Chapter I (2)

Kingship thus became the law of all the Teutonic tribes which settled in Britain and whose union made up the English nation. That union, we must always remember, was very gradual. Step by step, smaller Kings or independent Ealdormen admitted the supremacy of a more powerful King. Then, in a second stage, the smaller state was absolutely incorporated with the greater. Its ruler now, if he continued to rule at all, ruled no longer as an independent or even as a vassal sovereign, but as a mere magistrate, acting by the deputed authority of the sovereign of whom he held his office(43). The settlement made by Cerdic and Cynric on the southern coast grew, step by step, by the incorporation of many small kingdoms and independent Ealdormanships, into the lordship of the whole Isle of Britain, into the immediate kingship of all its English inhabitants. The Ealdorman of a corner of Hampshire thus grew step by step into the King of the West-Saxons, the King of the Saxons, the King of the English, the Emperor of all Britain, the lord, in later times, of a dominion reaching into every quarter of the world(44). But the point which now concerns us is that, with each step in the growth of the King’s territorial dominion, his political authority within that dominion has grown also. The change from an Ealdorman to a King, the change from a heathen King to a Christian King crowned and anointed, doubtless did much to raise the power and dignity of the ruler who thus at each change surrounded himself with new titles to reverence. But this was not all. The mere increase in the extent of territorial dominion would at each step work most powerfully to increase the direct power of the King, and still more powerfully to increase the vague reverence which everywhere attaches to kingship. In Homer we read of Kings, some of whom were “more kingly,” more of Kings, than others. So it was among ourselves. A King who reigned over all Wessex was more of a King than a King who reigned only over the Isle of Wight, and a King who reigned over all England was more of a King than a King who reigned only over Wessex(45). The greater the territory over which a King reigns the less familiar he becomes to the mass of his people; he is more and more shrouded in a mysterious awe, he is more and more looked on as a being of a different nature from other men, of a different nature even from other civil magistrates and military leaders, however high their authority and however illustrious their personal character. Such a separation of the King from the mass of his people may indeed, in some states of things, lead, not to the increase, but to the lessening of his practical power. He may become in popular belief too great and awful for the effectual exercise of power, and, by dint of his very greatness, his practical authority may be transferred to his representatives who govern in his name. He may be surrounded with a worship almost more than earthly, while the reality of power passes to a Mayor of the Palace, or is split up among the satraps of distant provinces(45). But, with a race of vigorous and politic Kings ruling over a nation whose tendencies are to closer unity and not to wider separation, each step in the territorial growth of the kingdom is also a step in the growth, not only of the formal dignity, but of the practical authority of the King. The King of the English, who in the eleventh century held the direct sovereignty of all England, the over-lordship of all Britain, was a very different person from his forefather, who in the sixth century deemed that another victory over the Briton, the acquisition of another strip of British territory, another hundred, it may be, of modern Hampshire, had made him great enough to change his title of Ealdorman for that of King. Such a King was every inch a King; his personal character was of the highest moment for the good or evil fortune of his kingdom. His will counted for much in the making of the laws by which his people were to be governed, and in the disposal of honours and offices among those who were to govern under him. But yet he was not a despot; men never forgot that the King was what his name implied, the representative, the impersonation, the offspring of the people. It was from the choice of the people that he received his authority to rule over them, a choice limited under all ordinary circumstances to the royal house, but which, within that house, was not tied down by a blind regard to any particular law of succession. It was a choice which at any time could fix itself on the worthiest man of the royal house, and which, when the royal house failed to supply a fitting candidate, could boldly fix itself on the worthiest man of the whole people(47). And those from whom the King first drew his power ever shared with him in its exercise. The laws, the grants, the appointments to offices, which the King made, needed the assent of the people in their national Assembly, the gathering of the Wise Men of the whole land(48). And those who gave him his power and who guided him in its exercise could also, when need so called, take away the power which they had given. At rare intervals—for it is only at rare intervals that so great a step is likely to be taken—has the English nation exercised its highest power by taking away the Crown from Kings who were unworthy to wear it. I speak not of acts of violence or murder, or of processes which, though clothed under legal form, were without precedent in our history. I speak not of the secret death of Henry the Sixth or of the open execution of Charles the First. I speak of the regular process of the Law. In Northumberland the right of deposition was exercised with special frequency(49). But I will speak only of that direct and unbroken line of Kings who from Kings of the West-Saxons grew into the Kings of the English. Six times at least, in the space of nine hundred years, from Sigeberht of Wessex to James the Second, has the Great Council of the Nation thus put forth the last and greatest of its powers(50). The last exercise of this power has made its future exercise needless. All that in old times was to be gained by the deposition of a King can now be gained by a vote of censure on a Minister, or, in the extremest case, by his impeachment.

