work to get a sizeable fish from the waters of his lord, then he and his family were well provided for during the next few days. Eels again were everywhere and were eagerly trapped, and so were the ordinary river fish as we know them to-day. Men were caught fishing with "Angleroddes", or setting eel traps, or using nets and other "engines" against the orders of their lord, and were fined in his court.1

Our rapid examination of the 30-acre holder's resources leaves the impression that, given reasonable harvests, he had no difficulty in producing enough corn and livestock to keep himself and his family, and to leave something over for sale or exchange. But we have constantly to be reminding ourselves that no manor was made up of the "typical" villein—the virgater or 30-acre holder. As we have seen, every manor had a number of undermanni—men holding anything from a little "close" of a rood or two to seven or eight acres, as well as others who held as much as half a virgate and so on. The manorial holdings were capable of innumerable grades, and the resources of the lowest of these grades must have been slender. If we assume that some 36–40 bushels of corn were a minimum requirement for a normal family, it is clear that this required a holding of between five and ten acres—and probably nearer ten than five—on which it could be grown. Those who held less than this were forced to adopt a lower standard of living, or to seek auxiliary means of augmenting their incomes by helping on wealthier men's holdings, or by working as manorial servants, or as communal shepherds or swineherds, or in one of the village trades.

But whatever means were employed, it seems that a consi-

1 E.g. Hales Rolls, 135, 284. The men of the monks of Eynsham (Eynsham Cart. II, 10) gave them 6d. a year for the right to fish in certain waters, while three men were fined 1s. 6d. at Carshalton for using too close a net in the common water "to the great destruction of the fish" (Surrey Record Soc. II, 23). For further remarks, see also p. 269.

96

THE PEASANT'S YEAR

derable number of peasants in the medieval village lived very

near the border line of actual want.1 For them, as for the poor

man in Piers Plowman, there was many a “ winter time when they

suffered much hunger and woe”.

1 For an account of the foodstuffs available to them, see p. 234.

God spede ye plow3t sende vs kene now

Rents and Services

CHAPTER V

RENTS AND SERVICES

DESPITE the fact that both free and serf spent much of their time at similar labour in the fields there was a profound gulf between them in other ways. Once the free man had paid his yearly rent it was not often that anything further except of a trifling nature was required of him by his lord. The serf, however, found things very much more oppressive. Not only had he to pay his rent, but a number of other small cash payments were exacted. Miss Neilson, in her Customary Rents, has given a full account of such payments, and it will suffice our purpose to note that they are all charges upon the serf for this or that small favour or privilege. Before he could touch even a piece of dead wood he had to pay his yearly “wood-penny”; he was forced to take a hen or some eggs at set seasons to the manor house as a payment for the privilege of keeping poultry about his own house; when he sold one of his beasts the lord frequently received a part of the purchase price. On all sides he found himself unable to do what his free neighbour could do. As is well known, his lord demanded a small payment when the serf wished to give one of his daughters in marriage; he could not let his boy go away from the manor to be taught by some friendly priest or at a nearby school without again putting his hand in his pocket—the restrictions under which he lived were many; and, although many of them were petty, yet in sum they bulked large, and influenced his whole life.

Some of them, however, were far from being petty even in themselves, and were a constant charge on his energies and his pocket, and a constant reminder to him of his servile condition. He was continuously forced to put his lord’s affairs first and his own second, and to find pence and shillings for reasons he could not have understood, even if they had been explained to him.

Such a state of affairs had gradually evolved as a consequence of the introduction and development of the manorial system in England. Little by little, throughout those parts of England that became manorialised, a state of affairs between lord and serf

100

RENTS AND SERVICES

had grown up which became known as "the custom of the

Manor". Vinogradoff asserts that the lords "allowed" such a

custom to grow up,1 but this seems too simple a view of a very

complex matter. The domestic staff of any household to-day

have conditions of labour, and hours "off duty", which would

have seemed impossible to our grandmothers. In a sense our

mothers have "allowed" these conditions to grow up, but in fact

it is only by making such allowances that they have been able to

retain a staff at all. Even the most reactionary employer finds

she must allow "Sundays off", and half-days every week, at

whatever inconvenience to herself. So it was on the manor.

Certainly, in theory, the will of the lord was all-compelling, and

in that sense it may be said that any privilege or relaxation of

strict legal theory was a result of the lord's indulgence. But, in

actual fact, it is much more probable that the lord "allowed"

what he found himself powerless to prevent. A strong steward or

bailiff on the one hand, or a determined body of serfs on the

other, could change things on any one manor in the course of a

very few years, especially before "the custom of the Manor" be-

came sufficiently established and fixed in men's minds to be of

any very great importance, and also before lords had had it

written down formally. For many decades after the Conquest, a

continuous change was taking place: every manor was the scene

of an endless contest in which lord and serf each struggled to

obtain their own ends. On the one hand there was the lord (or

his agents) exercising the power which his ownership of the

manor gave him. This power was often very considerable—

whether by right or by usurpation we need not now consider2—

and naturally it was used to protect and to extend the lord's own

ends. He may at times have been a beneficent patriarch and at

times something considerably less than this; but, in any case,

there he was, controlling the peasant's life to a very great extent.

It is true that gradually there was created "the custom of the

manor", and it is generally correct to say that this was deter-

mined by the verdict of the peasants from time to time. They gave

the "dooms", and these were really determinations of the cus-

toms obtaining on the manor. Yet, even so, a powerful lord or a

harsh steward could do much to force a decision favourable to

1 Econ. Fourn. x, 309. 2 For this see below, Chapter VIII.

THE CUSTOM OF THE MANOR

101

himself; and when, during the second half of the thirteenth century, lords began systematically to put their customs into writing, they at once arrested any hope of rapid change, and also protected themselves against the possibility of its being easy to convince the court of the wisdom or the necessity for any fresh interpretation of custom. Henceforward the custom of the manor is on record; it no longer exists merely in the memories of the "wiser and saner" peasants empanelled to give a "doom", but can be (and is) constantly turned up while the Court sits, and is quoted and used on the lord's behalf. Not only is it on record, but it is a record drawn up by lawyers eager to make all things clear, who tended to reduce any wavering and uncertain customs to a steady and clear-cut pattern, and to phrase in the lord's favour any equivocal or doubtful matters.

Against all this the peasant fought, and was continuously fighting. He probably found it difficult to realise the implications of much that happened in the Manor Court when he was called on for a decision. He knew that it was the custom to ask his opinion, and that his "dooms" were the result of his own personal knowledge and of his practical judgment, and had to leave it at that. Common sense urged him to interpret matters in his own favour as far as was possible, and the rigid cash basis on which manorial affairs were conducted encouraged him to buy himself freedom from this or that liability as he saw the chance. No general account of this slow process is worth much, for conditions varied enormously from manor to manor, but over several centuries the fight went on, and the immense variation of custom, as expressed in these rents and services, is evidence enough of this. Every variation, could we but read between the lines, has its own story to tell, for every variation came about only by pressure on one side or the other. Occasionally the veil is lifted, and we can see something of what must have happened again and again up and down the country throughout these centuries.

Take, for example, the quarrel over the payment of sheep as part of the heriot by the men of the Abbot of Vale Royal. The custumal says: "And as to sheep, let them be divided like all other goods of the deceased which ought to be divided." The revealing sentences, however, follow, and are most illuminating:

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RENTS AND SERVICES

This is inserted in this place, by itself, because when the convent first came to Darnhale, the bond-tenants said that no division ought to be made of the sheep, but that all the sheep ought to remain wholly to the wife of the deceased. Which is quite false, because we always used to divide them without gainsaying it at all, until Waren le Granteunour was bailiff of Darnhale; and while he was bailiff he was corrupted with presents, and did not exact the lord's share of all things in his time; and afterwards the bond-tenants endeavoured to make this a precedent and custom, which they by no means ought to do.1

But for this addendum we should have known nothing of the struggle which had been waged over the partition of the sheep, and by it we are also reminded of the extent to which the lord was dependent on his agents, and of the wisdom lying behind the careful drawing up of the written customals. Cases such as this, or the revolts at Dunstable,2 or Burton,3 or Meaux,4 are evidence enough of the necessity for reading the bald statements of the customals with a wideawake attention. Only by so doing shall we sense the underlying agitation that was changing conditions on innumerable manors—an agitation, however, which was seldom violent enough to leave any very obvious traces, even to the diligent reader of customal and court roll.

With such general considerations in mind we may now turn to see the way in which the “power of the lord” had determined what services and what payments the serf should make, and how they are to be found in their essentials all over the country, despite local modifications and variations, due to “the custom of the Manor”.

One of the most characteristic features of the manorial system was its insistence on manual labour as one important element in the return a man made to his lord for the privilege of holding land on the manor. He might, and generally did, make certain money payments, but his obligation to render a specified amount of work from time to time was all important. The lord depended to a greater or less degree upon the work thus exacted for the cultivation of his part of the manor, for the proper tending of his cattle and the upkeep of his manor house. Of course it is true

1 Vale Royal Ledger Book (Lancashire and Cheshire Rec. Soc.), 119.

2 Ann. Dunst. (R.S.), 122.

3 (Wm. Salt Soc.) Staff. Collections, v, 82.

4 Melsa Chron. (R.S.), iii, 126.

WEEK-WORK

103

that he often had a nucleus of servants who lived all the year at

his house,1 and also that sooner or later most lords allowed their

serfs to make an additional money payment in place of some or all

of their works. Nevertheless, for a long time, and over large

areas of England, many hundred thousands of peasants were

forced throughout the year to leave their own affairs from time to

time in order to do work of various kinds for their lord.

We cannot generalise very exactly as to what such a demand

meant. It varied on various manors, in various areas, and at

various times. It was not even the same on all the manors held

by any one lord. This we may say, however: in general it was a

distinguishing mark between bond and free. A number of in-

stances can be quoted which show free men rendering week-

works, but they must be regarded as exceptional, and were so

regarded by the lawyers of the thirteenth century, who more

and more tended to consider the uncertainty which attached to

week-works as one of the stigmata of the serf. Hence Bracton's

famous definition: “For that is an absolute villainage, from

which an uncertain and indeterminate service is rendered, where

it cannot be known in the evening, what service is to be rendered

in the morning.”2 Further, we may note that the work required

by the lord was roughly commensurate with the size of the

holding. Everything depended upon this, and the number of

mouths to be fed, or of young sons eager for work who resided

on each holding, was of no account to the lord. He was concerned

only with the due render of what had been determined to be the

burden of such a holding. Hence a virgate-holder's duties, which

look so formidable at first sight, become far less onerous when

we reflect that in all probability he was married, and had sons

and daughters, and even servants of his own to help him. Thus

he was able to plough his own acres and those of his lord, and to

carry on a hundred and one other jobs without undue strain, by

the simple method of sending one or more of his own family or

helpers to the manor house, while the rest of the household

carried on at home.

It is true, as we have already seen, that he was expected on a few

1 See below, p. 182.

2 Bracton, op. cit. I, 207. But see below, p. 139 n1., which shows this to be

an undue simplification.

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RENTS AND SERVICES

occasions to appear with all his family and servants; but, for the

most part, the lord contented himself by exacting only such

service as might be rendered by a single person in the course of a

day's work. And even when we have said this we have not made

clear what was meant by a day's work in the thirteenth-century

cartularies. For example, a day's work is frequently defined as

the threshing of two bushels of wheat or a quarter of oats, or the

mowing of an acre or rather less of hay, or the cutting of a half

acre of corn—or a multiplicity of other jobs1—all of which, how-

ever, have this in common: they represent only something like

half a day's actual work.2 Old farm labourers still speak of

cutting two acres of wheat by hand between the hours of 4 a.m.

and 10 p.m.; and, making allowances for then and now, this helps

us to realise that (in the later Middle Ages, though it had doubt-

less been stricter in the past) the man who was called upon to

work three days a week, as a matter of fact actually worked only

for a portion of each of those days, and even then, as we have

seen, this generally took but one member of the household away

from the family holding.

We may emphasise this point (which is of great importance,

and has not been fully appreciated in modern discussions of this

question) by noting the terms used to define the hours of work

demanded of the peasant, especially at the busiest times of

year—the hay and corn harvests. The cartularies make it clear

that it is an unusual thing to demand a man's work for the whole

day, and when this is exceptionally required the cartulary says so

quite clearly. Thus the men of Stoneley in Warwickshire are to

be in the field during the harvest at sunrise and to work till

sunset,3 and the same hours are expressly required in many other

instances.4 Again at Forncett, for the greater part of the year the

lord exacted manual works which lasted for half the day only:

in the autumn, however, the works are stated to be per diem

1 See any cartularies passim for this. E.g. Ramsey Cart. I, 288, 299, 310,

323, 335, 345, etc.

2 Cf. Norf. Arch. xiv, 19, where Mr W. Hudson writes: “Work for a whole

day on the land counted for 2 works”.

3 Dugdale, Warwick, 177 a.

4 Frideswide's, St. Cart. II, 357; Arch. Journ. LVIII, 355; Min. Acc. 987/19,

etc. The men of the monks of Eynsham come to their harvesting ante pulsum

campani missa beate Marie, and are not allowed to sit to eat at their breakfast or

otherwise ante collacionem—presumably about noon. Eynsham Cart. II, 40.

THE CUSTOMALS

105

integrum.1 Even in the harvest season a day’s work often means

only till noon: a man may send two men to work till noon; or

only one if he stays till evening (usque vesperam);2 or again, work

terminates at noon unless the lord gives a repast, in which case

work is resumed until evening.3

If we bear these facts in mind we shall not be so overwhelmed

when we read that at Waldon and Walpole in East Anglia (c. 1270)

six days’ work a week were performed throughout the year,4 or

that in the West of England, the monks of Gloucester in 1266-7

were exacting a minimum of four days’ work most of the year

and five days at harvest.5 Even on manors as heavily burdened

as these, it left a man with considerable time for his own work,

except on a very few occasions. And he was protected from

attempts to demand more of him by the exactness with which his

services were usually defined. Years before the first accounts of

such services were written down (and few written accounts exist

earlier than 1225) custom had hardened and settled what was

each tenant’s burden, and any move to increase this was fiercely

resisted by him and all his fellows.6 It is true that they were not

always able to withstand pressure from above, and no doubt

services actually increased on some manors in the thirteenth

century; but, generally speaking, services slowly dwindled as the

peasants bought their freedom from such liabilities.7

The exactness with which services are defined, and the meti-

culous way they are accounted for in the annual accounts may

lead us too far in a belief in medieval order and regularity.

Although the lord had a right to the works, he did not always

demand them as regularly or as completely as we may easily be

led to believe. As regards regularity Mr Hudson writes:

It is often taken for granted that the obligation to do one work a

week, or sometimes three or four, meant literally so many days’ work

regularly, in consecutive weeks. Whatever the original practice may

1 Davenport, op. cit. xxxix.

2 Battle Cust. 87: cf. a mane usque nonam, 63, 74, 76, 78, 94 and Crondal

Records, 112, 113, 120.

3 Norf. Arch. xx, 185; and cf. p. 189, where ploughing goes on till noon if

dinner is provided, otherwise it ceases at tierce (9 a.m.).

4 Med. East Anglia 81; cf. Norf. Arch. xx, 185; Ramsey Cart. I, 310.

5 Glouc. Cart. III, 52, 53.

6 Neilson, Ramsey Econ. Conditions, 29; Cur. Reg. Rolls, I, 4; Levett, op. cit.

65 n. 2.

7 See below, p. 279.

106

RENTS AND SERVICES

have been, by the thirteenth century the week-works were, at least in

many places, not regular, but largely occasional. They were, so to

speak, kept in stock by the reeve, and demanded when and where

most needful, a strict account being rendered at the end of the year.1

This point of view is emphasised by Miss Levett from her in-

tensive study of the Bishop of Winchester's manors, where she

finds that

there was always a very considerable margin [of works] of which the

lord may take advantage when crops are exceptionally heavy, when

the weather was unfavourable, or the Saints' days fell unfortunately,

or when some change of method, such as increased fencing or en-

closing, caused an unprecedented demand for labour.2

If, as sometimes happened, the lord had no need to take ad-

vantage of this margin, the works were either excused or sold to

the peasants. A common item in the manorial compoti, which

gives a full account of "works sold" or "works acquitted",3 is a

reminder to us that many more works were often owed than were

in fact ever demanded. Hence, here again, the seemingly heavy

demand of the cartulary or extent needs some scrutiny before it

can be taken at its face value.

With these considerations in mind we may turn to examine

the various types of work exacted from the peasant. His obliga-

tions here fall into two main divisions, week-works, and "boon"

works. Week-works, as the name implies, were rendered week

by week throughout the year; "boon" works were only per-

formed occasionally and as "extras". The working year was

divided into two parts—from Michaelmas to the beginning of

August, and from then on to Michaelmas again. During this

latter period, on account of the corn harvest, rather more work

was demanded from the serf, so that whereas for the greater part

of the year he had to perform say two or three days' work a week,

during this period he was called on for three to five days a week,

as well as for a number of "boon" works in addition.

The week-works may be grouped conveniently about certain

operations, and of these the most important was the ploughing.

Whether the lord's land (the demesne) was a separate part of the

1 Sussex Arch. Soc. LIII, 172.

2 Levett, op. cit. 65; cf. 88, 180; V.C.H. Berks, 181.

3 E.H.R. IX, 420ff.; Trans. Royal Hist. Soc. xiv, 124; Levett, op. cit. 65;

Glouc. Cart. III, 185, 194.

PLOUGHING SERVICES

107

manor, or whether his strips lay side by side with those of his

tenants, they had to be ploughed by the communal teams of the

villagers. Every holding had a certain duty imposed upon it. Some-

times this was expressed in the number of acres to be ploughed,

or in the number of days of ploughing to be given in the year;

sometimes the customal exacted a certain quantity of work from

a group of serfs and left it to them to make their own arrangements.

A few cases, taken from the manors of the Bishop of Chichester

in the middle of the thirteenth century, will illustrate the inci-

dence of these ploughing works. A virgater of Ferring is bound

every other week to attend with one of his fellows, and to do

whatever ploughing is needed,

unless a holy-day or rainy weather prevents. If the weather is rainy

so that he cannot plough, in that week he shall do another work; but

if he has ploughed two or three furrows, and then has to unyoke

owing to rainy weather, he shall do no other work that day, unless the

weather clears enough for him to plough.1

At Selsey, the virgater ploughs an acre and a half, if needed, every

other week between Michaelmas and Lady Day, and aids with

his plough team the ploughing and harrowing of the land before

barley is sown.2 At Sidlesham, the holder of two virgates ploughs

and harrows twelve acres in winter, and twelve acres in Lent, and

must do another acre in winter and Lent if so desired in place of

other work.3 And with this ploughing often went the associated

works of sowing and harrowing. A man has to fetch the seed

from the lord's granary, sometimes to be sown by the lord's

sower, sometimes to be sown by himself,4 or he may even be

sent to fetch it from another manor,5 either because of a shortage,

or because of a common belief that seed from another manor

would yield better than that produced and sown on the home

land.6

Besides work in the fields, repairs to the manor house and the

buildings around it were usually done by the peasants. Under

the care of expert carpenters or masons "they tore down old

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 71.

2 Op. cit. 16.

4 Op. cit. 88.

6 Walter of Henley, 19: "Change your seed every year at Michaelmas, for

seed grown on other ground will bring more profit than that which is grown

on your own."

3 Op. cit. 23.

5 Op. cit. 89.

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RENTS AND SERVICES

walls, dug the clay, and fetched water to 'temper' it; pulled

off the old thatch and cut and brought stubble for the new".1

A clear account of the sort of work demanded may be found in

the customal of Fure in Sussex (c. 1250), where men are ordered

to come with carpenter's tools to make a hay barn, if needed, or to

mend it, and they shall help the master carpenters to flaw the timber

and carry it at the precept of the carpenter, but shall make no holes

to put the posts in; they shall find the timber for the said barn from

their own wood, at the lord's will. They shall have the bark and the

top and lop, and the lord shall throw the timber. If the master

carpenter is not content with their work they shall make a fine at the

lord's will and depart home (et recedent); and [otherwise] they shall

stay until the barn is built.2

Once the land was ploughed and sown there was plenty for the

serf to do (during the lull before the harvest) in order to dis-

charge his weekly obligation. Sometimes, the customals merely

say that he does "whatever the lord wills" on such days, but

often it is more explicit, and we may see exactly how he was

occupied. He carts dung from the stables and cowsheds and

spreads it about his lord's fields; then, after the ploughings he

comes to harrow and to weed from time to time; he tends and

plants in the lord's garden; in the summer cuts the hay, binds

and carries it to the lord's barns. Then in autumn, after cutting

and carrying the corn, he helps to clean, thresh and winnow the

grain, and to collect the best of the straw for use in roofing stacks

and houses. He scours ditches, trims hedges and makes fences;

he gathers reeds and rushes for thatching, or apples for cider.

There was also the care of the animals of the lord and of the vill:

the swineherd drove the pigs to feed in the woods; the shepherd

had the flock to wash and shear and to pasture on the commons

and in the meadows when they were thrown open, as well as to

move the lord's fold from place to place on the demesne; the

oxherd had to plough and work with the lord's oxen and clean

out the byre. Every customal has its variations, but all show us

the bulk of the manorial population performing all the innu-

merable services incident to agriculture as a part of the price they

had to pay for their own holdings.

1 Davenport, op. cit. 22 ; cf. Sussex Rec. Soc. XXXI, 54.

2 Sussex Rec. Soc. XXXI, 76. Fure is Highfure in Billingshurst.

CARRYING SERVICES

109

Apart from all this, which was mainly work round about the village, the serf was liable to render carrying services both in or out of the manor if required. On many manors it was necessary to carry the corn and other produce either to the lord's residence (often in another manor or part of the county), or else to the nearest market town where it could be sold. This carriage was performed by the serfs—those with large holdings being obliged to lend their horses and carts for the purpose, while the smaller holders were forced to carry on their backs (super dorsum). In some surveys we find it stated clearly that so many days of such work are required, and also the distances or places are named. For example, on one Ramsey manor a man might be forced to carry to a distance of twenty leagues,1 while on another Ramsey manor he could stop after going only twelve.2 On yet another of these manors a serf was obliged to carry to Ramsey, London, Ware or Cambridge as required, but he was compensated by food and relaxation of other works for his journeys to London and Ramsey.3 Again, the serf on some manors only carried when his turn came round,4 or after he had had a day off to get his cart ready.5

On manors such as those of the Canons of St Paul's, or the monks of Battle, these carting services outside the manor were peculiarly heavy, since an old system still prevailed whereby each manor had the duty of sending its produce from time to time to the lord's residence. On the St Paul's manors, for example, this was carried by the peasants secundum quantitatem tenementi, and several times a year by cart, or sometimes by boat, they had to bring food to London.6 Even the smaller holders were not exempt, for they were compelled to help load the boats, or drive the swine to London.7 Similarly on the Battle manors, or those of the Bishop of Durham and elsewhere, the peasants were continually moving to and fro in order to provide food and corn for the use of their lords,8 since these large households, with their

1 Ramsey Cart. I, 50; cf. Glas. Rentalia, 165 (20 leagues).

2 Op. cit. I, 56; cf. Glas. Rentalia, 136 (15 leagues).

3 Op. cit. I, 46.

4 Glas. Rentalia, 161.

5 Op. cit. 83.

6 D.S.P. 17, 34, 47, 68.

7 Op. cit. 27, 68.

8 Battle Cust. 122; Hatfield's Survey, 4, 8, 38, 99, etc. And cf. Cust. Roff. 2, 9.

110

RENTS AND SERVICES

masses of retainers, required the produce of many manors in the

course of a year.

Even within the manor, as we have seen, a good deal of carrying

service was exacted from the serfs. Anything the lord needed at

the manor house was carried by them; building materials, wood

for firing, corn, hay—all imposed a fairly heavy burden. Some

details concerning the carriage of wood may serve as an example.

At Amberley, in Sussex, the large holder had to link his team

with that of one of his fellows, and their four oxen had to fetch

five wainloads from the forest and bring them to the ferry. He

had also to cart to the ferry the stakes and hurdles which had

been made in the forest; and furthermore, with one of his

fellows, he had to cart timber from the wood to the lord's barn

whenever all his fellows were ordered so to do.1 On the same

manor the smaller holders had only to carry wood when the

lord's pinfold required repair, or a new pigsty had to be built.2

Similarly on other manors: men were required to go to the wood

and haul out the timber and cart it to the lord's manor house; or,

if the services were not performed, to pay a wood-penny or

wood-silver.3

But even these constant exactions did not wholly meet the

needs of the lord, and at harvest time he generally exacted more

service from the peasants.4 The getting in of the crops was the

crucial operation of the year, and everything had to give way to

this—even the peasants' own crops! Not content with this extra

work during the harvest months of August and September, the

lord usually claimed extra or “boon” services (precariae) at this

period, and during the hay-making. These services were theo-

retically given freely by the tenants for love of the lord (and are

sometimes called “love-boons”), but the freedom was more

theoretical than real. Often these “boons” required the pre-

sence of the whole population of the manor—only the housewife

and sometimes the marriageable daughters were excused.5 A

multiplicity of variations may be noted in the severity of the

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 61; cf. Ramsey Cart. ii, 37, 43.

2 Op. cit. 59.

3 D.S.P. 26, 62, 82, 85, etc.; cf. Neilson, Rents, 51, 53, 63.

4 Neilson, Ramsey, 39 ff.

5 Vinogradoff, Villainage, 174, 175; Ramsey Cart. i, 394; Battle Cust. 59,

BOON WORKS

III

demands that were made: sometimes the lord demanded help

only on every other day; sometimes only after the peasants had

got in their own hay; sometimes the head of the house went only

to the first boon, and so on:1 but in general we may say confi-

dently that these boons drew the majority of the able-bodied

folk of the village from looking after their own crops at a vital

time, and forced them to devote their attention to those of the

lord.2 He usually provided good meals and drink in order to

help matters, but here again custom varied greatly. Generally,

however, there were a number of “wet” boons, and a number of

“dry” boons. At the “wet” boons, ale or cider, either in con-

siderable quantities, or “at discretion”, was provided; at the

“dry” boons only water was given! The food was plentiful,

generally consisting of a dish of flesh or fish, pottage (of peas or

beans) with bread and cheese to conclude.3 The Abbot of Battle’s

serfs, in order to placate them, had the right at the second and third

“boons” to bring a comrade to the supper where they were to

be, as they say, “solemniter depasti”.4

Other “extras”, besides meals and drink, were at times pro-

vided as an inducement. In connection with the boon services at

hay-making there was a widespread custom whereby the lord

released a sheep into the meadow. On some manors it became

the property of the serfs only if they could catch it before it

escaped out of the field;5 on other manors it was handed over to

them for their feast as part of their reward; while on others

again a definite money payment was made to them by the lord,

called medsipe or madsheep,6 in lieu of the beast itself. As well as

this they were frequently allowed to take some of the hay for their

own use. On certain Ramsey manors the peasants were allowed to

carry home so much hay or straw as they can bind in a single bundle

and lift upon their sickle [or scythe] handle, so that the handle touch

1 Ramsey Cart. I, 49, 354; II, 6.

2 V.C.H. Beds, II, 8o; GlouC. Cart. III, 119, 170; Battle Cust. p. 59.

3 Univ. Lib. Camb. MSS. Kk. v, 29, ff. 29, 103, 104; Battle Cust. 87;

Court Rolls, 998/21, 1030/3, 1030/6; and cf. GlouC. and Ramsey Cart. passim.

4 Battle Cust. xxxix.

5 Ramsey Cart. I, 298, 307, 476; GlouC. Cart. III, 64. Cf. Pembroke Survey,

xcii; “the ram was brought to the centre of the field; if it remained quietly

grazing then the customary tenants claimed it, but if it wandered out of the

field they lost it and the abbess had it restored to her”.

6 Univ. Lib. Camb. MSS. Kk. v, 29, f. 69; Eynsham Cart. II, 24; Blom-

field, Norfolk, I, 315; Cal. Inquis. II, 313; Min. Accounts, 859/23, etc.

112

RENTS AND SERVICES

not the ground. And, if perchance the handle break, then he shall

lose his straw or grass, and be at the lord abbot's mercy, and pay a

fine, coming to the best accord that he can with the abbot.1

Many other interesting variations might be quoted from the

Ramsey manors, as for instance the custom which allowed the

serf to take from the abbot's courtyard a bundle of as much

straw as he could carry, "but, if the band break before he has

passed through the yard door, he shall lose his straw, and com-

pound by a fine as best he may".2 In the West of England, on a

manor of the Abbot of Glastonbury, the size of the sheaf taken

by the peasant was measured in a strangely elaborate manner:

If any sheaf appears less than is right, it ought to be put in the

mud, and the hayward should grasp his own hair above his ear, and

the sheaf should be drawn midway through his arm; and if this

can be done without defiling his garments or his hair, then it is ad-

judged to be less than is right; but otherwise it is judged sufficient.3

On other manors the serfs had the right to mealkniche when they

mowed the lord's meadow. This was as much hay as the hay-

ward could lift with his little finger as high as his knees.4

Whatever else may be thought of conditions such as these, it is

obvious that work demanded in this fashion and at such frequent

intervals was often work grudgingly given, and often work badly

done. We have only to glance through manorial documents to see

that this was so. To take the first few pages of the Abbots

Langley rolls : men were fined for not coming to the harvest, or for

not producing a sufficient number of men; they came late, and

when they did come performed their work badly or in an idle

fashion.5 Sometimes, not one, but a whole group of men failed to

appear and so left the lord's crops ungarnered.6 Others, even

when they came, made themselves very unpleasant; Hugh le

Waterleder, despite his name, cursed the lord's servants when

they summoned him to carry water;7 Roger Cook, when told to

1 Ramsey Cart. I, 394; cf. 311, 324, 336, 399; Worcester Priory Reg. 14b;

Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvii, 165; Glouc. Cart. iii, 64, 167, etc.; Glas. Rentalia,

10, 14, 53, 65, 71, 85, etc.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 415. For other interesting customs see I, 49.

3 Glas. Rentalia, 135; cf. 68.

4 Ibid. 85, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92.

5 Abbots Langley Rolls, ff. 1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 13, 14, 16 (all c. 1270). Cf. Hales

Rolls, 168; Tooting Bec Rolls, 236, 240, 241, 246, 249, etc.

6 Abbots Langley Rolls, ff. 20, 21, 34. Cf. Cal. Pat. Rolls (1299), 461;

V.C.H. Berks, ii, 184.

7 Chester Rolls, 184.

EXCUSES FOR ABSENCE

113

carry wheat, at first would not come, and when he did, flung his

first load on the tithe heap, and his second on the ground, so

that all the sheaves were broken, and the carts had to pass over

them to get into the grange.1 On the other hand, we read of a

lord who “wickedly slew William Bright with a dung fork, be-

cause he found him idling in his service!”2 The mere enumeration

of these few incidents of the harvesting will doubtless be sufficient

to suggest to the reader the ever-present possibilities of drama

which were part of the life of the fields.

Little wonder that Walter of Henley again and again insists on

the necessity of watching over these workers:

Let the bailiff and the messor, be all the time with the ploughmen,

to see that they do their work well and thoroughly, and at the end of

the day see how much they have done….And because customary

servants neglect their work it is necessary to guard against their

fraud; further, it is necessary that they are overseen often; and besides

the bailiff must oversee all, that they all work well, and if they do not

well, let them be reproved.3

Such in brief were the various types of service which were

commonly demanded by lords throughout England. They ad-

mitted of the utmost variation, and, no doubt, were enforced

with very various degrees of severity: but there they were, an

inseparable part of the peasant's life, and one of the most

obvious signs of his serfdom. He could not avoid them; and

since, as we have seen, it was the custom to exact work through-

out the year, it was necessary to make arrangements for sickness

or other causes of absence. This we find done in a variety of ways:

sickness was generally considered a sufficient cause for absence,

and a man was allowed a period of sick-leave varying on different

manors and at different times of the year. On one of the Ramsey

manors we find a man allowed three weeks' absence most of the

year, but only fifteen days in autumn;4 on others he can take a

year and a day before he need attend;5 on others again he has a

year and a day but must plough.6 On the manors of the Bishop

of Chichester something between a fortnight and a month was

1 V.C.H. Middlesex, ii, 85.

2 Cal. Inquis. Misc. ii, 8.

3 Op. cit. ii; cf. 17, 21, 29, 33, 69, etc.

4 Op. cit. i, 464; cf. Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 83.

5 Op. cit. i, 312, 325.

6 Op. cit. i, 290, 300, 347, 370, 384, 395.

BL

8

114

RENTS AND SERVICES

allowed the sick man, "but no more even though he is (still)

sick!"1 The test of sickness is sometimes stated: the man has to

be so ill that he is unable to leave his house, or he is confined to

his bed,2 or even has to have the Sacrament before he can obtain

relief.3 These wide limits are evidence enough that no very clear

rule can be laid down. Every manor had evolved its own custom

in this matter; but common sense had realised that some con-

sideration must be shown to the sick, and the arrangements in

each manor were probably the result of common agreement be-

tween lord and serfs, and but seldom the autocratic decision of

the lord. Hence, on the various manors of the Abbot of Ramsey,

for example, we find the variety of arrangements outlined above.

Other causes such as bad weather, or attendance at some court

in the lord's interests, also exempted men from work at times;

but, in general, the custom seems to have operated more in

favour of the lord than of his serf. Often the work is only post-

poned: he has to come at another time when summoned to do his

share in the ploughing or reaping. As the custumal on a manor of

the Bishop of Winchester runs: "If they (the serfs) be hindered

by rain, or in any other way, from doing their day's work, they

shall come on the morrow; and if they be hindered on the morrow

also, they shall come the day following, and so from day to day

until they have fully completed one day's work."4 It may be

that this severity is only due to the urgency of getting in the

crops, or of ensuring that the ploughing is done in good time, as

there seems little clear evidence as to how the ordinary week-

work at other times was regulated. On the whole it seems that

the lord was far less strict outside the harvest season, as we may

see by noting the general arrangements about attendance at

courts and on holy-days.

Attendance at court, whether it was the ordinary manorial

court or that of the sheriff, excused a man his day's work; but if

the court day fell upon a holy-day some lords took advantage of the

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 15; cf. 17, 23, 35, 83, 108. Cf. also Camb. Antiq.

Soc. Proc. xxvii, 168 (15 days excused only), 171 (no excuse admitted).

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 300, 457.

3 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 53, 61, 65, 108; Ramsey Cart. I, 477.

4 Reg. Pontissara, 659; cf. Ramsey Cart. I, 46, 312, 346, 393; Battle Cust.

29, where carting in autumn is discussed. If three loads had been carried

before rain came on they could cease for the day: if less than three they were

forced to thresh, or perform any other work.

OBSERVANCE OF HOLY-DAYS

115

coincidence and made no allowance.1 It was in the main to holy-

days that the serf had to look for any lightening of his burden,2

and they are a real item to be reckoned with in our estimation

of the burdens laid on him.

The Church, from time to time, had laid down rules concerning

the due observance of holy-days, and these may be seen from a

passage of Piers Plowman:

holy churche hoteth alle manere puple

Under obedience to bee and buxum to the lawe...

Lewede men to labourie; and lordes to honte...

And vpon Sonedayes to cesse godes servyce to huyre,

Bothe matyns and messe and, after mete, in churches

To huyre here euesong every man ouhte.

Thus it by-longeth for lorde, for lered, and lewede,

Eche halyday to huyre hollyche the seruice,

Vigiles and fastyngdayes forthere-more to knowe,

And fulfille tho fastynges.3

The man who tried to live up to such a standard would find

himself ceasing work on fifty or more holy-days in the year, and

certain modern writers have assumed that something like this did

actually happen.4 Dr Cunningham nowhere commits himself to

a definite figure, but says that “the holidays were frequent”,

and “must have made a difference to the wage-earner”,5 while

Mr Denton calculates that a man in the fifteenth century could

reckon on being able to work only four and a half days a week.6

They, however, are considering conditions in the late fourteenth

and fifteenth centuries, and are mainly concerned with wage-

earners. The position of such folk was controlled theoretically

by an enactment of 1403, which forbade labourers to work for

1 V.C.H. Hants, v, 414; Ramsey Cart. I, 47, 464; Suff. Inst. Arch. XI,

2, etc.

2 V.C.H. Sussex, II, 183.

3 C. x, 219f.: “Holy Church orders all kinds of people to be obedient and

to comply with the law. The uneducated have to work and the lords to hunt.

And on Sundays this should cease in order that they may hear God’s service:

both matins and mass, and after meat each man ought to hear evensong in the

church. And thus it behoves lords, as well as the learned and the ignorant, to

hear the whole of the service every holy day, and also to know the vigils and

days of fasting and to observe them.”

4 Evolution English Farm, 179, and 200, “The festivals averaged nearly one

day a week.”

5 Growth of Industry, 390, 449.

6 England in the Fifteenth Century, 219, 222.

8-2

116

RENTS AND SERVICES

hire on holy-days, or after noon on the vigils of holy-days.1 The serf, however, did not come under any such act, for his work was not for hire but in return for his holding. The Church preached what we have seen Langland advocating, but it was a counsel of perfection, not one of common use. Even the ecclesiastical authorities themselves did not expect such devotion (and neglect of their own interests) from the peasant. Simon Meopham, Archbishop of Canterbury, in prohibiting any servile work inconsistent with the devout celebration of Good Friday, adds: "Nevertheless, we do not by this law mean to lay a burden on the poor, nor put any obstacle in the way of the rich to prevent them affording the customary assistance for charity's sake to help on the tillage of their poorer neighbours."2 The canon lawyer Lyndwood in his gloss on this says that "the poor" are "those who have not animals and beasts to plough with, and who lack means to hire the assistance of others", and goes on to adopt the opinion of another canon lawyer, that though it would not be lawful to plough a poor man's holding on Sunday itself, or on the greater feasts, nevertheless this is permissible on the minor feasts wherever the relaxation is tolerated by the custom of the country.3

This is exactly the point of view expressed by the author of Dives and Pauper, who tells us that on the lesser feasts needful works like "erynge and sowynge, repyng, mowynge, cartyng" were not reckoned servile or a breach of the holy-day, if they were done in a right spirit and not for avarice, but Sundays and the great feasts must be observed more punctiliously; "suche workes shudde natt be done but ful grete nede compelle men thereto".4

Such, in brief, was the theory. What of the practice? A general survey of the evidence available can only lead to one conclusion: the law of the Church was violated on all sides, often by churchmen themselves. On the Bishop of Chichester's manors, for example, the Sunday itself was used as a day on which to hold

1 Statutes of the Realm, 4 Henry IV, cap. 14.

2 Lyndwood, Provinciale (Bk. 2, Tit. 3, De Feriis), 100.

3 Ibid. 101.

4 Dives and Pauper, III, 7, 3, as quoted by B. L. Manning in his People's Faith in the Time of Wyclif, 129. The whole of chapter IX of Mr Manning's book should be consulted on this subject.

