§ 2. Domesday Statistics.

Domesday’s three statements.

As a general rule the account given by Domesday Book of any manor contains three different statements about it which seem to have some bearing upon the subject of our present inquiry. (A) It will tell us that the manor is rated to the geld at a certain number of units, which units will in Kent be solins or sulungs and yokes (iuga), in Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Norfolk and Suffolk carucates and bovates (but bovates are, to say the least, rare in East Anglia), and in the rest of England hides and virgates; but acres also will from time to time appear in the statement. (B) It will tell us that the manor contains land for a certain number of teams, or for a certain number of oxen. (C) It will tell us that there are on the manor a certain number of teams, some whereof belong to the lord and some to the men.

TABLE I. STATISTICS

Modern AcreageRecorded Population (Ellis)Danegeld circ. ann 1150Hides, Carucates, Sulungs

IIIIIIIV

£s.d.

Kent975,82012,20510516101,224

Sussex932,73310,410217063,474

Surrey461,2304,3831791601,830

Hampshire1,037,76410,3731841542,588

Berkshire461,7426,3242051142,473

Wiltshire880,24810,1503891304,050

Dorset632,2727,807248502,277

[7,512 E] [2,321 E]

Somerset1,042,48813,7642771042,936

[13,307 E] [2,951 E]

Devon1,667,09717,4341031981,119

Cornwall868,2085,43822150155

Middlesex180,480(?)2,30285120868

Hertford406,9324,927110141,050

Buckingham475,0945,4202041472,074

Oxford485,3226,7752491652,412

Gloucester796,7318,366194162,388

Worcester480,3424,625101601,189

Hereford537,3635,368931561,324

Cambridge549,5655,2041141501,233

Huntingdon233,9282,9147150747

Bedford298,4943,8751101201,193

Northampton639,5418,4411191091,356

Leicester528,9866,772100002,500(?)

Warwick578,5956,5741281261,338

Stafford749,7133,1784510505

[499 E]

Shropshire859,5165,0801171861,245

Chester[655,036]2,349000512

Derby Nottingham 657,550 539,752 3,041 5,686 112 1 11 679 567

Rutland[97,273]8621112037

York[3,888,351]8,0551659510,095

Lincoln1,694,90725,305266004,188

Essex985,54516,060236802,650

Norfolk1,315,09227,08733022[2,422]

Suffolk947,74220,49123508

Continued

Hides Gelding T. R. W.TeamlandsTeamsValet (Pearson)

V VIVIIVIII

£ s.d.

3,102 5,140 9 10Kent

2,241 3,091 3,255 7 4Sussex

706 1,172 1,142 1,524 4 9Surrey

1,5722,847 2,614 Hampshire

1,3382,087 1,796 2,383 161Berkshire

3,457 2,997 Wiltshire

2,303 1,762 2,656 9 8Dorset

[2,332 E] [3,359 129E]

4,858 3,804 Somerset

[4,812 E] [4,161 4 7E]

7,972 5,542 3,220 143 Devon

399 2,377 1,187 662 1 4 Cornwall

664 545 754 7 8 Middlesex

1,716 1,406 1,541 1311 Hertford

2,244 1,952 1,813 7 9 Buckingham

2,639 2,467 3,242 2 11 Oxford

3,768 2,827 6 8 Gloucester

1,889 991 0 6 Worcester

2,479 Hereford

1,676 1,443 Cambridge

1,120 967 864 154 Huntingdon

1,557 1,367 1,096 122 Bedford

2,931 2,422 1,843 0 7 Northampton

1,817 736 3 0 Leicester

2,276 2,003 1,359 138 Warwick

1,398 951 [516 163E] Stafford

1,755 Shropshire

Chester

762 862 461 4 0 Derby

1,255 1,991 Nottingham

Rutland

York

5,043 4,712 Lincoln

3,920 4,784 108 Essex

4,853 4,154 117 Norfolk

Suffolk

TABLE II. AVERAGES.

Acreage div. by population Acreage div. by teamlands Acreage div. by teams Population div. by teamlands

IX X XI XII

Kent 79 314

Sussex 89 301

Surrey 105 393 403 3·7

Hampshire 100 364 397 3·6

Berkshire 73 221 257 3·0

Wiltshire 86 254 293 2·9

Dorset 80 274 358 3·3

Somerset 75 214 274 2·8

Devon 95 209 300 2·1

Cornwall 159 365 731 2·2

Middlesex 78 271 331 3·4

Hertford 82 237 289 2·8

Buckingham 87 211 243 2·4

Oxford 71 183 196 2·5

Gloucester 95 211

Worcester 103 254

Hereford 100 216

Cambridge 105 327 380 3·1

Huntingdon 80 208 241 2·6

Bedford 77 191 218 2·4

Northampton75 218 264 2·8

Leicester 78 291

Warwick 88 254 288 2·8

Stafford 235 536 788 2·2

Shropshire 169 489

Chester [278]

Derby 216 862 762 3·9

Nottingham 94 430 271 4·4

Rutland [112]

York [482]

Lincoln 66 336 359 5·0

Essex 61 251

Norfolk 48 270

Suffolk 46

Population div. by teams Teamlands div. by teams Total valet div. by teamland [or by teams] Experimental valet of teamland [or of land tilled by team]

XIII XIV XV XVI

£ s. d. £ s. d.

3·9 [1 13 1] 1 14 11 Kent

3·3 [1 1 0] 0 18 3 Sussex

3·8 1·02 1 6 0 1 0 8 Surrey

3·9 1·08 1 2 6 Hampshire

3·5 1·16 1 2 4 1 2 10 Berkshire

3·3 1·15 1 4 4 Wiltshire

4·4 1·30 1 3 0 1 6 8 Dorset

3·6 1·27 0 15 9 Somerset

3·1 1·43 0 8 0 0 5 3 Devon

4·5 2·00 0 5 6 0 3 8 Cornwall

4·2 1·21 1 2 8 1 1 1 Middlesex

3·5 1·22 0 17 11 0 13 11 Hertford

2·7 1·14 0 16 1 0 13 6 Buckingham

2·7 1·06 1 4 6 1 0 8 Oxford

2·2 [0 15 0] [0 16 1] Gloucester

2·4 [0 10 5] [0 10 7] Worcester

2·1 [0 9 11] Hereford

3·6 1·16 1 2 9 Cambridge

3·0 1·15 0 15 5 0 12 2 Huntingdon

2·8 1·13 0 14 1 0 15 4 Bedford

3·4 1·21 0 9 9 Northampton

3·7 0 9 8 Leicester

3·2 1·13 0 11 11 0 10 10 Warwick

3·3 1·47 0 7 4 0 8 8 Stafford

2·8 [0 7 2] Shropshire

Chester

3·5 0·88 0 12 1 0 11 7 Derby

2·8 0·63 0 3 6 Nottingham

Rutland

York

5·3 1·07 0 17 6 Lincoln

4·0 [1 4 4] Essex

5·5 [0 17 1] Norfolk

Suffolk

Northern formulas.

We may begin our investigation with a formula common in Derbyshire.

In M [place name] habuit K [man’s name] a car[ucatas] terrae ad geldum. Terra b car[ucarum or carucis]. Ibi nunc in dominio d car[ucae] et ... villani et ... bordarii habent e car[ucas].

The Lincolnshire formula is perhaps yet plainer. Instead of saying ‘Terra b car[ucarum],’ it says, ‘Terra ad b car[ucas].’ Still more instructive is a formula used in Yorkshire.

In M habuit K a car[ucatas] terrae ad geldum ubi possunt esse b car[ucae]. Nunc habet ibi K d car[ucas] et ... villanos et ... bordarios cum e car[ucis].

As a variant on the phrase ‘ubi possunt esse b car[ucae],’ we have, ‘quas potest arare 1 car[uca],’ or ‘has possunt arare b car[ucae][1340].’

The teams on the demesne (d) and the teams of the tenants (e) are enumerated separately. The total number of the teams (d + e) we will call c.

Now occasionally we may find an entry concerning which the following equation will hold good: a = b = c: in other words, the same number will stand for the carucates at which the manor is taxed, the ‘teamlands’ that there are in it (or to put it another way the number of teams that ‘can be there,’ or the number of teams that ‘can plough it’[1341]) and also for the teams that are actually to be found there. Thus:—

Terra Roberti de Todeni.... In Ulestanestorp habuit Leuricus 4 car[ucatas] terrae ad geldum. Terra totidem car[ucis]. Ibi habet Robertus in dominio 1 car[ucam] et 6 villanos et 3 bordarios et 8 sochemannos habentes 3 car[ucas][1342].

Here a = b = c. But entries so neat as this are not very common. In the first place, the number (c) of teams often exceeds or falls short of the number (b) of ‘teamlands,’ or, which is the same thing, the number of teams that there ‘can be.’ An excess of ‘teamlands’ over teams is common. In some parts of Yorkshire and elsewhere instead of reading that there are so many teams, we read ‘modo vasta est’:—there are no oxen there at all. But the reverse of this case is not very uncommon. Thus we may be told that there are 3 carucates for geld, that ‘there can be there 2 teams’ and that there are 4 teams[1343]; we may find a manor that contains land for but 3 teams equipped with as many as 7[1344]. As to the relation between a and b, this is not fixed. On one and the same page we may find that a is equal to, greater and less than b. Thus in Lincolnshire[1345]:

In Colebi habuit Siuuard 7 car. terrae ad geldum. Terra ad totidem car.

In Cherchebi habuit Comes Morcar 5 car. terrae ad geldum. Terra ad 4 car.