But, besides that growth of the King’s power which followed naturally on the growth of the King’s dominions, another cause was busily at work which clothed him with a personal influence which was of almost greater moment than his political authority. To a large portion of his subjects, to all the men of special wealth or power, the King gradually became, not only King but _lord_; his subjects gradually became, not only his subjects but his _men_. These names may need some explanation, and I will again go back to Tacitus as our starting-point. Side by side with the political community, the King, the nobles, the popular Assembly, all of them strictly political powers, he describes another institution, a relation in itself not political but purely personal, but which gradually became of the highest political moment. This was the institution of the _comitatus_, the system of personal relation between a man and his lord, a relation of faithful service on one side, of faithful protection on the other. Let us again hear the words of the great Roman interpreter of our own earliest days(51).

“It is no shame among the Germans to be seen among the companions (_comites_) of a chief. And there are degrees of rank in the companionship (_comitatus_), according to the favour of him whom they follow; and great is the rivalry among the companions which shall stand highest in the favour of his chief, and also among the chiefs which shall have the most and the most valiant companions.... When they come to battle, it is shameful for the chief to be surpassed in valour; it is shameful for his companions not to equal the valour of their chief. It is even a badge of disgrace for the remainder of life if a man comes away alive from the field on which his chief has fallen. To guard, to defend him, to assign their own valiant deeds to his credit, is their first religious duty. The chiefs fight for victory; the companions fight for their chief.”

This is the description given by a Roman historian of the second century; let me set beside it the words of an English poet of the tenth. He is describing the battle of Maldon in 991, which was fought by the East-Saxons under their Ealdorman Brihtnoth against the invading Northmen. The Ealdorman has been killed; two of his followers have fled, one of them on the Ealdorman’s horse, and every word that is put into the mouth of his faithful companions turns upon the personal tie between them and their lord(52).

“Thereon hewed him
The heathen soldiers;
And both the warriors
That near him by-stood,
Ælfnoth and Wulfmær both,
Lay there on the ground
By their lord;
Their lives they sold.
There bowed they from the fight
That there to be would not;
There were Odda’s bairns
Erst in flight;
Godric from battle went,
And the good man forsook
That to him ofttimes
Horses had given.
He leapt on the horse
That his lord had owned,
On the housings
That it not right was.”

Presently we read of the deeds done by his Thegns over his body;

“There was fallen
The folk’s Elder,
Æthelred’s Earl;
All there saw
Of his hearth’s comrades
That their lord lay dead.
Then there went forth
The proud Thanes,
The undaunted men
Hastened gladly;
They would there all
One of two things,
Either life forsake,
Or the loved one wreak.”

Then one of the Thegns speaks;

“Neither on that folk
Shall the Thanes twit me
That I from this host
Away would go
To seek my home,
Now mine Elder lieth
Hewn down in battle;
To me is that harm most;
He was both my kinsman
And my lord.”

Then another speaks in answer;

“How thou, Ælfwine, hast
All our Thanes
In need-time cheered.
Now our lord lieth,
The Earl on the earth,
That of us each one
Others should embolden,
Warmen to the war,
That while we weapons may
Have and hold,
The hard falchion,
Spear and good sword.”

Then another speaks;

“I this promise
That I hence nill
Flee a footstep,
But will further go,
To wreak in the fight
My lord and comrade.
Nor by Stourmere
Any steadfast hero
With words need twit me
That I lordless
Homeward should go,
And wend from the fight.”

The story goes on a little later;

“Rath was in battle
Offa hewn down,
Yet had he furthered
That his lord had pledged,
As he ere agreed
With his ring-giver
That they should both
To the borough ride
Hale to home,
Or in the host cringe
On the slaughter place,
Of their wounds die.
He lay thane-like
His lord hard by.”