OBSERVANCE OF HOLY-DAYS 117

the Manor Court;1 to perform carrying duties;2 to act as a letter bearer3 or to do any kind of work required;4 and similarly on two at least of the Ramsey manors Sunday carrying might be required.5

As for holy-days other than Sundays, on a great many manors the lord did not allow his serfs to take every holy-day off, as he should have done by strict canon law, but allowed them only one out of every two.6 On some Ramsey manors they were given the day’s holiday but had to make it up later on;7 while on others, no allowance or excuse was contemplated, but the work went on, holy-day notwithstanding.8 This seems to have been the view taken by Walter of Henley, for he reckons the lord can get forty-four working weeks in the year after taking away “eight weeks for holy-days and other hindrances”.9 Thus after deducting Sundays he only allows for four “other hindrances” in the shape of holy-days during the year!

It will be noticed that nearly all these examples are taken from manors owned by churchmen, and we may fairly argue that conditions on lay manors were no better and probably a little worse. We may, therefore, expect to find a widespread ignoring of holy-days, and an examination of the manorial accounts proves that this was so. The reeve, in making his annual reckoning, had to account for all the works owed and how they were discharged; and therefore his account generally included an item under the heading of holy-days, noting how many such days occurred in the year, and the number of works thereby excused. An examination of a large number of such accounts shows no clear-cut rule as to the observance of holy-days, but it does show clearly that few or no lords tried to live up to the requirements of canon law. In no instance has anything like fifty or more days’ work relaxed been noticed: something between fifteen and twenty would be a generous estimate of the number of holy-days the

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 15. 2 Ibid. 17, 34, 71

3 Ibid. 36. 4 Ibid. 37.

5 Ramsey Cart. I, 290, 310; cf. Eynsham Cart. II, 19. 6 Worc. Priory Reg. 33 b; D.S.P. 66; Rot. Hund. II, 630 b; Ramsey Cart. I, 350, 384, 398, 463, 486; 492; Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 15, 36, 42, 64 (but see page 7 which says that in total only eight such days are to be allowed).

7 Ramsey Cart. I, 302, 366.

8 Ibid. I, 369; Clutterbuck's Hertford, II, Appendix 10; III, 614; Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvii, 170. 9 Op. cit. 9; cf. Rogers, Wages, I, 256.

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RENTS AND SERVICES

serf could count on.1 But any figure is liable to mislead: we are

only justified in asserting that there is no evidence to support

the belief that the canon law was observed with any degree of

strictness. In every diocese the practice varied to some extent,

and every local area, as Lyndwood himself recognised, had its

own peculiarities and time-hallowed practices "according to the

custom of the country".2

Apart from these allowances for various reasons, the peasant

got few chances of rest from his weekly labours on his lord's

behalf. The only other relief he could expect was during the

holidays round about Christmas, Easter and Whitsun.3 At these

festivals a brief respite was allowed him, sometimes amounting

to as much as fifteen days at Christmas.4 Then the Yule celebra-

tions, and perhaps a special feast at the manor house, made that

season a memorable one. An account of such feastings will be

found in a later chapter,5 and here we need only note the occur-

rence of these periods of rest in the otherwise unending toil

demanded of the peasant, both by his lord and by the land itself.

One further service remains to be described, namely service in

time of war. As we shall see, this only gradually came to concern

the serf, but little by little the King demanded larger and larger

armies and cast his net more widely, until in the end it caught

even the peasant within its meshes. Unlike other services, how-

ever, this had nothing to do with his serfdom, so far as the King

was concerned (although undoubtedly lords used their power

over their serfs to compel them to serve), but was the result of the

growing demand for man power. It was so insistent that in time

the remotest village and its inhabitants were shaken from their

secluded life, and forced to take note of a much greater world.

For it must be remembered that to the majority of English

peasants their world was a very circumscribed affair. Their

village and the immediate surroundings were their all, and within

perhaps some fifteen or twenty miles of their cottages the great

1 This figure is the result of the examination of a large number of manorial

accounts before 1350, and is taken from different parts of England, both from

lay and ecclesiastical manors.

2 Lyndwood, op. cit. 101.

3 D.S.P. xxvii ; Cunningham, op. cit. 585; Hatfield's Survey, 172; Sussex

Arch. Soc. LIII, 158; Levett, op. cit. 95.

4 Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvii, 165; Ramsey Cart. I, 344.

5 See below, p. 263.

MILITARY SERVICE

119

unknown began—a world of which they knew next to nothing by personal experience, and little more by repute. Yet from time to time echoes of this greater world came to the peasant in his fields: news of conflicts between great neighbouring lords, whom he might, perchance, have seen spurring through the village street, or riding upon the uplands hawk on wrist. At times news of the King's wars came to the village, brought by a passing soldier en route for his home once more. War, however, for many years after the Conquest, meant little or nothing to him: it was true that in times of great stress he could be summoned to join a mass levy, and then, armed with cudgel or knife, he formed one of an ill-disciplined rabble, led by untrained and ill-prepared leaders. It was such a body that was assembled to meet the Scottish invaders, and which won the Battle of the Standard in 1138. Here, two wild undisciplined bodies of troops met and fought out their quarrel more like wild beasts than soldiers. Except for such very unusual emergencies, however, the peasant knew little at first hand of war for some 150 years after the Conquest.

The coming of the thirteenth century saw the beginning of a change which was to have a marked influence on the peasant's life. From time to time the King had issued Assizes of Arms, which laid down the various categories of men liable for military service in certain circumstances. The first of these, the Assize of 1181, contemplated only the arming of freemen,1 but in 1225, a writ for the collection of a tax of a fifteenth mentions among those to be exempted “quantum ad villanos armis ad quae jurati sunt”.2 From this it seems clear that villeins could be sworn to arms, and this power is extended by a writ of 1242 enforcing the Assize of Arms so that it includes not only citizens and burgesses, but adds “libere tenentes, villanos et alios”,3 from which it

1 Stubbs, Select Charters (8th ed.), 154.

2 Ibid. 356.

3 Lanc. Lay Subsidies, I, 68, 69, and also a parallel writ for 1230. The date given in Stubbs (p. 371) is 1252, but this is an error. (Lancashire and Cheshire Rec. Soc.) The Rev. W. Hudson in his valuable and suggestive article on the “Norwich Militia in the XIVth Century”, Norf. Arch. xiv, 263, interprets this phrase to refer to such “villeins and others as held lands above a certain value as sub-tenants (i.e. free tenants in villenage)”, but Pollock and Mait-land, History English Law, I, 421 n. 4, accept the words at their face value to mean “the villani if rich enough should be armed”. And see Cal. Inquis. Misc. I, 558, “as they were sworn to arms, both freemen and villeins”.

120

RENTS AND SERVICES

further appears that all villeins “secundum quantitatem terrarum

et catallorum suorum” were to bear arms. It was the force

assembled by these means to which Edward I appealed when

war broke out against the Welsh in 1276. The military resources

of the nation at that time have been admirably summarised by

Dr J. E. Morris in these words:

The arms were ready, and each man was equipped at his own

expense, the country bore the expense of mobilisation, and the crown

paid wages from the date of the outward march. In 1277 occasionally

the sheriff led his contingent to the war, but as the reign wore on the

King appointed special officers to take over the men from the sheriff.

Writs were issued authorising them to raise a specified number of

men; such writs became more common from the war of 1282 on-

wards, and the system was in full force in 1294. The Commissioners

of Array, as they came to be called, were usually experienced officers,

and being often sent, war after war, to the same counties, they

doubtless knew the right men to choose.1

Edward I soon learnt that the measures taken by his ancestors

were insufficient to provide the numbers of men which his

growing knowledge of the technique of war and of the im-

portance of infantry saw to be necessary. The Statute of Win-

chester in 1285 reorganised the military resources of the country,

and brought the vast mass of peasants definitely within reach of

the King's Commissioners of Array. From this time onwards,

the continuous wars in France, Scotland and Wales became of

considerable moment to the serf; and, more and more, he found

himself caught up by great forces whose ultimate aims were far

beyond his comprehension, but whose immediate needs absorbed

him and his fellows in increasing numbers and threw them into

the wars. At first it was the peasantry of the Welsh marches,

together with the men of the neighbouring counties, who were

forced to march at the word of command; then the battles in

Scotland called for levies from all the counties north of the

Trent, and finally the wars of Edward III necessitated the raising

of promising recruits from the peasantry of all England.

How far this continuous demand was met by a willing response

it is not possible to decide, but, as we might expect, the balance

of evidence suggests that the Commissioners met with con-

siderable difficulties in their recruiting marches. The peasant was

1 J. E. Morris, The Welsh Wars of Edward I, 92.

THE PEASANT AND WAR

121

untrained in war, and was slow to see that any advantage could

come from leaving his fields and going to an unknown country,

while travellers' tales of the wild and barbarous Scots and Welsh

did not allay his fears. So the King was constantly calling for

fresh forces, and the Commissioners were hard pressed to find

even half or three-quarters of the men that were required.

Although the King paid them twopence or threepence a day (as

compared with a penny a day which was often given for hired

field work), and although they were seldom kept on active service

for more than three months at a time, the fear of the unknown

and the reluctance to leave their homes held most men from the

army, and it was only the more hardy and adventurous spirits who

came forward willingly. The Commissioners had to find men,

however, and were aided in their task by the Muster Rolls which

were compiled in each county. From these they were able to see

fairly exactly what men there were available for service in each

village and town throughout the realm, and from such drew their

levies. Thus from nine hundreds of the Rape of Hastings in 1335

there were returned the names of 751 men liable for service, and

from the existing Muster Roll we can see how these names were

arranged in military fashion in companies nominally 100 strong,

each company divided into groups or sections of twenty men.

The Commissioners drew from this Roll the 200 archers and the

200 armed men which they were ordered by King's writ to raise

from the county. These lists, therefore, are of the greatest im-

portance and interest, for not only do they show the number and

names of those available, but also they give us information about

their weapons, and we find these Sussex men were variously

armed--some with bows and arrows, others with knives and

cudgels, while others again are described as pikemen and billmen.1

There can be little doubt that men bearing arms such as these

were of humble origin for the most part, and this view is sup-

ported by the clearest evidence when we look at the manorial

records. For example, an entry in the Hales Court Rolls of 1295

shows that several suitors of the Court were elected to serve in

the King's army in Wales,2 or again from a document of 1307 we

1

Dawson, History of Hastings Castle, i, 176; J. G. Nichols, Collectanea

Genealogical and Topographical, vii, 118. Cf. Norf. Arch. xiv, 263; Hearne,

Textus Roffensis (Oxford, 1720), 236.

2

Op. cit. 318; cf. 324, 329; cf. Select Coroner's Rolls, p. 75.

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RENTS AND SERVICES

see that the men of Pentirik, who were villeins, were bound to follow their lord to war when called upon.

1

Again, in 1325, John Beaucosin, the hayward of Littleport, was convicted by a jury in the Bishop of Ely's court of having taken a bribe of two shillings from one of the lord's villeins "by saying that he was elected to serve the King in the parts of Scotland, and that for the said sum he (John) would protect him against having to go there".

2

Many other cases could be quoted to uphold the view that the serf was never certain that it might not be his fate to go to the wars, although like most others he had little desire so to do.

But someone had to go: the King's needs were imperative, and compulsion, whether to a greater or lesser degree, was applied.

In the first place it would have been very difficult for men to withstand the pressure which their lord could bring to bear on them if he so desired.

We have seen how the custom of the manor forced the men of Pentirik to march at their lord's call, and, on many other manors, although this duty may not have been so clearly defined, it was doubtless operative.

Smyth, in his

Lives

of the

Berkeley Family,

notes that the personal retinue of Lord Thomas Berkeley touched 200 foot archers, and adds, "at this time it is collected by the Musters that each great captain had for the most part their own tenants with themselves".

3

Again, the cry of the widows of Painswick in Gloucestershire is suggestive.

They beseech their lord, Sir John Talbot, to hear their cry, for when "he had been beyond the sea in the King's wars he had sixteen men out of Painswick, of the which there were eleven slain".

4

As a result "since some of them were his bondmen they had not only lost their husbands, but also their holdings".

Apart from manorial compulsion there was always the possibility that the King's officers might insist on exercising the great powers which their Commission gave to them.

It is true that on many occasions the King ordered his officers to explain his needs to possible recruits in the "most loving and courteous manner",

5

and at times he even offered to grant foot soldiers "such gratuity beyond their fixed wages when they come as shall content them in reason".

6

But behind all these fair words we constantly find

1

Inquis.

Post Mortem,

IV, 295.

2

Selden Soc.

IV, 141.

3

Op.

cit.

III, 22.

4

S. Rudder,

History of Gloucestershire,

594;

cf.

History of Painswick,

5

Calendar of Close Rolls (1296-1302),

6

Ibid.

372, 375.

REPATRI AVERUNT SINE LICENCIA

123

more peremptory language. The same year that Edward I

offered a gratuity to the men of Northumberland who would

join him at Berwick, he had also ordered his Commissioners in

several counties to select footmen and “to bring to justice and to

punish as they think fit all those whom they find rebellious in this

business”; while another writ of the same year threatened re-

calcitrant recruits with “seizure of their bodies and imprison-

ment”.1 The Commissioners were constantly ordered to select

the “most powerful and fencible” men; and, with such powers

at their back, and faced with the constant demands of their

master for fresh levies, it is easy to imagine what was the

position of the peasant.

But though the Commissioners or the lord might with some

difficulty make him march to the wars, it was quite another

matter to keep him there and to make him fight. Year after year

the issue of the writs of summons is followed a few months later

by another sheaf of writs ordering the sheriff to arrest and

punish deserters. A few days on the march, or a taste of fighting

seems to have satisfied the martial ardour of many of these

peasant recruits, and they took the first opportunity of deserting.

Thus we find a paymaster, in 1300, noting on his roll that certain

commanders of hundreds were in camp, but without any men

quia repatriaverunt sine licentia.2 Even the device of giving the

men an instalment of their pay in advance failed to hold them,

for Edward I indignantly ordered his sheriffs to take action

against men who had received his pay, and yet “afterwards

returned home fraudulently with the money”.

The trouble did not end here, for the careful investigations of

Dr Morris have shown how little a medieval commander could

depend on keeping his force at the wars, even if they had been

got there by one means or another. His analysis of the pay-rolls

of the Scottish campaign of 1300 shows that although 16,000 men

were ordered to be at Carlisle on June 24, only some 3500 had

arrived by July 1, and that the most the Commissioners could

muster by the middle of the month was 7600. That was the crest

of the wave, and daily after that the force began to dribble away,

and by August little more than 3000 men remained with the

1 Calendar of Patent Rolls (1292-1301), 491, 512.

2 Morris, op. cit. 302.

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RENTS AND SERVICES

King.1 The rest had gone: some no doubt killed or taken away wounded; some having served their time; but, for the most part, these amateur soldiers had just faded away, and started on the long trudge back to their more peaceful fields. From their seat at the village ale-house we may well imagine them entertaining their fellows with stories of their adventures: some of them, perhaps like Langland's man,

With a look like a lion and lordly in speaking; The boldest of beggars; a boaster who has nothing; A teller of tales in towns and in taverns; He says what he never saw and swears to his honesty; He devises deeds that were done by no man, Or is the witness of his well doing, and will say sometimes: “Look! If you believe me not, or think I lie basely, Ask him or ask him, and he can tell you What I suffered and saw.”2

During the fourteenth century things became worse for the villein. Edward III made many and imperative demands for his services, going so far, at times, as to ask for the mustering of all able-bodied men between the ages of sixteen and sixty. However exaggerated we may estimate this to have been—a huge demand in the hope of a moderate response—there can be no doubt that the call for men must have affected every village in England. As we have seen, the Statute of Winchester had recognised the potentialities of a peasant force trained to arms, and the next fifty years saw the peasantry of England becoming more and more familiar with their weapons. The bowmen of Crécy were the men who had trained on the village greens throughout England, and side by side with them stood their sturdy companions of field and plough, now, however, armed with knife and cudgel.

It is at least doubtful whether these men were more willing recruits than their brothers had been in the time of Edward I. There are signs enough throughout the reign of Edward III that

1 Morris, op. cit. 301. Cf. the army at Berwick in 1298: “16,000 foot on Feb. 9th; relays brought the figure up to 21,500, but soon it dropped to 18,000 and to 15,000 again, and in March to 10,000 and 5,000.” Dr Morris calculates that in all 21,500 foot were engaged, “and though that high total was maintained only for a few days, 18,000 on an average served for over a month, and 10,000 for six weeks”. Op. cit. 285–6.

2 Piers Plowman, B. XIII, 302–10.

COERCIVE METHODS

125

compulsion was constantly necessary. The King adopted an indenture system, whereby men undertook to provide a certain number of troops for a certain length of time, and such men were probably mainly volunteers. But, apart from these, we find the King ordering his officers to compel the men chosen by the ordinary methods to come forward, and giving them powers to punish the refractory and rebellious. Even so, he had the greatest difficulty in getting enough men into the ranks, and had to issue pardons to those criminals and outlaws who would come forward to serve him. We may well believe that the peasant was the first to feel the pressure of all such coercive measures. Where other men could buy themselves off with a bribe they had nothing but the barest household goods or stock to offer, and little power to withstand the officer who impressed them in place of a richer faint-heart. Here, as in many another situation, the serf had to suffer in silence, for he knew no one in the village sufficiently learned and powerful to voice his wrongs.

Servile

Burdens

CHAPTER VI

SERVILE BURDENS

BUT when the peasant had performed all the ploughings and carryings demanded of him, and had sown and mown, and threshed and garnered for the lord, he was still under many obligations. His lack of freedom showed itself in a host of ways: he could neither brew nor bake where he would; he was not allowed to grind his own corn, to sell his own beasts, to give his own daughter in marriage, nor to do many other things without his lord's permission “prayed and obtained”. The lord's power was about him on all sides: not only did he fear the occasional visit of the steward—armed with powers of life and death as it seemed—or the more frequent visits of the itinerant bailiff, whose authoritative commands every one learnt to respect, but he also came under the supervision of the local village officials—reeve, messor, beadle, etc. All these were constantly influencing his actions, and to some extent infringing on his freedom. If we look at some of the ways in which the peasants were controlled we shall quickly realise why they sought so passionately and constantly to buy their freedom.

Let us start with the village mill. We may safely assume that every village (and almost every manor) had one or more mills where all kinds of grain could be ground,1 unless it were to the lord's interest to concentrate the grinding at one mill and thus to save working costs. These mills were either the property of the lord, or had been so at some earlier date, until he found it worth his while to accept a yearly rent for them, either from an individual tenant, or less frequently from his men as a whole. Here, as everywhere, we see the lord profiting from the needs of his

1 Both water-mills and windmills were to be found in medieval England. The former were perhaps the more common throughout this period, for the windmill was a comparatively late invention, and does not seem to have appeared in Western Europe before the second half of the twelfth century. Abbot Samson pulled down the molendinum ad ventum of poor deacon Herbert in 1191, according to Jocelyn de Brakelond, and this is one of the earliest records of a windmill (if not the earliest) known in England. (J. of Brakelond, ed. Sir E. Clarke, 1907, p. 75.)

BL 9

130

SERVILE BURDENS

manorial dependents: he seizes upon the fact that men must

grind their corn in order to make bread, and so he insists on it

being ground (at a price) at his mill.

The mill, therefore, became a valuable part of his income, and

is frequently mentioned as a separate (and considerable) item

when the value of a manor is being assessed. When, for example,

in 1185, the Templars made a survey of all their lands in England,

one of the seven headings of their enquiry concerned their mills,

for, as the editor of the volume says:

These small and numerous manorial corn mills, mainly worked by

water power, were not the least valuable part of the Templars'

property. They ground the corn of a fairly extensive district and of a

considerable population, and their close concentration in the hands of

the lords of the manor, on demesne, shows that the Templars early

appreciated the financial importance of seigneurial monopolies.1

Miss Lees is here actually referring only to the Essex properties

of the Templars, but her remarks are a fair comment on their

whole policy, and indeed on that of all medieval lords who had

mills on their manors.

Since the mill was of such financial importance it was necessary

for the lord to see that its business was ample and that it was not

threatened by any rivals. This was achieved mainly by an in-

sistence that the unfree must bring their corn to the manorial

mill to be ground. This duty is constantly expressely stated, and as

constantly the Court Rolls show men being fined for attempting

to avoid their obligations. Thus the men on the Ramsey manors

of Broughton, Wardeboys, Caldecot, Woodhurst and Waldhurst

are all forced to bring their corn to Broughton2 where the Abbot

has a mill; or, as is said on another manor of this Abbey: “All the

tenants owe suit to the mill, whereunto they shall send their

corn. . . If any tenant be convicted of having failed to render suit

to the lord's mill, he shall give sixpence before judgment; or, if

he have gone to judgment [i.e. if the matter has come before the

Manor Court], he shall give twelvepence.”3

1 Templars Records, lxxix. For comparative value of mill and total value

of manor, see Worc. Priory Reg. xiv; Yorks Inquis. I, 213, 223, 245; and

Savine, English Monasteries on the Eve of the Dissolution, 126 ff.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 333. Cf. Worc. Priory Reg. 32, where three vills have to

mill at Bradewas.

3 Ibid. I, 473. Cf. I, 302; Durham Halmote Rolls, 33, 40, 160, 184.

THE MANORIAL MILL

131

Despite all manorial injunctions men were constantly failing to bring their corn to the lord's mill, and in due time found themselves accused in the Manor Court. Here they usually received short shrift, and were fined, sometimes for grinding at another's mill, sometimes for grinding at home with a small hand-mill.1 Men tried to avoid this liability, at times successfully, by pleading that they held the lord's license to grind wheresoever theyliked, but this was not a privilege freely given.2 At Hales, for example, on one occasion when the services of three applicants were relaxed, on payment of a fine, the lord insisted on their rendering suit of mill.3 If men were caught on the way to a rival mill, the custom of the manor was often such that, if the offence was other than the first, the lord was entitled to seize the man's horse, while his miller took whatever corn or flour the wretched man was carrying.4 The validity of such a custom seems to have been recognised in an action before the itinerant justices at Cirencester in 1302. Here the plaintiff admitted he was en route to another mill and off the manor when his horse and corn were confiscated by the Abbot—who kept the horse and passed on the corn to his miller. The plaintiff bases his claim only on the fact that the seizure took place off the manor, and does not dispute the recognised custom of seizure itself.5

Some lords recognised that often it was not wantonness but necessity that made men go elsewhere. They would arrive at the mill, only to find the miller overwhelmed with work, or with his mill out of repair, or his head of water weak, or the wind feeble and variable. With the best will in the world (and the miller was notoriously not overburdened with goodwill) much of the corn must wait many days before it could be ground. But at home the family could not wait, and so, perforce, the peasant went to the next mill or ground furtively at home with a hand-mill. Conditions similar to these are sometimes provided for, as on the Ramsey manor, where,

if they (the peasants) cannot on the first day grind the whole of the corn, the mill must grind as much as may keep their household in

1 Hales Rolls, 118, 119, 136, 138, 152 etc.; Court Rolls, 176/130, and see below.

2 Hales Rolls, 364, 366. 3 Ibid. 225; Abbots Langley Rolls, 44, 45.

4 Bennett and Elton, Hist. Corn Milling, iii, 220; iv, 66; Worc. Priory Reg. lxiii.

5 Y.B. Ed. II (R.S.).

9-2

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SERVILE BURDENS

bread for that day; and if the peasant cannot grind there that day,

then he may take his corn elsewhere at his will. . . . From August 1 till

Michaelmas each man may grind where he will, if he be unable to

grind at my lord's mill on the day whereon he has sent the corn.

Moreover, if it chance that my lord's mill be broken or his milldam

burst, so that the tenant cannot grind there, then, as in the former case,

he may take it elsewhere at his will.1

The greatest difficulty that faced the lord, however, was how to

deal with the secret milling that went on in the peasant's own

home. The hand-mill (or quern) was an object of the greatest

antiquity, and its working was extremely simple and was known

to all. One of these small machines set up in the house, if it re-

mained undiscovered, could cope with the limited amount of

grain many holdings provided. Hence they were a great tempta-

tion to the poor man and were in common use. The lord tried to

prevent this, and wherever possible fined those found in pos-

session of hand-mills. The Court Rolls are full of such matters:

"It is presented that A. B. does not mill at his lord's mill, and

further that he has a hand-mill at home. It is ordered that the

mill be seized, and he is fined 6d."2 At the next Court he still has

the mill, but is made to come before the Court and find pledges

not to use it in future, and it is to be taken from him.3 An in-

teresting case at Cirencester, in 1300, shows us the seizure being

made. The bailiff of the Abbot was accused of entering several

houses, and of seizing the millstones and taking them to the

Abbey. The bailiff admitted that as bailiff of the manor he had

gone to certain men's houses with a white rod in his hand, in the

name of his bailiwick as was the custom, and had ordered the

nuisance to be abated. When the men had utterly refused to

obey, he had gone again at the Abbot's command and removed

the stones. The justices upheld the Abbot's right, and it cost the

men of Cirencester the large sum of 100 marks to make their

peace with him. A side-note in the cartulary states that the

Abbot could seize the mills, but ought not to destroy them.4 It

will, perhaps, be remembered that in the famous quarrel be-

1 Ramsey Cart. 1, 473. Cf. 11, 313, where if a mill is out of action for two

days serfs may go elsewhere.

2 Abbots Langley Rolls, 20; Wakefield Rolls, 11, 8, 164; Selden Soc. 11, 47;

IV, 123; Page, op. cit. 47 n. 2.

3 Abbots Langley Rolls, 21 v.

4 Bristol and Gloucester Arch. Soc. 1x, 315.

tween the monks of St Albans and their tenants (graphically retold in Froude's Short Studies, "Annals of an English Abbey"), when the Abbot had successfully carried off the hand-mills, he used the stones from them to pave the floor of his private parlour.1

The lord took his profit in kind from all those coming to the mills. Every one had to contribute a certain proportion of his grain which was known as "multure". No clear figure can be given to express this proportion: it varied very considerably, and the Statuta Pistorum2 (thirteenth century) assessed it at the twentieth or twenty-fourth part of the grain, but the details given in accounts and other documents show it to have averaged something more like a sixteenth part.3 Now it must be remembered that the price of corn varied very considerably during these centuries, so that the value of this multure also varied very considerably. The serf, therefore, was not charged a fixed price for the mill's service, but found himself forced to yield up something considerably more precious in times of shortage than after a good harvest. Hence, no doubt, many of the charges of extortion so commonly levelled against the miller. Added to this was the galling knowledge that the lord paid no multure, neither did the parish priest, despite their comparative wealth.4 Then again, the amount of multure taken varied as between free men and serfs: on Durham manors we find the free paying only one twenty-fourth, while the serf gave one thirteenth5—all incidents emphasising the differences between class and class, and inevitably leading to friction and bad blood.

The mill standing by the river bank was fed by water diverted along a watercourse and into a mill-pond. This was banked up with clay and turves, and the water was regulated by flood gates, and by sluices which allowed the miller to control his head of water. A very full account of the structure of the medieval Welsh mill may well serve to describe the innumerable water-mills throughout England at this period.

1 Gesta Abbatum (R.S.), I, 410ff; II, 149ff.

2 Statutes of the Realm, I, 202–3.

3 Guisborough Cart. I, 278; Whitby Cart. II, 367, 370; Yorks Inquis. I, 76; Cumb. and West. Arch. Soc. Trans. I, 282; Mamecestre, 315; Cust. Rents, 98.

4 Mon. Exon. 256; Glouc. Cart. III, 180, 193, 197.

5 Durham Halmote Rolls, 134, 135. Cf. Med. Village, 57 n. 1.

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SERVILE BURDENS

The outer wheel consisted of a central oaken beam, into which was

secured a double set of spokes or “arms”, joined by “curves”,

strengthened by iron bands and stays to form a large double wheel.

Between the outer rims, a series of trough-like “ladeles” were

arranged to catch the current of the water. The axle extended into the

mill, and on its other extremity was built an inner single wheel, also

made of wood and banded. The inner wheel was cogged, the “cogges”

in turn, was fitted on to an elevated and vertical spindle, itself re-

volving and with its lower extremity resting on a cup of brass. The

opposite and squared end of the spindle passed into the upper storey

of the mill, through the middle of a stationary millstone lying in its

bed on the upper floor. Upon the squared end of the spindle an iron

“trendel” or driver was fixed which clutched the iron stay or “rind”

firmly secured across the perforated centre of the upper and moving

millstone. This movable stone, thus balanced upon the spindle,

could be adjusted by lowering or raising the spindle from below, and

it could be made to revolve at a minute distance from the nether and

fixed stone. The corn was then passed from the container, held on a

framework, through the hole in the centre of the upper stone. The

flow was regulated by a small mechanical contrivance, the “hopper”,

vibrated by means of a “jack” worked from below by the “rind” and

spindle. The revolution of the stone forced out the meal, which was

directed by the close-fitting framework to the spout where it was

ejected into the holder. The full weight of the upper stone upon the

spindle and the continual friction naturally proved a severe test for

the soft iron of which the latter was made, and for the brass pivot at its

base. Hence the very frequent references in medieval accounts to

expenses incurred in “lengthening” and repairing the “neck” of the

spindle and recasting the brass, both very expensive items. The

purchase and haulage of the millstones were also costly and, probably

on account of their poor quality, they required to be renewed

periodically.1

The upkeep of the structure of the mill and its accessories was

an expensive business, and in general was a charge on the lord.

In making over a mill to the canons of St Agatha in 1190, Sir

Gerald de Mansfield grants them also the right of taking stones

for its repair wherever they may be found on his land,2 and a

little later another deed ensures the monks of Haughmond a little

copse for wood, and resources for the repair of the mill-pool.3

1 W. Rees, South Wales and the March, p. 137.

2 Corn Milling, III, 51.

3 Eyton, Antiq. of Shrops. VI, 54; and see x, 102; Glas. Rentalia, 87 (mill

rented at 16s. but lord does the repairs); Ramsey Cart. III, 217.

THE MANORIAL OVEN

135

The actual work when repairs were necessary was laid upon the serfs. They carried wood to the mill, or cleaned out and repaired the sluices, or helped in re-thatching: in short we were called on for all the semi-skilled and unskilled labour required. Loss of time meant loss of money to the lord, and thus the tenants of the Bishop of Durham were fined for not coming in good time to help repair a broken mill bank.

Lastly, a few words must be said about the miller himself. "What is the boldest thing in the world?" asks the medieval riddle. "A miller's shirt, for it clasps a thief by the throat daily", is the answer, and serves to indicate the unenviable reputation of the miller during this period. The Coventry Leet Book, and the Red Paper Book of Colchester (both fifteenth-century documents it is true), tell us by inference of some of his tricks, in their injunctions forbidding the miller to water or change corn sent to him, and give worse for the better. Nor shall he keep hogs, nor more than three hens and a cock, and especially are gluttonous geese to be banished from his premises. But no great time need be spent on this matter, for Chaucer has dealt so faithfully with the Miller in the Canterbury Tales that, to use his own phrase, "there is namor to seyn".

Just as the peasant was not allowed to grind his corn wherever he thought best, so he was forbidden to bake his bread at home or anywhere, save in a special oven constructed for the purpose, and belonging to the lord. Of course, it is clear that very many peasants had not the means of baking at home: the construction of an oven was a semi-skilled affair, and many houses could not have included one in their flimsy structures without grave risks and great difficulty. So the lord's oven must not be looked upon solely as a seigneurial oppression. Undoubtedly it provided a certain income for the lord, often at no trouble to himself, for he generally rented it to an individual or to the peasants as a body, and, save for repairs from time to time, had no further concern in the matter. Still, so long as the baker did not exact too large a fee for his work, the village oven or bakehouse was a communal convenience.

1 Durham Halmote Rolls, 30, and cf. 39, 87, 103; Ramsey Cart. III, 243.

2 Cov. Leet Book (E.E.T.S.), II, 397.

3 Benham, Red Paper Book, 18. 4 C.T. Prologue and A. 3120 ff.

136

SERVILE BURDENS

The communal oven, however, never seems to have been so widespread in England as in France, and we have no very clear details as to its administration. We have a number of entries showing that it was often a valuable asset to the lord: sometimes in granting a charter to a vill the lord will forgo his rights of oven, but this is not invariable, and is in itself an indication of the value of such rights.1 Again, we can find information respecting its hire to individuals, or to the members of the village as a body.2 As we saw when considering the mill, the repairs were chargeable to the lord or to the tenant, according to the arrangement made at the time of drawing up the lease. And again, men are fined for not baking at the oven, and so on.3 But we have no information of the detailed working of the system, of the method of payment, of the ease with which one could make use of the oven, of the way in which all those wishing to bake were dealt with, etc. As with many other of the commonest activities of the peasant's life, the very frequency and "matter of factness" of the operations have been our undoing. The medieval mind thought them not worth recording.

Nevertheless the widespread activities of the village bakers are vouched for by the way in which the name occurs everywhere under different forms. In a Worcester Subsidy roll, for example, we find the following names all denoting the presence of the baker: Bakare, Bachessor, Bagster, Baxter; Bollinger, Bullinger, Ballinger, Bellinger; Furnur', Furner, Furnagc, Fernier; Pain, Pannier, Pottinger; Pistor, Pestour, Pasteler; Rybbare; Wastel, Wytbred; le Ovane, atte Novene.4

What we have lost because of the commonplace nature of the baker's activities may be seen by looking at an entry concerning the village oven printed by Maitland in a volume entitled The Court Baron. In this volume there occurs a detailed account of how to hold a court and pleas, in which the writer takes one by one the common types of offences the steward may have to deal with in holding the Manor Court, and sets out an imaginary case of each. Naturally only the most frequent causes of litigation are

1 Ballard, Brit. Borough Charters (1042–1216), p. 1.

2 Selden Soc. 11, 25; Mamecestre, 315; Tatenhill, 11, 6, 12; Kettering Comp. 12.

3 Tatenhill, 11, 62; A.A.S.R. xxxiii, 330 ff.

4 Worc. Hist. Soc., Lay Subsidy Roll, 1 Ed. III, p. x.

OTHER FORMS OF OPPRESSION

137

mentioned, and among these is the oven. The trouble which

might arise over this is thus stated:

It fell out that on Monday next after S. Andrew that M. wife of the

hayward and E. wife of a neighbour were baking at an oven, to wit

that of N., and a dispute arose between them about the loss of a loaf

taken from the oven, and the said old crones took to their fists and

each other's hair and raised the hue; and their husbands hearing this

ran up and made a great rout. Therefore by award of the court the

said women who made the rout and raised the hue are in mercy.

And so on with other cases as they arise.1

Both mill and oven, then, were common sights in the medieval

village and we may perhaps sum up this section of our enquiry

with Champion's verdict:

What rendered these monopolies so odious was not so much the

fixed tariff or the prohibition against crushing one's own grain with a

hand-mill or between two stones, and baking this meal at home, as the

compulsion to carry the corn for long distances, over abominable

roads, and then waiting two or even three days at the door of a mill

where the pool had run dry; or, again, of accepting ill-ground meal,

burned or half-baked bread, and of enduring all sorts of tricks and

vexations from the millers or bakers.2

Let us turn from these obligations of mill and oven to other

forms of oppression. In doing so we shall necessarily ignore a

number of burdens, similar to those already described, which

weighed upon the peasant. As we have already noted he could

not indulge in many of the most common actions without first

obtaining his lord's leave, and this was usually given only as the

result of a money payment. The fish in the rivers and the game in

the woods were not at his disposal; the doves, which ravaged his

crops and lived safely in the great dovecot at the manor house,

were things he might not touch. On all sides he saw rude plenty

—yet on all sides the lord's No was generally overwhelming.

It required famine or undue oppression to cause the ordinary

peasant to cry out with John Ball, "We are men formed in

Christ's likeness, and they treat us like beasts."

1 Selden Soc. IV, 73.

2 Champion, La France d'après les cahiers de 1789, 139, 142, quoted by

Coulton, Med. Village, 58.

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SERVILE BURDENS

Not only did the peasant find his freedom to use the things he saw about him sadly circumscribed by the power of the lord, but he also found himself controlled in many other ways. He was subjected to a series of money payments, all of which emphasised his servile condition. Rent he paid, as did the freeman, and services he rendered in addition, as we have seen, but still more was demanded of him. He was forced to make payments from time to time to meet divers demands of his lord, and these were often of an uncertain nature, or came at times of stress. Of these the most onerous were tallage and heriot, and each of them deserves some detailed consideration.

Tallage is defined by Vinogradoff as "a rent on the borderline between personal subjection and political subordination",1 and by the thirteenth century it had come to be looked upon as one of the tokens of serfdom. And this was not an unreasonable view, for the right of one man to exact from another whatever sum he thought desirable, and to do this at uncertain intervals, certainly established an a priori case of complete subjection. It had its justification in the theory slowly formulated by the law that the serf's all belonged to his lord, and therefore the lord could take what was his own when and to what extent it seemed best to him. Thus in the stricter customals we constantly read that the amount of tallage was fixed ad voluntatem domini, and the serfs had no redress if one, two or more calls were made on them, even in the same year. On the other hand, the serfs steadily worked to obtain some certainty in these things; and, from the twelfth century onward, we find the lord's rights modified and controlled. The peasants got the principle established of a yearly tallage ad voluntatem domini quolibet anno, or of tallage "according to the custom of the manor". Little by little the principle was established that both the amount and also the frequency of the charge became matters of certainty. Once this was achieved it was easy to regard tallage as an additional rent charge merely, and once its uncertainty was removed there was nothing in such a payment which marked it out specifically as a servile burden.