In Bodebi habuit Comes Morcar 8 car. terrae ad geldum. Terra ad 9 car.

Southern formulas.

Leaving now for a while the carucated part of England and postponing our visit to Kent, we find similar formulas. They tell us (A) that the manor contains a certain number of units of assessment, (B) that there is land for a certain number of teams, (C) that there are so many teams upon it. But we have a new set of units of assessment; instead of carucates and bovates, we have hides and virgates. The Huntingdonshire formula is particularly clear. It runs thus:

In M habet K a hidas ad geldum. Terra b car[ucarum or carucis]. Ibi nunc in dominio d car[ucae] et ... villani et ... bordarii habentes e car[ucas].

The number of hides that is put before us is the number of hides ‘for geld.’ So in Cheshire and Shropshire the number of hides that is put before us is the number of ‘hidae geld[antes].’ From this we easily pass to the formula that prevails in Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset and Devon:

K tenet M. T[empore] R[egis] E[dwardi] geldabat pro a hidis. Terra est b car[ucarum]. In dominio sunt d car[ucae] et ... villani et ... bordarii cum e car[ucis].

A formula common in Sussex, Surrey and several other counties instead of telling us that this manor has a hides for geld, or has a gelding hides, or gelds for a hides, tells us—what seems exactly the same thing—that it ‘defends itself’ for a hides. Then we pass to counties such as Middlesex, Hertford, Buckingham and Oxford where the entry does not commonly use any words which explicitly refer to geld:—we are told that K holds M for so many hides (pro a hidis). Lastly, we may pass to counties, such as Warwickshire and Staffordshire where, at first sight, the entries may seem to us ambiguous. They run thus—‘K holds M. There are there a hides. There is land for b teams.’ Here for a moment it may seem to us that we have two different statements about the actual extent or capacity of the manor:—there are a hides there, but land for b teams. But comparing the formulas in use here with those in use in other counties, we can hardly doubt that they all come to one and the same thing:—a statement about b, the capacity of the manor, is preceded by a statement about its taxation, which statement may take the short form, ‘There are a hides there,’ instead of one of the longer forms, ‘It gelds, or defends itself, for a hides,’ or ‘He holds a gelding hides, or a hides for geld.’

Kentish formulas.

In Kent again, we have the three statements, though here the units of assessment are sulungs and yokes:—the land ‘defends itself’ for a sulungs; there is land there for b teams; there are d teams in demesne and the men have e teams.

Relation between the three statements.

In the hidated south, as in the carucated north, the relation between the three amounts is not invariable. We may find that a = b = c. It is common to find that c is less than b, but occasionally it is greater; on one and the same page we may find that c is equal to, is greater, is less than b. Then a is often equal to b, often it is less than b, but sometimes it is greater. We have therefore three statements about the manor, between which there is no necessary connexion of any very simple kind.

It may look pedantic, but will be convenient if, by means of the letters A, B and C, we try to keep distinctly before our minds ‘the A statement’ about the units of assessment, ‘the B statement’ about the ‘teamlands,’ or teams for which ‘there is land,’ and ‘the C statement’ about the existing teams. We shall find hereafter that there are certain counties in which we do not get all three statements, at least in any of their accustomed forms. In Gloucestershire, Worcestershire and Herefordshire we rarely get the B statement. As to Essex, Norfolk and Suffolk, we seem at first sight to obtain A and not B, or B and not A, while Leicestershire will require separate treatment.

Introduction of statistics.

Now if we are ever to understand these matters, it is necessary that we should look at the whole of England. Far be it from us to say that microscopic labour spent upon one county or one hundred is wasted; often it is of the highest value; but such work is apt to engender theories which break down the moment they are carried outside the district in which they had their origin. Well would it be if the broad features of Domesday Book could be set out before us in a series of statistical tables. The task would be gigantic and could hardly be performed except by a body of men who had plenteous leisure and who would work together harmoniously. However, rather to suggest what might and some day must be done, than to parade what has been done rapidly and badly, some figures have been set forth above in two tables[1346]. That they are extremely inaccurate can not be doubtful, for he who compiled them had other things to do and lacks many of the qualities which should be required of a good counter of hides. For unmethodical habits and faulty arithmetic no excuse is possible; but it will be remembered that, as matters now stand, two men not unskilled in Domesday might add up the number of hides in a county and arrive at very different results, because they would hold different opinions as to the meaning of certain formulas which are not uncommon. What is here set before the reader is intended to be no more than a distant approach towards the truth. It will serve its end if it states the sort of figures that would be obtained by careful and leisurely computers, and therefore the sort of problems that have to be solved[1347].

Explanation of statistics.

Sidenote: Acreage.

We must now explain our statistics. In Column I. we give the acreage of the modern counties[1348]. A warning bracket will remind the reader that in the cases of Yorkshire, Cheshire and Rutland the modern does not coincide even approximately with the ancient boundary. To Middlesex we give a figure larger than that given by our statisticians, for they know a county of London which has been formed at the expense of its neighbours[1349]. Many minor variations should be remembered by those who would use Domesday Book for delicate purposes; for example, they must call to mind the merger in circumambient shires of what were once detached pieces of other counties. But of such niceties we can here take no account[1350].

Population.

In Column II. we state the ‘recorded population’ as computed by Ellis. In the cases of Dorset and Somerset we also state, and we sign with the letter E, the result of Eyton’s labours. We must not forget that these figures give us rather the number of tenants or occupiers than the number of human beings. Our readers must multiply them by four, five or six, according to knowledge or taste, before the population of England will be attained.

Danegeld.

In Column III., for a reason that will become evident hereafter, we place the amount of danegeld charged against the counties—charged against them, not actually paid by them[1351]—in the middle of the twelfth century. The sources of these figures are the Pipe Rolls of 31 Henry I. and 2 and 8 Henry II. In these accounts the amount charged against a county is approximately constant. Some of the variations are probably due to a contemptuous treatment of small sums[1352]; but there are cases in which a sheriff seems to have been allowed to deduct £10 or so, without any recorded explanation[1353]. We choose the highest figures when there is any discord between our three rolls. The danegeld was being levied at the rate of two shillings on the hide, and therefore, if we would find the number of geldant hides, we have to multiply by ten the number of pounds that are set against the county.

Hides, carucates, sulungs.

Column IV. contains our estimate of A: in other words, of the number of hides, carucates or sulungs. As we are arguing for a large hide, we have thought right in doubtful cases to lean in favour of inclusion rather than of exclusion. We count all hides, except those ascribed to the shire’s boroughs[1354], even though we are told that they have ‘never’ gelded. Also, when a hide is mentioned, we count it, even though we have a strong suspicion that the same hide is mentioned again on some other page. Especially in Sussex, where the rapes have recently been rearranged, this may make our figures too high[1355]. Then, again, we have frankly begged important questions by assuming that in Domesday Book the following equations are correct.

1 Hide= 4 Virgates= 120 Acres

1 Carucate= 8 Bovates= 120 Acres

1 Sulung= 4 Yokes= 120 Acres.

In the counties with which we have dealt, except Norfolk and Essex (Suffolk we have left alone), acres are so rarely mentioned that the error, if any, introduced by our hypothesis as to their relation to hides and carucates will be almost infinitesimal, and, even if we are wrong in supposing that the virgate is the quarter of a hide and that the bovate is the eighth of a carucate, the vitiation of our results that will be due to this blunder will but rarely be considerable[1356].

Reduced hidage.

Almost everywhere we may find some hides (carucates, sulungs) that do not geld and many cases in which a tract now gelds for a smaller number of hides (carucates, sulungs) than that for which it formerly paid. In four counties, however, Sussex, Surrey, Hampshire and Berkshire, we see that since William’s advent there has, rightfully or wrongfully, been a large and generally distributed reduction in the tale of the gelding hides. In our Column V. we give a rough statement of the reduced number[1357]. In Cornwall we read of an assessment that prevailed in the Confessor’s day and of a heavier assessment. The figures which speak of this heavier assessment we place in our Column V[1358].

The teamlands.

We now pass from A to B. In Column VI. we set the number of teamlands, thus answering the question Quot carucarum [carucis] ibi est terra. We have assumed, but this rarely has an appreciable effect on our calculations, that the land of one ox is the eighth, the land of two oxen the fourth part of the land of one team. There are certain counties where we receive no statement about the teamlands, while in certain others the statement, though it seems to be expected, is often omitted[1359]. For this reason some blanks will be found in this column. In most of the other counties instances occur with more or less frequency in which nothing is said of the teamlands. In these cases we have thought it fair to assume that there were teamlands equal in number to the teams (B = C). The effect of this assumption will be to bring the number of teamlands (B) somewhat closer to the number of teams (C) than it would otherwise have been, but no very great harm will have thus been done to our rude statistics[1360].

The teams.

Column VII. gives the number of teams. Here we assume (we shall endeavour to prove hereafter) that the caruca of Domesday Book always means the same, namely, eight oxen[1361].

The values.

Lastly in Column VIII. we place the results attained by Pearson[1362] and Eyton in their endeavours to add together the various sums which the various estates in a shire are said to be worth (valet) or to render (reddit) in the Conqueror’s day, and to thus obtain a total valet for the shire. We need hardly say that these values are ‘annual values.’

The table of ratios.