Lastly another Thegn speaks;

“Mind shall the harder be,
Heart shall the keener be,
Mood shall the more be,
As our main lessens.
Here lies our Elder,
All down hewn,
A good man in the dust;
Ever may he groan
Who now from this war-play
Of wending thinketh.
I am old of life;
Hence stir will I not,
And I by the half
Of my lord,
By such a loved man
To lie am thinking.”

This institution of military companionship seems to have struck Tacitus with some amazement. He says that this kind of personal relation was among the Germans not thought shameful. This was the natural feeling of a Roman. The duty of a Roman citizen was wholly towards the state. The state might be represented either by a responsible magistrate or by an irresponsible Emperor; in either case obedience was due to the representative of the state; but there was no personal relation to the man. The old Roman institution of patron and client, which was so like the German _comitatus_, had pretty well died out by the time of Tacitus, and it had at no time been entered into by men of high rank(53). What amazed Tacitus was that among the Germans the noblest in birth and exploits were not looked on as dishonoured by entering the service of a personal lord. To Tacitus himself Trajan was the chief magistrate of the Roman commonwealth, the chief commander of the Roman army; he was a personal master to none but his slaves and freedmen(54). It was only in a much later stage of the Roman Empire that personal service in the court and household of the Emperor began to be looked on as honourable(55). But among the Teutonic nations the personal relation coloured everything; personal service towards a King or other chief was honourable from the beginning; the proudest nobles of Europe have down to this day thought themselves honoured by filling offices about the persons of Emperors, Kings, and other princes which Tacitus would have deemed beneath the dignity of any Roman citizen. We are now accustomed to see this kind of service paid in the case of royal personages only; a few centuries back men of any rank deemed themselves honoured by paying the like service to men of the rank next above their own, or even to men of their own rank who had the start of them in age and reputation. The knight was served by his esquire and the master by his scholar; and the same principle, laid aside everywhere else, lingers on in what is undoubtedly a trace of the Teutonic _comitatus_, the fagging of our public schools. Now the political effect of the existence of the principle of personal service, the institution of the _comitatus_, alongside of the primitive political community, was most important in our early history. The personal relation went far to swallow up the purely political one. To enter the service of a chief became so established a practice that at last it was deemed that it was the part of every man to “seek a lord,” as the phrase was, to commend himself, to put himself under the protection of some man more powerful than himself(56). The _man_ owed faithful service to his _lord_; the lord owed faithful protection to his man. The very word _Lord_, in its older and fuller form _Hlaford_, implies the rewards which the lord bestowed on his faithful man. The word is in some sort a puzzling one; but there can be no doubt that it is connected with _hlaf_, _loaf_, and that its general meaning is _the giver of bread_(57). Now herein lurks something which has greatly affected all later political and social arrangements. The institution of the _comitatus_ in its first state had nothing whatever to do with the holding of land. But the _man_ looked for reward of his faithful service at the hands of his _lord_; he looked for the bread of which his lord’s title proclaimed him as the giver. There was of course no form of reward, no form of _bread_, so convenient or so honourable as that of a grant of land to be held as the reward of past and the condition of future service. Moreover the custom of granting out lands to be held by the tenure of military service had become common in the later days of Roman power(58). Such lands were of course held, not of the Emperor as a personal lord, but of the Roman Commonwealth of which he was the head and representative. But the custom of holding lands by military service fell in well with the Teutonic institution of personal service, and the union of the two in the same person produced that feudal relation which has had such an important bearing on all political and social life through the whole of the middle ages and down to our own time. The land granted by the lord to his man, or the land which the man agreed to hold as if it had been so granted, might be a kingdom held of the Emperor or the Pope, or it might be the smallest estate held of a more powerful neighbour. In either case, such a holding by military service was a _fief_, and from the institution of such fiefs the so-called Feudal System, with all its manifold workings for good and for evil, had its rise. But so far as the Feudal System existed, either in England or in any other country, it existed wholly as a system which had grown up by the side of an earlier system which it wholly or partially displaced. The feudal tenant, holding his land of a lord by military service gradually supplanted, wholly or partially, in most countries of Europe, the _allodial_ holder who held his land of no other man, and who knew no superior but God and the Law(59). In England this change took place only gradually and partially; it was through the Norman Conquest, or, more accurately, through the subtle legal theories which came in with the Norman Conquest, that it was finally established. And, after all, it was rather in theory than in fact that it was established. The Feudal System, as something spreading into every corner of the land, and affecting every relation of life, never obtained the same complete establishment in England which it did in some continental countries.