But this was a state of affairs won only after much travail. "Tallage at will", with all the uncertainty it entailed, became

1 Villainage, 162.

"TALLAGE AT WILL"

139

one of the lawyer's tests of servitude.1 The canonists also took this view. Dr Coulton writes:

Let us begin with an extract which has almost the value of a direct generalization. Richard Middleton (or de Media Villa) was an English Franciscan who became Professor of Divinity at Paris about 1285, and is reckoned among the masters of Duns Scotus. In the 27th question of his third quodlibet he discusses the question whether subjects are morally bound to obey a lord who imposes tallages which are justified neither by custom nor by public utility:

"I answer, that these subjects are either serfs [servi] or free. If they be serfs, I say that they are bound to pay the tallages newly imposed upon them, even though these tend to the profit of their lords alone; for serfs and their possessions are the property of their lords.... [In the case of freemen], if those tallages be in no way to the profit of the community, then I say that neither king nor prince can impose such tallages upon his free subjects. And the reason here is, that the possessions of free subjects are not the property of their lords."

When a doctor of this kind can thus decide against the moral right of the serf to resist new and arbitrary taxation, it is more significant even than the complaints of his fellow-moralists that the lords and their bailiffs commonly oppress the poor.2

There can be no doubt that "tallage at will" was oppressive, and was thought to be oppressive by the peasants. In 1299, the serfs of the monks of Dunstable, for example, asserted that "they would rather go down to hell than be beaten in this matter of tallage", and after much controversy they finally bought their freedom from this tax by the huge fine of £60.3 This strong expression of opinion by the men of Dunstable was echoed by many other serfs, and we constantly meet with evidence showing how the lords were "destroying the peasants by exactions and tallages", or that they were "exacting tallage from them by force and oppression, some years taking 100 shillings, some years not".4 The Ministers' Accounts show us in detail what was happening. For example, at Halvergate, in Norfolk, the tallage varied from £10 to £12 from one year to the next; then it rose to £13, and the following year was down to £8, where it remained for the next

1 Rot. Hund. II, 530, 619, 623, 642, etc.; Worc. Priory Reg. 15a, 43b, 56a, etc. For an important discussion of "uncertainty" and tallage, see Vinogradoff's article, Econ. Journ. x, 311-15.

2 Med. Village, 482.

3 Ann. Dunst. (R.S.), 122.

4 B.N.B. Nos. 485, 574, 691; cf. Bensington, 24; Cal. Inq. Misc. I, 100 (No. 290).

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ten years.1 Again, on a neighbouring manor, after being stationary at £8 for years, it suddenly rose to £12.2 Fluctuations

such as these were hard to bear, and probably the cause of much bitterness on the manor, for it must be remembered that the

serf had no understanding of why these sums were wrung out of him. The lord's needs may have been real or only fanciful: the

peasant was but dimly aware that for some reason or other this year (possibly most inconveniently for him) he had to pay more

tallage than usual.

Hence we should expect to find men endeavouring to fix the sum, and thus it is that the customals begin to state that the

amount is fixed and may not be increased or diminished,3 and the Ministers' Accounts show manors on which the tallage

exacted remains constant over a long period of years.4 We get a little further light from a Yorkshire inquisition of 1250 which

states that "the tallage set in Newland, Kirkedrux, and Lan-

gerak is £10, to which all must give whose names are placed on the roll after those who only pay rent".5 Clearly here the fixed

amount had to be found by the peasants of the vills, possibly in proportion to their holdings, while those who paid rent—that is

the freeholders—were quit of this tax. No doubt many wondered why the freeholders went quit while they were forced to

pay, and a desire to be free as were these men undoubtedly rose in many breasts.

Although at first sight it would seem that a fixed tallage was much to be preferred to one which varied from year to year (and

so undoubtedly it was for the majority), yet even a fixed tallage had its dangers, for its inelasticity made no allowance for bad

seasons or for altering conditions in the neighbourhood. Whether all the holdings, or only half of them, were occupied, the full sum

had to be found and this naturally created hardships. We have an excellent example of this in thirteenth-century Yorkshire. The

men of Hedon, a jury of 1280 tells us, were "straitened and poor", and the inquisition asserted plainly that unless some

change were soon made, men would move away "on account of

1 Min. Acc. 936/4–16. Cf. 756/3–10.

2 Ibid. 936/18–32. Cf. Davenport, op. cit. 46; Villainage, 293.

3 A.A.S.R. xxxv, 7.

4 See, for example, Min. Acc. 918/2– ; 987/15– ; 1004/1– .

5 Yorks Inquis. 1, 127.

the yearly tallage and go to the good near-by towns of Raven-

sered and Hull, which have good harbours growing daily, and no

tallage".1 Here we see a fixed sum being exacted, despite the

fact that towns like Hull, with great attractions to the serf, were

growing up and daily recruiting in part from dissatisfied men,

such as heavily tallaged Hedon could provide. Later on we shall

see how these burdens drove men to consider how they could

end such conditions.

Fixed or "at will", tallage was an important item in the

manorial income and had to be forthcoming. It was usually

exacted at Michaelmas,2 sometimes from each individual, but

often assessed on the vill or manor as a whole.3 The Gloucester

Cartulary gives us a great deal of information about the way in

which the tax was assessed. The serf pays "each according to

his land and the number of his animals", and these animals all

have their value;4 or sometimes he is assessed on the number of

acres he holds,5 or again the serfs are assessed "in communi",6

and probably left to work out the individual payments for

themselves.

Yet whatever method of collection was in force, tallage re-

mained a hated sign of inferiority, and men tried to get rid of it

in the only way possible to them. They "bought their blood"

free of this, as they had to do of other servile incidents, and found

it to their advantage to commute the payment for an added general

charge on each holding.7 Although this made little or no dif-

ference to their annual outgoings to the lord (assuming the

tallage to be steady) yet it meant that henceforth it formed but

one item in the rents of assize8—that lump sum each man paid

to his lord, and which hid within itself who knows what of ancient

rents, charges, personal fines and dues. Once the serf had seen

1 Yorks Inquis. I, 216.

2 Eynsham Cart. II, 7; Glouc. Cart. III, 88, 100, 103, 119, 121, etc., where

it is called "the aid of St Michael"; Worc. Priory Reg. xcviii n. 12a, 93a,

104a.

3 Davenport, op. cit. 46.

4 Glouc. Cart. III, 50, 53, 57, 180, 188, 206, etc. Cf. Ramsey Cart. II, 52.

5 Glouc. Cart. III, 100, 110, 121, 129, etc.

6 Ibid. III, 97, 191; Eynsham Cart. II, 129.

7 E.g. Worc. Priory Reg. 19a, 61b, 66b, etc.

8 For a discussion of the nature of redditus assiza see Levett, Econ. Hist.

Rev. I, 70–5, and Page, Crowland Estates, 91–9.

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the hated tallage swallowed up in this annual fixed charge he could breathe the more easily, for another obvious sign of his servitude had dropped away from him.

We may, perhaps, note here a special tallage that was at times raised as part of the incoming—the joyeux avènement— of the new lord. It was a custom particularly associated with ecclesiastical manors: at Wynslowe 20 marks were exacted,1 at Otterton 10 marks,2 at Tooting 4 marks,3 and on the manors of the monks of Worcester, and the Bishop of Chichester the sum is not stated,4 but on one Worcester manor it is said to be “secundum quod ratio exigit”.5 The Prior of Norwich, in 1471, had only 86 tenants at Martham but they had to pay £20 on his incoming, and the same sum was exacted in 1504 on the election of another prior.

So far the actual account-rolls testify; but, on looking at Dugdale's Monasticon we find that three other priors have come between, in 1480, 1489 and 1504. If the rolls for these years existed and had been searched, it is practically certain that they would show us similar entries, and leave us to conclude that the Martham tenants had paid this tax five times in a single generation, at whatsoever irregular intervals it had pleased Providence to remove their former prior.6

The forced hospitality exacted from the manorial population (the gîte, so common in France) seems to have been rare in England. Vinogradoff quotes one example only, and gives no other references. His one case dates from the mid-thirteenth century and concerns the tenants of the Abbot of Osulveston in Donington and Byker, who were bound to receive their lord during one night and one day when he comes to hold his court at their place. They find the necessary food for him and for his men, provender for his horses, and so forth. If the abbot does not come in person, the homage may settle about a commutation of the duties with the steward or the sergeant sent for the purpose. If he refuses to take money, they must bring everything in kind.7

1 U.L.C. Wynslowe Rolls, 56 b.

2 Mon. Exon. 254 a.

3 Tooting Bec Rolls, 248.

4 Cal. Inquis. Misc. 1, 64.

5 Worc. Priory Reg. cxvi n., 638a.

6 Med. Village, 197. The years 1489, 1504 are corrected from those in Dugdale by the recent work of H. W. Saunders, An Intro. to the Rolls of Norwich Cathedral Priory, p. 190.

7 Villainage, 303.

FORCED HOSPITALITY

143

A remnant of this forced hospitality is seen on some manors at the coming of the steward to hold the Manor Court. The serfs of the Prior of Durham had to provide the steward's servants with beds, and were constantly failing to do so, and being admonished.1 If house-room and beds were not required on a Sussex manor, then counterpanes and sheeting had to be sent for use at the manor house.2 The Hundred Rolls, again, contain some evidence on this point. Food was requisitioned by officials—bailiffs, foresters, constables—as they rode from place to place on business. They demanded hay and corn, poultry "at the will of the giver", bread and beer—or in their place a money payment, and most of this came from the peasantry.3 All this, however, is as nothing compared with the elaborate provisions made in continental customals for the annual entertainment of the lord, or even for such of his friends as he cared to send in his place.4 In this, as in many other ways, the comparatively peaceful and settled state of England throughout the later Middle Ages made conditions so much more possible for the serf. His lord did not consistently wring the utmost out of him, in the fear that to-morrow he might be displaced by another—either by the fortune of war or by the loss of his protector's favour. Harsh as some of these exactions seem to us, they inevitably flowed from the feudal lawyer's theory that in strictness all the serf possessed was his lord's, and their harshness seems less outrageous when compared with the ruthless provisions of many continental customals.5

The lord's claims on his serf were not confined to the exaction of rents and services during life. Even after the peasant's death, the lord still had a claim on his property which was known as a heriot, and the Church had also another, known as a mortuary. The first of these was claimed by the lord of the manor on the death of one of his tenants. It arose from an old custom, whereby all—both free and bond—were bound to make a return on death of the hergeat, or war-gear, with which the lord had originally supplied them. This war-gear—consisting of horse, harness and

1 Durham Halmote Rolls, i, 72, 101, 125, 140, 144, 146; Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 53.

2 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 53.

3 Rot. Hund. ii, 31, 40, 307. Cf. Cust. Rents, 148.

4 Sée, op. cit. 362.

5 See Med. Village, passim.

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SERVILE BURDENS

weapons—in strict theory remained the property of the lord, and

it was but right that he should resume possession on his man's

death. In the course of time, however, the conditions which had

obtained earlier were seriously modified: a great number of free-

men had managed to shake off this obligation, and were no

longer either equipped by their lord, or liable to pay a heriot on

their death. The serf, however, was not so fortunate. While he

was liable to give military service only on infrequent occasions

and in a very limited way, in theory he was still held to receive

his hergeat; and, therefore, on his death, was forced to pay a

heriot which generally took the form of his best beast or chattel.1

As Pollock and Maitland say:

In this case the term “heriot” must in the eyes of the etymologist

be inappropriate. We may guess that in the heriot of the later middle

ages no less than four ancient elements have met: (1) the warrior who

has received arms from his lord should on his death return them;

(2) the peasant who has received the stock on his farm from his lord

should return it, and if his representatives are allowed to keep it, they

must recognise the lord's right to the whole by yielding up one article,

and that the best; (3) all the chattels of a serf belonging in strictness of

law to his lord, and the lord takes the best of them to manifest his

right; (4) in the infancy of testamentary power it has been prudent, if

not necessary, that the would-be testator, however high his rank,

should purchase from the king or some other lord that favour and

warranty without which his bequests will hardly “stand”. But at any

rate in the course of time the heriot is separated from the relief.2

Side by side with this claim went one made by the Church

called a mortuary. This was exacted by reason of the convenient

theory that during his lifetime a man would be unlikely to pay in

full all his tithes and other charges due to the Church, and there-

fore it was necessary for the Church to make a final claim in

exacting a mortuary. This was taken after the lord had first

chosen the best beast or chattel as his heriot, and the Church had

second choice.3 Canon Law endeavoured to define what had

1 See e.g. Glouc. Cart. III, 43, 46, 59, 87, 172, 204, 211; Sussex Rec. Soc.

xxi, 90, 98, 102, 110. In the Worc. Priory Reg. 102 we find the virgater has to

give three heriots: a horse, its harness, and two oxen. The military has com-

pletely given place to the agricultural claim.

2 Hist. Eng. Law, I, 317.

3 See this fully set out, for example, in Oliver's Mon. Exon. 254 b (Otterton),

where it is declared to be an obligation on free or serf. See also Glouc. Cart.

III, 130, 170, 172.

HERIOT

145

originally been no more than a custom (though custom, so long

as it is laudable, acquires the force of law to the canonists), and

forbade the taking of a mortuary unless there were at least three

beasts.1 This, however, was rigorous enough, since after the lord

had taken one, and the Church taken another, the widow or heir

was often left with a solitary remainder. It is also to be re-

membered that often the manor was the property of the monks

or of some cleric, so that they were certain of their heriot in any

case!2

So far the theory. In practice we find a diversity of customs, as

we should expect; but, what is important to note, we find very

frequently that a good deal more than the best beast or the best

chattel is demanded. In some cases the heriot is as much as one-

third of a man's total assets. In 1300 a Yorkshire free man holding

four bovates of the Prior of St John of Jerusalem has to give one-

third part of all his goods at his death,3 and the accounts of

Tatenhill about 1380 return the sum of £1. 7s. 11½d., "being the

third part which belongs to the Lord" of the man's assets of

£4. 3s. 11d.4 A rental of the same manor, dated 1414, shows even

harsher customs. The lord was entitled to the best animal, and

also to all copper vessels, carts and iron-bound wagons, hives,

colts, oxen, porkers, whole sides of bacon, all woollen cloth if

uncut and any treasure the man might have!5 We may see from

entries in the accounts of the previous century that this was no

mere theory, but that such customs had actually been enforced.

For example, in March 1347, on the death of a serf, the lord

seized his horse, cart, sheep, and two pigs worth twelve shillings.

The widow was allowed to buy them back for this sum, and given

till August to find the cash.6

An extreme but illuminating case is that of the monks of Vale

1 See Coulton, Ten Medieval Studies, 126 for a full discussion, with

references to the Canon lawyers.

2 Glouc. Cart. III, 88, 138, 159, 170, 182; Bristol and Glouc. Arch. Soc. IX,

3 Yorks Inquis. IV, 10.

4 Tatenhill, II, 56; cf. Trigg Minor, III, 47 where it is declared that the

lord is entitled to all the cattle of serfs, but only to the best of those of the

free men.

5 Tatenhill, II, 97; cf. Blount, Tenures, 45; Vinogradoff, Villainage, 160.

6 Tatenhill, II, 34; cf. 58 where horse, two pigs and household pots and

jars are seized to the value of 11s. 6d.

BL

10

146

SERVILE BURDENS

Royal, where both heriot and mortuary were exacted with the utmost rigour. The customal runs:

When any one of them [the bondmen] dieth, the lord shall have all the pigs of the deceased, all his goats, all his mares at grass, and his horse also, if he had one for his personal use (si habuerit domesticum), all his bees, all his bacon-pigs (bacones integros), all his cloth of wool and flax, and whatever can be found of gold and silver. The lord shall also have all his brass pots or pot, if he have one, because at their death the lord ought to have all things of metal. Abbot John granted them in full court that these metal goods should be divided equally between the lord and the wife on the death of every one of them, but on condition that they should buy themselves brass pots.

Also the lord shall have the best ox for a "hereghett" and holy church another. The lord shall choose the best ox by his bailiffs, before the "hereghett" be given to the church.1

The customal then goes on to discuss how the rest of the property is to be divided between the lord and the family, and it is clear that the widow and her children are left to begin anew with something over half their possessions taken from them.

One or two more examples will emphasise the severity with which this exaction weighed on the poor. The Bishop of Rochester as lord of the manor of Hedenham was entitled to his serf's best chattel, and if he had but one horse, the customal declared that it ought to be sold, and thirty pence given to the lord and the balance to the widow!2 Or again, in 1345, at Barchester, the lord claimed an ox worth 8s. and a cow worth 5s. as a heriot. It was found that after this the widow could not take her husband's holding on account of her poverty, and the reeve was ordered to take the land and house into the hands of the lord.3

Not all lords were so merciless. On the Ely manor of Melbourne if the serf had no beast then no heriot was claimed, and

1 Vale Royal, 118. Dr Coulton (Med. Village, 175) writes: "I have not met with any lay manor in England or France on which the death-dues even approach these in severity."

2 Cust. Roff. 11. Thirty pence, or thirty-two pence, seems to have been reckoned as a suitable sum in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. See e.g. Blount, Tenures, 382; Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvi1, 164; Ramsey Cart. 1, 416; Page, Crowland, 116; Worc. Priory Reg. xlii, etc. Cf. Cust. Rents, 89 and references given there.

3 W. Kennett, Paroch. Antiq. 11, 85.

ST HUGH AND HERIOT

147

this was so on the manor of Bernehorn, belonging to the monks

of Battle.1 The charity of St Hugh of Lincoln became a matter of

legend, and Giraldus Cambrensis tells of how he exercised it in

this very matter on one occasion at least:

Hugh had such bowels of pity, and was so utterly uncovetous of

earthly things, that when his servants had carried off the ox of a

certain dead peasant of his lordship (as the dead man's best possession

which the custom of the land gave to the lord), and the widow had

come forthwith to the bishop, beseeching with tears that he should

order the restoration of that ox, which alone was left to her for the

sustentation of the miserable and orphaned family, then he granted

her request. Hereupon the steward of this manor said unto him:

"My lord, if you remit this and other similar lawful perquisites, you

will never be able to keep your land." But Hugh, hearing this, leapt

straight down from his horse to the ground, which in that spot was

deep in mire; and, grasping both hands full of earth, he said: "Now

I hold my land, and none the less do I remit to this poor woman her

ox." Then, casting away the mire and looking upwards, he added:

"For I seek not to cling to earth beneath but to heaven above. This

woman had but two workfellows; death hath robbed her of the better

and shall we rob her of the other? God forbid that we should be so

covetous; for she doth more deserve our consolation in this moment of

supreme affliction, than that we should vex her further."2

St Hugh's attitude was not generally shared, however. It will

have been noticed that his own steward strongly disapproved of

it, and Giraldus recounts the story as an example of the Saint's

exceptional charity. Few lords were content to forego their

heriots, as any series of accounts or court rolls will show. They

formed an important item in the income year by year flowing

into the lord's hands from his villeins.

Not only the serf's stock and household goods were subjected

to a fine; but his land also, since in theory it belonged to his lord,

was occasion for a payment whenever it changed hands through

death or other cause. As we have seen this payment was not strictly

a heriot, but medieval scribes (and often medieval lawyers) were

not very certain of the exact meaning of the terms they used, and

gradually the payment was called a heriot.

1 Wor. Priory Reg. xlii ; Battle Cust. 22.

2 Opera (R.S.), vii, 96. For a layman's remission of heriot in perpetuity,

see Terrier of Fleet, ed. N. Neilson, p. 18.

10-2

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SERVILE BURDENS

We may see how the confusion arose from the Hales court rolls. There in general we read that a heriot was paid, sometimes in the shape of an ox, or a cow, or sheaves of corn, sometimes in the form of a sum of money; and, on that being completed, and not till then, the new tenant was allowed to take up the holding. At other times, however, not only has the scribe recorded a payment of the heriot, but also of a fine or “relief” for entry on the holding. Thus in 1278 a son presented nomine herieti patris two oxen worth twenty shillings, a male horse worth half a mark (3s. 4d.) and two hogs worth two shillings. As well as this, he paid two and a half marks for being allowed to take over the holding.1 From this it was an easy step to lump the two things–heriot and relief–together, and to regard the whole thing as a single transaction.

This became even more natural when the whole transaction was entirely expressed in money terms, and no animal or chattel, but only its monetary value, was mentioned. Thus, on the Ramsey manors, the virgater constantly paid five shillings for his heriot, and lesser holders paid smaller sums;2 and on other manors the heriot was always valued in money.3 Heriot, or relief, or fine on entry–whatever it was called–it seemed all the same to the man who had to pay; and the scribe, unless unusually intelligent, saw in the whole business only the passing of the holding from one serf to another, for which his lord naturally received a money payment.

The confusion surrounding the word was carried one stage further when the fine paid on the surrender of a holding from one man to another also began to be called a heriot. From the lord’s point of view, whether the surrender was caused by death, or by a man’s desire to acquire or relinquish his land, made little difference. The lord was entitled to his fee–the best animal or its value. Thus at Hales, in 1277, when a man surrendered his land into the hands of the lord he had also to pay a heriot of eight shillings.4 Again, on the manors of the monks of Crowland, the custom was clearly established whereby “every holder of a terra

1 Op. cit. 164, and cf. 215, where the terms herietis and relevio are used to describe a similar transaction.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 301, 303, 304, 337, 347, 359, 370, 384, 395.

3 E.g. Wakefield and Ingoldmells Rolls, passim.

4 Op. cit. 79.

HERIOT PROBLEMS

149

nativa, shall owe the lord on his outgoing his best animal as

heriot”, and later it was declared that if he had no animal he was

to pay 2s. 6d. “in the money of the King of England, by way of

heriot”.1

The tangled process which we have been trying to unravel is a

reminder to us of the variety and confusion lurking everywhere

in medieval terms. Even the lawyers cannot lay down a clear

definition of heriot, but have to admit of exceptions and un-

certainties. Britton tells us that they are generally paid by serfs

rather than free men,2 while Glanvill, on the other hand, tells us

that it is the free man who ought to recognise his lord by leaving

him the best thing he has.3 Bracton, on the whole, agrees with

Glanvill; but adds that local customs vary, and says that heriot

comes to the lord by grace rather than by right.4 When we look

at the Court Rolls we see what a deal of variation can exist

beneath the common formula of the extent: “and on his death

he owes his best beast or chattel as a heriot”. On the Tooting

Bec manor, for example, the heriot is not forthcoming because

the land is held conjointly with another;5 because it is held for a

period of years;6 because only a part of the holding is sur-

rendered;7 because there is no tenement on the holding8—in

short, there seem to be innumerable ways whereby custom has

altered and deflected the straightforward operation of the old

law.

Furthermore, innumerable questions arose which had to be

settled by the decision of the suitors of the manorial court. The

Hales tenants had to deliberate as to whether a heriot was due from

a married woman;9 or whether a man fortunate enough to own

a male horse was entitled to keep it, or must pay it as heriot on his

wife's death.10 If a man holds two tenements does he pay one or

two heriots? The Hales custom demands one, so does that of

Crowland, but the manors of the Bishop of Hereford11 and those

of the monks of Ramsey12 have customs which demand a heriot

for each messuage or toft, or each virgate of the holding.

1 Page, cit, Crowland Estates, 115, 116. 2 Britton, II, 51.

3 Glanvill, viI, 5. 4 Bracton, ff. 60, 86; cf. Fleta, 212.

5 Op. cit. 16, 173, 184, 186. 6 Op. cit. 28; cf. Hales Rolls, 281, 285.

7 Op. cit. 108, 146; cf. Hales Rolls, 260. 8 Op. cit. 198.

9 Op. cit. 111, 58. 10 Op. cit. I, 298.

11 E.H.R. April 1928. 12 Ramsey Cart. I, 370.

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SERVILE BURDENS

Everywhere we turn we find local custom interpreting the way in which heriot is to be claimed. Sometimes, as at Vale Royal, it presses with intolerable harshness on the peasant: at other times, as at Melbourne, it is merciful and humane. But, looked at generally, it must be said that it was a heavy burden, and was the more grievous since it could but aggravate the keen sense of loss which the household had already sustained by the death of the head of the house. We must not easily allow ourselves to believe that "the power of the lord" was not a very real thing. True, in some fortunate manors it was softened and controlled to some extent by the "custom of the manor", but even so it remained a powerful force which could exhibit itself in such ways as this—ways repugnant, not only to our modern ideas, but, as we have seen, to such men as St Hugh, or to a moralist such as Jacques de Vitry, who characterised the lords who took heriots as "vultures that prey upon death—or more loathsome still, as worms feeding upon the corpse".

Manorial Administration

CHAPTER VII

MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

From what has already been said about the rents and services which the lord demanded from the peasants it will be obvious that some organisation was required by which to collect these rents from time to time, and to arrange for the punctual and efficient rendering of the various services.

Not only this: the lord had also to make provision for the farming of his own part of the manor—the demesne lands as they were called, on which, as we have seen, the unfree peasants laboured throughout the year.

A large part—sometimes the whole—of a lord’s livelihood came from these sources, and it was of vital consequence to him to arrange for their efficient exploitation.

When the lord himself resided in the manor house and could supervise the work of his men, it was, no doubt, a comparatively simple matter for him to see that his lands and stock were properly kept, and that everyone who owed him rent or service paid it whenever it was due.

But for many lords the problem was not so simple.

They frequently held more than one manor—sometimes they held many—and these might be scattered over a county, or perhaps over half England.

Even had they no other affairs, it would have been wellnigh impossible for them to have overseen the whole of their manors efficiently; but, in many cases, they were busy servants of the King, or great soldiers engaged on foreign wars and crusades, or merely idle men of fashion who followed the Court and despised the country boors and the life of the fields, save as necessary adjuncts to the delights of the chase.

For very different reasons the great ecclesiastical landowners, such as Cathedral chapters or the innumerable religious houses of monks and nuns, were equally unable to supervise their many manors.

It was impossible for these people to be absent long from their homes, and here again, they had to employ others to look after their interests.

Hence we find that a widespread system sprang up, whereby manors were controlled by paid agents of the lord, and a whole hierarchy of officials and minor servants was created.

154 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

In order to aid them in their work it was necessary for the lord to give the chief officials the clearest account possible of what were the lands and people they had to control, and what things they might expect from the manorial population, in money, in service and in kind. Two main classes of documents gave them this information: the rentals or extents, and the customals. The rental or extent set out in the greatest detail exactly what was to be demanded of every single landholder on the manor. It first dealt with the freeholders, and this was a comparatively brief matter, for once their rent was paid little but an occasional service, such as attendance at the Manor Court on special occasions, or coming to oversee the workers during harvest was expected of them. The unfree, however, were another matter: they had to render numerous rents and services, and often every detail of what was to be demanded of them was set out in the minutest fashion. And it did not follow that because one man did certain things his fellow would do likewise. Further, as we have seen, there were many groups in the manorial society, and the services of each of these groups demanded its own space in the extent. Once he had got this, however, the official knew what he might legitimately demand from everyone who held land of his lord.

We have already noted the way in which the customal came into being. It embodied the many by-laws, as we may call them, which had gradually been evolved, and which, henceforth, represented "the custom of the manor". Both official and serf knew full well what these customs were, and after he had grasped what were a man's services as laid down in the extent, the wise official was careful to see how far (if at all) it was modified by anything laid down in the customal before he took any action.

Our information concerning the manorial organisation comes from these two primary sources and also from the detailed accounts which the manorial officials were required to make yearly, and also from the Manor Court proceedings about which much will be said later.1 In addition to this, we have a number of

1 These detailed accounts or compoti are classed in the Public Record Office as Ministers' Accounts, i.e. accounts rendered by an official appointed to minister affairs on the lord's behalf. They are discussed in detail below on pp. 186 ff. The Manor Court and its proceedings are dealt with in chapter VIII, pp. 195 ff.

MANORIAL TREATISES

155

books of estate management which were written down in the late thirteenth century, such as Fleta, Walter of Henley and others. It is necessary, however, to add a word of caution at the outset concerning the use of these works. Léopold Delisle noted the wealth of early handbooks on estate management which have survived in England, and he lamented that no such records survived in France. But they have not been an unmixed blessing.

Many students of manorial documents written in the late thirteenth and fourteenth centuries will have noticed how difficult it is to find in Court Rolls or in Ministers' Accounts many examples which will bear out the statements of these contemporary manuals of estate management. Walter of Henley or Fleta can tell us with a wealth of confident detail the exact duties of, say, the sergeant (serviens), the bailiff and the reeve. The sergeant, they say, does this and this; the bailiff may do that and that; while the reeve is restricted to exercising his authority here and here. The documents, however, tell us quite another story, and show us the sergeant usurping the duties of bailiff or of reeve; and worse still, the underlings daring to act in ways in which only their superiors should do. The question at once arises: Which are we to accept as giving the more trustworthy witness—the treatises or the various types of manorial records? The question would seem to be easily answered a priori in favour of the documents, were it not for the fact that the influence of the treatises on modern scholars has been so great that almost all accounts of the working of the medieval manor are based on some such condition of affairs as is set forth in the pages of Fleta, etc. And this, no doubt, is the inevitable evolution of the study of these intricate matters: first, attention is paid to the general theory and contemporary exposition, and only later comes scrutiny of the minutiae.

Thus the late Dr Cunningham writes:

The bailiff was appointed by the lord to look after the whole estate in detail; he was directly responsible to the lord for everything connected with the prosperity of the estate, and had to account in great detail for everything under his charge…. The (reeve) seems to have been the official representative of the villeins, who was responsible for them.1

1 Walter of Henley, Intro. xii, xiii.

156 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

This view also seems to be accepted by Vinogradoff, who lends his great authority to the statement that "on every single manor we find two persons of authority—the bailiff or beadle...an officer appointed by the lord....By his side appears the reeve, nominated from among the peasants of a particular township and mostly chosen by them."1 The statements of both of these authorities seem to be amply justified by reference to the treatises only, but there is surely much value in Sir William Ashley's caution:

It may be doubted whether the description in Fleta actually corresponded with the general practice—whether there were in fact both reeve and bailiff on every manor. It is more likely that was a lawyer's generalisation, never really true, or that, if it ever had been true, it was already, by the time that book was written, ceasing to be so.2

Any careful study of manorial documents will show that the contemporary scribes who compiled the accounts and the Court Rolls could not differentiate clearly between the various manorial officers. Bailiff, bedell, reeve, sergeant—these titles are bandied about in a way which indicates how hazy the writer himself was of their precise meaning. A man is called Alan the recve in one entry and in the next is given the title of sergeant: Henry the bailiff becomes the bedell lower on the same roll, and so on, though few scribes, it is to be hoped, were so muddled as the one who bracketed comprehensively the reeves, ale-tasters and foresters elected at the Hales Manor Court, and promoted them all by calling them bailiffs (ballivi).3

The truth is that the documents and treatises are complementary, but, even so, they require to be used with the greatest caution before any valid generalisations can be made. Two considerations at least must always be borne in mind: first, that the widest variations of procedure and customary use were possible on manors only a few miles apart, and therefore we cannot accept any clear-cut system such as that shown in Fleta; and, secondly, that the lax use of terms by the medieval scribe, as

1 Villainage, 318.

2 Economic History, I, 12.

3 Hales Rolls, 430, 460. Cf. Durham Halmote Rolls, 46, 47; Davenport, op. cit. 50 n. 4; Wakefield Rolls, III, viii, etc.

THE LORD'S OFFICIALS

157

illustrated above, makes it necessary for us to examine what the

various manorial officers are actually found to do before we can

accept the titles indiscriminately conferred on them by the

writers of the documents.

So much it was necessary to say, for it is the overwhelming

influence exerted by Fleta and other treatises which has con-

fused our knowledge of the actual working arrangements of a

medieval manor, giving us a Utopian rather than a real version.

On some manors, doubtless, there was a hierarchy of servants

such as is there laid down, but in very many manors a more

primitive organisation sufficed, and about this Fleta and Walter

of Henley are silent. We must bear in mind, therefore, that the

full-scale organisation which must now be discussed was the ex-

ception rather than the rule, and yet it was sufficiently prevalent

to make it important for us to understand its working, since it

undoubtedly controlled the lives of tens of thousands of men

centuries ago.

Let us consider this organisation at its fullest—say that re-

quired by a Bishop or one of the great nobles to administer his

estates. The personnel may be divided into two groups: one, the

administrators whose primary duty it was to see that every part

of their lord's property was used to the best advantage. Secondly,

there was a select band of manual workers, such as ploughmen,

carters, shepherds, etc., whose activities were vital to the well-

being of the manor. The higher ranks of the administrators were

all free men, while those in the lower ranks, as well as the manual

workers, were drawn from the lord's serfs. All these men came

into contact with the ordinary peasant from time to time, and

their various activities were of great importance to the everyday

lives of the villagers.

At the head of the lord's officials stood the seneschal or steward.

To the peasant he must oftentimes have seemed as all-powerful

as the lord himself, and indeed he was frequently a man of rank

and standing. The stewards of the manors of the Abbey of

Ramsey may serve as examples. "About 1160 the steward was

the brother of the abbot....About 1188 Sir Joscelin of Stukely

was steward....It is possible that he is the man of that name

who is mentioned as the sheriff of Cambridgeshire about that

time. Sir Joscelin's office of steward descended to his son Sir

158 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

Walter, etc.".1 We may judge of his position by noting his

emoluments as compared with those of the reeve—another

manorial official: the steward of Berkhamsted in 1300 re-

ceived a yearly fee of £15. 6s. 8d. and two robes with fur, as well

as hay, litter, and firewood at all his lord's manors, with an

additional 6s. 8d. for returning the King's writs. The reeve, on

the other hand, got five shillings a year only and an allowance of

four shillings for his food in the busy autumn harvesting season.2

The steward's duties, however, were commensurate with his

rewards: he was the voice and executive of the lord on the

manors. To him was committed the management of the agri-

cultural exploitation of the land; he appeared from time to time

to preside over the Manor Courts and to hold the view of frank-

pledge. Every year he summoned before him those underlings

whom he had charged with the day by day conduct of the manor,

and extracted from them, in the presence of the auditors, a de-

tailed account. He enquired into the use made of every animal

on the estate, and the produce resulting therefrom down to the

last egg, the results of the year's harvests, the amounts received

in rents and fines and in every other way from the tenants, and

generally conducted so searching an examination as must have

terrified many of the humble rustics forced to account before him.3

The thirteenth-century manuals indulge in a wealth of detail.

Fleta demands a paragon of virtues:

Let the Lord then procure a Seneschal; a man circumspect and

faithful, discreet and gracious, humble and chaste and peaceful and

modest, learned in the laws and customs of his province and of the

duties of a Seneschal; one who will devote himself to guard his Lord's

rights in all matter, and who knoweth how to teach and instruct his

master's under-bailiffs in their doubts and their errors; merciful to

the poor, turning aside from the path of justice neither for prayers nor

for bribes.4

To such a man he would confide the cares of the lord's manors—

and they are many. The seneschal must know the size and needs

1 Ault, Private Jurisdiction, 145. See also Cal. Inquis. Misc. I, 512, no.

1880, for details of the Hastings family, hereditary stewards of the liberty of

St Edmunds.

2 Inquis. Post Mortem, Ed. I, III, 443.

3 For a full account of this, see below, p. 189.

4 Fleta, 159; cf. Walter of Henley, 84.

THE STEWARD

159

of every manor; how many acres should be ploughed and how much seed will be needed. He must know all his bailiffs and reeves, how they conduct the lord's business and how they treat the peasants. He must know exactly how many halfpenny loaves can be made from a quarter of corn, or how many cattle each pasture should support. He must for ever be on the alert lest any of the lord's franchises lapse or are usurped by others. He must think of his lord's needs, both of money and of kind, and see that they are constantly supplied. In short, he must be as all-knowing as he is all-powerful.

The picture is doubtless an ideal one, but the happy preservation of one thirteenth-century steward's letters is proof that it was not absolutely untrue to actual life. Every steward on taking office swore to preserve his master's interests to the utmost of his ability, and this correspondence certainly shows that at least one steward tried to live up to his oath.1 Simon of Senlis was his name, and he was steward to the Bishop of Chichester during the second quarter of the thirteenth century. His letters show him to be in correspondence with his master on every kind of business. A handful of examples must suffice: he urges the Bishop to take immediate action against an encroaching neighbour; discusses the advisability of "farming-out" a church, and hints that the price asked is too high; complains of the high-handed action of the bailiffs of the Earl of Arundel; warns his master that the Precentor of Wells intends him some evil; prompts him how to make a hard bargain with a lady whose property is in question; reports the result of a conference at which he has succeeded in getting a rent due from the Bishop reduced. He shows another side of his character when he advises the Bishop to offer hospitality to his Archbishop who is spending a night on one of his Sussex manors, "for", he says, "he will provide for himself out of his own means, and wishes to accept nothing from you. . . wherefore, if you please, I will pay attention to him so that it shall turn to your advantage and honour". Crops, buildings, mortgages, provisions, the weather - all are discussed in turn. One letter shows him vigorously

1 For this oath, see Reg. Pontissara, I, 261-2, and for commission given to a steward with jurisdiction over all manors, and a statement of his powers, see Lit. Cant. I, 284.

160 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

carrying on assarting and ploughing; building a new ox-shed one hundred feet long; or buying the crops standing on a neighbouring manor. He foresees every need of his master, and lays in lamb's fur for the winter, and 300 ells of cloth from Winchester fair for his poor pensioners; provides plenty of malt for brewing when required; sees that there is ample provision of wood for burning, brewing and baking at the Bishop's London house; gets a new wind-mill fitted up in time for the busy autumn season: these and innumerable other details seem to cause him no difficulty whatsoever and are all in the day's work. He has a good eye for business: the price of live stock at West of England fairs is no mystery to him; he arranges for the purchase of iron and its transport to Gloucester, and then afterwards for its subsequent carriage across England to Winchester at the least expense; he refrains from selling the Bishop's wine at Chichester because there is too much cheap wine on the market; and he suggests to the Bishop that he should think of getting his sheep from the abbey of Valle Dei (Vaudey) in Yorkshire, and of sending them down to his Sussex manors. His knowledge of men seems equally comprehensive. He reports to his master with obvious first-hand information on the notorious vicar of Mundeham who has two wives, or of one of his agents who has become lukewarm in his service. He tells him of the frater from Vaudey who is so excellent with the sheep, and of the serviens of one of the manors whom he wishes to promote. He well may write at the end of the harvest, with some complacency: "Know that the crops on your manors are safely gathered, and are in the barns, and that all your other affairs go on well." How could they do otherwise with such a steward to direct them?