The relations between our divers sets of figures are more important than the figures themselves, therefore we have worked the division sums the results of which are printed in the second Table, the first seven columns whereof are filled by quotients[1363]. The last column calls for more remark. The valets obtained for the various counties by Pearson and Eyton are somewhat precarious. They involve theories as to the relation between the values of gold and silver, as to the relation between the value of a pound reckoned by tale and a pound reckoned by weight, as to ‘blanched’ money and the cost of ‘a night’s farm.’ Also a good deal is included that can hardly be called the value of land, since it comprehends, not only the value of mills and the like, but also in some cases the revenue derived from courts. In order therefore that we might compare the values given to land in the various counties, we have taken at hazard a number of small estates in order that we might by addition and division obtain the value of a typical teamland with typical appurtenances. In general we have chosen ten estates each of which has one teamland, ten estates each of which has two teamlands and ten estates each of which has five teamlands, and then we have divided the sum of their values by eighty, the number of teamlands that they comprise. On the whole, the figures that we thus obtain and place in Column XVI. are not widely removed from those in Column XV., which represent the quotients arising from a division of Pearson’s ‘county values’ by the number of teamlands that are contained in the counties[1364].

An apology.

In order that not too much credence and yet just credence enough may be given to the figures that we have hastily put together, we will set beside those that we have stated for Gloucestershire the results of a minute analysis accomplished by Mr Charles Taylor[1365]. We have set down: Population, 8366 (from Ellis); Hides, 2388; Teams, 3768; Total Valet, £2827 6s. 8d. (from Pearson). Mr Taylor gives: Population, 8239[1366]; Hides, 2611 (or 2596); Teams, 3909; Total Valet, £3130 7s. 10d. Now these variations are wide and may in some sort be discreditable to those who differ from Mr Taylor[1367]. But they are not very substantial if we come to averages and ratios and a comparison of counties. For the purposes for which we shall use our figures, it is no great matter whether in this county there are 2·1 or 2·2 ‘recorded men’ to the plough-team[1368]. The broad features of Gloucestershire are that its hides fall far short of its teams, that its recorded population is sparse, that the average value of the land tilled by a team falls well below twenty shillings, that this shire differs markedly and in certain assignable respects from Wiltshire, where the hides exceed the teams, from Lincoln, where, despite the fen, the population is thick, from Kent, where the average value of land tilled by a team rises above thirty shillings[1369].

Constancy of ratios.

Our figures tell of wide variations; but we may be allowed to call attention to the stability of certain ratios, a stability which is gratifying to the diffident arithmetician. In twenty-one counties we can divide ‘the recorded population’ by the number of teamlands. The quotient never falls as low as 2 and only twice exceeds 4[1370]. For the same twenty-one counties we can divide the number of teamlands by the number of teams. Only twice will the quotient fall below 1 and only once will it touch 2. We must not, however, be led away into a general discussion of these figures. That task would require a wary and learned economist. We must keep our minds bent on what may be called the A B C of our subject[1371].

The team.

Now we may start with what seems to be the most objective of our three statements, that which gives us C, the number of teams. We know that in A there is an element of estimation, of assessment; we may fear that this is true of B also; but an ox or a team ought to be a fact and not a theory. At the outset, however, a troublesome question arises. We have assumed that whenever our record speaks of a caruca it means eight oxen. On the other hand, there are who maintain that whereas the carucae of the demesne consisted of eight, those ascribed to the villeins comprised but four oxen[1372], and others have thought that the strength of Domesday’s caruca varied from place to place with the varying practice of divers agriculturists.

Variability of the caruca.

But, in the first place, it is abundantly clear that the clerk who compiled the account of Cambridgeshire from the original verdicts held himself at liberty to substitute ‘half a team’ for ‘four oxen’ and ‘four oxen’ for ‘half a team[1373].’ In the second place, the theory of a variable caruca would in our eyes reduce to an absurdity the practice of stating the capacity of land in terms of the teams and the oxen that can plough it. We are carefully told about each estate that ‘there is land for b teams, or for b´ oxen, or for b teams and b´ oxen.’ Now if a ‘team’ has always the same meaning, we have here a valuable truth. If, on the other hand, a ‘team’ may mean eight or may mean four oxen, we are being told next to nothing. The apparently precise ‘there is land for 4 teams’ becomes the useless ‘there is land for 32 or 16 or for some number between 32 and 16 oxen.’ What could the statesmen, who were hoping to correct the assessment of the danegeld, make of so vague a statement? They propose to work sums in teams and teamlands. They spend immense pains in ascertaining that here there is ‘land for half a team’ or ‘land for half an ox.’ We are accusing them of laborious folly unless we suppose that they can at a moment’s notice convert teams into oxen.

The caruca a constant.

If it be allowed that in the statement (B) about the number of teamlands the term caruca has always the same meaning, we cannot stop there, but must believe that in the statement (C) about the number of teams this same meaning is retained. Often enough when there is equality between teamlands and teams (C = B), the entry takes the following form:—There is land for b teams and ‘they’ are there[1374]. What are there? The teams for which ‘there is land’: those teams which are serving as a measure for the capacity of land. Let us try the two modes of interpretation on the first lines that strike our eye. Here we have two successive entries, each of which tells us that ‘there is land for 6 teams[1375].’ If the caruca is a constant, we have learnt that in one particular there is equality between these estates. If the caruca is a variable, we have learnt nothing of the kind. Let us see what we can gain by reading further. In the one case there were 3 teams on the demesne and the villeins had 6¹⁄₂; in the other there were 2 teams on the demesne, the villeins had 2 and the sokemen 2. We want to know whether the second of these estates is under-teamed or over-teamed. There is land for 6 teams and there are 6 teams on it; but 2 of these teams belong to villeins and 2 to sokemen. If we give the villeins but 4 oxen to the team, how many shall we give the sokemen? Shall we say 6? If so, there are 36 oxen here. Is that too many or too few or just enough for the arable land that there is? That is an unanswerable question, for the king’s commissioners have been content with the statement that the number of oxen appropriate to this estate lies somewhere between 23 and 49

The villeins’ teams.

Surely when we are told that 8 sokemen have ‘2 teams and 6 oxen’ or that 9 sokemen and 5 bordiers have ‘3 teams and 7 oxen[1376],’ we are being told that the teams in question have no less than eight oxen apiece. Surely when we are told that there are 23 villeins and 5 bordiers with 2 teams and 5 oxen[1377], we are being told that the teams of these villeins are not teams of four. And what are we to say of cases in which a certain number of teams is ascribed to a number of persons who belong to various classes, as for example when 6 villeins and 7 bordiers and 2 sokemen are said to have 3 teams and 5 oxen[1378], or where 3 villeins, 2 bordiers, a priest and a huntsman are said to have one team and 6 oxen[1379], or where 19 radknights ‘with their men’ are said to have 48 teams[1380]? Even if we suppose that the officers of the exchequer have tables which tell them how many oxen a caruca implies when it is attributed to a Northamptonshire sokeman or a Gloucestershire radknight, we are still setting before them insoluble problems. The radknights of Berkeley ‘with their men’ have 48 teams:—this may cover less than 200 or more than 300 oxen. And yet the record that is guilty of this laxity will tell us how in Bedfordshire Terra est dimidio bovi, et ibi est semibos[1381].

The villeins’ oxen.

The main argument that has been urged in favour of a variable caruca is that which, basing itself on later documents, protests that a villein ought not to have more than two oxen[1382]. Now true it seems to be that if by the number of the teams belonging to the villani and bordarii of Domesday Book we divide the number of villani plus half the number of bordarii (and this would be a fair procedure), we shall obtain as our quotient a figure that will be much nearer to 2 than to 4. But it must be common ground to all who read our record that some villeins are much better supplied with oxen than are their neighbours, and that some villeins have whole teams, whatever a ‘team’ may mean. There is so much difference in this respect between manor and manor that we are not justified in talking of any particular number of oxen as the normal outfit of the villanus, and outside of Domesday Book we have far too little evidence to sanction the dogma that the average number must stand close to 2[1383]. Even the villein virgater on the monastic manors of the thirteenth century is often expected to have four oxen, and his having eight is a possibility that must be contemplated[1384].

Light and heavy ploughs.

That light as well as heavy ploughs were in use we have not denied. At a little later time we see teams of six beasts and teams of ten engaged in ploughing. But the compilers of Domesday Book are not concerned with the methods of husbandry; they are registering the number of oxen. If a man has one ox which is employed as a beast of the plough, they say of him: Arat cum uno bove[1385]. If he and another man have such an ox between them, they say: Ibi est semibos. If he has four oxen, they set this down as dimidia caruca. Instead of telling us that there are thirty-eight oxen, they speak of five teams less two oxen[1386]. Twelve pence make a shilling; and, at all events at the Exchequer, eight oxen make a team.

The team of Domesday and other documents.

Very lately an argument has been advanced in favour of a caruca, the strength of which varies from place to place. In many instances the Black Book of Peterborough in its description of the abbatial estates will give to the demesne of a particular manor exactly the same number of teams that are ascribed to it by Domesday Book, and, while in some cases the later of these documents will tell us that there are eight oxen to the team, in others it will speak of teams of six[1387]. That there is force in this argument we must admit; but many changes will take place in forty years, and we can not think that the correspondence between the two documents is sufficiently close to warrant the inference that the caruca of Domesday can have fewer beasts than eight. An exactly parallel argument would serve to prove that the hide of Domesday contains a variable number of fiscal ‘acres.’ Were it possible (but we shall see that it is not) for us to regard the teamland of Domesday as a fixed area, then we might afford to allow the strength of the team to vary; but if the teamland is no fixed area and the team has no fixed strength, then King William’s inquest ends in a collection of unknown quantities.

The teamland.

We turn from the team (C) to the teamland (B), and must face some perplexing questions. Reluctantly we have come to the opinion that this term ‘the land of (or for) one team’ does not in the first instance denote a fixed areal quantity of arable land. We have adopted this opinion reluctantly because we are differing from some of the best expositors of our record, and because it compels us to say that many of the statistical data with which that record provides us are not so useful as we hoped that they would be.

Fractional parts of the teamland.

In the first place, we must notice that if this term stands for a fixed quantity, a very rude use is being made of it. We see indeed that fractional parts of a teamland can be conceived. We often meet the land of (or for) half a team; we may come upon the land of or for two oxen, one ox, half an ox. But, except in a few counties, any mention of fractions smaller than the half of a team is rare, and even halves seldom occur. Now certainly the teamland was a large unit for such treatment as this. If, for instance, we suppose that it contained 120 acres, then we must infer that in some shires the jurors who had to describe a mass of 420 acres would have called it land for 3 or else land for 4 teams, and that in most shires an odd 80 acres would have been neglected or would have done duty as half a teamland. The hides or the carucates (A) have often been split into small fractions where the jurors distribute integral teamlands. One example of this common phenomenon shall be given. In Grantchester lie six estates[1388]:

The teamland does not break up easily. As a general rule, we only hear of fractional parts of it when the jurors are compelled to deal with a tenement so small that it can not be said to possess even one teamland[1389].

Land for oxen and wood for swine.

In passing we observe that this phrase, ‘There is land for x teams’ finds exact parallels in two other phrases that are not very uncommon, namely, ‘There is pasture for y sheep’ and ‘There is wood for z pigs’: also that the values given to y and z are often large and round. It may be that the jurors have in their minds equations which connect the area of a wood or pasture with its power of feeding swine or sheep, but an extremely lax use must be made of these equations when the number of sheep is fixed at a neat hundred or the number of pigs at a neat thousand, nor dare we say that the quality of the grass and trees has no influence upon the computation.

Teamland no areal unit.

Secondly, we observe that the teamland when it does break into fractional parts does not break into virgates, bovates, acres, roods, or any other units which we can regard as units in a scheme of areal measurement[1390]. The eighth of a teamland is the land of (or for) an ox. If we wish to speak of the sixteenth of a teamland, we must introduce the half-ox. Now had the jurors been told to state the quantity of the arable land comprised in a tenement, they had at their command plenty of words which would have served this purpose. No sooner will they have told us that there is land for two teams, than they will add that there are five acres of meadow and a wood which is three furlongs in length by two in breadth. We infer that they have not been asked to state the area of the arable. They have been asked to say something about it, but not to state its area.

The commissioners and the teamlands.

What had they been asked to say? Here we naturally turn to that well-known introduction to the Inquisitio Eliensis which professes to describe the procedure of the commissioners and which at many points corresponds with the contents of Domesday Book[1391]. We read that the barons made inquiry about the number of the hides (A) and the number of the teams (C); we do not read any word about the teamlands (B). Quot hidae they must ask; Quot carucae[1392] in dominio et quot hominum they must ask; Quot carucis ibi est terra—there is no such question. On the other hand, the jurors are told to give all the particulars thrice over (hoc totum tripliciter), once with reference to King Edward’s day, once with reference to the date when the Conqueror bestowed the manor, and once with reference to the present time.

The teamlands of Great Domesday.

Now, if these be the interrogatories that the justiciars administered to the jurors, then the answering verdicts as they are recorded in Great Domesday err both by defect and by excess. On the one hand, save when they are dealing with the geld or the value of a tenement, they rarely give any figures from King Edward’s day, and still seldomer do they speak about the date of the Conqueror’s feoffments. Our record does not systematically report that whereas there are now four teams on this manor, there were five in the Confessor’s reign and three when its new lord received it. On the other hand, we obtain the apparently unasked for information that ‘there is land for five teams.’

The teams of Little Domesday.

We turn to Little Domesday and all is altered. Here the words of the writ seem to be punctually obeyed. The particulars are stated three times over, the words tunc, post and modo pointing to the three periods. Thus we learn how many teams there were when Edward was living and when the Conqueror gave the land away. On the other hand, we are not told how many teams ‘could till’ that land, though if the existing teams are fewer than those that were ploughing in time past, it will sometimes be remarked that the old state of things could be ‘restored[1393].’

The Leicestershire formulas.

Next we visit Leicestershire. We may open our book at a page which will make us think that the account of this shire will be very similar to those reports that are typical of Great Domesday. We read that Ralph holds four carucates; that there is land for four teams; that there are two teams on the demesne while the villeins have two[1394]. But then, alternating with entries which run in this accustomed form, we find others which, instead of telling us that there is land for so many teams, will tell us that there were so many upon it in the time of King Edward[1395]. Perhaps, were this part of the survey explored by one having the requisite knowledge, he would teach us that the jurors of some wapentakes use the one formula while the other is peculiar to other wapentakes; but, as the record stands, the variation seems due to the compiling clerk. Be that as it may, we can hardly read through these Leicestershire entries without being driven to believe that substantially the same piece of information is being conveyed to us now in one and now in the other of two shapes that in our eyes are dissimilar. To say, ‘There were four teams here in King Edward’s day’ is much the same as to say, ‘There is land here for four teams.’ Conversely, to say, ‘There is land here for four teams’ is much the same as to say,‘There were four teams here in King Edward’s day.’ For an exact equivalence we must not contend; but if the commissioners get the one piece of information they do not want the other. On no single occasion, unless we are mistaken, are both put on record[1396].

Origin of the inquiry about the teamlands.

When we have thought over these things, we shall perhaps fashion for ourselves some such guess as that which follows. The original scheme of the Inquest was unnecessarily cumbrous. The design of collecting the statistics of the past broke down. Let us imagine a similar attempt made in our own day. Local juries are summoned to swear communal verdicts about the number of horses and oxen that the farmers were keeping twenty years ago. Roughly, very roughly true would such verdicts be, although no foreign invasion, no influx of alien men and words and manners divides us from the fortieth year of Queen Victoria. In Essex, Norfolk and Suffolk some sort of answer about these matters was extracted from the jurors; but frequently they report that the arrangements which exist now have always existed, and by this they mean that they cannot remember any change. Now, when we fail to find in Great Domesday any similar figures, we may ascribe this to one of two causes. Either the commissioners did not collect statistics, or the compilers did not think them worthy of preservation. In some cases the one supposition may be true, in other cases the other. We may be fairly certain that in many or all counties the horses and the pigs and the ‘otiose animals’ that were extant in 1086 were enumerated in the verdicts[1397]. Also we know that Domesday Book is no mere transcript, but is an abstract or digest, and we have cause for believing that those who made it held themselves free to vary the phrases used by the jurors, provided that no material change was thus introduced[1398]. Howbeit, to come to the question that is immediately before us, our evidence seems to tell us that the commissioners and their master discovered that the original programme of the inquest was unnecessarily cumbrous. Once and again in more recent days has a similar discovery been made by royal commissioners. So some interrogatories were dropped.

Modification of the inquiry.

Then we suspect that the inquiry about the number of oxen that were ploughing in Edward’s day became a more practicable, if looser, inquiry about the number of oxen capable of tilling the land. The transition would not be difficult. What King William really wants to know is the agricultural capacity of the tenement. He learns that there are now upon it so many beasts of the plough. But this number may be accidentally large or accidentally small. With an eye to future taxation, he wishes for figures expressive of the normal condition of things. But, according to the dominant idea of his reign, the normal condition of things is their Edwardian condition, that in which they stood before the usurper deforced the rightful heir. And so these two formulas which we see alternating in the account of Leicestershire really do mean much the same thing: ‘There is land for x teams’: ‘There were x teams in the time of King Edward.’

Inquiry as to potential teams.

But if we suppose the justices abandoning the question ‘How many teams twenty years ago?’ in favour of ‘How many teams can there be?’ we see that, though they are easing their task and enabling themselves to obtain answers in the place of silence, they are also substituting for a matter of pure fact what may easily become a matter of opinion. They have left the actual behind and are inquiring about potentialities. They will now get answers more speedily; but who eight centuries afterwards will be able to analyze the mental processes of which these answers are the upshot? It is possible that a jury sets to work with an equation which connects oxen with area, for example, one which tells that a team can plough 120 acres. It is but too possible that this equation varies from place to place and that the commissioners do not try to prevent variations. They are not asking about area; they are asking about the number of teams requisite for the tillage of the tenement. With this and its value as data, William’s ministers hope to correct the antiquated assessments. Some of the commissioners may allow the jurors to take the custom of the district as a guide, while others would like to force one equation on the whole country. Our admiration for Domesday Book will be increased, not diminished, if we remember that it is the work not of machines but of men. Some of the justices seem to have thought that the inquiry about potential teams (B) was not of the first importance, not nearly so important as the inquiries about actual teams (C) and gelding units (A). In various counties we see many entries in which Terra est is followed by a blank space. In Gloucester, Worcester and Hereford we find no systematic mention of teamlands, but only occasional reports which show that at certain places there might be more teams than there are. At the end of the account of the Bishop of Worcester’s triple hundred of Oswaldslaw (an account so favourable to S^t. Mary that it might have been dictated by her representative) we find the remark that in none of these manors could there be any more teams than now are there[1399]. The bishop, who fully understands the object of the inquest, does not mean to have his assessment raised, and the justices are compelled to take the word of jurors every one of whom is the vassal of S^t. Mary.

Normal relation between teams and teamlands.