Not all stewards were so attentive or so successful, no doubt, and even this indefatigable servant failed to mention one most important duty which devolved on him, namely the holding of the Manor Courts. The steward was the dispenser of justice and presided over the court in the place of his lord. We may easily imagine how important he seemed to the peasant as he saw him ride up to the manor house overnight, with his servants behind him, and, closely following him, his clerk who carried in his saddle-bags the precious Court Rolls on which were written

1 For all the above, see Sussex Arch. Soc. XIII, 35–76.

THE STEWARD'S COMING

161

many things the peasant would gladly have had forgotten. Every

leaf of the parchment roll was covered with entries which con-

cerned him and his fellows, and the clerk and his master, the

steward, seemed to have every detail of them at their finger-ends.

So he watched as the little cortège rode past him up to the great

house, which had been cleaned and prepared for the steward's

coming by one of the female serfs, who did this and gathered

bundles of rushes to strew in the rooms as part of her services,

as on a manor of the Bishop of Chichester.1 There he and his

servants would spend the night, sometimes at the cost of the lord,

sometimes at that of the peasants. The customals give us a few

details of the latter practice. On a Lincoln manor, for example, the

villagers have to find all sufficient necessaries for one entire day and

the following night-food, drink, hay, fodder-everything, down

to the candles that flickered over the last potations, is mentioned.2

At Amberley, in Sussex, the tenants had to provide counterpanes

and sheeting for guests at the hall, but if guests were quartered

out in their houses in the vill, then only house room and beds

(hospicium et lectum) and no more might be required.3 When

things were not going well between the lord or the steward and

the peasantry these obligations seemed particularly onerous, and

on the manors of the Prior of Durham the serfs showed great un-

willingness to provide beds for the steward's servants as custom

demanded,4 and could not be found when they were wanted to

carry his victuals and impedimenta from one manor to another.5

Generally speaking, however, the costs of the steward's advent

were a charge on the manor, and are duly returned in the

accounts at the end of the year, when the tallies given by the

steward are duly produced by the reeve and checked against the

account. For example, on a Norfolk manor in 1342, the tally re-

corded the consumption of 1½ bushels of wheat; 2 bushels, 1 peck

of oats; 1 bushel of barley; 2 bushels of malt; 1 capon; 1 hen; as

well as other things costing 1s. 93⁄4d.6

1 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 51.

2 Rentals and Surveys, Roll 403; and compare Crondal Records, 128 (1287).

3 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 53.

4 Durham Halmote Rolls, I, 72, 101, 140, 146.

5 Ibid. I, 125, 144.

6 Manor of Hindringham. Information supplied by Mr W. Hudson and

Dr H. W. Saunders.

B L

11

162 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

On most manors we may confidently imagine that the steward only came into actual contact with the peasant at the Manor Court or in exceptional circumstances, although his orders and decisions as to the manorial economy must have had a great effect on the lives of everyone in the village. Much closer to the villager–often in daily contact with him we find lesser officials, and of these the bailiff and the reeve are most important. It is necessary to avoid sweeping statements with regard to these two officials, for every manor had its own system. Sometimes we find both bailiff and reeve active on the manor; sometimes the bailiff is in charge of several manors and has to move about frequently to supervise their effective working; sometimes we find no trace of any bailiff at all, for many manors, no doubt, were controlled by the lord in person or by a member of his family, thus obviating the need of a bailiff.1 Small manors, or manors lying close together and belonging to the same lord, were often overseen by a bailiff who only paid occasional visits. To this end Simon of Senlis writes:

Know also, Lord, that I will, if you please, commit the custody of your manor of Bissopestone to Henry, a serving man (? serviens) of Bourne, and chiefly on account of the sheep, because I think Henry will manage in such a business well and competently, and will also be able easily to keep (custodire) the manor of Bourne, together with the manor of Bissopestone, and easier than Burne and Bexle on account of the crossing over the water…and then some one else will be able to keep Bexle without a horse.2

The large number of instances in which we find a bailiff managing more than one manor suggests that this was a very common practice, and that the presence of both reeve and bailiff throughout the whole of the year on any but very large manors was wasteful.3 These officials who over-saw a number of manors were often given the rank and pay of a sergeant (serviens), but there is little to differentiate their duties from those of the ordinary bailiff.4

1 Rogers, Prices, II, 608ff.; Kettering Computus, 84.

2 Sussex Arch. Soc. III, 54.

3 Wykeham's Register, II, 329, 497, 522; Min. Acc. 1143/18; Rogers, Prices, 1, 13; Davenport, op. cit. 50, etc.

4 Hall, Winton Pipe Roll, 13, 15, 16, 34, 50; and especially XVII; A.A.S.R. XXIV, 327, 330.

THE BAILIFF

163

Bailiff or sergeant, whatever his title, the holder stood apart from the other dwellers on the manor. Not only was he a free man, but he was invested with the prestige arising from his position as the mouthpiece of the lord. When he first came on to the manor he brought letters with him from his patron committing the manor into his charge, and commanding all to show him respect and obedience.1 Sometimes these letters set out his duties at some length, as when the monks of Canterbury appointed a bailiff

for our manor of C. there to cause the land to be ploughed, sown, reaped, manured and cultivated, and all the wagons and ploughs and cattle together with the sheep, lambs, hogs, and all other head of stock there to be managed and tended as shall seem best for our profit, rendering thereof such an account as it behoves bailiffs to render, and receiving, for him and his man, what other bailiffs holding the same office in past time received.2

This formal authorisation was necessary, for we find men pretending to be bailiffs for their own ends.3 The official position of the bailiff was emphasised by the formalities which took place before the steward at the first Manor Court held after a new appointment, at which the bailiff took the oath of fealty, swearing to “behave honestly toward the county, toward rich and poor”, and to guard the lord's rights.4 Not so highly paid as the seneschal, he still could look forward to a stipend far above that of the other manorial servants. For example, the bailiff for Droxford had an annual wage of six pounds, while a ploughman only got eight shillings and a shepherd had to be content with half that amount.5

His position was further emphasised by the fact that he dwelt in the manor house at the expense of the lord, residing in “the chamber which the farm-bailiffs are accustomed to have”, and from which he could superintend the activities of the whole manor, and could keep a sharp eye on the manorial servants who lived in the outbuildings attached to the manor house. His own

1 See examples of such letters in Reg. Pontissara, 465, 589; Wykeham's Reg. 270, 427. For appointment, see Hist. MSS. Com. Bath, Nos. 707, 742, 749.

2 Lit. Cant. II, 309, and cf. I, 146.

3 Cal. Inquis. Misc. I, 419; Hales Rolls, 92; Wakefield Rolls, I, 125, 281.

4 Selden Soc. IV, 77; Wakefield Rolls, II, 41.

5 Levett, op. cit. 163. Cf. Davenport, op. cit. 22; Min. Acc. 1143/18.

11-2

164 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

responsibilities were many.1 He carried out the general agri-

cultural policy which had been decided on in consultation with

the steward, and had to deal with the intricate details which

arose continually on every field and pasture, and to keep a watchful

eye lest any services due to his master were evaded or ill-

performed. He had to know just what he might demand as laid

down by extent and customal, but within these limits his powers

were very extensive. We see him directing the work of the

peasants, now ordering a ditch to be dug or scoured, now sending

them to carry wood for the winter, now setting them to make new

wattles for the fold. At his own discretion he determined how

various men's work might best be expended. The peasant on the

Glastonbury manors, for example, was bound to do whatever

handiwork the bailiff should desire,2 and again and again in the

customals the phrase ad preceptum ballivi or quod ballivi voluerint

occurs.

Naturally, with powers such as these he was not the most

popular man on the manor, and had to be protected by the lord

in the exercise of his duties. Thus we find that if a man assaulted

the bailiff of a Berkshire manor he was fined sixpence, whereas

his violence to another man would only cost him twopence.3

Nevertheless, angry or desperate men were not easily put off,

and would often attack the bailiff or any other men who tried

to hinder them, or to seize their goods, so that we have many

examples of savage fights in which the bailiff was involved.4 Not

that all bailiffs were the aggrieved parties. Far from this being

so, there is, as we should expect, a continuous outcry against their

excesses and harsh behaviour. "The churl like the willow

sprouts the better for being cropped", was the belief of some of

these men, who earned for themselves the reputation of flayers

of rustics (excoriator rusticorum). At frequent intervals we hear

of bailiffs who compelled men to buy ale from them at double its

lawful price, while others extorted illegitimate carrying or harvest

services. Sometimes they winked at some infringement of

1 For a very detailed account of the bailiff's activities and responsibilities,

see Fleta, 161, and Walter of Henley, 87.

2 Glas. Rentalia, 102, 146, 205.

3 Hist. MSS. Com. vi, 583.

4 See, for example, Thatcham, II, 272; Select Coroner's Rolls, 10; Ramsey

Cart. I, 428, etc.

THE BAILIFF AND THE PEASANT

165

manorial custom by a favoured peasant, or were themselves flagrant offenders. In short, there was a wide field for the

activities of knavish bailiffs, and many entries in the Hundred Rolls and in manorial documents1 show that such men reaped a

rich harvest, and that the popular phrase which spoke of the bailiff as "rough as a boar" had some justification.

While the day of reckoning for such offences was frequently long delayed, the bailiff was well aware that from time to time the

coming of the steward gave an opportunity for complaint to be laid against him and also for the steward himself to notice how

things were going. While he might hope to escape any serious criticism at the Manor Court—for, after all, his position was so

considerably superior to that of the serfs, and he always had the ear of the steward, who would generally support his actions

—yet yearly a day of reckoning came. Once a year, soon after Michaelmas, the lord's auditors appeared on the manor, and held

a searching inquiry into its financial condition. The bailiff had to face this and give full details of how he had spent the lord's

money and with what return. Every smallest detail was investigated. Let us take, as an example, the question of hos-

pitality. As the representative of the lord, the bailiff from time to time gave a night or two's shelter to some passing traveller

who claimed to be a friend or dependent of the lord. But the auditors were not satisfied with this. By what authority did he

extend such hospitality, and where was the written command from his lord which authorised his action? If he could not pro-

duce this, or something that would move these hard-faced men, he found himself surcharged with the amount. Some justifica-

tion for such scrutiny may be urged, for men found this an easy way of getting a free night's lodging, and it was necessary to take

steps to overcome such abuse. So bad, indeed, did it become at times that lords had to refuse all hospitality to strangers, as did

the Bishop of Winchester, in 1295, when he issued an order to all his bailiffs commanding them to receive no one except

the steward and his clerk.2

When at last the day came for the bailiff to leave the manor, he made his final appearance before the auditors, and having given

1 Rot. Hund. passim; Hales Rolls, 404; Vale Royal, 117, etc.

2 Reg. Pontissara, 529; and see also Walter of Henley, 92, 102.

166

MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

an account of his stewardship, asked for his discharge. But there

were often details still awaiting settlement and rents not fully

accounted for, and these could lead to infinite trouble for the

bailiff in future years. So, if he were wise, he got a chirograph

acquittance from the auditors setting forth the state of affairs on

his leaving office. Such documents usually set out that on the

day the bailiff relinquished office there were on the manor so

many horses, so many ploughs, etc. Two copies of this document

were written on one piece of parchment which was then divided

by cutting it into two by a wavy line. The one part was given to

the bailiff: the other was sewn to the account roll for that year,

so that in any dispute there it was on record, and could be

appealed to, both by lord and by bailiff.1

The influence of Fleta and Walter of Henley on our knowledge

of the working arrangements of the manor has already been dis-

cussed, and the version they give must be regarded as a Utopian

rather than as a realist view. But, whether we are dealing with

manors which form part of a vast organisation necessitating

steward and bailiff, or with manors which are much more simply

managed, one important fact emerges. However elemental the

organisation, or however complex, we find universally present

one official, and it may be doubted whether sufficient importance

has hitherto been attached to this man—the reeve—as an essential

unit in the manorial machine. Et erit prepositus ad voluntatem

domini: these well-known words, which occur in almost every

extent, would appear to have misled students into minimising the

importance of the reeve's office because of its servile implication.

It is perfectly true that to acknowledge liability to serve as reeve

usually implied acknowledgement of servile status; but, neverthe-

less, these serf-ministers were of enormous importance in the

effective working of the manor. The bailiff is characterised by

Vinogradoff as an "outsider", a man imposed from without on

the peasants; the reeve, on the contrary, was one of themselves,

a man of the manor, knowing every field in it, and acquainted

from boyhood with the eccentricities and habits of every person

inhabiting its cots. Therefore, is it not reasonable to suppose

that the working of the manor was more effectively aided by the

1 For specimens of chirograph acquittances, see Min. Acc. 842/21, 958/26,

1297/23. See also below, p. 192.

THE REEVE

167

detailed and intimate knowledge of the reeve than by the over-

bearing exterior pressure exerted by an "outsider" bailiff? This

contention is further strengthened when we observe that very

frequently it is the reeve, and not the bailiff, who is called on

"to account in great detail for everything under his charge".

The annual accounts, it is true, may be presented by the bailiff

solely, or sometimes by the bailiff and reeve jointly, but quite as

often we find them presented by the reeve only. The fact that a

serf was so trusted as to be allowed to render on his own authority

the most detailed return of every item on the manor, should make

us wonder whether he was relatively so insignificant as we have

been taught to believe.

Further, when we enquire how long he held his office, the most

enlightening evidence is forthcoming. The reeve was generally

elected or presented at the Manor Court, usually at Michaelmas,

and his term of office was for the ensuing year. It is quite wrong,

however, to infer from this that he necessarily held office only

for a year. We may remember Chaucer's reeve of Baldeswell who had

held office "syn that his lord was twenty yeere of age", and he

was not singular in this. Indeed, there is much evidence to show

that, if a reeve displayed any aptitude for his office, his lord was

only too ready to continue him in the same year after year. The

Ministers' Accounts in the Public Record Office furnish valuable

evidence on this point, and the present writer has examined all

those series which cover a number of years consecutively (and

many of those which have breaks in them) and which therefore yield

the most exact information obtainable, with the object of finding

who presented the accounts and how long they continued in office.

The evidence is too bulky to be given here in full, but a few

specimens may be quoted. On the manor of the monks of Westminster

at Teddington in 1304-5 the reeve is Walter le Notiere. We find this

same Walter reeve in every subsequent year for which the accounts

are still extant until 1326-7—a period of twenty-two years.1 At

Eastwood in Essex one man is reeve from 1351-2 until 1373-4;2 at

Earnwood in Shropshire Adam atte Halle renders the accounts as

reeve in 1370-80, 1384-5, and again, after a break, for the three

years 1392-5.3 In every county in which the accounts can be tested

1 Min. Acc. 918/2-19. 2 Ibid. 840/22-34. 3 Ibid. 967/3-13.

168 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

similar results have been obtained; and it is reasonable to infer

that, by the fourteenth century at least, the reeve was often as

permanent an officer, despite his servile origin, as was the

sergeant or bailiff. And when once we have admitted his per-

manency, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that such a man

exercised an enormous influence over the working of the manor.

We have seen that the reeve, by reason of his origin, had an

initial advantage over the bailiff in his knowledge of his fellows

and their holdings; and, if we consider what this meant when

enriched by the cumulative experience gained by years of service

in office, the claims of the reeve to be considered as the "pivot

man" of the manorial administrative system are very great. One

last point may be noted. Among the executive officers the reeve

alone is always to be found on the manor among the peasantry.

Stewards come at fixed times and seasons for the most part;

sergeants and bailiffs may, or may not, live in curia from year's

end to year's end; but the reeve is adscriptus glebae, and it is

partly this very immobility which gives him his importance.

He is the man who knows his fellows with a thoroughness

denied to bailiffs and others. However good the bailiff, how-

ever well he conducts the manor from his lord's point of view,

he cannot have that understanding of domestic detail and cir-

cumstance that the reeve has, an understanding coming from

lifelong intimacy in that closest of intimacies-the medieval

village. It was the reeve who knew what was John atte Green's

weak point, or what was the way to get recalcitrant Wat Hordle

to the plough, or where was the place to find the laggardly

William Joye. His fixture to the soil gave him all this, and it also

gave the lord a pledge that in every manor he had one man at

least among the peasantry whom he could hold strictly account-

able for all that concerned the manorial economy. Hence, it is

not the bailiff but the reeve who generally presents the yearly

manorial account, and the reason for this is to be found in the

fact that it is the reeve, and not the bailiff, who has watched over

the manor all the year, and who now has to account for the de-

tailed working of the manor for each one of its 365 days.

At the outset, then, we can see that the office of reeve was not

one lightly to be assumed, and we can easily understand how it

became essential in the lord's interest that he should enforce

SERVICE AS REEVE

169

this service from his men. His free tenants were insistent on their

exemption from serving as reeve, and rightly, for if a man could

be proved to have served as reeve, the lawyers thought them-

selves well on the way to proving him to be a serf. Self-interest

and self-respect were at the back of the free man's claim for

exemption, so that the free men of Bisley in Gloucestershire, on

being ordered by the steward to elect a reeve, protested that "by

ancient custom the reeve must be of villein blood",1 and that,

therefore, they were exempt. This was the general attitude of

free men throughout England, but, nevertheless, some lords

were insistent enough to force this service from their free men.2

This was extremely rare, however, and the luckless serfs had

to bear the burden among themselves, even though some of their

number were able to escape, for it generally happened that only

the larger holders in the village were liable for this duty. This

was but natural, for it would not have been easy for the peasant

with only his cot and close to have been set above another man

who held perhaps 30, perhaps 60 acres, and who probably gave

employment to the cottar from time to time. Hence, as Miss

Neilson has shown at Sutton in Warwickshire, "the men of the

bondage with one virgate were liable to be officers of the King or

lord, as was pleasing; but men with half a virgate, or a nocata,

or a cottage, were liable only to be beadles or tithing-men". She

quotes also further examples from various parts of England in

confirmation of this.3

The reeve was chosen once a year, generally at Michaelmas.

An examination of the methods adopted for his election reveals

to us such diversity of practice as we should expect. Autocratic

selection by the lord; preliminary selection by the peasants and

final selection by the lord; democratic election by the peasants:

all these methods were in use on various manors and at

various times. There seems to have been a general movement

from autocratic selection by the lord to democratic election by

the peasants, but we must beware of introducing order where all

is disorder. Certainly, some of our earliest existing records show

the lord exercising his absolute right to elect whomsoever he

1 V.C.H. Glos. II, 136.

2 Gale, Honour of Richmond, 66; Davenport, op. cit. 51.

3 Cust. Rents, 101, 102.

170 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

would to be reeve. This is definitely laid down by the Battle

Abbey Customals, the only limitation being the obvious one that

the man chosen should be one of the larger holders.1 The same

state of affairs is implied by the payment of 6s. 8d. by the men of

Staplegrove to the Bishop of Winchester in 1284, in order that

they might “elect their own reeve, and have no reeve save by

election”.2

Naturally this crude assertion of rights did not always pass

unchallenged. When the steward of Preston, Simon de Pierre-

point, endeavoured to force Hildebrand Reynberd to serve as

reeve in 1280, Reynberd was not willing. To convince the steward

of this, Reynberd gathered together a band of fifty or more of his

fellows who proceeded to the steward's house which they fired

in three places. Then they killed his falcon and maltreated his

horses. After this, they caught the steward himself, and there

and then before his own burning house, threatened him with

knives and axes, until he swore not to make exactions against

their will in future and not to call them to account for their

insubordination.3 On another occasion the villeins of the monks

of Burton were equally recalcitrant. The steward removed the

reeve from his office and tried to substitute another in his place,

but everyone refused, as the lord had recently seized all their

cattle and lands for certain offences on their part. “No land, no

reeve”, was their cry.4

On manors where the powers of the lord were not quite so

autocratic we find that the peasants were allowed to make a

preliminary selection among themselves, and then the lord or his

agent made the final choice. The four men of Brightwaltham

mentioned above as the “most competent men of the whole vill”

had to appear before the steward, and his choice fell upon

Thomas Smith.5 The most general method, however, was that of

election by the peasants themselves. This gave a semblance of

power into their hands, and gradually, by purchase or other

means, the right to elect their own reeve was obtained by the

villani on many manors. Yet, even when they had won this

1 Op. cit. 66; and see V.C.H. Middlesex, II, 68.

2 Levett, op. cit. 14. 3 V.C.H. Sussex, II, 185.

4 Burton Cart. 83, and see p. 305.

5 Select Pleas of the Crown, 168; cf. Borough Charters, II, lxxxvi, for an

example of this in a borough; W. Rees, South Wales, 183.

ELECTION OF THE REEVE

171

privilege from the lord, they found it had its disadvantages.

Indeed, some of the manuals distinctly state it to be an advantage

to the lord that his serfs should elect their own reeve; for, says

the author of Hosebonderie: “All those who hold in villeinage on

a manor must elect as reeve such an one as they will answer for,

for if the lord suffer any loss by the fault of the reeve, and he

shall not have of his own goods the wherewithal to make it good,

they shall pay for him the surplus which he cannot pay.”1 This

was not mere theory, for the manorial injunctions of the monks

of Gloucester expressly lay down this communal liability as a

corollary of free election, and the same is true on manors in other

parts of England.2

Once popular election obtained, it was not long before the

possibilities of evasion exercised men’s minds. Sometimes whole

communities paid a lump sum in order that none of their number

might be compelled to serve as reeve. Thus the men of Bulver-

hythe, in 1222, were to pay their lord twenty shillings, for they

were all unwilling to serve,3 while at Inglethorp the twelve vir-

gaters there compounded for 6s. 8d. “that they might not be

chosen for the reveship”.4 Individuals also were constantly to

be found willing to pay a fine for permission to decline the office,

when elected to it, and the fact that they disgorged quite con-

siderable sums indicates the onerous and responsible nature of

the office.5 It may well be that there is some connection between

this custom of buying exemption and the fact that on some

manors the office devolved solely on the holders of certain lands.

Thus at Kirton, in Lincolnshire, an inquisition of 1300 tells us

that there were two tofts and four bovates set aside “whose

tenants ought to be the lord’s reeve”.6 In other parts of the East of

England again, somewhat similar conditions obtained, as at

Hindolvestone, in Norfolk, where, in 1309, we find that “certain

land of William Erl was elected to the office of reeveship”.7

1 Walter of Henley, 67. It is expressed more briefly by Walter himself on

p. 11.

2 Glouc. Cart. 111, 221. Cf. D.S.P. lxvii.

3 Gale, Honour of Richmond, Appendix, 45.

4 Kettering Compotus, 88; and see Cust. Rents, 110.

5 Hales Rolls, 258; Wakefield Rolls, 11, 14, 54, etc.; Selden Soc. 11, 23, 45,

168; cf. ibid. iv, 128.

6 Inquis. Post Mortem, Ed. I, 111, 470.

7 Hist. Teachers’ Misc. 1, 157, 180. Cf. Davenport, op. cit. 50.

172 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

Hence, whoever was holding that particular piece of land was liable for this service. In all such cases the result was that the greater part of the community went free, and the burden of office was thrown upon a mere handful of people. An amusing instance of the way in which men would evade office, if possible, is furnished by the proceedings at a Dulwich Court of 1333. Three of those who should have been present were absent, and as there were three vacant reeveships to be filled, their fellows seized the opportunity to elect them forthwith to these offices; and, in case there should be any doubt in the matter, the Court reaffirmed the election the next time it met.1

Whatever method was employed in the election of the reeve, and however many men avoided the office, at last one man was chosen, and there and then was sworn in by the lord or his steward in the presence of the whole Court. Thus there could be no question who was the new reeve, or that everybody knew about it.2

We may now turn to consider what were the duties which faced the newly elected reeve, and what powers he had at his disposal. We may put the matter briefly by saying that every item of the manorial economy was his concern. The estate manuals excel themselves in setting out his duties, and their detail runs to many pages. He must, they say, see that the farm servants rise in good time and get to work quickly; he must overlook the ploughing, carting, marling, seeding; he must keep a watch on the threshers so that they neither waste nor steal; he must supervise the livestock and see to their well-being. It is his duty to issue the various food allowances to the servants at stated intervals, and he is expected to hale before the Manor Court all those who fail in their service. The proper upkeep of the manor house, the farm-buildings and all the agricultural implements is his concern—in short there is no end to the variety or the extent of his labours. Nor is he always to be found about the manor, for at times his duties take him to distant parts. The reeve of Cuxham, for example, might have been seen one day in

1 W. Young, Hist. Dulwich College, ii, 272. Cf. E.H.R. xxxix, 122, where Mr Hilary Jenkinson suspects similar occurrences on East Kent manors. For several reeves on one manor, see Levett, op. cit. 37, where it is shown that Waltham had no less than six!

2 Durham Halmote Rolls, 36; Tatenhill, ii, 48, 66; cf. Fleta, 164.

THE REEVE'S DUTIES

173

1331 far from his Oxfordshire manor, for he was busy on the wharf at Southwark, whither he had come to inspect and purchase millstones for his lord's mill. We may follow his anxious homeward progress with his five precious stones, for which he had paid the large sum of £15. 16s. 8d. First he took them by water to Henley, and from there he arranged for their transport the rest of the journey in carts hired for the purpose.1 Similarly many reeves journeyed considerable distances to fairs or markets to buy and sell on their lords' behalf. And from time to time with four of his fellows he was called on to appear at the Hundred Court, there to answer for all things concerning the manor, and at rare intervals he might even have to appear before the dreaded itinerant justices at their Eyre.2

The reeve, then, was the chief of the peasants for the time being, and is often found, not peacefully leading his fellows to answer at the King's Courts, but encouraging them to resist authority. Two cases must serve to indicate this phase of his activities. In the first the reeve leads the men of his village of Carleton on an expedition to throw down the dyke which has been erected by the Abbey of Byland at Wyldon,3 and in the second, after the King's foresters had taken certain beasts as pledges, the animals were rescued by certain men. They were reproved by the bailiff of a local lord, Ralph de Raleqh, whereupon

Robert de Byham, reeve of the said Ralph, ordered all the villeins of his lord and of the Abbess of Pratis, and of the prior of the hospital of St. Bartholomew, London, and all the villeins of Streton to make themselves ready with arms and they made a league (statutum) among them and put scouts (insidiatores) in a wind-mill and in the church tower to watch when the King's ministers (officials) came to do their office; and when they came all the villeins raised the hue and came together and rescued their beasts and beat and wounded and ill-treated the said bailiffs.4

It is clear that the power entrusted to these men was often very great, for frequently they were left in sole charge of the manorial labours for weeks at a time. We have already seen that some bailiffs were unfaithful, and it is not to be wondered at that some

1 Rogers, Wages, 113; cf. Cunningham, op. cit. 598.

2 Statutes of the Realm, Henry I, cap. 7.

3 Cal. Inquis. Misc. No. 199.

4 Ibid. No. 209.

174 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

reeves took advantage of their position, and either deceived and swindled their masters or oppressed and bullied their fellows. Oppression, no doubt, was always possible, and human nature being what it is, we may be sure that even-handed justice was not infallibly administered. It would be hard to believe that bribery did not exist in the circumstances or that favouritism did not flourish. It was so easy to arrange. The reeve frequently had full authority as to how the day's work should be expended, so that it was easy for him to arrange matters to the satisfaction of his friends, and to give this one an easy task, or to let him slip away early. There was obviously a limit to such proceedings: no reeve could afford to fly in the face of the majority of his fellows, and a rough and ready give and take characterised the general relations between reeve and peasants. At times a reeve went too far, and his fellows complained of the matter at the next Manor Court as they had a right to do. It was then for the lord to enquire into the matter, and to determine what was the truth, and this he did generally by means of a manorial jury. It will be seen, therefore, that the reeve had only a limited opportunity for oppression—always provided, however, that his lord was prepared to see justice done and that the peasants who formed the Court were not oppressed and afraid to speak their mind. Thus, in 1278, we have a long complaint before the Court, in which the reeve was accused of discriminating between rich and poor, of taking bribes, and of excusing men from their work for certain payments. Some of the charges were believed to be true by the jury, while others were dismissed, and the case may serve as an admirable example of the way in which the Manor Court acted as a check on any outrageous action by a reeve.1 In another court, in 1278, a reeve brought a man before the Court, and asserted that he feigned sickness and failed to come to work, while all the time he was hale and at work in his own barn and yard. The manorial jury evidently regarded this as a piece of malice on the reeve's part, and he was not believed, and as a result he was fined for his misbehaviour.2

Generally, however, it was not the peasant but the lord who suffered at the hands of the reeve, and when we recall the reeve's position, and the multifarious opportunities he had for taking a

1 Selden Soc. II, 95.

2 Ibid. 91.

THE REEVE AND THE AUDITORS

175

little here and there, we need not be surprised. This side of the

reeve's activities was sufficiently common knowledge for Chaucer

to comment on it:

Ful riche he was astored pryvely:

His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly,

To yeve and lene hym of his owene good,

And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood.

Not only this: he was so able to conduct the manorial affairs that

he even lent his lord moneys arising from the estate, and did this

in so clever a way that the auditors were unable to get the better

of him.1 And this was no easy matter, for, as we have already seen,

the annual audit was a very searching enquiry, and whether

bailiff or reeve made the return, the proceedings were the same.

Everything had to be accounted for, and what wonder if the un-

fortunate reeve faltered at times, and found himself obliged to

invent a reason for the outlay of certain moneys, or the loss of an

ox, or the defection of certain rents. So from time to time we

stumble across entries which show that something like this has

happened: a reeve is fined 6s. 8d. for "many things concealed"2

in his accounts, or is found guilty of returning certain tenements

as empty when in fact they were still occupied,3 and so on. The

whole working of the account will be explained later, and it will

be seen what a formidable matter it was for the reeve, and how

thankful he must have been once it was over.

Although the lord had the right to require his men to serve as

reeves, he was not so harsh as to demand this service gratis.

There were emoluments and allowances which compensated in

some part for the heavy burdens of office. Nearly always the

reeve was given a direct money payment, small indeed when com-

pared with that received by the steward, or even that of the

bailiff, but considerably more than was given to any of his fellows

who were employed by the lord. It will be found that the reeve's

pay is at least double that received by the ploughmen or carters,

and usually was paid by the lord.4 In places, however, as on the

Battle Abbey manors, it was exacted from the peasants, and in

1 C.T. Prologue, 587.

2 Rogers, Prices, II, 210.

3 Levett, op. cit. 150; and see below, p. 191.

4 See, for example, Winton Pipe Roll, passim.

176 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

addition to their rents we find them paying fourpence or eight-

pence each ad stipendium praepositi.1 But it was not the money

which he received that made up the main part of the reeve's

rewards. These he gleaned from three main sources: re-

mission of rent, temporary grants of special pieces of meadow or

close and relaxation of many services. It is very common to find

that the reeve for the time being is excused all, or a part, of his

yearly rent. The custom varied, but the general principle was in

accord with common sense and justice. The reeve was much

occupied with the lord's affairs, and necessarily could give only

partial attention to his own strips, and it was not reasonable

that he should pay so much for them as in ordinary years. Hence,

the Eynsham monks excused their reeve the whole of his rent;

on another lord's manor half was relinquished, and on yet

another five shillings only was allowed.2 Each manor had its own

custom, and there is no apparent reason for the variations.

From earlier chapters the value of grazing privileges will have

been realised, and these formed one of the most highly esteemed

perquisites of the reeve's office. At times these took the form of

permission to turn out his cattle on the lord's own reserved

fields, as at Glastonbury, where the reeve has the right to graze

his team of eight oxen with the lord's cattle in the demesne

meadows.3 In other places, the reeve could claim sustenance for

his beasts, as on one of the manors of the Dean and Chapter of

Wells, where he was entitled to half an acre of meadow to main-

tain his draught horse throughout the winter, as well as pasturage

for it in summer.4 On other manors again certain closes were set

apart for his use. We have the "Refhammes", consisting of two

plots of pasture, allotted to a Glastonbury reeve;5 or the five

capecia of meadow allotted to the reeve on one of the Ramsey

manors6 as examples of this. As a further reward he was some-

times given a share of the crops on the lord's demesne, as well as

what he was able to grow for himself. He is kept severely in his

place, however, by the quality of these gifts. The Glastonbury

1 Battle Customals, 7, 10, 11, etc. Cf. Norf. Arch. xx, 191.

2 Eynsham Cart. 11, 137; Cal. Inquis. Misc. 1, 64; Castlecombe, 146.

3 Glas. Rentalia, 243, and cf. 94.

4 Hist. MSS. Com. Wells, 1, 343; and cf. Ramsey Cart. 1, 496.

5 Glas. Rentalia, 140; and cf. 243 "the reevis meadow".

6 Ramsey Cart. 1, 433; cf. also Bleadon, 194.

THE REEVE'S PRIVILEGES

177

reeve was given " I acre of corn in his lord's third-best field",1

while the Battle reeves were forced to be content with one acre of

corn grown on land which had not been manured, and was there-

fore not likely to yield very highly. Even this was not all, for they

could only take it at the order and discretion of the bailiff, who

could thus give them whatever he wished.2

The greatest relief the reeve obtained was undoubtedly from

none of these things, but from a partial or total relaxation of his

customary works. In fact, it would have been wellnigh impossible

for him to act as reeve and also to perform his usual number of

daily works; and most customals realise this and excuse him

completely.3 Some grudging lords would not assent to this, but

made their reeve pay a fine of half a mark in lieu of the works

their own demands forbade him fulfilling, while others would

excuse the works at the busy harvest season only.4

Besides these various privileges, he was on some manors so

identified with the lord that he could demand his food daily with

the lord's other servants at the manor house.5 On some of the

Ramsey estates this was so, while at Harmondsworth in Middle-

sex the reeve either dined daily at his lord's table or else received

a weekly allowance of one bushel of wheat. The Harmondsworth

entry concludes "and nothing more save by the lord's grace", as

if to protect the lord from his reeve demanding total and not

partial board. We shall see the importance of this when we come

to discuss the other manorial servants.6

A far more frequent custom, however, was to allow the reeve

to eat with the other manorial servants during the harvest period

which extended roughly from the feast of St Peter in Chains

(1 Aug.) to Michaelmas (29 Sept.). This was a period of abnormal

activity, and it was most important that the reeve should be con-

stantly at the head of affairs, and about the manor and the manor

house. So the lord graciously allowed him to feed at the manor

1 Glas. Rentalia, 243; and cf. 56, 60, 67, 94, etc.

2 Battle Customals, 66.

3 See Glas. Rentalia, passim; Ramsey Cart. passim; Eynsham Cart. 10, 61,

137; Rot. Hund. II, 525a; etc.

4 Ramsey Cart. I, 52; Castlecombe, 146; but see Davenport, op. cit. lxvi,

where the reeve gets off three works at harvest, and apparently none during

all the rest of the year.

5 Ramsey Cart. I, 406, 473; cf. D.S.P. lxvii.

6 V.C.H. Middlesex, II, 68. See below, p. 184.

B L

12

178 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

house throughout that period. In some cases this is defined

vaguely as "in autumpno"; other customals state that the reeve

may be ad mensam domini1 a Gula Augusti usque festum S.

Michaelis;2 others cut the period down to five weeks only,3 while

some emphasise the temporary nature of the arrangement by the

emphatic words "from beginning of autumn to the end and no

more",4 or "and afterwards at his own table throughout the rest

of the year".5

Our examination of the duties and rewards of the reeve, as

well as the circumstances of his election, have shown us a multi-

plicity of local variations governing the general principle, et erit

prepositus ad voluntatem domini. Custom was strong, here as

everywhere on the manor, and no lord could exact more than the

course of time had determined as the proper amount, nor could

he wisely withhold the customary rewards. The reeve was a

valuable servant, and a good reeve was a treasure not lightly to

be thrown on one side. Hence it is that we find certain men re-

maining in office year after year, for it was obviously to every-

one's advantage that they should continue to act as reeves. So

long as a man could be found willing to undertake the arduous

and invidious task, and so long as he did it to the satisfaction of

all on the manor, neither lord nor peasants were likely to ask for

any change.

But the lord had not finished with his serf once he had served

as reeve. There were still several other manorial offices which

he might call on him to fill. The chief of these were those of

messor (or hayward as he was often called) and that of beadle or

constable. Although in many cases it is possible to separate the

duties of these two officers, we so often find them exercised by

one person that any insistence on a very rigid differentiation

would be pedantic. It is a convenience to separate them, but we

must beware of making things too clear and of insisting on

classifications which the medieval mind did not make. And it is

worth our notice in passing to recall that even the idealised

systems of Walter of Henley and others do not set out in detail

1 Battle Customals, 66; Wilts Arch. Mag. xxxii, 326; Clutterbuck, Hertford,

II, 618.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 496; Stapledon's Register, 347.

3 Sussex Arch. Soc. Coll. liii, 48, 66, 78.

4 Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvii, 169.

5 Ramsey Cart. I, 496.

THE HAYWARD

179

the duties for both these men on one manor. The beadle is almost

always ignored in these treatises, being referred to only in some

common-form inclusive way when the general duties of the

"provost or beadle or hayward or any other servant of the

manor"1 are in question. We may define the duties of each of

these two officers roughly as these: the beadle was the policeman

of the village, taking pledges, levying distresses, etc., while the

messor was in charge of all those operations connected with the

sowing and gathering of the crops. There is little in these two

offices that made the holding of them by one man an impossi-

bility, and we therefore need not be surprised to find this is

what actually happened on many manors.

At Forncett, for example, the terms bedelli and messores were

used interchangeably in the rolls,2 and many other examples

might be given,3 while at the Glastonbury manor of Dilcheat we

are definitely told that the hayward is also the beadle. With this

caution in mind let us see what was the position and duties of

the hayward. They are very well defined in Seneschaucie:

The hayward ought to be an active and sharp man, for he must,

early and late, look after and go round and keep the woods, corn, and

meadows and other things belonging to his office, and he ought to

make attachments and approvements faithfully, and take delivery by

pledge before the reeve, and deliver them to the bailiff to be heard.

And he ought to sow the lands, and be over the ploughers and

harrowers at the time of each sowing. And he ought to make all [those]

who are accustomed to come, do so, to do the work they ought to do.