We know so little as to the commissioners’ intentions, in particular so little as to any design on their part to force upon the whole country some one equation connecting oxen with area, that the task which is set before us if we would explain the relation between the number of the teams (C) and the number of the teamlands (B) that we find in a given county is sometimes an intricate and perhaps insoluble problem. If England be taken as a whole, the two numbers will stand very close to each other. In some counties, for example in Lincolnshire, if at the foot of each page we add up the particulars, we shall long remain in doubt whether B or C will be the greater when our final sum is made. In county after county we shall find a large number of entries in which B = C, and, though there will always be some cases in which, the tenement being waste, C descends to zero, and others in which C is less than B, still the deficiency will be partially redressed by instances in which B falls short of C. On the whole, the relation between the two is that which we might expect. Often there is equality; often the variation is small; but an excess on the part of B is commoner than an excess on the part of C, and when the waste teamlands have been brought into the account, then in most counties B will usually exceed C by 10 per cent, or little more. There are, however, some marked and perplexing exceptions to this rule[1400].

Deficiency of teams in the south-west.

As we pass through the southern counties from east to west, the ratio borne by the teamlands to the teams steadily increases, until ascending by leaps it reaches 1.43:1 (or thereabouts) in Devon and 2:1 in Cornwall. Now to all seeming we are not in a country which has recently been devastated; it is not like Yorkshire; we find no large number of ‘waste’ or unpopulated or unvalued estates. Here and there we may see a tenement which has as many teams as it has teamlands; but in the great majority of cases the preponderance of teamlands is steadily maintained. What does this mean? One conceivable explanation we may decidedly reject. It does not mean a relatively scientific agriculture which makes the most of the ox. Nor does it mean a fertile soil[1401]. Our figures seem to show that men are sparse and poor; also they are servile. We suspect their tillage to be of that backward kind which ploughs enormous tracts for a poor return. Arva per annos mutant et superest ager. Of the whole of the land that is sometimes ploughed, they sow less than two-thirds or a half in any one year: perhaps they sow one-third only, so that of the space which the royal commissioners reckon as three teamlands two-thirds are always idle. We must remember that in modern times the husbandry that prevailed in Cornwall was radically different from that which governed the English open fields. It was what the agrarian historians of Germany call a Feldgrasswirtschaft[1402]. That perhaps is the best explanation which we can give of this general and normal excess of teamlands over teams. But to this we may add that systems of mensuration and assessment which fitted the greater part of England very well, may have fitted Devon, Cornwall and some other western counties very badly[1403]. Those systems are the outcome of villages and spacious common fields where, without measurement, you count the ‘acres’ and the plough-lands or house-lands, and they refuse to register with any accuracy the arrangements of the Celtic hamlets, or rather trevs of the west.

Actual and potential teamlands.

It is by no means impossible that when the commissioners came to a county which was very sparsely peopled (and in Cornwall each ‘recorded man’ might have had near 160 acres of some sort or another all to himself) their question about the number of teamlands or about the number of teams ‘that could plough there’ became a question about remote possibilities, rather than about existing or probable arrangements, and that the answer to it became mere guesswork. On one occasion in Cornwall they are content with the statement that there is land for ‘fifteen or thirty teams[1404].’ In the description of a wasted tract of Staffordshire we see six cases close together in which two different guesses as to the number of the potential teamlands are recorded[1405]:—‘There is land for two teams’, but ‘or three’ is interlined. Five times ‘or two’ is written above ‘one,’ Now this is of importance, for perhaps we may see in it the key to the treatment that wasted Yorkshire receives. How much arable land is there in this village? Well, if by ‘arable land’ you mean land that is ploughed, there is none. If you do not mean this, if you are speaking of a ‘waste’ vill where no land has been ploughed these fifteen years, then you must be content with a speculative answer[1406]. If the ruined cottages were rebuilt and inhabited, if oxen and men were imported, then employment might be found for four or five teams. Called to speculate about these matters, the Yorkshire jurors very naturally catch hold of any solid fact which may serve as a base for computations. This fact they seem to find in the geld assessment. This estate is rated to the geld at two carucates; the assessment seems tolerably fair; so they say that two teams would plough the land. Or again, this estate is rated to the geld at four carucates; but its assessment is certainly too high, so let it be set down for two teamlands[1407]. Even in other parts of the country the jurors may sometimes avail themselves of this device. In particular there are tracts in which they are fond of reporting that the number of teamlands is just equal to (B=A) or just twice as great (B=2A) as the number of gelding carucates. We very much fear, though the ground for this fear can not be explained at this stage of our inquiry, that the figure which the jurors state when questioned about potential teams is sometimes dictated by a traditional estimate which has been playing a part in the geld assessment, and that the number of teamlands is but remotely connected with the agrarian arrangements of 1086. All our other guesses therefore must be regarded as being subject to this horrible suspicion, of which we shall have more to say hereafter[1408].

The land of excessive teams.

This makes it difficult for us to construe the second great aberration from the general rule that the number of the teamlands in a county will slightly exceed the number of teams. In Derby and Nottingham apparent ‘understocking’ becomes the exception and ‘overstocking’ the rule. In Derby there is a good deal of ‘waste’ where we have to reckon teamlands but no teams, and yet on many pages the number of teams is the greater (C>B). In Nottingham there seem to be on the average near 200 teams where there are but 125 teamlands. In many columns of the Lincolnshire survey, and therefore perhaps in some districts of that large and variegated county, the teams have a majority, though, if we have not blundered, they are beaten by the teamlands when the whole shire has been surveyed. It is very possible that a similar phenomenon would have been recorded in Essex and East Anglia if the inquiry in those counties had taken the form that was usual elsewhere, for the teams seem to be thick on the land. Now to interpret the steady excess of teams that we see in Derby and Nottingham is not easy. We can hardly suppose that the jurors are confessing that they habitually employ a superfluity of oxen. Perhaps, however, we may infer that in this district a given area of land will be ploughed by an unusually large number of teams, whereas in Devon and Cornwall a given area will be ploughed, though intermittently, by an unusually small number. In every way the contrast between Devon and Cornwall on the one hand, Lincoln, Nottingham and Derby on the other, is strongly marked. Of the quality of soils something should, no doubt, be said which we are too ignorant to say. An acre would yield more corn in Nottingham and Derby, to say nothing of Lincoln, than in Devon and Cornwall, though the valets that we find in the three Danish shires are by no means so high as those that are displayed by some of the southern counties. But if we ask how many households our average teamland is supporting, then among all the counties that we have examined Lincoln, Nottingham and Derby stand at the very top, while Devon and Cornwall stand with the depopulated Stafford at the very bottom of the list[1409]. Then, again, we see the contrasts between village and trev, between Dane and Celt, between sokeman and slave. Possibly Northampton, Derby and parts of Lincoln really are ‘over-teamed’: that is to say, were the land of these counties to come to the hands of lords who held large and compact estates, the number of plough-teams would be reduced. Where there is freedom there will be some waste. The tenements split into fractions, and the owner of a small piece must keep oxen enough to draw a plough or trust to the friendliness and reciprocal needs of his neighbours. Manorialism has this advantage: it can make the most of the ox. Another possible guess is that the real carucates and bovates of this district (by which we mean the units which locally bear these names and which are the units in the proprietary or tenurial scheme) have few acres, fewer than would be allowed by some equation which the royal commissioners for these counties carry in their minds. Being assured (for example) that the bovates in a certain village or hundred have few acres, they may be allowing the jurors to count as three team-lands (‘of imperial measure’) a space of arable that has been locally treated as four. So, after all, the rule that normally each teamland should have its team and that each team should till its teamland may be holding good in these counties, though the proprietary and agrarian units have differed from those that the commissioners treat as orthodox.

Attempts to explain the excess of teams.

One last guess is lawful after what we have seen in Leicestershire. These Nottinghamshire folk may be telling how many teams there were in King Edward’s time and recording a large increase in the number of oxen and therefore perhaps in the cultivated area. In this case, however, we should expect to find the valet greater than the valuit, while really we find that a fall in value is normal throughout the shire.

Digression to East Anglia.

We must here say one parenthetical word about the account of East Anglia. In one respect it differs from the account of any other district[1410]. We are told of the various landholders that they hold so many carucates or so many acres. Analogy would lead us to suppose that this is a statement touching the amount of geld with which they are charged. Though there is no statement parallel to the Terra est b carucis which we find in most parts of England, still there are some other counties remote from East Anglia—Gloucester, Worcester, Hereford—where no such statement is given to us. In other words, a natural first guess would be that in Norfolk and Suffolk we are informed about A and not about B. But then, it is apparent that some information about A is being given to us by a quite different formula such as we shall not meet outside East Anglia. We are told about a vill that when the hundred pays 20s. for the geld this vill pays so many pence—seven pence halfpenny, it may be, or eight pence three farthings. This is the formula which prescribes how much geld the landholders of the vill must pay and it says nothing of carucates or of acres. Now this might make us think that the carucates and acres which are attributed to the landholders are ‘real’ and not ‘rateable’ areas, and are to be put on a level with the teamlands (B) rather than with the hides or gelding carucates (A) of other counties. Nevertheless, on second thoughts we may return to our first opinion. If these carucates are equivalent to the teamlands of other counties, Norfolk and Suffolk not only differ but differ very widely from the rest of England[1411]. In Norfolk we make about 2,422 carucates and about 4,853 teams, and, however wide of the mark these figures may be[1412], the fact that there are upon an average about two teams to every carucate is apparent on page after page of the record; often the ratio is yet higher. We have seen a phenomenon of the same kind, though less pronounced, in Nottingham; but then, if in Norfolk we proceed to divide the ‘recorded population’ by the number of carucates, we shall get 11 as our quotient. This is so very much higher than anything that we have seen elsewhere that we are daunted by it; for, even though we recall the possibility that a good many tenants in this free county are counted twice because they hold under two lords, still this reflection will hardly enable us to make the requisite allowance. To this it may be added that if we divide the acreage of Norfolk by its carucates and treat the carucates as teamlands, the quotient will place Norfolk among the counties in which the smallest part of the total area was under the plough. Further, it will be observed that the statement about the geldability of the vills does not enable us to bring home any particular sum to any given man. Be it granted that the sum due from a vill is fixed by the proposition that it contributes thirteen pence to every pound levied from the hundred, we have still to decide how much Ralph and how much Roger, two landholders of the vill, must contribute; and our decision will, we take it, be dictated by the statement that Ralph has one carucate and Roger 60 acres. We fear therefore that here again we can not penetrate through the rateable to the real[1413].

The teamland no areal measure.

About the ‘land for one team’ we can hardly get beyond vague guesswork, and may seriously doubt whether the inquiry as to the number of possible ploughs was interpreted in the same manner in all parts of the country. Here it may have been regarded as a reference to the good old time of King Edward, here to the local custom; there an attempt may have been made to enforce some royal ‘standard measure,’ and there again men were driven to speculate as to what might happen if a wilderness were once more inhabited. But unless we are mistaken, the first step towards a solution of the many problems that beset us is taken when we perceive that the jurors have not been asked to state the areal extent of the tilled or the tillable land.

Eyton’s theory.

Far other, as is well known, was the doctrine of one whom all students of Domesday revere. For Mr Eyton the teamland was precisely 120 of our statute acres[1414]. The proof offered of this lies in a comparison of the figures given by Domesday with the superficial content of modern parishes. What seems to us to have been proved is that, if we start with the proposed equation, we shall rarely be brought into violent collision with ascertained facts, and that, when such a collision seems imminent, it can almost always be prevented by the intervention of some plausible hypothesis about shifted boundaries or neglected wastes. More than this has not been done. Always at the end of his toil the candid investigator admits that when he has added up all the figures that Domesday gives for arable, meadow, wood and pasture, the land of the county is by no means exhausted. Then the residue must be set down as ‘unsurveyed’ or ‘unregistered’ and guesses made as to its whereabouts[1415]. Then further, this method involves theories about lineal and superficial measurements which are, in our eyes, precarious.

Domesday’s lineal measure.

One word about this point must be said, though we can not devote much room to it. The content of various spaces, such as woods and pastures, is often indicated by a reference to linear standards, leagues, furlongs, perches, feet, and there seems to be little doubt that the main equations which govern the system are these:

1 league= 12 furlongs or quarentines or acre-lengths

= 480 perches.

Now we read numerous statements which take the following form:—‘It is x leagues (furlongs, perches) long and y wide,’ or, to take a concrete example, ‘The wood is 1 league long and 4 furlongs wide.’ The question arises whether we are justified in making this mean that here is a wood whose superficial content is equal to that of a rectangular parallelogram 480 statute perches long by 160 statute perches wide. We are rash in imposing our perch of 16·5 feet on the whole England of the eleventh century, even though we are to measure arable land. We are rasher in using that perch for the measurement of woodland. But perhaps we are rasher still in supposing that the Domesday jurors have true superficial measurement in their minds[1416]. We strongly suspect that they are thinking of shape as well as of size, and may be giving us the extreme diameters of the wood or some diameters that they guess to be near the mean. If a clergyman told us that his parish was 3 miles long by 2 wide, we should not accuse him of falsehood or blunder if we subsequently discovered that in shape it was approximately a right-angled triangle and contained only some 3 superficial miles. And now let us observe how rude these statements are. The Norfolk jurors are in the habit of recording the length and the breadth of the vills. Occasionally they profess to do this with extreme accuracy[1417]. However, we reckon that in about 100 out of 550 cases they say that the vill is one league long by a half-league wide. This delightfully symmetrical county therefore should have quite a hundred parishes, each of which contains close upon 720 acres. Among the 800 parishes of modern Norfolk there are not 70 whose size lies between 600 and 800 acres. We are not saying that time spent over these lineal measurements is wasted, but an argument which gets to the size of the teamland by postulating in the first place that our statute perch was commonly used for all purposes throughout England, and in the second that these lineal can be converted into superficial measurements by simple arithmetic, is not very cogent and is apt to become circular, for the teamland contains its 120 acres because that is the space left for it by parochial boundaries when we have measured off the woods and pastures, and our measurement of the woods and pastures is correct because it will leave 120 acres for every teamland.

Measured teamlands.

One more word about these lineal measurements. In Norfolk and Suffolk the total area of the vills is indicated by them, and so it is in Yorkshire also. Now, unless we err, it sometimes happens that if we arithmetically deduce the total area from its recorded length and breadth, and then subtract from that area the content of any measured woods and pastures that there may be, we shall be left with too little space to give each East Anglian carucate or each Yorkshire teamland 120 acres and with far too little to allow a similar area to each East Anglian team. Try one experiment. At Shereford in Norfolk we have to force at least one carucate on which there are two teams into a space that is 3 furlongs in length by 3 in breadth[1418]. That means, if our method be sound, that each team has at the utmost 45 acres to till. Try we Yorkshire. There also we shall find entries which to all appearance will not suffer us to give 120 acres to the teamland.

In Andrebi ... 9 carucates for geld; there may be 6 teams.... The whole half a league long and half [a league] wide[1419].

In Hotone and Bileham ... a manor of 10 carucates for geld; there may be 10 teams.... The whole 10 quarantines long and 8 wide[1420].

In Warlavesbi 6 carucates for geld; there may be 4 teams.... The whole half a league long and half [a league] wide[1421].

It would seem then that in these cases the utmost limit for the teamland is 60, 80, 90 acres. Then again, there are a few precious instances in which lineal measures are used in order to indicate the size of a piece of land the whole of which is arable. This occurs so rarely that we may fairly expect something exceptional. The result is bewildering. At Thetford we hear of land that is half a league long and half a league wide: ‘the whole of this land is arable and 4 teams can plough it[1422].’ Here then, but 90 acres are assigned to the teamland. We journey to Yorkshire and first we will take an entry which suits the Eytonian doctrine well enough. ‘There are 13 carucates of land less one bovate for geld; 8 teams can plough them.... Arable land 10 quarentines long and equally broad[1423].’ In this case we have 1000 acres to divide among 8 teamlands, and this would make each teamland 125 acres:—we could hardly expect a pleasanter quotient. But on the same page we have an entry which tells of a manor with 60 carucates and 6 bovates for geld and 35 teamlands where the ‘arable land’ is described as being ‘2 leagues long and 2 [leagues] wide[1424].’ This gives nearly 165 acres to the teamland. There are two Lincolnshire entries which, when treated in a similar way, give 160[1425] and 225[1426] acres to the teamland. Then there is a Staffordshire entry which gives no less than 360 acres to each teamland, though it gives only 160 to each existing team[1427]. The suspicion can not but cross our minds that as regards the amount of land that had 8 oxen for its culture there may have been as wide a difference between the various shires in the days of the Confessor as there was in the days of Arthur Young; only, whereas in the eighteenth century a little space ploughed by many oxen was a relic of barbarism, it was in the eleventh an index of prosperity, freedom, a thick population and a comparatively intense agriculture. But theories about the facts of husbandry will not dispel the whole of the fog which shrouds the Domesday teamland.

Amount of ploughed land in England.

That, if all England be taken as a whole, the average teamland of Domesday Book would contain about 120 acres seems possible, and since we ourselves are committed to the belief that the old traditional hide had arable acres to this number, it may be advisable that we should examine some districts of ancient England through the medium of the hypothesis that Domesday’s teamland has a long-hundred of our statute acres. In Column 1. of the following table we place the result obtained if we multiply a county’s teamlands (or in the case of Sussex and Gloucester the teams) by 120; and in the following columns we give the figures which show the state of the county in 1895. In order to make a rough comparison the easier, we give round figures and omit three noughts, so that, for example, 371 stands for 371,000 acres[1428].

Arable in 1086 Arable (1895) Permanent pastures (1895) Mountain and Heath Land used for grazing (1895) Woods and Plantation (1895) Total Acreage of Modern County (1895)

1000 Acres1000 Acres1000 Acres1000 Acres1000 Acres1000 Acres

Sussex3712983819124933

Surrey1411331521254461

Berkshire251204163136462

Dorset2801883001838632

Somerset57720765348461042

Devon957581633138861667

Buckingham269165236232476

Oxford317228188127485

Gloucester589269387758797

Bedford187155100113298

Northampton352215344028640

Lincoln60510175012431695

Decrease of arable.

These figures are startling enough. We are required to believe that in many counties, even in Sussex where the forest still filled a large space, there were more acres ploughed T. R. W. than are ploughed T. R. V., while in some cases the number has been reduced by one half during the intervening centuries. Were the old acres in Oxfordshire as large as our own, a good deal more than three-fifths of that county was ploughed. Much might be said of the extreme futility of ancient agriculture. Then we should have to remember the ‘inclosures’ of the sixteenth century; also the movement which in our own day threatens to carry us back to ‘the pastoral state[1429].’ We should have to scrutinize those abundant marks of the plough which occur in our meadows and on our hillsides, even where we least expect them, and to distinguish those which were being made in the days of the Norman conqueror from those which tell of a much later age when ‘the Corsican tyrant’ threatened our shores.