And in hay time he ought to be over the mowers, the making and the

carrying (of the hay), and in August assemble the reapers and the boon-

tenants and the labourers, and see that the corn be properly and cleanly

gathered; and early and late watch so that nothing be stolen or eaten

by beasts, or spoilt. And he ought to tally with the reeve all the seed,

and boon-work, and customs, and labour which ought to be done on

the manor throughout the year.4

This account is well substantiated by documentary evidence,

and may, therefore, be accepted as substantially accurate. We

see the hayward keeping an eye on the pasture, and arresting

1 Walter of Henley, 91, 93, 101.

2 Davenport, op. cit. 25.

3 Clutterbuck, Hertford, iii, 619; V.C.H. Middlesex, ii, 68; Selden Soc. iv,

4 Walter of Henley, 103. Cf. Fleta, 172 (ii, cap. 84).

12-2

180 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

those who infringe on their customary rights;1 we meet him in the Manor Courts seeking protection against those who threaten his life and limb, because he executes his office properly.2 In harvest we see him supervising the work, and measuring the sheaves to see that they are of the right size.3 Then, after all have gone home for the night, he stays on to see that no one carries off his lord's corn;4 and, finally, at the end of the year, he tallies with the reeve for all the operations entrusted to him from time to time.5

He was elected to his office most probably by one of the methods detailed above in describing the reeve. Our information is not so full, but we have many cases of autocratic selection by the lord, and many in which the hayward is elected by his fellows.6 The two offices, we may suppose, developed along much the same lines. Similarly, we find that the hayward received emoluments and rewards analogous to those paid to the reeve. His rent is excused or lowered; he gets certain perquisites, such as a measure of seed-corn from time to time, or a piece of meadow (a beadle-mead) for himself, or a number of sheaves at the harvest. He eats with the other manorial officers during harvest, and this is paid for from the lord's purse.7

Not only his duties and rewards, but also his conduct of his office bears close resemblance to that of the reeve. Untrustworthy haywards occur as we saw untrustworthy reeves in office. One of these haywards, we are told, used to watch until he found people gleaning without permission. Then he swooped down upon them, wrested away their lawful gains and quietly took them off to the mill to be ground for himself.8 Another of these men is accused and found guilty of neglecting to guard his lord's fields properly. The jury also found that he took bribes to the

1 Durham Halmote Rolls, 55; V.C.H. Bucks, II, 43.

2 Hales Rolls, 26.

3 Hone, op. cit. 233.

4 Battle Customals, 67; V.C.H. Middlesex, II, 68.

5 Davenport, op. cit. lxx, where the summary of the hayward's accounts gives a good idea of his many activities.

6 V.C.H. Bucks, II, 54; Clutterbuck, Hertford, III, 619; Battle Customals, 67; and for payment not to serve, see Selden Soc. II, 128.

7 Glas. Rentalia, 64, 243; Battle Customals, 82; Cust. Rents, 102, and note 5.

8 Selden Soc. IV, 123.

THE BEADLE

181

subversion of justice; kept for himself the fines paid over to him, and generally used the lord's property as if it were his own.1

There is nothing here for surprise: when we remember the many thousands of men who held this difficult office what is surprising is that we do not get a larger volume of complaint and accusation.

When we turn to the hayward's companion (or other office) we find that while his duties were various, they were mostly associated with the activities of the Manor Court. The following description of the beadle of Stowe in Lincolnshire, in 1283, gives an excellent summary of his duties.

R. Wale holds 1 bovate of land for which he ought to collect all the moneys of the Bishop [of Lincoln], as well in respect of rents as of other things...and to pay them at the will of the sergeant; and he ought to summon all the work-tenants (operarii) and to look after them while they are at work; and he ought to make the summonses for paying hens...and to pay them at the next manors if they ought to be sent there...and he ought to make all summonses and distresses, etc., as often as they should be made....2

So on various other manors we find him summoning the tenants to the Court, collecting the fines imposed on them, or evicting them from their holdings by order of the Court.3 As the harvest season came round he visited all the tenants and warned them of the days they would have to appear to gather in their lord's corn; at other times he would seize their cattle found straying in the lord's meadows or closes, and put them in the village pound until the will of the lord was known concerning them.4

Clearly, such an officer was of great practical importance on the manor, and we might extend our list of his duties to any length by recording the innumerable variations of practice throughout England. Much that we should like to know the records do not tell us. Was he a very unpopular man on the manor? Did men hate serving as beadle more than as reeve or hayward? Was he often molested while performing his duty? These and

1 Selden Soc. iv, 140; Davenport, op. cit. 75 n. 2. Compare all this passage with the extract quoted above from Seneschaucie, and also with Glouc. Cart. iii, 213 ff.

2 A.A.S.R. xxiv, 332.

3 Selden Soc. ii, 112; Eynsham Cart. xiii, xlv; Hales Rolls, 36.

4 V.C.H. Middlesex, ii, 67; Hales Rolls, 26; Davenport, op. cit. 25.

182 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

many other questions must await a much fuller knowledge of manorial conditions. We may say with confidence, however, that it was not considered so onerous or responsible a task as that of reeve, and we often find men liable for the office who were excluded from the reevship by the smallness of their holdings.1

Besides serving in any of the above offices the peasant could be called on to fill posts such as that of woodward—an officer appointed to safeguard the lord's woods and plantations,2 or to become a forester and watch over the lord's deer and his rights of chase.3 Special conditions, again, required special legislation, as in the Fen country, where certain officers were elected to inspect and to report on the protecting dykes. The conditions of election, service and emoluments of all these officers need not detain us, as they are similar, mutatis mutandis, to those of their fellow villein officials.

All these men we have been discussing carried out their duties while still keeping their own strips in the common fields in active cultivation, and they were often drawn from the larger holders of villein-tenements. We have seen, however, that there were many men on the manor whose holdings were too small to support them without some other means of livelihood. Some were absorbed by their more prosperous neighbours who were able to offer them work from time to time, but the main source of constant employment was to be found as one of the manorial servants. The lord cultivated a considerable portion of the manor (as we have seen) very largely by the aid he exacted from his villeins, but it is doubtful whether this intermittent aid was ever sufficient in itself. The lord probably always required the help of some of the peasantry to look after his stock, and to perform innumerable daily operations incident to farming, and Sir W. Ashley has conjectured that "some of these, such as the shepherds and oxherds, were probably descended from the slaves of the demesne" of Domesday times.4 Whether this were so or not, some per-

1 Cust. Rents, 101, 102.

2 See Political Songs (Camden Soc.), 149, for mention of "the wodeward waiteth us wo that looketh under rys". Also see Wilts. Arch. Mag. xxxii, 322; V.C.H. Middlesex, ii, 69, for hereditary woodward; Eynsham Cart. ii, xiii, xliv. Rys=boughs.

3 D.S.P. 75, 98; Norf. Arch. xiv, 40.

4 Econ. Hist. I, 1, 32, 61.

THE FAMULI

183

manent staff was essential, and this seems to have been provided for in various ways. At first it is probable that men who were

chosen to act as ploughmen or shepherds were excused other rents or services, and even sometimes had the use of the lord's

team one day a week to plough their own ground, or the right of folding the lord's cattle on their holding at certain intervals.

Besides this, they pastured their beasts with those of their lord, and received other privileges in return for their labours.1 On

some manors certain holdings were specially set aside for those who fulfilled the offices of ploughman or swineherd, such as we

find on one of the Glastonbury manors, where we are told that "there are small portions of lands which belong to the ploughs

called Sulstiche and Goddingchestiche whereof the ploughman ought to have a portion as the others".2

From the very inception of the manorial system, however, men were trying to unburden themselves of the constant weekly

work the lord imposed upon them. The more successful they were in this, the greater the lord's need for additional help. With

the money his peasantry paid for exemption from week-work he was able to hire labourers who would be entirely at his disposi-

tion. Hence, by the fourteenth century at latest—and much earlier in many parts—another system was in full working.3 The

lord had a body of servants who had no land of their own—or at the most a few acres, and who were primarily on the manor to

cultivate his lands, and to tend his flocks and herds. These men were known as the famuli. Their number, of course, varied from

manor to manor, but we generally find ploughmen, carters and shepherd or swineherd among them.4

On some manors a large staff gradually became the normal thing, and the lord recruited them from his own serfs if possible.

1 Glas. Rentalia, 93-5, 122, 138, 204, 217; Battle Customals, 66; Ramsey Cart. I, 318, 408, 473; Winton Pipe Roll, xxii.

2 Glas. Rentalia, 139; cf. 102; Page, End of Villainage. . . , 22; Worc. Priory Reg. 66 a; Cust. Rents, 102, 103.

3 Thus at Bray we find (temp. Henry III) the demesne worked by serfs who held land on privileged terms. By the time of Edward I, the work was done by men who received a fixed yearly wage, as well as an allowance of the greater part of the corn grown on the manor. V.C.H. Berks, I, 175.

4 See, for example, Reg. Roff. 132–3, where the various types of men, ploughmen, carters, etc. are enumerated for each manor. And compare Worc. Priory Reg. 25 a, 119 b.

184 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

The Hundred Rolls tell us that at Chalgrove, in Oxfordshire, the yardland-holder who had sons old enough to earn a living brought them up to the hall with him at Michaelmas, and there selected one to serve the lord for a year at the usual wages.1 The peasants on the Gloucester and other manors were evidently liable to be impressed for service, and we find that the lord could even move them about from one manor to another if he found he could employ them more profitably by so doing.2 The men who were thus chosen were probably from the humbler ranks of the peasants: “the poor cottars who obtain their living by the work of their hands”, as the Inquisitio Nonarum calls them.3 They were, in general, lodged in curia, that is, in the buildings forming part of what would now be called the “home-farm”.4 Their quarters were much the same as those they found in their own homes, and otherwise they were comparatively well off; for, unlike their fellows, they were not entirely dependent on the seasons for their prosperity. They had payments both in money and in kind. They were given a regular money wage,5 and if they held any land, their rent was reduced on this.6 Further, they were entitled to allowances of corn and other farm produce,7 and during the busy harvest season they shared in the generous rations which were provided at the manor house for the lord’s officials at this time.8

At Martham (Norfolk) in 1272, for example, we find them consuming quantities of beef (both from the home stock, and from that purchased in Norwich) and washing it down with beer, brewed on the manor from malt there provided. Bread, both of wheat and of rye, plenty of peas-pottage, herrings, cod, cheeses

1 Rot. Hund. II, 768.

2 Glouc. Cart. III; Univ. Lib. Camb. MS. Kk. i. i. f. 2216.

3 Inquis. Nonarum, 14, and see V.C.H. Berks, II, 175; Dorset, II, 223; Beds, II, 82.

4 Davenport, op. cit. 24 n. 3. “There is frequent mention of the domus famulorum (cf. E.H.R. xx, 482) which was situated near the camera servientis; and as a maid was kept to prepare pottage for the famuli, it seems probable that the ploughmen, carters. . . were unmarried men, resident in the court.” But see Rogers, Prices, I, 286–9.

5 Min. Acc. 958/19; Kettering Compotus, 33.

6 Levett, op. cit. 20; Min. Acc. 958/19; Crondal Records, 62.

7 Min. Acc. 751/18, 21; 843/31; 859/23, 918/17, 998/25; Kettering Compotus, 47, 53, 57, 65, 67, 69, etc. See above, p. 88.

8 Min. Acc. 918/3; Kettering Compotus, 33; Rogers, Prices, II, 622, 623.

PLATE

IV

The

thresher

The

swineherd

PIERCE THE PLOUGHMAN

185

and an occasional goose1 made the hard day's work bearable.2

Further, they were entitled to a regular issue of corn at intervals

during the year, so that their condition was considerably superior

to that of many of their fellows,3 whose lot, at its worst, no doubt,

is so movingly related to us in the lines of Pierce the Ploughman's

Crede;

And as I wente be the waie wepynge for sorowe,

(I) seigh a sely man me by opon the plow hongen.

His cote was of a cloute that cary was y-called,

His hod was full of holes and his heer oute,

With his knopped schon clouted full thykke;

His ton toteden out as he the londe tredde,

His hosen overhogen his hoksynes on everiche a side,

Al beslombred in fen as he the plow folwede;

Twey myteynes, as mete maad all of cloutes;

The fyngers weren for-werd and ful of fen honged.

This wight waseliede in the fen almost to the ancle,

Foure rotheren hym by-forn that feble were worthen;

Men myghte kennen ich a ryb so reufull they weren.

His wiif walked him with, with a longe gode,

In a cutted cote cutted full heyghe,

Wrapped in a wynwe-schete to weren hire fro weders,

Barfote on the bare iis that the blod folwede.

And at the londes ende lay a litell crom-bolle,

And theron lay a litell childe lapped in cloutes,

And tweyne of tweie yeres olde opon a-nother syde,

And alle they songen o songe that sorwe was to heren;

They crieden alle o cry,—a carefull note.

The sely man sighede sore, and seide: “children, beth stille!”

As I went by the way, weeping for sorrow, I saw a poor man hanging

on to the plough. His coat was of a coarse stuff which was called cary;

his hood was full of holes and his hair stuck out of it. As he trod the soil

his toes peered out of his worn shoes with their thick soles; his hose

hung about his hocks on all sides, and he was all bedaubed with mud as

he followed the plough. He had two mittens, made scantily of rough

1 The “rep-goose” appears constantly, as a bonne bouche during the

harvest--probably at the end of the work. See e.g. Cust. Rents, 56;

Cunningham, op. cit. 600; Kettering Compotus, 65, etc.

2 Information kindly supplied by the late W. Hudson and Dr H. W.

Saunders. Cf. Min. Acc. 751/18–21, 843/31, 859/23, 918/13–17, etc.

3 See Rogers, Prices, I, 289, or Six Centuries of Work and Wages, 170, for

his conclusions as to the “income of a first-rate agricultural labourer”, which

he takes to be about £1. 15s. 6d. a year inclusive of money payments and

allowances. Compare also with the evidence above, p. 88, concerning the

incomings of a thirty-acre holder.

186 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

stuff, with worn-out fingers and thick with muck. This man bemired

himself in the mud almost to the ancle, and drove four heifers before

him that had become feeble, so that men might count their every rib

so "sorry looking they were".

His wife walked beside him with a long goad in a shortened cote-

hardy looped up full high and wrapped in a winnowing-sheet to protect

her from the weather. She went barefoot on the ice so that the blood

flowed. And at the end of the row lay a little crumb-bowl, and therein

a little child covered with rags, and two two-year olds were on the other

side, and they all sang one song that was pitiful to hear: they all cried

the same cry—a miserable note. The poor man sighed sorely, and said

"Children be still!"1

With the cry of these children in our ears we may conclude

our survey of the manorial servants. They have comparatively

little need of our pity: here and there a harsh master may have

driven them hard, or fed them with sheep dead from the murrain

and hastily salted down for their use,2 but their lot in general

compared very favourably with all but the aristocracy of the

manorial peasantry. They had what few men of their class had—

comparatively little anxiety as to how they were to live from one

year's end to another. The great court of the manor house

sheltered them, and the lord's officials provided them with food

and drink, and enough spending silver to make them popular

at the village ale-house. Medieval life could offer little more to

men of villein stock who were "born in the yoke of servitude".

Mention has been made from time to time of the manorial

accounts, and these must now be considered. They were

generally returned by the reeve and it is possible that no part of

his duties caused him more trouble than did the compilation of

the annual accounts. The formidable nature of these is apparent

as soon as we glance at them, for they usually state in the

minutest detail every item of the manorial income and expendi-

ture. It is not easy to explain how the unlettered reeve managed

to have all this information available. He relied, no doubt,

mainly on tallies and notches on barn-posts, aided by a cultivated

memory. There are many living who can recall remarkable in-

stances of the ability of old shepherds and wagoners to account

for every detail of the property under their charge, although they

relied solely on their memories. I am told that in the early

1 Pierce the Ploughman's Crede, ed. Skeat (E.E.T.S.), 17, 1. 420.

2 Walter of Henley, 31; Fleta, 167.

THE MANORIAL ACCOUNTS

187

'eighties of last century, the largest tenant-farmer in Hertford-shire had an entirely illiterate bailiff, who came back every market evening and dictated to his master, for hours at a time, the most complicated details of the day's offers and acceptances, in as orderly a fashion as if he were reading from a book; and the late Mr William Hudson was good enough to tell me of a Sussex landowner whose bailiff "could not write, and yet never made a mistake in accounting for the number of faggots he sold in a year. He notched them all on a door-post".1 So it must have been with the reeves; for, although the Gloucester injunctions order the reeves to keep careful tallies, and to enter the details from time to time on rolls provided for the purpose,2 such methods were seldom adopted, but rough and ready means better suited to semi- or wholly illiterate men who were in charge.

A last survivor of such men is seen in "Ragged Ass Jack" as described by Mr Ford Madox Ford in his Return to Yesterday. Jack, he tells us, "could do anything (except write, and late in life he taught himself to read)—patiently and to perfection: thatcher, wagoner, shepherd, bricklayer, etc. He could keep tallies and the most complicated accounts on notched sticks, cutting with a bill-hook I, II, III, IV, etc., as fast as you could write them with a pen, and adding up quite as fast."3

Even if a few of them could have kept rough jottings, such as are sometimes found sewn to the full account,4 the actual accounts would have been utterly beyond them, and we find that these are the work of trained scribes who made a round of the manors after Michaelmas for this purpose. One of the commonest entries on the compoti records the scribe's fee for his work, and often the cost of the parchment.5 It may well be, of course, that where a lord had but two or three manors, the account was made by the parish priest or his clerk.6 Bishop Pecock, in the early fifteenth century, advises parish priests to avoid "worldli offices

1 Cf. Hist. MSS. Com. v, 444, where the amount of corn in a barn (1480) was said to be scored on the door-post.

2 Glouc. Cart. III, 213 ff.

3 Op. cit. 153.

4 Econ. Hist. Rev. I, 68.

5 Min. Acc. 987/24-8, 1052/6; Rogers, Prices, I, 95; II, 620–1; Obed. Rolls S. Swithin (Hants Rec. Soc.), 238, etc.

6 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 51.

188 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

and rekenyngis in court or out of court"1 and we can understand how easy it was for the priest, as the only lettered man in the village, to be called on to make the account if a professional scribe were not available. The accounts, in general, followed a set formula, so that from whatever part of England they come, they have a strong family likeness, and specimen compoti (accounts) were available for the unskilled.2 Two qualifications of their usefulness have to be made: they themselves sometimes fall into confusion and repetition, thus furnishing no very infallible guide to an inexperienced man; and they sometimes quote figures which, though they may have been possible locally, are very far from being generally applicable.3

The general arrangement of the account starts by naming the manor, the year of the king's reign, and the official who presents the account, and then gives the several main items; first the arrears from last year, then the rents of assize, of mills, etc.; then the sales of corn and stock, the perquisites of the court, fines, heriots, etc. After this come the details of the expenditure, and at the foot of the roll the balance is struck. On the back of the roll the scribe enters an exact account of the produce of the manor and how it has been consumed, as well as a detailed inventory of the livestock, down to the smallest items. Smyth, in his Lives of the Berkeleys tells us that the accounts of that great family were kept in such detail that they did not

scorne to discend soe lowe, as to declare, what money was yearly made by the sale of the locks, belts, and tags of the sheep (as well as of the fleeces), of the hearbes of the garden, stubble from off the Corne lands, cropss and setts of withy'es of Osier rods, the Offall wood of old hedges, of butter, cheese and milk, dung and soile, bran, nuts, wax, Honey and the like.4

In this they only followed what was the common custom throughout the whole country, wherever the lord found it necessary to keep an account.

The reeve had not finished with the account once the clerk had completed his task: he had yet to face the auditors. Large

1 Reule of Crysten Religioun (E.E.T.S.), 326.

2 See MS. Ee. i. i. f. 221 and f. 231 b in the University Library, Cambridge, for a specimen compotus in great detail. Another in Dd. vii. 6, f. 58 b.

3 This point was made by Prof. A. E. Levett, Econ. Hist. Rev. I, 68.

4 Op. cit. I, 156.

THE AUDITORS

189

landholders usually sent their auditors from manor to manor, there to conduct on the spot a searching inquiry into the details of the account. The unknown author of Seneschaucie says that the lord ought to "ordain that the accounts be heard every year, but not in one place but on all the manors [separately], for so can one quickly know everything, and understand the profit and loss...and then can the auditors take inquest of the doings which are doubtful".1

We may see the steward of the Bishop of Chichester's Sussex manors (c. 1225) constantly thus engaged. On one occasion he is unable to fulfil a command because he and another official are making a round of the manors and auditing the accounts.2 Before Michaelmas he is found writing to his master, and asking for someone to be joined with him "as the feast of Saint Michael is at hand, the season for hearing the accounts".3 As he gets no answer from the Bishop, he writes again, urging that since "you have directed me to come to you at London within 15 days of Michaelmas, wherefore I should wish most freely to audit the accounts first with some one of your household, so that I might be able reasonably to answer about the proceeds of your diocese".4

Walter of Henley and other writers give us considerable information concerning the qualities and duties of a good auditor. He has to be a faithful and prudent man, well versed in his profession, and knowing all the points and details of the accounts, and the many items of rents, outlays, returns, stock, etc. they must contain. He must hear the plaints and wrongs of everybody who complains of any of the lord's officers, and make an enquiry into any doubtful matters and fine those who have been careless with the lord's property.5

1 Walter of Henley, 105, 107. Cf. with this, however, the practice of the monks of Canterbury, who refuse a plea to examine the accounts in situ, since, they say, "We cannot do that without great disparagement of our position, because from old time it has always been our custom that our sergeants from all parts of England should come to Canterbury to our chequer, there to hand in their accounts, and this in the presence of certain of our brethren". Lit. Cant. (R.S.), I, 481 (1332).

2 Sussex Arch. Soc. III, 54.

3 Ibid. 65.

4 Ibid. 70.

5 Op. cit. 105ff. The auditors stayed at the manor house (see Higham Ferrers, 112, for the "Auditor's Chamber" at the Castle), and the accounts regularly contain items detailing the expenses of their visit. See Higham Ferrers, 56, 162; and cf. Davenport, op. cit. xxxvi; Min. Acc. 843/29, 1078/17, etc.

190

MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

The auditors were men of considerable standing: rarely the lord himself, but more generally trusted officials; or, in the case of a religious house, the cellarer, accompanied by one or two senior colleagues.

1

They carried with them the rolls of the manor for previous years, and sometimes even the extent or the customal of the manor, as they are advised to do by Walter of Henley,

2

and the reeve must have found them possessed of a seemingly uncanny knowledge of the details of the estate in the past, as they checked his return by reference to previous figures and the details given in the customal.

3

It is very common to find an entry in the neat hand of the scribe struck out and a new set of figures entered in the heavy and less practised hand of the auditor.

Again and again the reeve starts his account by admitting that he is twenty shillings in arrears.

The auditor consults the balance struck at the foot of the previous roll, and firmly alters it to fifty shillings or eighty shillings as the case may be.

4

The reeve accounts for some 3391 day-works, but the auditors refuse to allow so scanty a return "because the aforesaid total was found false by 382 day-works, as appears by the extent [and therefore] the said total is corrected and made true, namely 3773 day-works".

5

In the same way every item is closely scrutinised, and the auditors cross-question the reeve concerning every detail which seems unusual, and cause him to deliver up to them his evidences as detailed in the compotus.

6

At times the reeves have a melancholy tale to tell of how the lord's property has been taken from them, as when they complain that "the Earl of Lancaster's men as they travelled with the Queen through Gloucestershire, took away from the manors of the lord of Berkeley so many ducks and geese that all their eggs and their broods for the year were lost.

1

Reg. Roffense, 65, 66; Cart. Glouc. I, xc; Worc. Priory Reg. xxxviii; Reynolds' Register, 18, 20; Davenport, op. cit. xxxvi; Archaeologia, xlviii, 353, etc.; and see Lit. Cant. II, 311, for letter of appointment of auditors. Their office and authority was recognised by the second Statute of Westminster, cap. 11.

2

Op. cit. 7.

3

See Min. Acc. 1004/10, where the auditors refer constantly to the extent in going through the account, and correct it accordingly.

4

Min. Acc. 859/24, 25, 26, etc.; 918/8; 987/21, 26; 1030/5.

5

Camb. Antiq. Soc. Proc. xxvii, 172; cf. Ely Rolls, Barton, 21/2 Ed. III.

6

See Min. Acc. 987/24 for a most interesting example of the care with which suspected items were investigated. Cf. Higham Ferrers, 60.

BALANCING THE ACCOUNT

191

They also broke open their barns and took wheat and corn"—and the reeves ask to be exonerated.1 Sometimes the reeve paid out money by authorisation from his superiors, and this authorisation he has to produce before he can avoid being charged with the debt.2 Generally, however, he does not produce actual letters, but hands over his various tallies or his little parchment "bills", which he has taken care to claim before parting with his lord's goods to any man.3 Once he has been foolish enough to allow grain or stock to go without a written order from a superior authority, or without first claiming a "bill" or tally from the purchaser, it will go hard with him before he can persuade the auditors that he has not made away with his lord's goods.4

So the accountants worked through the roll; here adding a few small items either omitted or sold since the account was drawn up,5 there reducing a charge which they consider excessive.6 They account for items forgotten in the previous year's account,7 and make such allowances as they think justifiable.8 At last they come to an end; the balance is struck, and the year's profit or loss stands revealed. This was an anxious moment for the reeve: if there were a balance he was called on to produce the money, but often he had not yet demanded it all, or had failed to collect it when he applied. On the other hand, a deficit on the year's working was an unpleasant matter for him and his fellows, since his lord's livelihood depended on the successful farming of his manors, and a bad year was liable to lead to increased demands and a tightening up of conditions in the coming year.

In general, however, there was a balance to the lord's credit, and the reeve was held strictly accountable for this. The auditors had discretionary powers, and would, at times, forgive a debt because of the "weakness and poverty"9 of the reeve, or as a matter of special grace of the lord.10 Most reeves were not so fortunate, and their debt was firmly fastened upon them, and

1 Lives of the Berkeleys, 1, 286.

2 Min. Acc. 936/15; Cunningham, op. cit. 600.

3 Min. Acc. 367/1139; 870/9, 10; 1017/14; 1280/5.

4 Davenport, op. cit. 25 n. 3, where a reeve seeks an allowance for payments made sine writ or tally, and also Reynolds' Register, 44, 45, 51.

5 Min. Acc. 918/4.

6 Ibid. 913/16.

7 Ibid. 1017/8.

8 Crawley, 273.

9 Obed. Rolls S. Swithin, 150.

10 Min. Acc. 1024/19.

192 MANORIAL ADMINISTRATION

formed the first item (frequently misstated, as we have seen) on

the next year's account. Whether it were the same reeve or

another, there it appeared on record, and we see it slowly dwind-

ling as, bit by bit, it is accounted for by the debtor. Thus at

Stevenage, in Hertfordshire, in 1284, a sometime reeve made two

payments—one of 10s. 6½d. and another of 5s.—being part of the

arrears on his compotus of the previous year; while during 1285

he paid a further 20s.1 Sometimes the lord was not so sure of his

man, and in such cases he took care to demand adequate sureties.

One reeve has to find twenty-five pledges that he will pay up his

arrears within the next year sine ulterione dilatione,2 while another

outgoing reeve finds four sureties that he will pay twenty marks

of silver (£13. 6s. 8d.) of the arrears due from him on his account

within the next nine months.3 Even more severe measures might

be taken, for we read of Roger Losse who was put in the stocks

"for arrears of his accounts and not for any other cause",4 while

the auditors of the monks of Canterbury handed over one of their

bailiffs to the Sheriff of Kent to be kept in the county gaol.5

As we have already seen, on many manors when a manorial

officer went out of office he was given a document either acquit-

ting him entirely, or stating what he owed his lord, and setting

forth exactly what stock and grain there was left on the manor.6

A duplicate of this was sewn on the compotus for the year, where

it might be referred to when necessary.7 Once the reeve had re-

ceived this chirograph acquittance he could, if not reappointed,

safely retire again into his humble obscurity, from whence he

had been drawn to play so important a part in the affairs of his

rural community.

1 Min. Acc. 870/9, 10; cf. 859/23, 930/5, 998/25.

2 Ibid. 1070/8; cf. 1120/11.

3 Hales Rolls, 259; Min. Acc. 1078/13, where men are given three years in

which to pay arrears.

4 Derby Arch. Soc. xxxi, 122. 5 Lit. Cant. ii, 168.

6 See above, p. 166. 7 Min. Acc. 1030/8, 1070/8, 1297/23.

The Manor Court

CHAPTER VIII

THE MANOR COURT

AND he owes suit of court from three weeks to three weeks. Such is the formula that concludes the list of services owed by many thousands of tenants, and its due fulfilment was often one of the most irksome and difficult of duties.

The Manor Court, as its name implies, was held by the lord or one of his officials, and whether his jurisdiction was feudal or manorial in its origin we need not enquire.1 It was a court with varying powers: on some manors the lord is seen to be dealing solely with his villeins and generally only with matters arising from the economic administration of his manor, while on others not only villeins but free men are in question, and not only economic matters are transacted, but criminal charges are investigated, fines and levies are raised, and the keeping of the King's peace, and other matters which would seem to belong to the Crown are dealt with.

By the late thirteenth and the fourteenth century, lawyers were trying to tidy up this confusion of functions: the Quo Warranto proceedings investigated the jurisdictions of lords of manors, and the King's lawyers found everywhere that men were exercising rights to which they had no claim whatsoever but ancient seisin, or in plain English—encroachment.

Lords in their manorial courts had become possessed of franchises which the lawyers said belonged only to the King: the view of frank-pledge and the right to hold a court leet, for example, were widely claimed, but few could show any document which gave them such rights.

Even greater rights were sometimes claimed. The Quo Warranto rolls afford us an immense body of evidence, much of it going to prove that on innumerable manors the King's powers over life and limb, as well as over lesser matters, had been usurped. Some lords, it is true, could produce charters in which "large and general terms" seemed to convey considerable powers to them, but the general tendency from the twelfth century onward

1 See Selden Soc. II, xxxix f. for Maitland's discussion of this point.

196

THE MANOR COURT

was for the royal charter to "except those things which belong

to the King's crown", or to "except murder, treasure trove, rape

and breach of the peace", or to reserve the King's rights by

some terms or other. Wise lords took care to renew their charters

and to get what definition they could into their terms, for the

lawyers were more and more objecting to the vagueness of the

old terminology, and asking for those powers to be extinguished

which were only claimed thereby. By the thirteenth century,

therefore, a position had been reached in which

the prevailing doctrine seems to have been that sake and soke did

nothing, that toll and team did nothing, that infangenethef and

outfangenethef merely gave the right to hang "hand-having thieves",

"thieves taken with mainour" (cum manuopere), while the other old

words could not be trusted to do much, though they might serve to

define, and possibly to increase the ordinary powers of a feudal court.1

Doctrine notwithstanding, the powers traditionally attached to

these terms were still being exercised, and the serf on many

thousands of manors was still liable to seizure and punishment

under such quasi-legal rights. Let us take as an example the

question of hanging for theft. What were the rights of any lord

here? Some had, or thought they had, clear rights, in so far that

their charter gave them infangenethef and sometimes outfangenethef,2

the one giving them power to hang a thief caught on their

own lands, the other power to hang him, wherever he was taken.

But there was a proviso—the thief must be taken "hand-having"

or "back-bearing", he must be prosecuted by the loser of the

goods, and further the coroner must be present.3

Thus far the

law; but we have little need for long search in the records to find

that many lords did not bother overmuch about the details: the

man was a thief, and he had been captured—where and how

seemed of small consequence to the non-legal mind.

Thus we find the Abbot of Crowland is accused and convicted

of hanging a man who stole sixteen eggs, although the theft

occurred outside his liberty;4 the Bishop of Lincoln similarly

arrested five men outside his jurisdiction, and in due course they

1 Pollock and Maitland, Hist. Eng. Law, I, 579.

2 Outfangenethef was much less common, however.

3 Britton, 56, 57; Bracton, 137, 150–154; Holdsworth, op. cit. II, 102 and III, 320 for further references.

4 P.Q.W. 519.

were hanged.1 The brief entry after such trials in the Court Rolls runs, "Let him have a priest", and the marginal note suspensus est tells the rest of the tale. But the power to erect a gallows and to hang criminals was essentially a royal prerogative, and the Crown slowly tried to take back into its own hands privileges which had been usurped or claimed by an over-generous interpretation of charter rights and the like. For it must be remembered that the administration of justice was one of the ways of making a profit out of one's possessions: both the land and its holders were subject to the law of the lord. Hence the lawyer's proverb: "Justice is great profit", and hence, to a considerable extent, the desire of all lords to acquire greater privileges which would enable them to exact fines for a wider range of offences and matters, or to take for themselves the goods and chattels of condemned men.2

The manorial jurisdiction was checked to some extent by the presence of the royal coroner, for all cases involving death necessitated his presence. Even if the thief were caught in the act he must not be hanged in the absence of the King's coroner, as the Prior of Bodmin found in 1313. The transcript of the proceedings from the Year Book3 is so instructive that it is given here in some detail. A presentment was made by the tithing-man that in Bodmin a thief had been taken with the chattels on him, and that he had been hanged. Whereupon the justices ordered the suitors of that court to attend and to produce the record relating to those matters. They came and said that on a certain day, etc., there came to Bodmin market-place one John that there found in the possession of Robert a certain horse which had been stolen from his house the previous night. And John raised the hue and cry, and in consequence both were attached (i.e. ordered to appear at the Manor Court). And the Prior of Bodmin, lord of the franchise, straightway caused a court to be summoned, and John accused Robert, and Robert confessed. Whereupon the steward of the court ordered him to be hanged. When the prior came before Justice Spigurnel after some enquiry

1 P.Q.W. 43 a; cf. V.C.H. Rutland, 1, 172.

2 Lit. Cant. 1, 501.

3 Y.B. Eyre of Kent, 6–7 Ed. II (Selden Soc.), 104; cf. Y.B. Ed. I (R.S.), 500.

198

THE MANOR COURT

he admitted that he only had the right of infangenethef, and that

this offence took place outside his territory. Further, when

pressed he also admitted that he proceeded to judgment without

the presence of the coroner. "Were you entitled to do this in

the absence of the Coroner?" asked Spigurnel. "No", was the

answer, and the justice ordered the prior to await judgment for

so grave an offence, for he had not only hanged a man for an

offence which was outside his jurisdiction, but also had done this

without sending for the coroner, so that a proper record might

have been made of the proceedings.

To overcome difficulties such as this, lords tried to get per-

mission to appoint their own coroners, but this privilege was but

sparingly granted.1 When we consider the difficulty of exercising

any supervision over the way in which lords would make use of

such a privilege, this is understandable. In general, the King

preferred to leave matters in charge of the royal coroners, of

whom there were several in each county. Their business was to

see that the royal rights were not infringed, and that the goods

of felons were not kept by the manorial lords, but duly paid over

to the Crown. They were charged to attend all the sessions of the

itinerant justices, and to bring with them their records for in-

spection. Hence, in part, their importance on the manor: their

account of the proceedings was held to be authoritative, for their

court was "a court of record"2—while the manorial court as

such could make no such important claim. The manorial courts,

however, had often acquired (legally or illegally) prescriptive

rights, especially in respect of certain royal franchises, and were

not easily supervised and controlled.

By the late thirteenth century there were two main types of

manorial jurisdiction in existence. The first of these arose directly

from the lord's ownership of the manor—it gave him certain

powers to administer his estate and to control his tenants. The

lawyers at the end of the sixteenth century made a distinction

between the court baron held for the free tenants of the manor,

and the court customary or Hallmote held for the unfree tenants,

but this distinction does not seem to have existed in actual prac-

1 P.Q.W. 24, 92, 121, 125, 148, 241, etc.; Rot. Parl. I, 152 and II, 260; Rot.

Hund. I, 119 and II, 169, 280; and see Statutes of the Realm, 38 Ed. III, c. 6.

2 See above and also Eyre of Kent, 133; Bracton, II, 511.

MANORIAL JURISDICTION

199

tice during the Middle Ages.1 Secondly, there was the jurisdic-

tion conferred on the lord by the right to hold the view of frank-

pledge and to hold a court leet. These two jurisdictions were

regalities-that is, they were properly held only by prescriptive

grant from the King: otherwise they were only within the compe-

tence of royal jurisdiction as at the Hundred Court and the sheriff's

tourn. They were originally quite separate things, but in general,

and in the course of time, the two things became associated one

with another, and the court, at one and the same sitting, held

both the view and leet. To add to the confusion the very same

court not infrequently dealt with matters strictly belonging to the

lord's seigneurial rights, so that the Court Rolls contain entries

covering every possible variety of action. Often the two types of

jurisdiction were kept separate on the rolls, although this was by

no means universal. It was the business of the thirteenth-century

lawyer to explain this state of affairs, so that "to whatever quarter

we look the law seems to be emerging into clearness out of a

confused and contentious past. The courts are drawing a line

between franchises and feudal rights, but it is no easy task, and

violence must be done to the facts and theories of former

times."2

But while all this is the legitimate concern of the legal and

constitutional historians, it is not strictly our business. The

peasant, whether rich or poor, and (with reservations) whether

bond or free, was bound to attend the Manor Court, and it was

a matter of chance with what powers he found it endowed. In

contiguous manors the most unequal conditions could prevail,

as we have seen. In the one the lord contented himself with

strictly economic matters, and left it to the Hundred Court or

the sheriff's tourn to deal with other things which a less scrupulous

lord dealt with constantly in his court hard by. We must not hope

to find any uniformity of administration in the various manorial

courts: we must not indeed say "Such and such a court has

such and such a competence", but "So-and-so has such and such

powers". A peasant was fortunate or unfortunate in so far as

his lot brought him under the control of a mild or a grasping

lord, a weak or a strong. So long as we bear this in mind we can

1 Selden Soc. II, lxiv; and see Villainage, 362, 364.

2 Selden Soc. II. xxiv.

200

THE MANOR COURT

safely proceed to examine the workings of the court as it flourished in the time of the three Edwards.