The food problem.

And then there is the great food problem. At this point we might desire the aid of a jury of scientific experts. We are, indeed, but ill prepared to deliver a charge or to define a clear issue, but the main question may be roughly stated thus:—South of Yorkshire and Cheshire we have some 275,000 ‘recorded men,’ some 75,000 recorded teams and (if we allow 120 statute acres to every team) some 9,000,000 statute acres of arable land[1430]. Is this supply of arable adequate or excessive for the population? Unfortunately, however, the question involves more than one unknown quantity.

What was the population?

In the first place, by what figure are we to multiply the number of ‘recorded men’ before we shall obtain the total population? Here we have to remember that nothing is said by our record about some of the largest towns and that the figures which we obtain from Norwich[1431] suggest that the inhabitants of London, Winchester and the like should not be neglected, even by those who are aiming at the rudest computation. Then what we read of Bury St Edmunds[1432] suggests that around every great abbey were clustered many artificers, servants and bedesmen who as a general rule were not enumerated by the jurors. We must also remember the monks, nuns and canons and the large households of barons and prelates[1433]. Again, it is by no means unlikely that, despite a high rate of mortality among children, the household of the ordinary villein was upon an average larger than is the household of the modern cottager or artizan, for the blood-bond was stronger than it is now-a-days. Married brothers with their wives and children may not unfrequently have dwelt in one house and may be described in our record as a single villanus because they hold an undivided inheritance. On the other hand, we have seen reason to think that in the eastern villages many men may be counted more than once[1434]. Shall we, for the sake of argument, multiply the recorded men by 5? This would give us a population of 1,375,000 souls[1435].

What was the field-system?

What portion of the arable land shall we suppose to be sown in any one year? Some grave doubts may occur to us before we put this portion higher than one half[1436]. Common opinion would perhaps strike a balance between two-field and three-field husbandry. So we will suppose that out of 9 million acres 5 million are sown.

What was the acre’s yield?

Then comes the insoluble question about the acre’s yield. Even could we state an average, this would not be very serviceable, for every district had to feed itself in every year, and the statistics of the later middle ages suggest that the difference between good and bad years was very large, while the valuations of the manors in Domesday Book seem to tell us that the difference between fertile and sterile, forward and backward counties was much wider in the eleventh century than it is in our own day. The scientific agriculturist of the thirteenth century proposed to sow an acre with two bushels of wheat and regarded ten bushels as the proper return[1437]. Walter of Henley proved by figures that a three-fold return would not be remunerative, unless prices were exceptionally good, but he evidently thought of this exiguous yield as a possibility[1438], and yet, as we have seen, he represents the ‘high farming’ of his time and in his two-course husbandry would plough the land thrice over between every two crops. In the first half of the next century we can not put the average as high as 8 bushels[1439]. To eyes that look for 29 or 30, a yield of from 6 to 10 may seem pitiful; and the ‘miserable husbandry’ that Arthur Young saw in the west of England was producing from 15 to 20[1440]. However, there are countries in which a crop of wheat which gave 10 of our bushels to one of our acres would not be very small[1441]. For our present purpose, the figure that we should wish to obtain would be, not that which expressed the yield of an average year, but that which was the outcome of a bad year, for we have to keep folk alive and they can not wait for the good times. Let us then take our hypothesis from Walter of Henley. We suppose a yield of 6 bushels, 2 of which must be retained for seed. This would give us 20 million bushels as food, or, we will say, 15 bushels for every person.

Of beer.

Now, had we to deal with modern wheat and modern mills, we might argue that the bushel of wheat would weigh 60 pounds, that the weight of flour would be 72 per cent. of the weight of grain[1442], and that every human mouth could thus be provided with a little more than 28 ounces of flour every day, or, to put it another way, with bread amounting to nine-sixteenths of a four pound loaf[1443]. Some large, but indefinable, deduction should be made from this amount on the score of poor grain and wasteful processes. As the sum stands, we are at present proposing to give to each person a great deal more wheat-flour than would be obtained if the total amount consumed now-a-days in the United Kingdom were divided by the number of its inhabitants[1444]. But it need hardly be said that the problem is far more complex than are our figures. In the first place, we have to withdraw from the men of 1086 a large quantity, perhaps more than a half, of the wheat-flour that we have given them in order to supply its place with other cereals[1445], in particular with barley and oats, much of which, together with some of the wheat[1446], will be consumed in the form of beer. And who shall fathom that ocean? Multum biberunt de cerevisia Anglicana, as the pope said. Their choice lay for the more part between beer and water. In the twelfth century the corn-rents paid to the bishop of Durham often comprised malt, wheat and oats in equal quantities[1447]. In the next century the economy of the canons of S^t. Paul’s was so arranged that for every 30 quarters of wheat that went to make bread, 7 quarters of wheat, 7 of barley and 32 of oats went to make beer[1448]. The weekly allowance of every canon included 30 gallons[1449]. In one year their brewery seems to have produced 67,814 gallons from 175 quarters of wheat, a like quantity of barley and 708 quarters of oats[1450]. With such figures before us, it becomes a serious question whether we can devote less than a third of the sown land to the provision of drink. The monk, who would have growled if he got less than a gallon a day, would, we may suppose, consume in the course of a year 20 bushels of barley or an equivalent amount of other grain: in other words, the produce, when seed-corn is deducted, of from two to three acres of land; and perhaps to every mouth in England we must give half a gallon daily[1451].

The Englishman’s diet.

But if we can not make teetotallers of our ancestors (and in very truth we can not) neither may we convert them to vegetarianism. What we can read of the provender-rents paid in the days before the Conquest suggests that those who were well-to-do, including the monks, consumed a great deal of mutton, pork, poultry, fish, eels, cheese and honey[1452]. This would relieve the arable of part of the pressure that it would otherwise have borne, for, though we already hear of two manors which between them supply 6000 dog-loaves for the king’s hounds[1453], and also read of pigs that are fattened with corn[1454], it is not very probable that any beasts, save those that laboured, got much from the arable, except the straw, and the stubble which we may suspect of having been abundantly mixed with grass and weeds. It is likely, however, that the oxen which were engaged in ploughing were fed at times with oats. Walter of Henley would keep his plough-beasts at the manger for five-and-twenty weeks in the year and would during that time give 70 bushels of oats to every eight of them[1455]. At this rate our 75,000 teams would require 5,250,000 bushels of oats, and on this score we might have to deduct some 4 million bushels of wheat[1456] from our 20 millions and reduce by one-fifth each person’s allowance of grain. But then, it is by no means certain that we ought to transplant Walter’s practices into the eleventh century; we have seen that he expected much of his oxen[1457].

Is the arable super-abundant?

At first sight it may seem incredible that the average human being annually required the produce of nearly seven acres. But observe how rapidly the area will disappear. We deduct a half for the idle shift; a third of the remainder we set apart as beer-land. We have not much more than two acres remaining, and may yet have to feed oxen and horses. But suppose that we concede to every human mouth the wheat of two full acres; we can not say for certain that we are giving it a quarter of grain, even though we suppose each acre to yield more than was to be had always and everywhere in the fourteenth century[1458].

Amount of pasturage.

Our doubt about the food of the oxen makes it difficult for us to state even the outlines of another important problem. Are we leaving pasture enough for the beasts? Their number was by no means small. South of the southern frontier of Cheshire and Yorkshire we must accommodate in the first place some 600,000 beasts of the plough, and in the second place and for their maintenance a sufficiency of bulls, cows and calves. Now-a-days England keeps 4,723,000 head of cattle, but we have been excluding from view near a quarter of England. Then there are other animals to be provided for. Their number we can not guess, for apparently the statistics that we obtain from the south-western and eastern counties give us only the stock that is on the demesne of the manors[1459]. We have seen that the peasants in East Anglia had sheep enough to make their ‘fold-soke’ an important social institution[1460]. Also we have much evidence of large herds of pigs belonging to the villeins, though these we may send to the woods. But, attending only to the dominical stock, we will begin by looking at the manor which stands first in the Cambridgeshire Inquest. The lord has 5 teams, 8 head of not-ploughing cattle, 4 rounceys, 10 pigs and 480 sheep. Then, in the accompanying table we will give some figures from various counties which show the amount of stock that is kept where there are 200 teams or thereabouts.

Teams (Demesne and Tenants’ Beasts not of the Plough Horses Goats Pigs Sheep

Essex 207 267 34 107 777 1657

Suffolk 200 196 30 295 676 1705

Norfolk 202 132 44 200 672 5673

Dorset 202 159 47 281 479 6160

Somerset 202 82 16 49 198 1506

Devon 205 282 16 135 173 1553

Cornwall 200 62 35 52 26 1445

Total 1418 1180 222 1119 3001 19699

Even if we look only at the flocks which belong to the holders of manors, we may have to feed a million sheep south of the Humber, and, though all England now maintains more than 15 millions, it does this by devoting a large portion of its arable to the growth of turnips and the like. No doubt, the medieval sheep were wretched little animals; also large numbers of them were slaughtered and salted at the approach of winter; but from the arable they got only the stubble, and every extension of the ploughed area deteriorated the quality besides diminishing the quantity of the pasture that was left for their hungry mouths. As already said, our forefathers did not live on bread and beer; bacon must have been plentiful among them[1461]. Also many fleeces were needed for their clothing. As to meadow land (pratum), that is, land that was mown, it was sparse and precious[1462]; the supply of it was often insufficient even for the lord’s demesne oxen. At least in Cambridgeshire, we find traces of a theory which taught that every ox should have an acre of meadow; but commonly this was an unrealized ideal[1463]. In Dorset now-a-days there will be near 95,000 acres growing grass for hay, whereas there were not 7,000 acres of meadow in 1086[1464]. Therefore we are throwing a heavy strain on the pasture[1465].