We have seen that the suitor was bound by ancient formula to attend from three weeks to three weeks, and this has led many writers to assert that the courts were normally held at this brief interval.1 The records themselves do not substantiate this, but show a bewildering variety of practice; indeed it would not be hard to show that on some manors it was the practice for the court to be held once, or twice or thrice a year; on others there was a court every three weeks—or even more frequently! Undoubtedly local conditions determined the matter, and in many instances the amalgamation of the seigneurial court with the court leet and view of frank-pledge2 made it convenient and economical to hold but two courts a year. Then again, many manors were held by great lords, or by ecclesiastical corporations, who found it impossible to attend in person, but were represented by their steward who came from time to time to deal with the agricultural and economic state of the manor, as well as to preside over its legal proceedings. Hence, as Maitland notes, “We may follow the Steward as he makes his tour twice a year throughout England, carrying his rolls with him”;3 and there is much to be said for the view that the greater landowners were finding this bi-annual court a perfectly satisfactory compromise.4 The reason why lords constantly made use of the phrase “from three weeks to three weeks” is quite understandable. So long as this was on record, he could afford to interpret it as leniently as he wished: he knew the lawyers would uphold him if it came to question—as indeed they did.5

But whether the court sat frequently or seldom it was essential that the suitors should know exactly when they had to attend,

1 Before 1234 courts were commonly held fortnightly, but an ordinance of that year said they should not be held more frequently than at three-weekly intervals. See Ann. Dunst. (R.S.), 139–140. This ordinance was not strictly obeyed, however.

2 These had to be held twice yearly by the second reissue of the Great Charter of 1217, cap. 42.

3 Selden Soc. II, 3; and cf. Collectanea, Worc. Hist. Soc. 1912, p. 125; Crondal Records, 148 n.

4 But note Vinogradoff’s verdict: “Cases like that of the manors of the Abbey of Ramsey, in which the courts are summoned only twice a year, are quite exceptional.” Villainage, 366.

5 See Page, Crowland Estates, 39, and the authorities quoted there.

THE OBLIGATION OF ATTENDANCE 201

and various methods were used to ensure this. On some manors

the date of the next court was known before the court then sitting

was adjourned:1 on others it was always held on a definite day,

as at Forncett and elsewhere.2 In such cases no warning appears

to have been necessary, unless, as we learn from an early seven-

teenth-century cartulary, the day of the court was altered. When

this was necessary on the manors of the lordship of Gower eight

days' warning had to be given.3 In general, however, there seems

to have been a good deal of variation, but here we must again

remember that the majority of our records concern the manors of

great lords or corporations. It is probable that smaller lords who

held their own courts in person found it convenient to hold them

on a given day. On the other hand, lords who were forced to use

deputies had to consider the most economical way of proceeding,

and hence their courts were not held with the same regularity.

The best they can do is to give “ reasonable summons”, or three

days' notice,4 or even only one day or one night's warning.5 The

full harshness of the lord's will is shown on a Gloucester Abbey

manor, where the serf is bound to appear on the morrow, even if

he is not warned until the middle of the night.6

Bond and free were not always treated the same in this respect.

The free man was much more difficult to control, and the rule

seems to have been that if the lord wanted service of court he had

to say so definitely when he granted the land. Bracton lays it

down that

in the absence of special stipulation the tenant is bound to attend his

Lord's court for what are considered matters of royal concern, but

only for those : he is bound to attend when a writ of right is to be tried,

when a thief is to be judged, or when there is any business which

touches the King's peace....But if the Lord wants more suit than

this, if for example he wishes that his tenant should do suit from three

weeks to three weeks, he must expressly bargain for it.7

The Statute of Marlborough (1267) finally settled the matter:

1 Hales Rolls, 342, 521, 534.

2 Davenport, op. cit. Lxix; Abbots Langley, passim; (Clare) C.R. 171/45 ;

(Claret) C.R. 171/48.

3 Gower Surveys, 184; cf. 172, 300 op. cit.

4 Ramsey Cart. III, 62 ; Blount, op. cit. 304.

5 Mon. Exon. 254b; Page, op. cit. 9.

6 Glouc. Cart. III, 208.

7 Selden Soc. II, xlviii, quoting Bracton, f. 35, 35 b, 374.

202

THE MANOR COURT

no freeholder is bound to suit at his lord's court unless this was imposed on him by the terms of his charter, or was done before King Henry went to Brittany in the year 1230.1 It is for this reason that monastic cartularies such as that of Glastonbury or of Gloucester or of Ramsey contain so many entries exacting suit of court of various degrees of severity from the free man. Thus at Glastonbury in the thirteenth century one free man owes suit at all the courts; another comes but twice a year and otherwise is quit; others come to strengthen the court should there be thieves to be tried, or any difficult business to be transacted, while others owe no service, and so forth.2

The necessary notice was given in a variety of ways. Sometimes an announcement was made in church,3 while on some manors notice was given at the tenant's houses by a beadle or bailiff, or sergeant, or even by a peasant whose property was charged with this obligation.4 On a Sussex manor of the Bishop of Chichester two cottagers are responsible for summoning a larger holder, and he in turn has to summon the whole of the lord's tenants when a court is to be held.5 In general, no doubt, if there were any uncertainty it was the bailiff or reeve who warned the peasants when he received his orders from the lord or his steward. Thus we have entries of payments to men carrying messages summoning the court, as well as letters sent to the local bailiff giving him such orders.6 One of these runs thus:

A. of C. the steward of Sir P. to all the bailiffs throughout the honour of Clare. For that we purpose to begin our general circuit on Thursday next, we command you that each of you do cause his court to be summoned for the days named below to meet us. Thou bailiff of A. on Thursday after the feast of S. Hilary. Thou bailiff of B. on the

1 52 Hen. III, c. 9.

2 Glas. Rent. 56, 115, 128, 134, 144, 152, 159, 190, 191, 225; and cf. the instances from Gloucester and Ramsey given by Maitland in Selden Soc. II, li. Any other cartulary will show a similar state of affairs, and see below, p. 211.

3 Anc. Deeds, A. 13162 ; Paston Letters, ed. Gairdner, No. 823.

4 York Inquis. I. 51; Gower Surveys, 184; Anc. Deeds, A. 13162. A late-sixteenth-century guide to the keeping of a manor states (p. 18) that “reasonable warning ought to be given to the tenants, not to the person or house of every one of them, but at the church or such other accustomed place”, Harl. MS. 6714, published by the Manorial Society in 1909.

5 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 120 (Stretham, 1374).

6 Davenport, op. cit. xli, lxv; Camb. Univ. Lib. MSS. Ee. i. i, f. 233 b.

203

THE MEETING PLACE

following Saturday. Thou bailiff of C. on the following Monday.

Farewell.1

While it was generally agreed by law that the court must be

held somewhere upon the manor itself, and at a fixed place,2 local

custom determined the exact site. Some were held out of doors,

and Sir Laurence Gomme has well emphasised the importance

of this fact in his attempt to find in the early village communities

the forerunners of the manorial court.3 At Knyttingon, Berks,

in the reign of Edward I, the court was held “in a certain green

place over against the house of Hugh de Gardin when it was fine,

and in wet weather, by leave of the bailiff in the manor house or

in that of one of the tenants”.4 In Essex, the Moulsham Hall

Manor Court was held outside the manor house under the Court

Oak,5 and in the same county at Little Leigh it was held on

Court Hill.6 “At Eastbourne, the name of Motcombe Lane prob-

ably marks the hollow where the moots were held”,7 while the

court of the Abbot of St Albans was held “under the ash-tree in

the middle court of the abbey”.8 Other usual places were the

lord’s hall (from which is popularly derived the term Hallmote),

or even in the church itself.9 Myrc, in his Instructions for Parish

Priests, tells them not to allow the holding of courts in the sanc-

tuary,10 but despite this it was frequently done.11 In view of this

evidence it is a little difficult to accept Vinogradoff’s sweeping

assertion: “In the feudal period the right place to hold the court

was the manorial hall.”12 The “right place” was clearly the place

where long custom had decreed the meeting of the people should

be held, and anything else was an assertion of the will of the lord.

When once the court had been summoned it was always neces-

sary for every serf to attend. Unless he had permission to absent

himself or sent a sufficient excuse for non-attendance, he was

1 Selden Soc. iv, 70.

2 Glanvill, op. cit. f. 19.

3 The Village Community, 264.

4 Paroch. Antiq. 474.

5 Essex Review, xx, 100.

6 Ibid. xxv, 4. For other examples see Blount, op. cit. 238–9; Hone, op. cit.

131; V.C.H. Durham, I, 299; Reg. Malm. (R.S.), ii, 88, etc.

7 Med. Village, 70.

8 M. Paris, Chron. Majora (R.S.), vi, 438; and Roy. Hist. Soc. Trans. 4th

series, vii, 52, for Miss Levett’s interesting account of this court.

9 Wakefield Rolls, i, 71, 148.

10 Op. cit. p. 11.

11 This question is discussed at length in S. O. Addy’s Church and Manor.

12 Villainage, 367.

204

THE MANOR COURT

punished, usually by a fine.1 He had the consolation on many

manors of knowing that his presence there was reckoned as one

of the works he was forced to render weekly to his lord, although

on some manors he was not allowed to count it as such if the

court sat on a holy-day.2 The attendance of the free man, as we

have seen, was another matter. His compulsory appearance was

generally a question of the bargain struck between him and his

lord when his land was granted to him. But certain considera-

tions other than the strict legal requirements should not be

ignored. It must be remembered that the Manor Court fre-

quently exercised both police and criminal jurisdiction as well as

private, and to this both serf and free were amenable. Then, again,

many free men held villein tenements and were bound to attend

to answer any matters touching them. We must also remember

that the freeholders were concerned (to some degree) in the

stinting of the commons and in the ordinary agricultural arrange-

ments, and these were generally discussed at the meetings of the

court. For these reasons, therefore, despite the dangers (perhaps

more theoretical than actual) which the free man ran in presenting

himself at court, it seems probable that he often did attend, and

that by so doing his personal status did not suffer in the eyes

either of his lord or of his unfree companions.3

As we come closer to the actual working of the Manor Courts

we must remember that, while they all conformed to a general

pattern, each had its own particularities and customs. The

thirteenth-century How to hold Pleas and Courts says that “those

who plead or have to hold courts. . .should know the customs of

that. . .court or manor, and the franchises pertaining to the

premises, for laws and customs differ in divers places”.4 A

number of practical guides to help those whose duty it was to

hold courts had appeared in the thirteenth century, and these be-

came particularly notable in the sixteenth century and onwards,

when lawyers made further efforts to establish some uniformity

1 See Durham Halmote or Hales Rolls, passim.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 464; Suffolk Inst. Arch. III, 237; V.C.H. Hants, v, 414;

Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 15, 23, 44, etc. See above, p. 114.

3 For discussion of the view held by Coke and others that the presence of

free men was necessary in order to constitute a court, see Selden Soc. II,

lxiii, and Villainage, 387–9.

4 Selden Soc. IV, 68.

THE ESSOINS

205

of practice, and even in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the stream did not dry up. Nevertheless, despite all these efforts to achieve a common system, as Professor Hearnshaw writes, "not only is medieval leet jurisdiction extremely nebulous as to its circumference, but also it is uncertain even as to its centre".1 With this caution in mind let us turn to examine the proceedings of a Manor Court towards the end of the thirteenth century, so far as they were recorded by the scribe on the Court Rolls.

The court was presided over by the lord, or by one of his senior officials, and we have a good deal of evidence to suggest what a stir his coming made in the village.2 As he took his place on the dais, with his clerk by his side, silence was called for by the usher or beadle, who then with his single "Oyez" if it were only a court for manorial business, or his triple "Oyez", if it were a leet court for graver business, commanded all those whose duty it was to be present to draw near.3 The proceedings then began, and item by item was taken down by the clerk, and many such documents have survived.4 If we turn to the roll of the court of the Abbot of Halesowen we find that it opens with the entry: "Essoniatus. Ricardus de Linaker de communi per Johannem filium Johannis"5—that is Richard Linaker by means of John excused himself from attendance for common service of court. A message, either verbal or written, had to be produced on behalf of the absentee, and this absence was enrolled by the clerk and protected the man against fine for absence.

It appears that an essoin did not lie or could be objected to for several reasons. If the suitor had two matters before the court, each must be mentioned in the message....At one court the same man is essoined against three separate matters by three separate essoiners.... An essoin must be for some good reason, not sent for mere caprice; two men were fined for being seen in the neighbourhood of the court after they had been essoined....A suitor was allowed three essoins,

1 Leet Jurisdiction, 65. For a list of works on leet jurisdiction, and "How to hold a Court", see pop. 29-42.

2 Ault, op. cit. 145, 146; Holdsworth, op. cit. 1, 592.

3 J. Wilkinson, The Office and Authority of Coroners, etc. 1651, 161. The triple "Oyez" of the crier, or of the beadle in a Quarter Sessions' Court is a survival of this.

4 See, for example, the rolls listed on the Public Record Office Calendar, or the British Museum Catalogue of MSS.

5 Hales Rolls, 379 (1297).

206

THE MANOR COURT

after which he must appear or he made default; and the number of

his essoins is indicated in the rolls by the figures, j

0

, ij

0

, iij

0

. When he appeared he justified the previous essoins, and all was then in order.

1

Probably early in the proceedings the jury—or juries—were

sworn in: indeed on the Ramsey manors of the thirteenth century

this was always the first business. The presence of these juries

and the problems they present will demand a great deal of our

attention, but nevertheless this must not be allowed to obscure

the fact that behind them was the whole body of the court, and

that it was to this that they reported, and that it was the court

that made the final dooms. We can go a good deal farther in

asserting this to-day than Maitland could nearly fifty years ago.

Thanks to the publication of some excellent series of Court

Rolls of the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries it has been

possible to make much more detailed and extensive investiga-

tions than were possible then, and to give chapter and verse for

the tentative views Maitland expressed in his often-quoted

Introduction to the Selden Society volume of

Select Pleas in Manorial Courts

. There he summed up his conclusions thus:

We may believe that even the customary tenants, even the born

villans, were or had been entitled to the judgment, not merely of the

lord's steward, but of the manorial

curia;

we even hear a distinct

claim of villan tenants to have the judgment of their neighbours.…

When, too, we consider that even the king's courts gave the villan an

action against all but his lord, and that the freeholders and customary

holders of the manor must often have been involved in the same dis-

putes, we shall have some difficulty in believing that the tenants in

villanage had no judge in the manor court save the lord's steward.

2

Maitland was able to show that for freehold tenants, or on

ancient demesne, or at the court of a fair, it was not for the lord's

steward to make the judgments, but he is forced to add

Elsewhere the position of the

curia

is less clear because it seems to

discharge many functions: now it judges, now it presents, now it

1

Hales Rolls, Intro. xxvii-ix with full references. It is worth noting that there

seems to be some doubt at times as to a serf's essoining, as at Ingoldmells in

1291, when it is said, 'the essoin does not lie because A. holds bond land'.

See p. 2

Ingoldmells Court Rolls

. The whole law of essoins, however, was

very complicated. See

Hales Rolls, xxviii-ix, and Selden Soc. ii, 67, for

examples, and Kitchin's

Le Court Leete

(1651 ed.), pp. 187–93, for much

information and law.

2

Op. cit. lxx.

THE “DOOMS”

207

serves as a jury of trial. Imitation of the royal courts seems to be transfiguring it; the admission of trial by jury, of presentments by jury, will hardly assort with the maintenance of the old principle that “facere judicia” is the function of the suitors, with the old rule, “Curia domini debet facere judicium et non dominus.”1

There can be no doubt that Maitland was right in his general conclusions, and that slowly the legal position of the villein was being debased by one means or another. But, at least till the end of the thirteenth century, we have good reason to see him still as the maker of dooms in his Manor Court. The actual terminology of the Court Rolls is often not so clear as we could wish, and we are often forced to interpret what was at best a brief statement only meant to put on record the findings of the court. Much that was common practice in the court is abbreviated or omitted, and we have to reconstruct from very imperfect data. Nevertheless, it is worth making the attempt—incomplete and hazardous though it must be. To begin with, an examination of any thirteenth-century rolls shows that the scribes constantly speaking of the decision of the court in such a way that all present are clearly indicated. At Hales, for example, entries such as “per considerationem curie”2 tell us very little that is definite, but we come a little closer when we read that “Dicit tota curia quod Edithia quondam uxor Henrici Trappe fidelis est et immunis ab omni culpa latrocinii et ideo consideravit tota curia quod recuperat terram suam post diem et annum.”3 Here it is clear that it is the whole body of the suitors who give what we should call the verdict, and also go on to give judgment, and it is worthy of note that the scribe reporting the proceedings thought so too, for in the margin, against the proceedings, he puts the word “Judicium”.

Take another example: “W. de T. venit et petit unam vaccamfuscam que inventa fuit in custodia domini de adventicio et probavit eam suam esse et suum esse catallum sexta manu. Et ideo per considerationem totius curie et in presentia eiusdem predicta vacca ei liberata fuit.”4 Here W. de T., by the oaths of six persons, convinced the whole court that the cow was his, and

1 Op. cit. lxviii, quoting Munimenta Gildhallae, i, 66.

2 Hales Rolls, 41.

3 Ibid. 57; cf. 17, 25, 28, 54, 56, 60, etc.

4 Ibid. 403 (1300).

208

THE MANOR COURT

by their ruling, and in their presence, it was delivered up to

him. What, then, is meant by the term tota curia? It cannot mean

anything but all those present owing suit of court, whether bond

or free. When a verdict is wanted from free men they know how

to ask for it, and it is enrolled as such. "Omnes libere tenentes

dicunt per suum sacramentum quod...",1 or "Ad magnam

curiam per sacramentum liberorum hominum inquiratur de

concelamento villatarum de Oldebure...".2 On the other hand

a verdict of serfs is equally clearly indicated: "Omnes nativi dicunt

de eorum consuetudine...";3 here it is a matter of the custom

of the manor affecting serf-holdings, and this is not a matter

for "tota curia", but for "omnes nativi"—and the record

says so.

Tota curia may be expressed in the record in other ways: we

find it termed communitas totius manerii,4 or tota communitas

ville,5 if it is meant to include everyone on the manor, just as it is

limited to tota villata de Romesle,6 or the like, if it is only the

inhabitants of one of the townships of the manor that is in

question. So strong was the prevailing opinion that the court

makes the dooms at Hales and elsewhere in the thirteenth

century, that we find decisions postponed if it is thought that

the court is not representative enough, or that it is too thinly

attended. As an example of the first we may take an entry of

1299: "Omnes homines tam liberi quam nativi summoniantur

pro affforciamento [curiae] pro judicio reddendo de villata de

Oldebure que concelavit de tenemento quam W. Thedrich

tenuit de domino W. Fokeram."7 Here we see an attempt on the

part of the officials to get every member of the court present to

discuss the backsliding of the men of one of the vills. Again,

paucity of suitors often led to an adjournment. A good example

occurs in 1293 when four men were charged with defaults which

they denied, and placed themselves on the judgment of the

court. "Et quod [quia ?] curia tenuis est judicium ponitur in

respectu usque ad proximam curiam. Et ideo tota curia sum-

moniatur pro affforciamento." And in the margin "Judicium

1 Hales Rolls, 400 (1299). 2 Ibid. 409 (1300); and cf. 500.

3 Ibid. 460 (1302); and cf. 445 where a man puts himself "in veredictum

nativorum domini de proximioribus tenentibus".

4 Ibid. 218. 5 Ibid. 14.

6 Ibid. 31, 509. 7 Ibid. 393.

respectuatum".1 The court was not well enough attended, the case was adjourned, and all the court was to be summoned pro afforciamento, that is to afforce, or strengthen it at its next meeting, and finally the scribe notes, "Judgment deferred".

Now that we have seen the important part played by the totality of the suitors, we may turn to consider how far the manorial court had developed the jury system. Let us start with Maitland's view:

So far as we can see, when the lord's interests were not being actively asserted, the serf who sued or was sued in the manorial court got the same justice as that which the free man got; he got in theory the judgment, not of his lord, but of a body of doomsmen who were at least his peers. We say that such a judgment he got in theory: in practice the question became of less and less moment, for trial by jury gradually forced its way into the manorial courts. In strictness of law the lord could not compel his free men to serve as jurors in civil causes; but the lord could force his bondmen to swear, and many a small freeholder would serve rather than quarrel with his lord. At any rate trial by jury made its way into these courts, and it hardly leaves a place for the doomsman ; indeed in course of time the cry for a judicium parium is (to the great distortion of history) supposed to find its satisfaction in trial by jury.2

It is, of course, perfectly true that during the thirteenth century the manorial courts borrowed something from the higher courts, and gradually began to make more and more use of a jury system. This was but natural, since many courts were exercising royal franchises, and especially the view of frank-pledge. Now this involved the empanelling of a jury—not necessarily, or even probably on most manors, a jury of twelve free men—but at least a jury of twelve to enquire into offences against the King's peace. Naturally it did not stop at this. It was likely to make further enquiries on the lord's behalf, and did so, as we may see, by looking at a document of about 1270 from the Gloucester Cartulary. It is headed "Articles of the view of Frank-pledge" and enumerates first some twenty-nine articles which are to be enquired into touching the King's peace and his regalities and franchises. Then it goes on to enumerate eleven items of strictly manorial concern: whether the hallmote is fully summoned;

1 Hales Rolls, 241; and see 73, 151, 157; cf. Selden Soc. 11, 60, 67, 83.

2 Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. I, 593; and cf. Selden Soc. 11, lxv-lxviii.

B L

14

210

THE MANOR COURT

whether the chief manorial officer and his underlings are satis-

factory or no; whether the beasts are well tended and the soil

well tilled; whether any have made their sons clerics without

leave, or married their daughters without licence, etc.1

We have here a hint of the confusion that was arising in the

conduct of manorial business. Matters were not kept strictly to

their various classes: at one moment the court is dealing with an

offence against the manorial economy; at another with an in-

fringement of one of the lord's franchises, but things get

muddled one with another in the record—and so are often

potential sources of confusion to modern inquirers. The thir-

teenth-century suitors and the presiding officer, however, were

clear enough, and if we look closely we can see they have put

various bodies to work in the court. We have first, and most

important, the practice of the whole court making its decisions

and giving the dooms. Secondly, we have juries of presentment,

charged with the business of enquiring into offences against the

franchises, or as a Hales entry runs: a jury “ad dicendum verita-

tem super articulis consuetis”;2 and thirdly we have juries of in-

quisition, whose business it is to enquire into manorial offences

and matters concerning the working of the manor. The work of

what we may call these several manifestations of the suitors is

not, apparently, recorded in any very ordered way.

It is not easy to see how the jurors were selected, or what

determined the number of men thought necessary to form a jury.

At the Great Courts or half-yearly courts when the view of frank-

pledge was made, a jury of twelve seems almost inevitable, and in

general we find a jury of this size enrolled as what we have called

a jury of presentment. They are generally spoken of as “elected”,

though we know nothing of how this took place. They seem to

have been elected before the actual sitting of the court, for we

find men fined for their absence.3 In some rolls a long list of

names is given, and marked “Nomina juratorum”,4 and it may

be that these were a panel from which the twelve sworn jurors

were chosen.5

1 Glouc. Cart. III, 221–2. For the Articles in detail see Hearnshaw, Leet Jurisdiction, and Selden Soc. II, xxxii, and IV, 93 ff.

2 Hales Rolls, 138. Articuli s=the Articles of the View. See above, and

cf. Selden Soc. IV, 110.

3 Selden Soc. II, 88.

4 Hales Rolls, 46, 48, 51, 62.

5 Ibid. 7 n. 5.

STATUS OF THE JURORS

211

The personal status of the jurors is equally difficult to generalise about. Mr Ault's examination of the Ramsey documents

leads him to say, "There seems to be no general rule about the status of the members of a jury", and he shows that some Ramsey

juries included both free and unfree, although he notes that two men refused to serve on a jury at Elton alleging themselves to be

free men, and therefore exempt.1 No doubt free men were more and more repudiating claims made on them (whether legally or

illegally) to serve on all kinds of juries, but it was long before they finally shook off the claims made on them; and, as we have

seen, many free men in the thirteenth century and the fourteenth were bound to appear at the Manor Court, and hence were liable

to be made part of a jury.2

We can, however, discern a growing disinclination to serve on the part of free men—at least to serve on a mixed jury of free

and unfree. In the course of time there emerges on some manors a system of two juries—one free, the other unfree. On the manor

of Carshalton, in Surrey, we find that after the capital pledges (acting as a jury of presentment) have made their charges, a free

jury of twelve is sworn who have to declare that the capital pledges have done everything in order, and have omitted nothing.

At Ingoldmells at the end of the fourteenth century we have the two bodies clearly shown. First, in 1391, we hear of the free

jurors presenting infractions of the assize of bread and ale, while the "bond tenants" present other offences and elect manorial

officers.3 In 1399, a more exact terminology is used, and we find the free jurors and the bond jurors both mentioned.4 A little

later (1410) each jury seems to deal only with its own peers,5 and then in 1411 we find (as at Carshalton) that the inquisition of

sixteen bond tenants makes presentments, and at the end of the proceedings we read: "The inquisition of (sixteen) free tenants

says and affirms that all the presentments above are true, and that they have nothing else to present."6

As time went on there is some evidence which leads us to believe that those chosen as jurymen became a select class. Even

1 Ault, op. cit. 166, quoting from Selden Soc. II, 94.

2 Ingoldmells Rolls, 167 R.I.

3 Ibid. 190.

4 Ibid. 194.

5 Ibid. 216.

6 Ibid. 221, 222.

14-2

212

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in the late thirteenth century the Hales Rolls show us that the juries of presentment at the Great Courts each half-year were made up on successive occasions of very much the same men. "Of the men in eleven lists of Great Court jurors after 1293, one had served ten times, two on nine occasions and two on eight occasions. In all there are 42 names, and of these 20 served only once, 7 in the last list."1 Side by side with this we may note that Maitland found a jury at Gidding made up of the chief pledges, and he tells us that "similar entries have been found on other rolls relating to the Ramsey estates".2 This state of affairs was not confined to Ramsey manors, for Dr Page has found much the same happening a little later on the Crowland estates. There a small group of men formed a "manorial bureaucracy", so much so that an entry of 1368 concerns an order given "to the whole homage, that is to say, the presentors as sworn below".3 An interesting half-way stage, as it were, is seen at Niddingworth in 1288, where we have twelve jurors and also eight chief pledges, and all of them present offences of various kinds.4 After 1294 this practice ceases, and the presentments are henceforth made by a jury of twelve.5

The juries of inquisition were much more variable in their size and composition. They were often ad hoc bodies, and were more and more used to make sworn inquisitions as to verifiable facts -thus taking the place of the older method of compurgation and appeal to the supernatural. They could consist of any number of jurors-at Hales they range from four or five to twelve members, and once, when a very important investigation had to be made, there were as many as twenty-three.6 These men were often drawn from the actual vicinity of the matter in question, and are called "the neighbours"; other juries were composed of the men from one or more neighbouring vills; others again were carefully selected, apparently, so as to include representatives from all the vills of the manor.7

1 Hales Rolls, xxxi; and cf. Crowland Estates, 68.

2 Selden Soc. II, 87. See also Selden Soc. IV, 110. "Year after year the same names appear, and on comparing these names with those of the chief pledges...it becomes clear that the leet jury was generally, if not always, composed of twelve of the chief pledges."

3 Crowland Estates, 67.

4 Ramsey Rolls, 189; and cf. 191, 193, 196, 200.

5 Ibid. 202 f.

6 Hales Rolls, 466, 453, 583, 404, etc.; cf. Ramsey Rolls, 191, 200.

7 Hales Rolls, 395, 397, 421, 423, 425, 585; cf. Ramsey Rolls, 183, 188, 206.

JURIES OF INQUISITION

213

Sometimes they presented their verdict there and then, but frequently they are ordered to present their findings at the next Court, or are told, or they ask to view the site and buildings, or to deliberate as to the lord's rights, etc., before making their decision.1 If such permission is not granted they are unwilling to give their verdict,2 just as we find them uneasy about speaking, by reason that several of their more senior members were absent on the King's wars,3 or because they want the aid of the serfs of a neighbouring manor before they decide.4 In short the jury of inquisition was a thoroughly practical straightforward way of enquiry into facts, and it was very widely used by the lord and by his tenants.

When any of the tenants wanted to use this means of enquiry he was usually forced to pay for it, and gave the lord sixpence, or a shilling, or even more, up to considerable sums such as 6s. 8d. for the privilege.5 It was worth their while to do this, for not only did they get a decision, but further it was enrolled on the record of the court, and could be appealed to if necessary at any later date.6 What does seem strange to our ideas is the fairly common practice of paying at double rates for a satisfactory verdict: A. B. comes and pays the lord for an inquisition concerning. . . and he will give the lord 4s. if he is successful in his claim, otherwise only 2s.7

The duties of such juries were manifold. They had to enquire into all matters of fact, and to declare what was the custom of the manor. When a dispute had to be settled between two parties it was the jurors who deliberated and finally returned their verdict, and upon this the court acted. They made surveys and reported on ancient rights. They were empowered to draw up by-laws for the due regulation of the meadows and common fields, and to make inquisitions, as to the state of various holdings or the condition of houses and barns.8 They were not always limited in

1 Hales Rolls, 42, 56, 65, 198, 219, etc.

2 Ibid. 87.

3 Ibid. 377.

4 Ibid. 500.

5 Selden Soc. II, 17, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25; Hales Rolls, 108, 212, 447, 476, 484, 493, etc.; Ramsey Rolls, 267, 280.

6 Hales Rolls, 372, 459, 502, 512; cf. Selden Soc. IV, 112.

7 Hales Rolls, 219; and cf. Selden Soc. II, 17: "J. H.'s son gives 3s. and if he recovers will give 3 marks for having a jury of twelve to inquire...." See also p. 20.

8 See for example, Durham Halmote or Hales Rolls, passim.

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their activities to matters concerning serfs: on some manors they

presented free men for offences of every kind, or were called on

to declare the age of an heir to the estate, and acted in many ways

which seem contrary to strict legal theory.1

Not unnaturally, with so much put upon them, we get a mass

of complaints as to their incompetence, partiality and slackness.

Sometimes, indeed, suitors go so far as to say justice is impossible,

since the lord's officers pack the jury,2 but more generally it is a

tardy verdict or a neglect of their orders that is complained of.

Sometimes they are fined for concealing the truth of a matter,

and frequently subsequent events bring new facts to light and

the wretched jury are punished for neglecting to make due

search.3 Their lot in short was unenviable. The lords had long

been accustomed to use their courts as a source of profit, and to

fine the jurors was one of many ways of making money. Thus we

find Wynslow juries fined for concealment of a marriage, of a

sale of land, of "waste" on the lord's land, etc., when in all pro-

bability the worst that could be said was that they had been

careless and inefficient.4 Again,

uniformity and consistency were strictly enforced upon the sworn

men, and the coercion and punishment of a dissentient minority

seems to have been frequent. Fines for the contradiction of fellow-

jurors were common, and offenders were not merely fined by the lord,

but could be impleaded by the parties to the case, who lost prestige

through the lack of unanimity in their favour.5

The deliberations of the jury were a matter of much interest

in the village, and great care had to be taken to keep them secret

so as to avoid opportunity for renewed litigation. Again and

again the jurors are ordered to keep their deliberations secret

under pain of fine,6 and again and again we learn that this

secrecy has been broken.7 On the other hand their verdicts give

rise to violent expressions of opinion: men stood up in court and

upbraided the jury; or, as one record runs: "A. B. disturbed the

court with his scornful words, and would not be prevailed on by

1 Selden Soc. II, 89, 90, 173; Ancient Deeds, v, 495.

2 Bristol and Glouc. Arch. Soc. IX, 332.

3 Abbots Langley, f. 4.

4 U.L.C. Wynslowe Rolls, ff. 4b, 5b, 13b, 63b, etc.; cf. Durham Halmote,

passim; Selden Soc. II, 90, 97.

5 Crowland Estates, 42.

6 Durham Halmote, 33; E.H.R. xlv, 209 n. 1.

7 Wakefield Rolls, II, 92; Crowland Estates, 42, 43.

THE PEASANT BEFORE THE COURT

215

the Steward to behave himself reasonably as beseemed him." Such conduct inevitably resulted in a fine.1

So far we have considered only such duties and possibilities as confronted a serf by reason of his liability to suit of court. We still have to see what action the court took when he appeared as a plaintiff or defendant, and not merely as a suitor or juryman.

This may be illustrated by following the adventures of one man over a series of years and noting his appearances in the Manor Court, although it must be admitted that he is a particularly troublesome fellow. His name was Richard Bradwater, and he lived on the Manor of Tooting Bec, where we first meet him in December 1394, at the first Court held by the new lord of the manor, Dom Robert of Windsor, Prior of Merton.

Here he acknowledged that he held from the lord one tenement and 13½ acres of land, paying therefor twelvepence a year as fixed rent, and for day-works in part commuted two shillings.

Also, he holds 9 acres of land in farm until the coming of age of William Bradwater, his nephew, paying therefor three shillings a year for all. Also he holds one cot with curtilage, paying therefor sixpence a year.

He was, in fact, one of the largest holders among the prior's serfs, and he was ordered with his fellows to show his Copy of Court Roll to prove his holding by the next Court.

Eighteen months later he is again admonished to show his copy.

The following autumn (for there were but two courts—spring and autumn each year) he is still without his copy and is also in further trouble, for his pigs have trespassed on the lord's meadow, and he has held two acres of land without any permission for two years past and has paid no rent for it.

Further, when the bailiff and the tithing man distrained on him at various times, he broke the distraint, and assaulted the bailiff who tried to prevent him.

Further, in common with nearly all his neighbours, he has broken the assize of ale.2 At the next court (November 1397) we find him accused of allowing his cattle to stray among a neighbour's green crops to the damage of ten shillings.

Bradwater admits the offence, and asks that the damage may be valued by the Court.

This is done, and found to amount to three shillings, and it is ordered that this sum be levied and paid to his neighbour.

1 V.C.H. Middlesex, II, 82. Cf. Durham Halmote, 49; Abbots Langley, f. 5; Wakefield Rolls, I, 97; Selden Soc. IV, 127.

2 Tooting Bec Rolls, 21 f.

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bour, and Bradwater is fined twopence for his offence. He is also charged with driving another neighbour's cattle out of the common pasture, but this he denies, and is ordered to make his law with five compurgators. To do this it was necessary for him to appear at the next Court with five friends who would one and all swear with him that to the best of their knowledge he was innocent. When the case comes on again (October 1398) he fails to produce his five compurgators and is adjudged guilty, and ordered to pay the amount claimed and is fined twopence. "And a precept is made to levy the said pence from the goods and chattels of the said Bradwater for the use of the said Nicholas."1

He is also found guilty of trespassing with his cattle in the lord's grain, and of mowing and lifting the lord's meadow, and is fined. He retaliates by accusing Richard Christmas of depriving him of two acres of land, and Christmas is summoned to answer this at the next Court.2 The following October (1399) he (Bradwater) fails to prosecute his suit and is fined twopence.3 Later at the same court he and his wife pay ten shillings in order to take over several plots of ground and cottages from a relative who is leaving the manor and who pays two capons yearly for permission to dwell outside the demesne at the lord's pleasure.3 The tithing man later presents him for assaulting a neighbour, and also for seizing for his own a stray white hog. For his misbehaviour he is fined eighteenpence, to be levied on his goods.4

The following May (1400) he is fined for pasturing his beasts and sheep in the lord's meadow; he is accused of assaulting and beating the bailiff, and also of taking away his goods. Part of this he acknowledges and part he decides to clear himself of with five compurgators. He is ordered to bring them at the next Court, and the homage is ordered to assess the damages done to the bailiff by the assault before the next Court.5

The following October he produces his five compurgators and they swear to his innocence, and "therefore it is adjudged by the Steward that the said Richard be quit".6 The homage had not assessed the damage and were threatened with a fine unless they did so in time for the next Court.6 This they did, and 3s. 4d. was ordered to be levied on his goods to recoup the injured bailiff.7

1 Tooting Bec Rolls, 33. 2 Op. cit. 33. 3 Op. cit. 35.

4 Op. cit. 39. 5 Op. cit. 43. 6 Op. cit. 47. 7 Op. cit. 51.

THE BUSINESS OF THE COURT

217

At the next two courts we have no mention of him, but in October

1402 he appears again to answer a number of complaints of much

the usual kind, and so it goes on. These details are worth re-

cording at length, not because of Bradwater's many failings, but

because they represent the common matter that was constantly

before the manorial courts.

We might, perhaps, classify the business possible at a Manor

Court possessing the fullest franchises and charters in this way.

First, we must distinguish the normal business naturally arising

from the economic administration of the manor. This would

include such items as the regulation and enforcement of labour-

services; the punishment of all types of trespass: the over-

crowding of the commons; the too frequent taking of wood or

turves, as well as ordinary trespass with cattle on the lord's

meadows or in a neighbour's garden. It would also include the

transfer of all land held in villeinage, and even of free land if the

alienation thereof “would seriously impair the lord's interests”.1

Regulations for the control of the open fields or the commons

would also fall within the economic sphere of the Court's

activities, and also the control of the serf's personal freedom to

marry, to take Orders, to leave the manor would be matters

vitally concerning the effective working of the lord's demesne and

the manor in general, and therefore matters of which the Court

would take cognisance. Similarly, offences against morality con-

cerned the lord: for, if an adulterer was successfully prosecuted

in the ecclesiastical court, he was fined and thus in theory lost

something which was his lord's. In the same way a woman

who lost her virginity was of less value, and was therefore fined

for depreciating her lord's property.2

Next come what we should now call minor offences against

law and order. The lord must obviously be allowed to deal with

these, for they affect the smooth working of manorial life,

although a strict view might find in this an invasion of the royal

franchise. Violence—so long as it was not too violent—was

punishable by the Court: attacks on manorial officers, threats and

mild assaults of neighbours, brawling, etc. are dealt with, as well

as more serious offences such as driving off a neighbour's cattle,

1 Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. I, 346.

2 See below, p. 246.

218

THE MANOR COURT

or the carrying away of other's crops. Then again, civil disputes between tenants were decided at the Court. Both sides were allowed to state their case, and then a verdict was given, either by a jury, or by all the Court. Breach of contract, or failure to fulfil promises and obligations were considered and damages assessed. Personal matters such as slander also came before the Manor Court and wounded pride claimed and sometimes received a monetary solace. Not only the tenant or his family, but even his beasts and crops could be cheapened by unfair criticism, and men were fined for vilifying (vilipendelant) a man's pig1, or for defaming his corn2, so that he lost the sale of it.