Area of the villages.

Lastly, we must not neglect, as some modern calculators do, the sites of the villages, the straggling group of houses with their court-yards, gardens and crofts, for this deducts a sensible piece from the conceivably tillable area. An exceedingly minute account of Sawston in Cambridgeshire which comes from the year 1279 shows us a territory thus divided: Messuages, Gardens, Crofts, etc., 85 acres: Arable, 1243 acres: Meadow, 82 acres: Several Pasture, 30 acres. The neighbouring village of Whittlesford shows us: Messuages, Gardens, Crofts, etc., 35 acres: Arable, 1363 acres: Meadow, 44 acres: Several Pasture, 35 acres. In both cases we must add some unspecified quantity of Common Pasture[1466]. The core of the village was not large when compared with its fields; but it can not be ignored.

Produce and value.

Recurring for a moment to our food problem, we may observe that the values that are set on the manors in Domesday Book seem to point to a very feeble yield of corn. Without looking for extreme cases, we shall often find that the value of a teamland is no more than 10 shillings. Now let us make the hypothesis most favourable to fertility and suppose that this ‘value’ represents a pure, net rent[1467]. We will make another convenient but extravagant assumption; we will say that 24 bushels of wheat will make 365 four-pound loaves. If then a lord is to get one such loaf every day from each teamland that is valued at 10 shillings, the price of wheat will be a good deal less than 5 pence the bushel; if two daily loaves are to be had, the price of the bushel must be reduced below 2¹⁄₂ pence, for the cost of grinding and baking is not negligible. Whether this last price could be assumed as normal must be very doubtful, for the little that Domesday tells us about the price of grain is told in obscure and disputable terms[1468]. However, the evidence that comes to us from the twelfth[1469] and thirteenth centuries[1470] suggests a rough equivalence between an ox and two quarters of wheat, and in the eleventh the traditional price of the ox was 30 pence. But at any rate, the lord who has a small village with five teamlands, and who lets it to a firmarius, will receive a rent which, when it is stated in loaves, is by no means splendid. He will not be much of a hláford, or have many ‘loaf-eaters’ if his whole revenue is £2. 10s. or, in other words, if he is lord of but one small village in the midlands.

Varying size of acres.

Here we must leave this question to those who are expert in the history of agriculture; but if some relief is required, it may be plausibly obtained by a reduction in the size of the ancient acre. A small piece off the village perches will mean a great piece off the 2,600 teamlands of Oxfordshire, and we seem to have the best warrant for a recourse to this device where it is most needed. The pressure upon our space appears to be at its utmost in Oxfordshire, and just for that county we have first-rate evidence of some very small acres[1471]. On the other hand, in Lincolnshire and generally in the north, where we read of abnormally large acres, we seem to have room enough for them. And here may be a partial explanation of the apparent fact that the teamland of Oxfordshire does not support three, while that of Lincolnshire supports five recorded men.

The teamland in Cambridgeshire.

In these last paragraphs we have been speaking of averages struck for large spaces; but if we come to some particular districts we shall have the greatest difficulty in allowing 120 acres to every teamland. This is the case in southern Cambridgeshire. In that county Domesday’s list of vills is so nearly the same as the modern list of parishes that we run no great risk in comparing the ancient teamlands with the modern acreage vill by vill, if we also compare them hundred by hundred. The general result will be to make us unwilling to bestow on every teamland a long-hundred of acres. One example shall be given. The Whittlesford Hundred[1472] contains five vills and we can not easily concede to it more land than is now within its boundary. In the following table we give for each vill its modern acreage, then the number of its teamlands, then the result of multiplying that number by 120.

Whittlesford Hundred.

Sawston 1884 101200

Whittlesford1969 111320

Duxford 3232 21[1473]2520

Hinxton 1557 16[1474]1920

Ickleton 2695 24¹⁄₂2940

The Hundred 11337 82¹⁄₂9900

In two cases out of five we have already come upon sheer physical impossibility. But let us suppose some rearrangement of parish boundaries and look at the whole hundred. We are giving it 9900 acres of arable and leaving 1437 for other purposes. Then we are told of ‘meadow for’ 37 teams and this at the rate usual in Cambridgeshire[1475], means 296 acres, so that we have only 1141 left. On this we must place the sites of five villages, houses, farmyards, fourteen water-mills, cottages, gardens. Probably we want 250 acres at least to meet this demand. Not 900 acres remain for pasture. The dominical flocks and herds were not large, but the lords were receiving divers ploughshares in return for the pasture rights accorded to the tenants and in some of the vills there was not nearly enough meadow for the oxen of the villeins. It is difficult to believe that 87 per cent. of a Cambridgeshire hundred was under the plough, and that less than 8 per cent. was pasture. However, we know too little to say that even this was impossible. In the twelfth century we read of manors in which there is no pasture, except upon the arable field that is taking its turn of idleness[1476]. We must remember that this idle field was not fallowed until the summer[1477]; also we may suspect that much that was not corn grew on the medieval corn-land.

The hides of Domesday.

Saddened by our encounter with the teamlands (B)—and our last word about them is not yet said—we turn to the hides, carucates and sulungs (A). With a fair allowance for errors we feel safe in believing that the total number mentioned by Domesday Book falls short of 70,000—and yet time was when we spoke of 60,000 knight’s fees of 5 hides apiece[1478]. Let us then recall once more those tales of taxation that are told by the chronicler[1479]. If Cnut raised a geld of £72,000, then, even if we allow him something from those remote northern lands which William’s commissioners did not enter, the rate of the impost can hardly have been less than a pound on the hide. We are not told that he raised this sum in the course of a single year; but, even if we suppose it spread over four years, it is a monstrous exaction, and we can hardly fancy that in earlier days the pirates had waited long for the £24,000 or £30,000 that were the price of their forbearance. And yet, as already said, our choice seems to lie between believing these stories and charging the annalist with reckless mendacity. Hereafter we shall argue that some ancient statements about hidage, even some made by Bede himself, deserve no credit; but it is one thing for a Northumbrian scholar of the eighth century to make very bad guesses about the area of Sussex, and another for a chronicler of the eleventh to keep on telling us that a king levies £21,099 or £11,048 or the like, if these sums are wildly in excess of those that were demanded. As to the value of money, the economists must be heard; but it is probable that the sea-rovers insisted on good weight[1480], and when in the twelfth century we can begin to trace the movement of prices, in particular the price of oxen, they are not falling but rising. However, we have already said our say about the enormity of the danegeld.

Relation between hide and teamland.

We are now to investigate the ‘law’ of A and its relation to B. We shall soon be convinced that we are not dealing with two perfectly independent variables. There will often be wide variations between the two; A may descend to zero, while B is high, and in some counties we shall see a steady tendency which makes A decidedly higher or decidedly lower than B. And yet, if we look at England as a whole, we can not help feeling that in some sense or another A ought to be equal to B, and that, when this equation holds good, things are in a condition that we may call normal. Perhaps, as we shall see hereafter, the current notion has been that the teamland should be taxed as a hide if it lies in a district where a teamland will usually be worth about a pound a year. But for the time we will leave value out of account, and, to save words, we will appropriate three terms and use them technically. When A = B, there is ‘equal rating’; when A > B, there is ‘over-rating’; when A < B there is ‘under-rating.’ We shall find, then, that in many counties there are numerous cases of equal rating. Thus in Buckinghamshire we count

cases of under-rating136

cases of equal rating102

cases of over-rating115

In Lincolnshire we may find an unbroken series of fourteen entries each of which gives us an instance of equal rating[1481]. In both Lincolnshire and Yorkshire such cases are common, but, while in Lincolnshire over-rating is rare, in Yorkshire under-rating is very rare. Fewer are the over-rated than the under-rated counties; but there are some for which the figures can not be given, and, as immense Yorkshire is set before us as much over-rated, the balance must be nearly redressed. But further, we may see that the relation between A and B is apt to change somewhat suddenly at the border of a county. The best illustration is given by the twin shires of Leicester and Northampton, the one over-rated, the other grossly under-rated. Another good illustration is given by the south-western counties. Wiltshire is heavily over-rated; Dorset, as a whole, very equally rated; Somerset decidedly under-rated, while when we come to Devon and Cornwall we enter a land so much underrated that, had we only the account of these two counties, the assumption that is implied in our terms ‘under-rated’ and ‘over-rated’ would never have entered our heads.

Unhidated estates.

Now for one cause of the aberration of A from B we have not far to seek; it is a cause which will make A less than B and which may reduce A to zero. It is privilege. Certain estates have been altogether exempt from geld. In particular many royal estates have been exempt. ‘Nescitur quot hidae sint ibi quia non reddidit geldum’—‘Nunquam geldavit nec scitur quot hidae sint ibi’—‘Rex Edwardus tenuit; tunc 20 hidae sed nunquam geldaverunt’:—such and such like are the formulas that describe this immunity. The number of actually geldant hides is here reduced to zero, and sometimes the very term ‘hides,’ so usually does it imply taxation, is deemed inappropriate. But these royal estates do not stand alone. Often enough some estate of a church has been utterly freed from taxation. The bishop of Salisbury, for example, has a great estate at Sherborne which has gelded for 43 hides; but ‘in this same Sherborne he has 16 carucates of land; this land was never divided into hides nor did it pay geld[1482].’