Thirdly we reach the pleas which are strictly matters touching the King's peace and the like, and are fully enumerated in the Articles of the View.3 Strictly: for they include a number of offences which we have already seen are commonly dealt with by the lord as part of his seigneurial jurisdiction. Besides these, however, the tithing men or sworn jury are asked to make their presentments concerning almost every kind of wrongdoing from brewing against the assize to open murder. Personal in-juries, infringements of the highway, the receiving and harbouring of strangers, the use of false weights and measures, the haunting of taverns by night, the snaring of game, the clipping of coins: all are matters the jurors have to consider and report upon to the court so that justice may be done.

Since "justice is great profit" we may well ask, "What was the court worth to a lord?" Apart from the prestige it gave him, and the importance of having some machinery whereby transgressors could be punished, the court had a definite financial side to it, more especially when it included the ordinary business of a leet within its jurisdiction. In general the amercia-ment (fine) was at the discretion of the lord or his officer. Nelson's Lex Maneriorum says: "An amercia-ment is called misericordia in Latin, because it ought to be assessed mercifully, and afterwards to be moderated by the affeerment of the equals of him who committed the offence."4 This modification is of great import-

1 Norf. Antiq. Misc. I, 144.

2 Selden Soc. IV, 130.

3 See above, p. 209.

4 Op. cit. 26. There is a distinction made between the amercia-ments of the Court Baron and the fines of the Leet Court in the Law Books. A fine was directly imposed by the lord and could not be affeered.

GENERAL IMPRESSIONS

219

ance: the culprit was not left solely ad misericordiam domini, but

had both the custom of the manor and the clemency of his

fellows to cling to. These helped him, but still left the lord with

something, as a glance at the margin of any Court Roll in which

the amercia­ments are written will show. It has proved quite

impossible to work out any figures which would be useful here:

on some manors year by year the revenues from this source are

trivial, on others they are considerable, but seem to bear little

relation to the size of the manor or its annual turnover. In all

probability what we require in order that we may get any

valuable statistics here is a very detailed enquiry into the whole

administration and organisation of each of these manors. On

some the lord insisted on money payments for things which were

freely allowable on others; many lords took heavy annual pay-

ments for leave of absence or permission to marry off the manor,

while others made but a token fine sufficient. Yet, by and large,

it remains true that the manorial courts were a source of revenue

sufficiently valuable to form a separate paragraph in the great

annual rendering of account by the reeve's compotus.

After looking over many hundreds of Court Rolls before the

Great Pestilence certain impressions abide, for what they are

worth. First, the courts rapidly developed in technicalities: men

soon found that they could avoid a charge by riding off on some

point of pleading. At Wakefield, for example, the plaintiff does

not name the day or hour on which certain goods were stolen

from him and his claim fails accordingly.1 A. charged B. with

assault and carrying off his bow and arrows. B. pleaded that he

was not bound to answer, because he was charged with two

offences one of which might be true and the other false.2 Many

pleadings of a similar nature will also be found in the books of

instruction for young lawyers, published under the title of The

Court Baron,3 which illustrate well the complexity of manorial

law even by the fourteenth century.

Secondly, we cannot fail to notice how comparatively powerless

the Court often was to enforce its own orders. We read in many

rolls that such and such a thing is to be done, 'as hath been

oftentimes commanded', but just as frequently the entry appears

1 Wakefield Rolls, I, 104.

2 Op. cit. II, 15.

3 Selden Soc. IV, 24, 41, 48, 67, 76, etc.

220

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again at the next Court. It was not only that men who had fled

from the manor could not be brought back, but even when serf-

tenants were concerned, the power of the Court seems often to

be curiously feeble. Men forget to clear away nuisances, or to

replace boundary stones, or to mend their ruinous houses, and

the bailiff complacently reports this at the next Court, and once

again they are ordered to do so. And so it goes on, till they act—

or until the bailiff tires—we do not know which.1

Thirdly, the clever man could avoid making any very definite

answer for a long time. At the head of most rolls come the

essoins such as “Simon Francis [essoins himself] against John

of Senholt in a plea of trespass for the third time by Odo of

Mursley. Faith pledged”.2 From this entry we see that Simon

has managed to absent himself from three courts, and for so long

the unfortunate John has had no remedy. At the next court,

however, Simon must appear, or his pledge Odo of Mursley

will be in trouble. Some men did not even trouble to make

essoins, but put off coming from court to court without ap-

parently being judged in default. Certainly the practice varied

enormously from manor to manor, but there remains a general

impression of dilatory, capricious and uncertain action.

But, whatever weaknesses we may detect, the Manor Court was

not entirely useless, nor merely a means whereby the lord

could amerce and punish his peasants. It was also a great barrier

against violent changes of policy. On its rolls from time to time

was entered some new interpretation, or some new item con-

cerning “the custom of the manor”, or the findings of the jury

as to the liability of the homage to render such and such dues, or

their determinations as to the bounds of the lord’s acres and their

own, etc. True it was not a Court of Record that would be

recognised by the King’s justices,3 but it was a true court of

record so far as the serf was concerned, and constantly he was

ready to pay for a search of the rolls to be made so that the truth

or falsity of his claim might be established.4 When he came into

court to take over or to render up some piece of land, not only

1 Glympton, 56; Maitland, Collected Papers, II, 377; Banstead, 139 n. 4;

V.C.H. Middlesex, II, 80; V.C.H. Berks, II, 179.

2 Selden Soc. II, 6.

3 See above, p. 198.

4 Hales Rolls, 78, 79, 219, 220; Wynslowe Rolls, 4a, 5b, 6a, etc.

GENERAL IMPRESSIONS

221

did the ceremonial exchange "by the verge" take place in court, but the scribe entered the facts on his rolls,1 and often was asked to give a copy of the entry so that all doubt might be avoided.

Again the Manor Court provided a speedy and comparatively inexpensive way of obtaining redress for injury or wrong. While we cannot agree with Vinogradoff's view that "all foreign elements in the shape of advocates or professional pleaders were excluded",2 it is true that in general the procedure of the courts was simple enough to be followed by most peasants. The old patriarchal system still prevailed sufficiently for a man to be able to go to the court in the reasonable expectation of receiving protection from his lord if wrong had been done him. While the King's Courts were remote and difficult of access, from time to time his lord's court was open to him, and there he could plead redress for almost every kind of wrong, and could claim and could hear the "doom" of the court, which was the verdict of his fellows, before the judgment of the lord was pronounced.

1 Selden Soc. II, 28, 35, 40, 46, etc.; Wynslowe Rolls, 45 a; Eynsham Cart. II, 9, 10, 11, 21, 129, 130. The "verge" was usually a slender rod which was handed from tenant to lord, and symbolised the actual piece of land in question.

2 Villainage, 367. See Hales Rolls, 134, 137 where R. de Bosco per attorna-tum suum optulit se versus T. de W. etc., and Selden Soc. IV, 81.

CHAPTER IX

EVERYDAY LIFE

LITTLE enough is left in England to-day that will give us any impression of the houses of the medieval peasantry. Such structures as the Kentish farm-houses, with their long boarded fronts, and the stone houses of the Cotswolds, the half-timbered houses scattered up and down the countryside are all too grand and too large to be of much help to us. Here and there survivals, such as the old clergy house at Alfriston, or the few remaining old cottages of the Snowdon district, emphasise what we have lost in losing the medieval village home. But to see them, as they were for centuries before the time of Chaucer, and perhaps as late as the sixteenth century, we must go to rural France, or Switzerland, or Austria. There, in village after village, the passage of centuries has scarcely changed the house in which the peasant lives. They are built of various materials, according to the local characteristics. Where good stone is to be had stone houses prevail, while in forest districts wood is used almost entirely, and so on. But they are still in the rudimentary state of development they had reached centuries ago. Two rooms suffice for all their needs: one serving for all purposes of living, eating, cooking, etc., while the other is kept as a bed-room as far as is possible. Only as far as is possible, for in these rudimentary conditions no division can be strictly observed, and chickens and other animals invade the living room, while some members of a family too numerous to find beds elsewhere must perforce couch as best they can amidst the tables and stools and other impedimenta of the living room. At their best such houses afforded a bare shelter, but they easily fell into decay, and patchwork repairs still left them in the condition so graphically described, for example, in a recent picture of rural France:

C'était une cabane bossue et lépreuse, à peine plus haute qu'un homme; on descendait à l'intérieur par deux marches de granit; il y faisait très sombre, car le jour n'entrait que par une lucarne à deux petits carreaux; l'hiver, il y avait de l'eau partout, et cela faisait de la boue qui n'en finissait pas de sécher, sous les lits surtout; il y avait

B L

15

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EVERYDAY LIFE

des trous qui empêchaient les tabourets de tenir debout; on les com-

blait de temps en temps avec de la terre apportée du jardin.1

Conditions such as these show how static rural life is in many

ways, and how little changed these houses are from that of

Chaucer's poor widow, who had but a cottage divided into bower

and hall, where she lived a "ful sooty" life with her cows, kine

and sheep all about her, while Chauntecleer and his seven wives

ran in and out from time to time.

The peasant's house was as simple in its construction as it was

rudimentary in its provision for comfort or privacy. One of the

most widespread of types—especially it would seem in the area

North and West of a line drawn from the Wash to the Bristol

Channel—was the house which had for its main timbers curved

uprights (crucks) placed opposite to each other with a ridge-pole

running the whole length of the house and holding the various

pairs of uprights firmly together. The simplest form of this sur-

viving is seen at Scrivelsby, near Horncastle, in Lincolnshire,

where a house, popularly known as "Tepot Hall", has for its

crucks pairs of perfectly straight principals united by a ridge-tree.

The roof runs from ridge-tree to the ground, and the space

within the house is severely circumscribed. The type of structure

which had curved uprights, however, gave more room than this

in the lower part of the house, and from this developed the later

form of house in which the lower portion was constructed of

heavy timbers which formed the corners and intermediate posts

and stood up from the foundations some eight or ten feet—thus

giving even more room than did the curved upright form. Upon

these posts were erected the principal rafters and crowning these

the ridge-tree. Few examples of houses of the fourteenth cen-

tury still exist, but in remote countryside valleys, such as in the

Snowdon area, some still remain. Messrs Hughes and North have

examined these carefully and write: "The characteristic of these

cottages seems to have been that the roof principals were com-

posed each of two great curved pieces of oak, starting from the

floor, against the side walls, and meeting at the ridge... The

1 E. Pérochon, Les Creux-de-maisons (1921), 14. Cf. H. Bachelin, Le

Village, 29; and especially E. Guillaumin, Notes Paysannes, 94. For conditions

in the Valais in the mid-nineteenth century, see Ruskin's moving account in

Modern Painters, IV, Part v, ch. XIX, §§ 4, 5 and 6.

THE PEASANT'S COTTAGE

227

great curved rafters are each connected by two horizontal ties."1

Such was the framework of the majority of small houses and

cottages, built with the help of the village carpenter and re-

quiring no great skill in setting up. Once the framework was

constructed, the walls and roof followed fairly easily. Few in-

stances are recorded of the use of stone for the walls—even in

good stone country—but almost everywhere wattle-and-daub,

or cob, or earth and mud were the principal materials in use. In

the first of these a number of sticks were stuck upright, and

twigs were woven in and out between them forming a sort of

rude lattice work, and on this was thrown the dab until it was of

the right thickness. The fragile and easily combustible nature of

such buildings needs no emphasising, but may help to explain

the constant references in medieval writers to the ruinous con-

dition of the countryside after plague or war.2

Other houses, again, were built with mud walls, or of cob as it

is called in the Western counties. Mr Addy thus describes the

process in Yorkshire:

The walls are built of layers of mud and straw which vary from five

to seven inches in thickness, no vertical joints being visible. On the

top of each layer is a thin covering of straw, with the ends of the straws

pointing outwards, as in a corn stack. The way in which mud walls

were built is remembered in the neighbourhood. A quantity of mud

was mixed with straw, and the foundation laid with this mixture.

Straw was then laid across the top, whilst the mud was wet, and the

whole was left to dry and harden in the sun. As soon as the first layer

was dry another layer was put on, so that the process was rather a slow

one. Finally the roof was thatched, and the projecting ends of straws

trimmed off the walls.3

The majority of cottages were thatched, although wooden

shingles were not unknown. The thatch was nearly always a

1 H. Hughes and H. L. North, The Old Cottages of Snowdonia, 5.

2 Hugh, St (R.S.), 69; Essex Review, xiii, 219.

3 Evolution of the English House, 40, 47 and n. 1. Country Life (1914), 395.

Cf. Thomas Hardy's account: "What was called mud-wall was really a

composition of chalk, clay and straw—essentially unbaked brick. This was

mixed up into a sort of dough-pudding close to where the cottage was to

be built. The mixing was performed by treading and shovelling—women

sometimes being called in to tread—and the straw was added to bind the mass

together….It was then thrown by pitch-forks on to the wall, where it was

trodden down to a thickness of about two feet, till a rise of about three feet

had been reached. This was left to settle for a day or two, etc." : The Times,

March 11, 1927.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

straw of some kind: rye straw being the most esteemed as longest and strongest, and after that came wheat straw. The corn was cut close up to the ear so that there was a great deal of stubble for thatching purposes. In certain parts, such as Lincoln and Norfolk, where reeds were plentiful, they were almost invariably used for thatching, and by some were considered the finest thatching material of all. The men of the Ramsey manors, for example, had to cut sedge for thatching the many buildings of the manors, or if they wished to be excused from this duty they had to pay "sedge silver" to the lord.1 When the thatcher came he was served by his man or often by a woman, and received a comparatively high rate of pay for his skilled work—generally at least twice as much as his assistant.

The ventilation of these houses was non-existent or rudimentary. There was usually no chimney and the smoke from the fire escaped as best it could from the door, windows and crevices in wall and roof, just as it does in Alpine châlets to-day. The fire was made, either on the bare floor, or on an iron plate placed on the floor, and the peasants cooked and lived as best they could in a "ful sooty" atmosphere. Not till the end of the fifteenth century did chimneys become a fairly common feature of any but the greatest houses (the architectural difficulties of making a chimney were considerable), and even as late as 1557 conservatives like Harrison complained of this effeminate innovation.2

Nor were the windows of much use in letting out the smoke, for they were few and small. Glass was still far too expensive for the peasant, and he covered his tiny window-opening with a wooden shutter (thus excluding light as well as air) or less often by framed blinds of cloth or canvas termed fenestralls.3 The conditions resulting are vividly described by Langland who pictures the peasant bleary-eyed, or worse, and hoarse with the "smoke and smolder", so that he coughs and curses that God may chastise those whose business it is to bring in dry wood, or at least to blow it until it is blazing.4

1 Ramsey Cart. I, 308, 431, and see Cust. Rents, 57-8.

2 Eliz. Engl. 119. "A room with a chimney" was one of the signs of a decadent age noted by Langland. Piers Plowman, B. ll. 94-100.

3 Prompt. Parv. 155.

4 Piers Plowman, B. XVII, 322.

DOMESTIC OCCUPATIONS 229

The work necessary to construct buildings such as these was done with a minimum of skilled labour. Every village, of course, had a carpenter (or woodwright) among its inhabitants, and he was undoubtedly one of the essential figures of medieval life; but, save for woodwright and wheelwright, skilled workers were not so easily found, and most medieval building operations of a simple nature were done by the common-sense knowledge and skill of the untrained villagers, assisted where necessary by the carpenter, the thatcher, or the plasterer. "The rougher part was done by customary tenants, who tore down old walls, dug the clay, and fetched water to 'temper' it; pulled off the old thatch and cut and brought stubble for the new."1 In the same way the tenants of the Bishop of Chichester were forced to aid in the building of new barns under the direction of a master carpenter,2 and there was little in the everyday run of things that the peasant was not prepared to tackle, both about his own close and at the manor house itself.

This side of medieval domestic life is thus admirably summed up by Lord Ernle:

Women spun and wove wool into coarse cloth, and hemp or nettles into linen; men tanned their own leather. The rough tools required for the cultivation of the soil, and the rude household utensils needed for the comforts of daily life, were made at home. In the long winter evenings, farmers, their sons, and their servants carved the wooden spoons, the platters, and the beechon bowls. They fitted and riveted the bottoms to the horn mugs, or closed, in coarse fashion, the leaks in the leathern jugs. They plaited the osiers and reeds into baskets and into "weeeles" for catching fish; they fixed handles to the scythes, rakes, and other tools; cut the flails from holly or thorn, and fastened them with thongs to the staves; shaped the teeth for rakes and harrows from ash or willow, and hardened them in the fire; cut out the wooden shovels for casting the corn in the granary; fashioned ox-yokes and bows, forks, racks, and rack-staves; twisted willows into scythe-cradles, or into traces and other harness-gear. Travelling carpenters, smiths, and tinkers visited detached farmhouses and smaller villages, at rare intervals, to perform those parts of the work which needed their professional skill. Meanwhile the women plaited straw or reed for neck-collars, stitched and stuffed sheep-skin bags for cart-saddles, peeled rushes for wicks and made candles. Thread was often made

1 Davenport, op. cit. p. 22.

2 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, pp. 54, 76.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

from nettles. Spinning-wheels, distaffs, and needles were never idle.

Home-made cloth and linen supplied all wants. Flaxen linen for

board-cloths, sheets, shirts, smocks or shirts, and towels, as the nap-

kins were called, on which, before the introduction of forks, the hands

were wiped, was only found in wealthy households and on special

occasions. Hemp, in ordinary households, supplied the same necessary

articles, and others, such as candle-wicks, in coarser form. Shoe-

threads, halters, stirrup-thongs, girths, bridles, and ropes were woven

from the "carle" hemp; the finer kind, or "fimbles" hemp supplied

the coarse linen for domestic use, and "hempen homespun" passed

into a proverb for a countryman.1

The fragile nature of the houses has already been mentioned,

and hence we need feel no surprise at finding constant references

to "ruinous and dilapidated cots" in the Court Rolls and else-

where. It was obviously against the lord's interests that houses

should be like this, and therefore tenants were generally ordered

to repair their houses within a given time,2 and sometimes a

stake was driven in before their door as a reminder of this.3 If a

cottage was in so "feeble" a condition that it required repair by an

incoming tenant, his rent would be reduced for the time being,4 or

he would be allowed timber to help him to put it in order again.5

Even when in good repair, however, such fragile buildings had

their drawbacks, as is brought home to us when we read that

thieves broke in indifferently through the walls or the doors; or

that a man was killed at his own fireside by a spear thrust in

through the side of the house.6 Once such houses fell into dis-

repair it only needed a few violent storms and a winter or two to

bring them crashing to the ground.7

Undoubtedly the greatest incentive to the peasant to keep his

house in repair was a generous allowance of timber from the

lord's woods and forests, and this was appreciated by many

1 Lord Ernle, English Farming, Past and Present (second ed.), 29. Cf. the

account given in The Countryman, July 1935, p. 356, of the way the Austrian

peasants still live an almost self-supporting life in the villages of the Salz-

kammergut.

2 Abbots Langley, f. 37 r., 37 v.; Wilts. Arch. Mag. v, 74.

3 Wilts. Arch. Mag. xxxii, 294.

4 Durham Halmote Rolls, 21 ; Thoresby Soc. xv, 157.

5 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxi, 83; Davenport, op. cit. 32; Durham Halmote Rolls,

xix.

6 Selden Soc. I. 3. Cf. Catholicon, where "howse breker" is translated

"apercularius".

7 Wakefield Court Rolls, I, 274.

"BY HOOK OR BY CROOK"

231

lords, although, as Miss Neilson tells us, "the conditions under

which he could take wood from the woodland of the manor had

to be carefully defined. To cut wood without permission, within

the forest or without it, was a very serious offence, included in

the Ramsey custumal with theft and bloodshed as offences not

to be compounded for by fulstingpound".1 Other lords, less

harsh, fined culprits who took wood without leave.2 Other manors

again had curious customs, such as obtained on the royal de-

mesne of Pickering in Yorkshire, where the tenants could take

all dry wood lying on the ground, as well as any wood they could

knock down with hooks (by hook or by crook).3 This custom is also

found as late as the sixteenth century on the lands of William,

first Earl of Pembroke, whose tenants had also the privilege on

Holy Thursday of felling and carrying away on a cart drawn by

men, a load of young oak trees, wherewith they decorated the

village church and their own dwellings.4 Such accounts as these

are sufficient to indicate the strict control the lord usually kept

over timber rights on the manor, and the Court Rolls constantly

show us men being fined because they have cut down trees

without leave.

This same survey, late though it is, may be used to emphasise

what has been said above, for the scribe has not only given a

detailed account of the various holdings and villages, but has

added delightful bird's-eye drawings of two of them—Wilton

and Paignton. Here we may see the thatched, single-story mud

and wattle houses with their small windows and comparatively

few chimneys. Each house stands in its own little curtilage (or

enclosed piece of ground) and this is laid out by the villager as

his own private garden where he can cultivate what he pleases

quite apart from his strips in the common fields where he was

only able to act in concert with his fellows.5

What he could cultivate was not very much according to

our modern notions, but was perhaps more than is commonly

1 Cust. Rents, p. 52.

2 Abbots Langley, f. 36 v.; Tatenhill, II, p. 21 ff.; Wilts. Arch. Mag. v, 76;

and for surviving rights in the seventeenth century see xLI, 174.

3 Cal. Inquis. Misc. I, p. 40. Cf. p. 41 where they are free to take whatever

they can get without tools of any kind.

4 Pembroke Survey, lxx.

5 Op. cit. I, 182, Plate viI; II, 388, Plate IX.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

believed.1 Fruit trees of various kinds were widespread: apples,

pears and cherries being quite common. Plums, quinces and

medlars were also grown by many, and walnuts, chestnuts and

filberts were very popular. These were grown in what is some-

times called the hortus in surveys and terriers, and it has been

suggested that we ought to distinguish between this and the

gardinum, where a few flowers were grown and such vegetables

and herbs as were available.2 So far as the ordinary peasant was

concerned we need not bother about this minute sub-division

(which seems, in any case, to be of doubtful validity), but may

imagine him growing whatever he could in a fine confusion: a

few apple and pear trees, and vegetables, such as cabbages,

leeks, onions, garlic, mustard, peas and beans, together with pot

herbs–parsley and “herbys to make both sauce and stewe”.

Piers Plowman, for instance, speaks of the harvest in his croft

that will give him beans and peas, leeks, parsley and shallots,

“chiboles and chervils and cherries, half-red”.3

When we turn to view the interior of the peasant's house we

find that it had little to commend it. The floor was usually of

earth, trodden or beaten as hard as was possible, but liable to

become wet and messy with constant coming and going in wet

weather. Straw was freely used, both for warmth and cleanliness,

however.4 The fire was made on an iron plate or a hob of clay,

and about it clustered the cooking utensils–pots and pans of

earthenware (or perhaps brass or latten5), with ladles and forks

of metal of some kind; while bowls and basins of wood, and forks

and spoons, and many other odds and ends of use to the cook,

were carved and hollowed out by the master and his sons during

the long winter evenings from rough pieces of beech or oak. Add

1 Medieval gardening was fairly fully treated in 1862 by T. Wright in his

Hist. Domestic Manners and Sentiments, 293–303. The most authoritative

modern work on this subject, however, is by A. M. Amherst, Hist. of Garden-

ing. Sir F. Crisp's Medieval Gardens has admirable illustrations of rich men's

gardens, but does not help us to know much about those of the lower classes.

See e.g. Rent. and Cust. (M. de Ambresbury), Somerset Rec. Soc. v, passim;

Ramsey Cart. s.v. gardens.

2 The Athenceum, Aug. 7, 1909, p. 146.

3 Piers Plowman, B. ll. 288–96. Chiboles = small onions; chervils = pot-

herbs, O.F. cerfeuil.

4 Selden Soc. viI, 52, 91; and cf. Myrk, Festial (E.E.T.S.), p. 39, l. 22.

5 Latten was a mixed metal of yellow colour, either identical with, or

closely resembling brass.

A PEASANT'S GOODS

233

a few stools and a trestle-table on which the meal could be spread,

with a chest to hold the best clothes, and we have almost ex-

hausted the furnishing of the medieval cottage. Beds we know

little of: occasionally a feather-bed is mentioned in a will, and is

evidently a precious thing; but in general bags of straw or flock

had to serve, either thrown on the floor, or resting on rudely

constructed frames placed by the walls of the house. Indeed,

even in 1557, Harrison writes contemptuously of beds, and

though he exaggerates, he is evidence of a still existing con-

servatism:

Our fathers and we ourselves have lyen full ofte upon straw pallettes,

covered only with a sheet, under coverlets made of dogswain or hop-

harlots (I use, says he, the very words of the old men from whom I

received the accounts) and a good round logge under their heades,

insteade of a boulster. If it were so that our fathers or the good man

of the house had . . . a matteres or flock bed and thereto a sacke of

chafe to rest hys heade upon, he thought himself to be as well loged

as the lorde of the towne, so well were they contented. Pillowes, they

sayde, were thoughte mete only for women in childebed. As for

servants, if they had any sheete above them, it was well, forseldome had

they any under their bodies, to keepe them from the pricking straws,

that ranne oft throw the canvas, and rased their hardened hides.1

Few inventories of peasant's goods have survived, and even

these are not very helpful. One dated 1293 enumerates the

chattels of a man who died worth only thirty-three shillings and

eightpence. His "household stuff" consisted of a bolster, a rug,

two sheets, a brass dish and a trivet.2 Nearly a century later the

Durham Halmote Rolls record the "goods and chattels" of two

serfs, but in neither instance are any domestic effects men-

tioned.3 Again, a jury of Tatenhill, about 1380, assessed Richard

Holland's goods at £5. 3s., and here the household goods were

comparatively small in value. Among them we read of bedding

(sheets, blankets, counterpanes) as well as of kitchen utensils

(pans, cresset, tripod, skillet, five spoons of silver, colanders and

a board-cloth), the whole being worth less than £2.4 Lastly, the

jury of Easington, in 1409, assessed the "domestic utensils" of

Richard Watson at 6s. 8d., out of an estate worth £8. 17s. 2d.5

1 Eliz. Eng. 119. 2 Arch. Fourn. III, 65.

3 Op. cit. 151, 168. 4 Tatenhill, II, 55.

5 V.C.H. Durham, II, 199. Cf. D.S.P. xcvii.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

With this we may compare the contents of a hall as given in an

early fifteenth-century book of vocabularies. They are: a board,

trestle, banquere (a piece of tapestry to throw over a bench), a

dorser (hanging), table dormant (standing table, as opposed to

the easily movable trestle-table), basin, laver, fire, hearth, brand,

logs, andirons, long settle, chairs, benches, tongs, stools,

bellows, "screene".1 Few peasants had such costly things as

tapestries or hangings or even chairs, and a "dormant" table

would have been a great nuisance in the restricted floor space of

a medieval cottage; but otherwise the list is a fair indication of

the kind of furniture and fixtures to be found in the ordinary

village home.

Thorold Rogers, in his well-known book Six Centuries of

Work and Wages, filled many pages in detailing "evidence as to

the condition of the English peasantry, in order, if possible,

once for all to show how untenable the opinion is which doubts

that, as far as the mere means of life were concerned, the English-

man of the middle ages lived in ordinary times in coarse plenty".2

Yet, despite his efforts, obstinate doubts still assail us. We can-

not easily forget Chaucer's poor widow in the Nun's Priest's Tale,

who lived in her little two-roomed house on a diet of "milk and

brown bread, singed bacon, with sometimes an egg or two";

or the still more poignant pictures drawn by Langland of the

peasants of his day. No chickens, geese, pork or bacon come

their way, but two green (new) cheeses, curds and cream, and a

cake of oats. This, together with bread of pease or beans for their

children, is all the food they can look forward to until harvest

comes.3 Langland sees the poor, "charged with children and

chief lord's rent", spending their small wages in milk and meal

to make porridge "to glut the maws" of their children that cry

after food. "Also in winter they suffer much hunger and woe.

...It would be a charity to help them: bread and penny-ale are

a luxury; cold flesh and cold fish is to them like baked venison;

on Fridays and fasting-days, a farthing's worth of mussels or so

many cockles were a feast for such folk." Such pictures as these,

1 A Volume of Vocabularies, ed. T. Wright, 197.

2 Op. cit. 63.

3 Op. cit. C. ix, 304. Cf. also 331. Cf. Gower's Mirour, ll. 26, 437ff.,

where labourers of old ate beans or coarser corn washed down by water. Milk

and cheese were a feast to them, and they rarely ate other dainties.

4 Op. cit. C. x, 71.

PLATE V

Semutaut aia mea puto on

Domestic scenes

Folding linen. Dividing the carcase. Kitchen scene. Outdoor cookery. The rope wheel

FOOD AND DRINK

235

together with other contemporary and earlier testimony,1 cannot be ignored. Doubtless the aristocracy of the peasants "lived in ordinary times in coarse plenty"; but, as we have already seen, there were many others besides these people on the manor, and their lot was much as Langland has pictured it.

When we turn to the documents themselves, we find how very limited was the range of foodstuffs available. Our best evidence, perhaps, comes from the lists of food provided by the lord for his serfs engaged in the hard work of harvesting and the like. We may summarise many hundreds of such lists by saying that the serf was given bread, ale or cider, a mess of pottage, followed by a dish of fish or flesh and perhaps a lump of cheese. The re- searches of Sir W. Ashley have suggested that in general the bread was of rye, or at best, of a mixture of rye and wheat (maslin).2 If otherwise, this was plainly stated in the custumal or elsewhere.3 The size of the loaf handed over to the workers varied, and sometimes no ale but only water was given. The pottage was "a grewell without flesh boiled in it",4 and often made with peas or beans.5 Herrings or dried fish were commonly supplied for the harvesters on fast days, while "a dish of meat" formed the pièce de résistance on other days.6 Meat was expensive for the serf, and only seldom came his way, except as a feast or when he fed at his lord's costs. We can get a little nearer the day's rations by noting the practice on some of the Abbot of Battle's manors where the workers get two or three meals during the day: at Craumarey in Oxfordshire at nonam (noon) they got wheaten bread, ale and cheese, and at vespers, bread, ale, pot- tage, flesh or herrings and cheese.7 On other manors something of the same is found: the carters of Ferring in 1289 got a morning meal of rye bread, with beer and cheese; at noon they had bread and beer, with pottage and the usual dish of fish or flesh, and in the evening a drink before leaving the manor hall.8

1 Med. Village, 311–20, summarises the English and foreign evidence.

2 The Bread of our Forefathers, passim; Econ. Fourn. xxxii, 285.

3 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 72, 89, 107; cf. pp. 34, 43, 81.

4 Dugdale, Warwick, p. 177a.

5 V.C.H. Middlesex, ii, 67.

6 Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, passim; Camb. Univ. Lib. MS. Kk. v. 29, ff. 26b, 32b, 103, 104; Battle Customals, 5, 20, 87, 89. Min. Accounts, 1030/3–6; 998/21.

7 Battle Customals, 87, 89.

8 Camb. Univ. Lib. MS. Kk. v. 29, f. 104.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

The above rations, however, must not be looked on as normal, but as something superior to the ordinary daily meals which most men were able to afford themselves. On special occasions, no doubt, poultry or a hare or rabbit found its way to the pot, or even a piece of salted beef, or perhaps a cut of tainted mutton (dead of the plague) was passed off by an unscrupulous master to his serfs. As an earlier chapter has shown, rabbits were very plentiful, and at times even game preserves, or the sacred forests themselves, were raided. Poaching was common, and one of the most spirited pieces of medieval literature tells of a poacher's adventures in quest of his quarry; while the manorial courts were constantly called on to repress such adventurers.

We have little evidence to guide us as to the number or the times of medieval meals for the humbler folk. In default of anything certain, it may be hazarded that most of them had a hunk of bread and a mug of ale in the morning; and a lump of cheese and bread, with perhaps an onion or two to flavour it, and more ale for their midday meal. At the end of the day (as is still common among Continental peasants) the main meal was served. It was not very varied, nor very palatable to modern ways of thinking. A thick soup or pottage was the main dish, and bread and cheese followed to complete the meal, on most occasions. Rarely a dish of meat was forthcoming, and the poultry, which ran in and out of the medieval home, also served to garnish some special occasion when the villager put his best on the table. Drink was equally monotonous: ale was the most usual drink for all humble folk (although cider took its place in some parts), and even this was a thin and not very heady liquid. The "moist and corny ale" only came on rare evenings when the lord entertained his men, or some very exceptional village celebration demanded such an unusual extravagance.

Hence, when all has been said, despite his occasional feasts and the short seasons of harvest and abundance, the lot of the medieval peasant, as M. Henri Sée concludes from his study of French conditions, was "assez misérable". He draws attention to the limited number of things the peasant could grow, and to

1

See above, p. 218, and for the poem, see below, p. 271.

2

Op. cit. p. 547.

FAMILY LIFE

237

the lack of any widespread knowledge of methods of re-fertilising the soil. Further, he notes that agricultural instruments were still comparatively undeveloped, and difficulties of communication encouraged attempts to grow things in climates and soils quite unsuited for them.1 Add to this the hazards attendant on weather, and it is not difficult to realise that the peasant was frequently near to starvation,2 and, perforce, eked out a difficult existence as best he could, especially through the long winter months.

With so much else in medieval times the details of married life escape us. The fortunate survival of The Paston Letters and The Stonor Letters, or the indiscreet memoirs of a Pepys, allow us to glean innumerable facts concerning the relations between husbands, wives and children in the fifteenth and the seventeenth centuries. No such aid is forthcoming for the historian of thirteenth- or fourteenth-century peasant life. The earliest manuals of behaviour, and rules for the upbringing of children do not date before the fifteenth century; and, even if they did, would be of little help, for they are concerned with the behaviour of people and of children of considerably higher status than the peasant. Documents, again, will not help us, for they are almost invariably concerned only with the peasant's relation to his lord. His personal concerns are of little interest to the lord, save where, as in his choice of a wife, they are liable to affect the lord's interests. But his home life, and his daily routine therein matter nothing to the lord, and as a result these figure nowhere in any records which have come down to us. Our ignorance of these conditions remains profound.

The nearest we can now hope to get to such conditions, perhaps, is when we have a few minutes inside the dwelling of a peasant family, not in England, for things have changed so radically here, but in some tiny French or Swiss hamlet, where

1 Op. cit. p. 540.

2 Conditions do not seem to have been so severe in England as in France. A. Luchaire, in his Social France at the time of Philip Augustus, asserts that in the twelfth century "men died of hunger, on an average, one year in every four" (and adds that 48 famine years are recorded in the eleventh century (p. 7)). In England we have no evidence of such appalling conditions: indeed Thorold Rogers asserts that he knows "of only one distinct period of famine in the whole economic history of England", i.e. 1315–21 (Work and Wages, 62; cf. 217).

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medieval ways and customs are only of yesterday. One such glimpse remains clear in my memory. Caught by a heavy rainstorm high up in the mountains of Aubrac, in the department of the Cantal in France, I was forced to shelter in a wayside shed; and, after a few minutes, was seen from the house, and invited to enter. It was a meagre room, some fourteen feet square, and so little light entered from a small window that it was difficult at first to see clearly. The floor was of earth, and on a rude stone hearth an old woman tended a wood fire and, from time to time, stirred the soup. Two dark wooden cupboards filled up some of the little space, and a home-made table of chestnut, a few chairs and a couple of stools were all the other furniture, save for a cradle rudely fashioned from a log of wood. The baby, swaddled in medieval fashion, and but a few days old, lay in it; on its crying, the mother (who had already risen from childbed) got up from where she sat on the other side of the fire and hastened to suckle it. She did not remove the child from the cot, but lifted the cot itself, with the child in it, to her breast. She and her mother talked to me while she did so, and explained how they lived in this remote spot: their little garden grew much of their food, and the strips of meadow and pasture round about but barely provided for their cattle on which they depended. From time to time the son-in-law went down the mountains to the fair at Marjevols or Espalion, and from the sale of a cow was able to purchase those necessaries which they were unable to grow or fashion for themselves at home. It would be useless to press the likeness to medieval conditions very far; but, at least, nobody could fail to realise that here life was going on as it had done in many particulars for countless generations. So too, in the narrow village street at Salers, or at Besse-en-Chandesse in the Auvergne, or pushing our way through the market at Mauriac, and hearing the raucous cries of the peasants as they bartered and sold, or the clack of the old wives chattering and gossiping while still endeavouring to get rid of chickens or vegetables–in such places medieval daily life is once again before our eyes and imagination.

Readers of The Nun’s Priest’s Tale will easily recognise how similar were the conditions in which Chaucer’s “poor widow” lived to those of the Cantal peasants of 1930:

GROWTH OF POPULATION

239

A poure wydwe, somdeel stape in age,

Was whilom dwellyng in a narwe cotage,

Biside a grove, stondynge in a dale.

This wydwe, of which I telle yow my tale,

Syn thilke day that she was last a wyf,

In pacience ladde a ful symple lyf,

For litel was hir catel and hir rente.

By housbondrie of swich as God hire sente

She foond hirself and eek hir doghtren two.

Thre large sowes hadde she, and namo,

Three keen, and eek a sheep that highte Malle.

Ful sooty was hire bour and eek hir halle,

In which she eet ful many a sklendre meel.

Of poynaunt sauce hir neded niver a deel.

No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte....

No wyn ne drank she, neither whit ne reed;

Hir bord was served moost with whit and blak,

Milk and broun breed, in which she foond no lak,

Seynd bacon, and somtyme an ey or tweye;

For she was, as it were, a maner deye.

A yeerde she hadde, enclosed al aboute

With stikkes, and a drye dych withoute.

1

Amidst such material conditions the peasant lived, and did his best to rear his family. The frightful wastage of medieval life, even omitting the toll taken by war, is not easily comprehended in these softer days. Many of the things we think most necessary to health were lacking. The normal modern safeguards against infection were unknown; the proper care of the sick was in a rudimentary state; the dangers of childbirth were immense, and the years of infancy a constant battle against plague and fevers which were endemic in medieval England. To all these must be added the limited variety of foodstuffs, as well as the desperately scanty rations which at times were all that were available.

As a result of these conditions the increase in population from the Conquest to the time of the Great Plague of 1349 was very slow. If we take the figure commonly accepted, the population in 1066 was some 2½ millions, and the most optimistic estimate of that of 1349 does not exceed 5 millions. This means that the growth of population per annum over this period was only

1 Nun's Priest's Tale, B. ll. 4011-28.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

0·147 per cent. Now if we imagine the average English village

to have been about 300 souls in number (i.e. some 60 families)

the rate of increase in the whole village was only 0·441 each

year. In other words the loss by death was so severe that it took

over two years to add one new individual to such a village

community.

From this it is easy to see how static conditions were in the

village, and what a limited number of young people there were

in any of them at any given time, and how limited the potential

list of marriageable men and women must have been. This was

by no means the only difficulty which faced the serf. The words

of Justice Belknap, in 1342, may serve to remind us of the con-

dition in which the vast majority of peasants found themselves

at this time and for some centuries earlier. "There is no service

in the world", he said, "which so quickly proves a man to be a

villain as making a fine for marriage."1 This fine went by the

name of "merchet", and Vinogradoff and others—notably L. O.

Pike—have discussed fully the origin of the term and the wide-

spread incidence of this service.2 We need not labour this fur-

ther, but may usefully note how very unevenly and with what

differing conditions "merchet" was enforced on various manors.

The serf being (in legal theory) a possession of the lord it

followed that all he possessed was also his lord's, and his off-

spring, in common with the offspring of his horses and cattle,

were both designated by the one word (sequela), and were looked

on as possessions. Hence they were all of some value to the lord,

and he often refused to allow man or woman (especially the

latter) to make any important decisions which might remove

them from his power without first obtaining (by payment in

general) his sanction.

As a preliminary we may usefully bear in mind that the sale of

marriage rights came to cover many possibilities in the course of

time. Merchet, strictly speaking, was a fine paid by a serf for the

marriage of a daughter within the manor. It was rapidly made

to cover the fine paid for such a marriage, either within or

without the manor, and also frequently was so stretched as to

include sons as well as daughters.

1 Y.B. 15 Ed. III (R.S.), xiii.

2 Villainage, 153–6; Y.B. 15 Ed. III, xiv–xiii.

MARRIAGE

241

The question of marriage upon the manor presents small difficulty. The serfs, in general, found themselves subjected to little control. Unlike other people—the nobles, the great land-holders, the wards or the rich merchants—no one had much interest in their marriages among themselves and upon the same manor. This still left both parties in the hands of the lord; and they, and any future progeny, remained at his will and disposal. At worst, and as a sign of ownership, a small fine was exacted: “they must buy their blood.”1 At best, they were allowed to marry freely one with another, and they found it worth while to see that such a privilege was recorded when the custom of their manor was written down. This we see on the manors of the monks of Glastonbury, or on those of the canons of St Paul’s.2 Needless to say, if there was any special reason, e.g. if the girl would herself inherit her parent’s holding in due course, the lord’s consent to her marriage was necessary;3 since her husband would have to discharge the duties which went with the holding.

The real difficulties began when marriage outside the manor was contemplated, or when marriage with one of free birth either in or out of the manor was in question. Marriage off the manor involved an entirely different set of considerations, unless both manors belonged to the same lord. If they did not, the marriage meant the loss of property to one of the lords, and he, not unreasonably, expected compensation. This compensation (sometimes called redemptio or forismaritagium) was fixed at various prices, but does not seem at any time to have been nearly so heavy in England as it was in France until the end of the twelfth century.4 It is rare to find a payment of more than a few shillings entered in the rolls: the most unsatisfactory conditions were those obtaining on some estates which left the amount of the fine to be settled by the serf with his lord on the best terms he could get. Even here, as on the Ramsey manors, custom had

1 Cust. Roff. 12, cf. 33; Hist. MSS. Com. Wells, 1, 327; Crondal Records, 64, 150; Selden Soc. 11, 27; Camb. Antiq. Soc. xxvii, 164, etc.

2 Glas. Rent. 83, 92; D.S.P. cxxv.

3 Cust. Roff. 12.

4 Cf. Bloch, Liberté et servitude personnelles au moyen-âge, 15 n. 23. “Les amendes étaient certainement très fortes: allant, en droit, jusqu’à la confiscation des biens, selon une charte de 1070…Il y avait de tels abus qu’en 1385 le Parlement crut devoir se substituer au chapitre de Laon pour fixer le taux d’une amende.” See also, Luchaire, Les Institutions populaires, 302.

B L

16

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EVERYDAY LIFE

come to his aid, and it is generally stated that the amount of the

fine was not to exceed five shillings.1 In order to protect them-

selves serfs bought the right of marriage when they took over

their father's land on succeeding,2 or bargained with their lord

for the privilege of marrying "whersoeever they would", or

"whenever they chose", without hindrance from any manorial

authority.3 And they went further: they paid to have such

special exemptions written down in the manor rolls to which they

might appeal if the memory of steward or bailiff ever proved

defective on this matter.4

A further difficulty sometimes arose over the children of

such a marriage. To which lord did they belong? In France

there were endless disputes and claims upon this matter, and

highly complicated systems were invented to deal with the

problems of a single child or of an unequal number of children.

In England we have little evidence to guide us; but we may first

note that Glanvill laid it down that the children were proportion-

aliter divided between the two lords.5 That this was no mere

theory is borne out by a quit claim to the monks of Chester

(c. 1216-40) by John Fitzalan, whereby if any of his villeins

takes a wife from those of Ince, or vice versa, a division of the

children should be made between him and the abbot, according

to the custom of the country.6 This seems to argue that there was

a perfectly well-known custom, at any rate in this part of Eng-

land, in the first half of the thirteenth century; while three

instances of about 1285 from the east of England7 encourage the

belief that the custom was found on a number of manors, and

over a considerable area, until at least the end of this century.

Despite a multiplicity of local differences, so far it has not been

difficult to trace the guiding principle underlying the marriage

of serfs-they must "buy their blood" as the phrase goes. When

we come to the vexed question of mixed marriages-of marriages,

1 Ramsey Cart. 1, 384, 395, 472, 490. At Chatteris, however, they were

entirely at the will of their lord (1, 432, and cf. 416).

2 Abbots Langley, f. 1; U.L.C. Wynslowe, ff. 17 a, 20 a, 22 a.

3 V.C.H. Warwick, 11, 143; Hales Rolls, 420.

4 Wynslowe, 34a, 45a, 56a; Abbots Langley, 20b, 21b.

5 Glanvill, op. cit. lib. 5, cap. 6.

6 Chester Chart. 210, No. 313.

7 Norf. Arch. xvii, 319.

THE MIXED MARRIAGE

243

that is, between free and bond—the subject becomes very complicated and gave the medieval lawyers many a happy hour. The Leges Henrici, Britton, Glanvill and Bracton all lay down rules and counter-rules in bewildering variety; but

ultimately, “the better opinion of our books” was that marriage of a female serf with a free man, other than her lord, did not absolutely enfranchise her, but merely made her free during the marriage…. In the converse case in which a bondman marries a free woman, he of course is not enfranchised though Bracton’s doctrine would make the children free if born in her free tenement,

but doubtfully so if born in his unfree tenement.1

Apart from personal status, mixed marriages between free and unfree raised difficult points of inheritance and the like. In a lawsuit of 1277 on the manor of Hales concerning a freeholding, it was shown that one of the parties interested had married a bondman. Her claim, thereafter, was quietly dropped, as by so marrying her rights (for the time being at any rate) had lapsed.2 The prevailing custom is clearly stated about the same time (1275) in a Northampton manor court at Wedon Beck, when “the full court declares that in case any woman shall have altogether quitted the Lord’s domain and shall marry a free man, she may return and recover what right and claim she has in any land: but if she has married a serf then she cannot do this during the lifetime of the serf, but after his death she may”.3 From this we can see that to be of free condition in itself is not a thing that can be lost altogether, though it may become inoperative in such circumstances as these, and if the will of the lord is sufficiently strong, or manorial custom sufficiently undeveloped, it may be hard to reassert one’s status after a lapse of years.

The widow, who had inherited her husband’s property, or some dowry therefrom, was subjected to considerable control by her lord. In general she was not allowed to re-marry without permission,4 and the lord looked with some anxiety as to where

1 Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. I, 423. See full discussion there and in Villainage, 61–3.

2 Hales Rolls, 87–8. Cf. Lit. Cant. I, 520.

3 Selden Soc. II, 24; E.H.R. xx, 480. But note Abbots Langley, 36 b, where the tenement reverts to the lord on marriage to a free man.

4 Glouc. Cart. III, 208, 210; Sussex Rec. Soc. xxxi, 102; Durham Halmote Rolls, II.

16–2

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EVERYDAY LIFE

her choice would fall. If, as often happened, she wished to

withdraw from his manor altogether he was faced with a serious

loss, not only of the revenues arising from personal dues and

fines, but also of the services or their equivalents due from her

holding. We find women, therefore, forced to pay for leave to

re-marry, or to withdraw from the manor.1 Conversely, a man

wishing to enter a manor, having married a woman holding land

therein, finds himself forced to pay for such a privilege.2 Other-

wise, as on a manor of the monks of Canterbury, the land could

be taken into the hands of the lord. The prior wrote to his

official at Risborough to enquire which would be most to his

advantage: to accept a fine of five marks or to seize the land!3

Worse than these payments was the fact that at times the lord

forced his serfs to marry when it suited his interests. We see this

in a number of cases, especially on the manor of Hales, where the

Abbot again and again attempted to force men into marriages

they had no wish for. In 1274, "John of Romsley and Nicholas

Sewal are given till next court to decide as to the widows offered

them". At that court, three weeks later, "Nicholas Sewal is

given to next Sunday to decide as to the widow offered to him in

the presence of the cellarer" who held the court.4 Nothing more

is heard of either John or Nicholas, so probably they submitted.

A few years later (11 Dec. 1279) Thomas Robins of Oldbury

was ordered to take Agatha of Halesowen to wife. He said he

would rather be fined; and, because he could find no guarantors,

it was ordered that he should be distrained. On 7 January 1280,

he is again distrained to take a wife as ordered, and on 23 January

he paid a fine of three shillings, and so the matter ended.5

Similar cases occurred on the manors of the monks of St Albans

and elsewhere,6 whilst an instance on the manor of Brightwaltham

in 1335 will help to explain why the lord was often anxious to

bring about some marriage, and so provide a widow or heiress

1 Wakefield Rolls, I, 256; II, 49.

2 Hales Rolls, 415; Wakefield Rolls, II, 192.

3 Lit. Cant. I, 501. Cf. the case at Wisbech, where a holding is seized by the

Bishop of Ely till he is satisfied by a fine. C.R. Wisbech, 33 Ed. I.

4 Hales Rolls, 55, 57.

5 Op. cit. 119, 121, 124. Cf. the case of R. Ridyacre who also refused and

apparently succeeded in neither taking a wife or paying a fine, 121, 124, 126.

6 Abbots Langley 13, 25; Tatenhill, II, 2.

MARRIAGE AND CANON LAW

245

with a husband, and himself with the certainty of labour-services,

dues, and perhaps a future inheritor. At Brightwaltham no less

than six widows, who had come into possession of their husbands'

holdings without being able to render the labour that was due,

were ordered, if they wished to retain their land, "to provide

themselves with husbands".1 A late piece of evidence comes

from the Petition of the Commons to the King in 1394, when it

was asserted that the religious houses caused their serfs to marry

free women with inheritances, so that the religious could thereby

claim the estates.2

The lord's concern to restrict marriages within the limits of

the manor no doubt seriously limited the choice of the young,

but what was still more important it brought them into diffi-

culties with the Church. "Before 1215 Canon Law forbade all

marriages of kinsfolk to the seventh degree; that is, between all

who had a common great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

Innocent III, in the great Lateran Council, reduced these prohi-

bitions, 'because they cannot now be kept without grievous

harm'; thenceforth, the prohibition extended only to the fourth

degree, but this must be kept with inviolable strictness".3 It is

easy to see how impossible it was on innumerable small medieval

manors to keep this rule strictly. Either a man had to remain

unmarried, or pay the increased fine for taking a wife from out-

side, or break the law of the Church. "Even when Innocent had

"softened the law", writes Dr Coulton, "at least half the bond-

men in a normal village had probably some common great-great-

grandfather with any prospective bridegroom or bride".4 We

have only to look at the earliest parish registers to see how inter-

married village communities became, and the same thing has

continued, to a lesser degree, even down to our own day.5 Any

small village cemetery in France or Switzerland bears instant

confirmation of this fact, and it was also noted as a characteristic

of village life in the English enquiry concerning rural conditions

in Germany in 1870.6

Closely associated with the fine for marriage was that imposed

1 Page, op. cit. 36 n. 2.

2 Walsingham, 258.

3 Quoted from Med. Village, Appendix 16.

4 Op. cit. 472.

5 V.C.H. Survey, iv, 413 n. 31.

6 Land Tenure Reports, 387.

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for incontinency—Leyrwite, or lecherwite, as it was called. As it

is put in a Glastonbury record, the lord must have his fine

"whenever one of the bondswomen is unchaste of her body,

whereby my lord loseth the sale of her".1 Since in strict law the

serf was the absolute property of her master, anything she did to

depreciate her value was to his loss. Hence the lord felt he had

every right to be interested; and, as Maitland puts it, "to exercise

a paternal control in the interests of morality". We may perhaps

doubt how far morality was an urgent consideration: here was

another opportunity to make a profit out of his serfs—and the

lord took it! The Court Rolls—such as those of Halesowen, for

example—illustrate the constant vigilance that the lord and his

agents exerted: cases of immorality occur as a constant item of

business and the offender is fined.2 To make doubly sure, the

onus of reporting such cases was a communal responsibility, and

we find manorial jurors fined for neglecting to present offenders

at the earliest possible moment.3

At the same time, it must be remembered, that incontinency

was primarily an offence which came under the jurisdiction of the

Church: the lord, therefore, was not only concerned because his

property was depreciated, but also because the Church exacted

fines from the serf (which theoretically were fines from him).

Hence the rule that stewards should make enquiry in the manor

court "whether any bondman's unmarried daughter hath com-

mitted fornication and been convened in chapter, and what she

hath given to the [rural] dean for her correction".4 Two cases

from the Abbot of Ramsey's manors will illustrate the lord's point

of view: "Richard Dyer a married man was convicted in the

chapter [court] of adultery with a certain woman. . . and so lost

the chattels of the Lord. Therefore he is in mercy. The amerce-

ment is forgiven."5 The words in italics show the gravamen of

the charge: in this case the lord was merciful, but his rights were

put on record and thus safeguarded.

An even more interesting case is reported from the same manor

1 Villainage, 154.

2 Op. cit. 107, 120, 124, 161, 221, 230, etc. The Cartularies (e.g. Ramsey, I,

309, 314, 317, 339, etc.) constantly assert the lord's right to leyrwyte.

3 Op. cit. 310; Abbots Langley, 26b; Wroxall Records, 29.

4 Selden Soc. IV, 102.

5 Ibid. II, 97.

INCONTINENCY

247

(Gedding) during the reign of Edward II. The chief pledges

report that

John Monk still continues his lechery with Sarah Hewen, wife of

Simon Hewen, and is constantly attending divers chapter courts where

frequently he loses the Lord's goods by reason of his adultery with

Sarah, as has often been presented before now; nor will he be chastened.

Therefore let him be put in the stocks. And afterwards he made fine

with one mark.1

Attendance at archidiaconal or ruridecanal courts and the fear

of being summoned thither was always present in the wrong-

doer's mind. Sometimes, of course, a rascally summoner, such

as Chaucer depicts, would allow him a year's wantoning with his

concubine for a quart of ale,2 and even higher officials were

capable of accepting bribes. "Purs is the erchdecknes helle", is

more than a disreputable flourish: Gower only says what pro-

fessed moralists were saying, when he cries out against the

ecclesiastical courts, and declares "in all countries men may

thus our Dean covets sin rather than honesty; for he finds the

prostitute more profitable than the nun".3 Nevertheless, not all

were able to avoid an actual appearance, as we may see from the

records of the ruridecanal courts of Wych in the diocese of

Worcester. These present an interesting account of the actual

proceedings which were held in different parish churches of the

deanery at three-weekly intervals.4 Not only fines, but actual

corporal punishment was inflicted, and the disgraced culprit was

forced to do public penance.

At one court, for example, we read that Thomas of Bradley

confessed his misbehaviour with Agnes, daughter of Gilbert the

smith. Thomas was flogged, while Agnes was suspended for

contumacy and then excommunicated. This frightened her, and

she afterwards was reconciled, confessed and was flogged.

Another couple, Henry of Frankley and Matilda Honderwode,

1 Ibid. ii, 98.

2 C.T. Prologue, 649.

3 Mirour de l'Ome, v, 20,089ff. Cf. Gascoigne, Loci e Libro Veritatum,

123 ff.

4 Worc. Hist. Soc. Collectanea (1912). The medieval deanery of Wych

included the two modern deaneries of Droitwich and Bromsgrove. Four

sessions of the court are recorded, which dealt with 20, 22, 10 and 3 cases

respectively.

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EVERYDAY LIFE

were brought before the court for fornication. The woman confessed and abjured her sin, and was flogged once through the market place. The man was obdurate and was excommunicated.

So the tale of offenders runs on.1 The Hereford visitation also shows how prevalent immorality was in the parishes, and how the culprits were formally named to the ecclesiastical authorities at intervals.2 Little, however, that was effective was, or could be done to prevent such a state of affairs.

It was, and has remained, an inseparable part of village life, both in England and abroad, right down the ages. The Normandy village custom, whereby a marriage did not take place until it was evident that children would be born, has a long history behind it.

When the peasant felt his end approaching, what rights had he in the bestowal of his own personal goods? The right of the un-free man to make a will was for long disputed.

It opened up difficult and dangerous questions, and many lords were strongly opposed to it. Yet, as the serf found his little personal possessions growing in number and value, the question of what would happen to them after his death became a matter of interest to him.

No man wished to die intestate "for, unless death was so sudden that there was no opportunity for confession, to die intestate was probably to die unconfessed; and of the future state of a person who had thus died there could be no sure and certain hope."

Thus there arose a feeling that intestacy, except in case of sudden death, was disgraceful".3 Furthermore, the Church taught that a man's last hours were of supreme importance, and encouraged and exhorted him to "make a good end".

Among other ways of accomplishing this was the comparatively simple one of leaving a gift to the Church, so that prayers and masses might be offered up on behalf of himself, of his family and of all Christian souls.

From this it was a simple step to make provision also for the living so far as he was able. The law forbade him to leave his land to others than his heirs (and indeed, for the serf, there could be no question of this, for he only held the land from his lord),

1 The Editor points out that other rolls exist dealing with the working of the ruridecanal courts: one belonging to Lincoln of 1337, and another in the British Museum, dated 1436 (Add. MSS. 11,821).

2 See below, pp. 332ff.

3 Holdsworth, op. cit. III, 535; and cf. Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. II, 354-7.

THE PEASANT'S WILL

249

but his personal property he could dispose of as he would. In

his last moments, therefore, the priest having come, his con-

fession made, and at peace with God, he could turn to make

provision for those who would survive him. There and then, in

the presence of witnesses, he made known his ultima voluntas—

and we may readily understand that there was little need to write

down the few simple bequests of his personal property which were

all he could make. Nor was it necessary according to law. The

nuncupative, i.e. spoken, will only required the presence of two

witnesses (and there is even some doubt whether either of

these need have been a priest).1 How simple, then, in circum-

stances such as these, for men to forget or to ignore the fact that

what they were giving away was not in strict legal theory theirs

to dispose of. However the Church may have viewed the matter,

many lay lords (and many ecclesiastics in their temporal capacity

as holders of manors) saw much danger in such practices. What

was this "personal property" which the peasant was bequeathing

to his friends? It was, according to the law, the property of the

lord—had not the Abbot of Burton told his serfs that they

owned nothing but their bellies—and to admit that a man had

the right to bequeath any property was tantamount to relin-

quishing any rights in it. The lawyers finally got round the

difficulty by saying that the lord undoubtedly had the right of

seizure, but if he did not exercise it, the serf's will was valid.

The lord, however, could step in and take the chattels at any

time before probate of the will had been obtained.2

The Church, in the thirteenth century, came out boldly on the

side of the serf. As early as 1261, Boniface, Archbishop of

Canterbury, had declared that the serf had the right to make a

will,3 and this was reiterated at the Synod of Exeter in 1287.4

Evidently opposition to this was encountered throughout the

country, for in 1292 this right was included in the list of grava-

mina presented to the King by some of the Bishops.5 Again, in

1295, Archbishop Winchelsey, when complaining to the Pope

of subterfuges adopted by the Secular Courts to usurp juris-

1 Wilkins, Concilia, II, 155, and Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. II, 337 n. 5;

cf. Holdsworth, op. cit. III, 539.

2 Swinburne, Testaments, 47, 48.

3 Lyndwood, Provinciale, 171.

4 Wilkins, Concilia, II, 155.

5 Reg. Pontissara, 775.

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diction which by right belonged to Ecclesiastics, mentions that

"testamenta laicorum defunctorum liberorum et aliorum qui

servilis conditionis reputantur per dominos Feudorum im-

pediuntur".1 Lastly, at the Synod of Winchester, in 1308, and

at Canterbury in 1328 and 1342, the Church repeated its claims

on behalf of the serf.2 This continuous agitation was finally met

by a petition to the King from Parliament, which asked him to

disallow any testamentary rights to the serf, since this "is against

reason". The royal answer, "The King wills that law and reason

be done",3 shows that the Crown realised the thorny nature of

the matter, and that it were better left with only an oracular

answer.

We must not, of course, fall into the error of supposing that,

because the ecclesiastical hierarchy saw one side of this problem,

and endeavoured by threats of excommunication to enforce their

views, the whole Church throughout England was of their

opinion. It is to the credit of the Church that she took up this

attitude (the more so inasmuch as ecclesiastical holdings of land

were very large) but not every cleric was prepared to obey these

constitutions. As landowners, and therefore the lords of innu-

merable serfs and their property, many ecclesiastics (especially

corporations, such as abbeys or monasteries) were loth to assent

to a rule which definitely weakened their control over their own

peasants. Thus the monks of Vale Royal in Cheshire, in the

fourteenth century, were still asserting that their bondmen

"could not make a will, nor dispose of anything, nor have or

give any thing of all their goods, but all their goods shall remain

wholly to the lord except a penny, which is called Masspenny,

and a 'principal' to the parish church".4 The importance, as it

seems to the monks, of maintaining such a claim is clear when

we read the rubric at the head of the document: "These are the

conditions by reason of which the abbot and convent of Vale

Royal say that the people of Over are their bondmen (neiffez)."5

Another document, however, suggests that the monks were pre-

1 Reg. Pontissara, 203.

2 Wilkins, op. cit. II, 293, 553, 705.

3 Rot. Parl. II, 149 b, 150 a.

4 Vale Royal Ledger Book, 121. Principal = mortuary, see p. 144.

5 Ibid. 120.

pared to allow the making of a will so long as it was done with

the licence of the lord abbot.1

It may well be that many lords protected themselves as did the

Abbot of Ramsey on one of his manors. There a will was only

valid if made in the presence of the reeve or bailiff2—possibly as

a reminder of the lord's rights and to safeguard his interests. On

other Ramsey manors the serf was more generously treated, and

allowed to make his will without either bailiff or reeve being

present.3 Similarly, on the St Albans' manors the peasants could

make wills (presumably unfettered by the presence of the lord's

representative) which were proved before the cellarer. Those of

free men were dealt with by the superior court at St Albans

itself.4

Even with these limitations, however, the fact that wills were

encouraged by the Church, and allowed by more liberal lords, is

of considerable importance, and marked a definite stage in the

struggle for emancipation. The right to leave their personal

goods to whomsoever they would was not compatible with the

legalist's doctrines, but must have made for happiness and a

sense of security on all those manors where it flourished.

The death of the head of the family saw his wife and children

deprived of some of their goods, which were taken as "heriot"

or "mortuary", and it also left them to face the problem of suc-

cession to his unfree holdings. In theory the land belonged to the

lord and reverted to him on death, when he could re-allocate it

as he would. In very rare cases he allowed a different family to

take the holding and evicted the old tenants, but in general he

left the same family in possession, ceremonially admitting them

at the Manor Court, after due payment of gersuma and the

swearing of loyalty had been performed. Then, and only then,

could they feel safe as they saw the scribe making his entry of

the whole transaction in the Court Roll to which they could,

and did, appeal if their rights were challenged. In most manors

the widow seems to have enjoyed the privilege of holding the

tenement during her lifetime. This was called "Freebench", and

she was entitled to hold it unmolested so long as she remained

1 Vale Royal Ledger Book, 119.

2 Ramsey Cart. I, 477.

3 Ibid. I, 384, 411.

4 Wynslowe Rolls, 53 b. Cf. Seebohm, op. cit. 30.

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unmarried and chaste. It was considered to be a sign of villein tenure that the whole of the tenement went to the widow, rather than only a third or a half as would be the case in a free holding, or if the property were held at a fixed money rent.1

Such was the general practice, but it is worth noting a few examples of the ways in which men sought to protect themselves against vagaries of their lord or the uncertainty of local custom. At times, for instance, men would make a fictitious surrender of their holding during their lifetime, and would receive it back again, after payment of a fine, with the express provision, enrolled in the court, that son or daughter were to succeed.2 Or again, a man obtained leave to make over half his holding to his wife, to last for the term of her life,3 thus making sure that she would be provided for in any circumstance. A long series of customs, said to date from 1343, show us in detail the arrangements on the manors of the Abbess of Shaftesbury; and, in their complicated ingenuity, they are evidence of the many possibilities that were available there, and probably on many other manors.4 The jus viduae was well enough established throughout England to be regarded as a right on which the widow could reckon, and with which she could make bargains or demise at her convenience.

The widow who found herself left with her husband's holding was not ipso facto in an enviable position. Everything depended on the circumstances. If she had a large holding, and no able-bodied sons to cultivate it and to render her necessary obligations on the lord's demesne, she at once found herself in difficulties. The lord could not countenance his land being allowed to deteriorate through lack of cultivation, nor could he do without the work she (or her deputies) were liable to perform on his own lands. Consequently, if the widow was unable to carry out these liabilities, she was forced to surrender her holding or to make arrangements (with the lord's sanction) for the proper performance of her duties. If she surrendered them outright she

1 Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. II, 418-26. References to the widow's right will be found widespread; e.g. E.H.R. April 1928, 219; Durham Halmote Rolls, 9, 18, 85; Suff. Inst. Arch. II, 232; Som. Arch. Soc. xxx, 77; Selden Soc. IV, 121, etc.

2 Page, Camb. Hist. Soc. III, 127; cf. Crowland Estates, 109 ff.

3 Hales Rolls, 108.

4 Wilts Arch. Mag. v, 7 ff.; cf. xli, 174.

FAMILY AGREEMENTS

253

had nothing to live upon and must needs seek the charity of a

relative or neighbour. More frequently she made an agreement

with her relatives or some other person whereby she handed over

her land in return for an adequate home and proper provision

for her food and clothing. On some manors, at least, this matter

was not left as a private affair, which could be easily repudiated,

but constituted a definite binding agreement, which was enrolled

at the Manor Court and received the lord's assent. We may take

as a good example a case at Hales, in 1281, wherein a son and

his mother came to an agreement whereby Agnes, widow of

Thomas Brid, surrendered to Thomas her elder son

all the land she held in the vill or in other places, on condition that

he will, so long as she lives, honourably and fully provide for her as

follows. At Michaelmas next she shall receive from him a quarter of

wheat, a quarter of oats, and a bushel of peas. On All Saints' Day

(1 Nov.) she shall have five cart-loads of sea-coal. Eight days before

Christmas she is to have a quarter of wheat, a quarter of oats and a

bushel of peas; on Good Friday a quarter of wheat and a quarter of

oats; at Pentecost 5s. of good money; and at Midsummer half a

quarter of wheat and a quarter of oats. Also Thomas engages to build

at his own expense a suitable house for Agnes to live in, 30 feet in

length and 14 feet in width within the walls, of timber with three new

doors and two windows. And the aforesaid shall be carried out fully

from year to year so long as Agnes shall live. Thomas shall bring the

things to her door, or send them by one of his family. And Thomas

will answer to the lord for all customs and services known to belong to

the land. If Thomas has not the grain ready at the time, he must pay

her its value according to the price of the better grain in the market,

outside seed corn. And if it should happen that the terms of this

agreement are not carried out Thomas binds himself to pay half a

mark to the Pittancer of the Convent, so often as Agnes, with the

testimony of two lawful men, shall find it necessary to appeal to the

Abbot and the Convent. If this should be the case Agnes can forth-

with resume possession of the land and deal with it as she pleases in

spite of the agreement. And to ensure the perpetual force and

memory of the agreement, before it was recited word for word in the

full court, it was written down in the rental of the Abbey by the wish of

both parties, Nicholas then being Abbot, and brother Geoffrey the

Cellarer.1

Here we see that Agnes is to have a house, money and corn at

stated intervals, while other entries in these same rolls show that

1 Hales Rolls, 166.

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such arrangements were not uncommon. Sometimes a father makes over his holding to his son,1 or a brother to a brother,2 or more rarely an old man makes an arrangement with the lord.3 Sometimes elderly people make arrangements which they hope will make their declining years easier, and hand over half their tenement at once, and the whole upon their death, on condition that the recipients serve them as long as they live.4 All this is peculiar to the manor of Hales, only in so far as it is more fully stated there than in most other places. The Durham Halmote Rolls, for instance, meant much the same as is fully expressed in the arrangement between Agnes and Thomas Brid, when they said that William takes his father John’s holding and promises to sustain him “honorifice pro posse suo”.5 On another Durham manor the father is to be lodged and given 3 rods of land, i.e. one in each field, for his own,6 and Dr F. M. Page has shown how a similar practice obtained on the Cambridgeshire manors of the monks of Crowland. There she finds that

the share varied in amount and detail, but preserved the same essential characteristics. There was a “camera” or “receptaculum” (defined in 1345 as one-third of a messuage) and usually a curtilage, a toft or garden, and one strip of land “in croft” went with it. In addition, a number of strips in the common-field were given—varying from one to six, but the allowance was nearly always divided between the three fields.7

Widows then, like the old and feeble, were not uncared for under the manorial regime, and the death of the head of the family saw the rule pass into the hands of his widow and not into those of one of his sons. So long as she remained unmarried and chaste her rights remained intact. Thus, at High Bicklington, in Devon, a widow is stated to have retained a life-interest in the whole of the lands held by her husband (unless she had

1 Hales Rolls, 152, iii, 53; cf. Bed. Hist. Rec. Soc. x, 471.

2 Op. cit. 316.

3 Op. cit. 336; cf. Bed. Hist. Rec. Soc. xiii, 338k, where a widow surrenders a tenement to the Abbot of Wardon who gives her “in regard of charity” a messuage and two pair of shoes at Christmas.

4 Op. cit. iii, 38; cf. iii, 55, 93.

5 Durham Halmote Rolls, 9; cf. Manor of Manydown (Hants Rec. Soc.), 130, where the son promises to sustain his father bene et competenter.

6 Op. cit. 10; cf. 85, 115.

7 Camb. Hist. Journ. iii, 130; and cf. Crowland Estates, 109ff.

THE SECOND HUSBAND

255

previously relinquished it) and this interest could only be forfeited by some act of her own, such as re-marriage without permission or unchastity. Her re-marriage was obviously a matter of consequence, both to her lord and to her family, for it put a new man in virtual charge of the family holding for the time being. He might prove to be a good or a bad husbandman, and this would seriously affect them all. He seems to have had no more than a temporary right to the holding, however, for, according to the few cases that came before the Manor Courts, the rights of the children of the first marriage to the holding seem always to be protected at the expense of the husband and any children of the second marriage, unless the woman had been allowed to surrender her right and seisin, and it had been granted in court to her new husband.1 Such an act meant that any children of her first marriage were forever barred from her holding, and we may well believe that this did not often happen, but that, in general, a second husband was only allowed to enter on his wife's holding on sufferance, and for the term of her life—and often only during the minority of her children. In himself he had no rights, and on the death of his wife was forced to give up the holding.2

The other reason liable to cause the widow's holding to be forfeited was unchastity, for the lord had an interest in her re-marriage, and objected to any action on her part which would make that less possible or which would tend to cheapen her in the eyes of possible suitors. A West Country custom, reported on several manors, says that the widow could recover her holding if she rode into court on a ram, repeating the jingle:

Here I am,

Riding upon a black ram

Like a whore, as I am...

Therefore, I pray you, Mr Steward,

Let me have my land again.3

On the death of the widow the holding went in toto to one of the children. The division of the holding was repugnant to medieval law, and in some places the elder, in some the younger,

1 Selden Soc. II, 29.

2 Ancient Deeds, IV, 175; Cal. Inquis. Misc. II, 76 (No. 299).

3 Law Mag. New Series, XIII, 33, and cf. references there.

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son inherited. No convincing reasons have been given for this

curious state of affairs, and its history is still obscure. "Borough

English", as it came to be called by an accident—the succession

of the youngest son—was widespread, but not universal,1 except

in Kent, where all conditions of land-holding were peculiar.

1 For full discussion and references, see Pollock and Maitland, op. cit. II,

279. A useful article in Suff. Inst. Arch. II, 227ff., notes and analyses the

variations of this custom, and says that Borough English (or Gavelkind) was

law on 84 Suffolk manors, 28 Surrey manors and 135 Sussex manors.

" Merrie England"

CHAPTER X

"MERRIE ENGLAND"

THE picture which has slowly been building itself up in these pages has shown the medieval peasant in his home and in his fields, at church and at the Manor Court, and has occupied itself with many of his activities. But what, it may be asked, of his leisure? Where is the "Merrie England" which for long has been associated with this age? The questions demand an answer, both because so much absurdity has been written about a past which never existed in reality, and also because it would be a patently untrue picture of any society which omitted all account of its lighter moments.

Yet, as a preliminary, let us take one more rapid survey of the peasant's daily life, superficial and imperfect though it must inevitably be. We cannot too constantly remember that much that to us is picturesque or even amusing, bore a different aspect to the men of the thirteenth century, and we must ever be on our guard lest we impute our feelings and ideas to those remote times. When Dr Dryasdust of York, as Sir Walter Scott remarks,

is placed in his own snug parlour, and surrounded by all the comforts of an Englishman's fireside, he is not half so much inclined to believe that his own ancestors led a very different life from himself—that the shattered tower, which now forms a vista from his window, held a baron who would have hung him up at his own door without any form of trial—that the hinds, by whom his little pet farm is managed, would, a few centuries ago, have been his slaves.

We shall be making a rough guess at the medieval peasant's condition if we observe the present circumstances of the small peasant-proprietor in France, Germany or Austria. Tens of thousands of French "small-holders" are facing the daily struggle now that their forbears endured many generations ago. They are freed of week-works and boon-works, they no longer are subject to certain "customs of the country" which exact tallage or chevage, or the like, nor are they forced to grind here

260

MERRIE ENGLAND

nor sell there. But the land is always there: harsh, exacting, insatiate, and rapidly overcoming the puny efforts man can put into

it unless he is constantly fighting. And the fight is unending—the harvest is but the signal for the autumn ploughing; and the

autumn ploughing for the sowing, and so on. Season follows season: therhythmic passageof the year drags in its wake the rural

society. And this society, now as then, is a unit, a little world of its own. Necessarily the great world affects it, and the fair once a

year or the weekly markets take the villager some miles out of his own fields just as they did in the Middle Ages. But otherwise, the

village is the unit, and there in the main life goes on as it always has and (seemingly, to the peasant at least) always will. There are

a few days or hours of happiness, but on the morrow the old routine reasserts itself. Always, as the day wears on to evening,

in the falling dusk the horses and oxen are put into their stalls for the night. The cows are milked and bedded down. Lights

move about the farm outbuildings as the tired men assure themselves that everything is well for the night. Meanwhile, the

housewife, busied at her fire, tends the soup and makes all ready for the men's return. When at last they come and gather round

the table, set out with its rude and meagre cutlery and platters, the evening meal begins—bread, soup, cheese, beer—the same

meal eaten by peasants since the beginning of time as it seems. There they talk or jest or argue as the occasion serves; and, after

the meal, perhaps sit awhile by the dying embers before fatigue calls them to sleep, only in order to begin yet another day.

That is the background: and in that endless routine most of their life is spent, and so it was with their ancestors six centuries

ago. There are, however, a few days now and then given over to festivity, and a few hours snatched from this grim travail with

the soil. It is to these that we must now turn, in order to see yet another side of medieval peasant life.

We may well start with John Stow's translation of the famous account by Fitzstephen of the manner in which the Londoner of

the twelfth century refreshed himself when work was put on one side.

Every yeare also at Shrovetuesday, (that we may begin with childrens sports, seeing we al have beene children,) the schoole boyes

do bring Cockes of the game to their Master, and all the forenoone

LONDON SPORTS

261

delight themselves in Cockfighting: after dinner all the youthes go

into the fields to play at bal. The schollers of every schoole have their

ball, or [staff], in their hands : the auncient and wealthy men of the

Citie come foorth on horse-backe to see the sport of the yong men, and

to take part of the pleasure in beholding their agilitie. Every Friday

in Lent a fresh company of young men comes into the field on horse-

backe, and the best horsman conducteth the rest. Then march forth

the citizens sons, and other yong men with disarmed launces and

shields, and there practise feates of warre. . . . In Easter holy dayes they

fight batailes on the water. A shield is hanged on a pole, fixed in the

midst of the stream; a boat is prepared without oares to bee caried by

the violence of the water, and in the fore part thereof standeth a yong

man readie to give charge upon the shield with his launce; if so be

hee breaketh his launce against the shield, and doth not fall, he is

thought to have performed a worthy deed. If so be without breaking

his launce he runneth strongly against the shield, downe he falleth

into the water, for the boat is violently forced with the tide; but on

each side stand great numbers to see, and laugh therat. In the holy

dayes all the Somer the youths are exercised in leaping, dancing,

shooting, wrastling, casting the stone, and practising their shields :

the Maidens trip in their Timbrels, and daunce as long as they can

well see. In Winter, every holy day before dinner, the Boares pre-

pared for brawne are set to fight, or else Buls and Beares are bayted.

When the great fenne or Moore, which watreth the wals of the Citie

on the Northside, is frozen, many yong men play upon the yce ; some,

striding as wide as they may, do slide swiftly . . . some tie bones to their

feete, and under their heeles, and shoving themselves by a little picked

staffe, doe slide as swiftly as a bird flieth in the ayre, or an arrow out of

a Crossebow . . . thus farre Fitzstephen of Sportes. [Stow continues]