But it is only indirectly that my subject has anything to do with the Feudal System, and especially with its social working. I have to do with the _comitatus_, out of which the feudal relation grew, mainly in another aspect equally indirect, namely, the way in which it affected our earliest political institutions. It gave us a new form of nobility, a nobility of office and of personal relation to the King, instead of a nobility founded on birth only. It gave us a nobility of _Thegns_, which gradually supplanted the earlier nobility of the _Eorls_. As the royal power and dignity grew, it came to be looked on as the highest honour to enter into the personal service of the King. Two results followed; service towards the King, a place, that is, in the King’s _comitatus_, became the badge and standard of nobility(60). And it greatly strengthened the power of the King that he stood to all the chief men of his kingdom in the relation, not only of a political ruler, but of a personal lord, a lord to whose service they were bound by a personal tie, and of whom they held their lands as the gift of his personal bounty. It marks perhaps a decline from the first idea of the _comitatus_ that the old word _Gesith_, _companion_, answering exactly to the Latin _Comes_ used by Tacitus, was supplanted by the name _Thegn_, literally _servant_(61). But when personal service was deemed honourable, the name of servant was no degradation, and the name _Thegn_ became equivalent to the older _Eorl_. The King’s Thegn, the men who held their land of the King and who were bound to him by the tie of personal service, formed the highest class of nobility. The Thegns of inferior lords, of Bishops and Ealdormen, formed a secondary class. A nobility of this kind, there can be no doubt, was so far more liberal than the elder nobility of birth that admission to it was not forbidden to men of lower degree. The _Ceorl_, the ordinary freeman, could not in strictness become an _Eorl_, for the simple reason that he could not change his forefathers; but he might, and he often did, become a _Thegn_(62). But, on the other hand, such a nobility, while it made it easier for the common freeman to rise, tended to lower the condition of the common freemen who did not rise. For the very reason that the barrier of birth is one which cannot be passed, it is in some respects less irksome than the barrier of wealth or office. The privileges of a strictly hereditary nobility are much more likely to sink into mere honorary distinctions than the privileges of a nobility whose rank is backed by the solid advantages of office and of a personal relation to the sovereign.

The tendency then of the first six hundred years after the settlement of the English in Britain was to increase the power of the Crown, to depress the lower class of freemen, to exchange a nobility of birth for a nobility of personal service to the King. That is to say, England had, before the Norman Conquest, already begun to walk, though with less speed than most other nations, in the path which led to the general overthrow of liberty throughout Europe. The foreign invasion which for a moment seemed to have crushed her freedom for ever did in truth only lead to its new birth, to its fresh establishment in forms better fitted to the altered state of things, forms better fitted to be handed on to later times, forms better fitted to preserve the well-being of a great nation, than those forms of the old Teutonic community which still linger on in those remote corners of the world which I spoke of at my beginning. That momentary overthrow, that lasting new birth, will be the subject of my second chapter. I will now only call you to bear in mind that England has never been left at any time without a National Assembly of some kind or other. Be it Witenagemót, Great Council, or Parliament, there has always been some body of men claiming, with more or less of right, to speak in the name of the nation. And bear too in mind that, down to the Norman Conquest, the body which claimed to speak in the name of the nation was, in legal theory at least, the nation itself. This is a point on which I mean again to speak more fully; I would now simply suggest the thought, new perhaps to many, that there was a time when every freeman of England, no less than every freeman of Uri, could claim a direct voice in the councils of his country. There was a time when every freeman of England could raise his voice or clash his weapon in the Assembly which chose Bishops and Ealdormen and Kings, when he could boast that the laws which he obeyed were laws of his own making, and that the men who bore rule over him were rulers of his own choosing. Those days are gone, nor need we seek to call them back. The struggles of ages on the field and in the Senate have again won back for us the selfsame rights in forms better suited to our times than the barbaric freedom of our fathers. Yet it is well that we should look back to the source whence comes all that we boast of as our own possession, all that we have handed on to our daughter commonwealths in other continents. Let us praise famous men and our fathers that begat us. Let us look to the rock whence we were hewn and to the hole of the pit whence we were digged. Freedom, the old poet says, is a noble thing(63); it is also an ancient thing. And those who love it now in its more modern garb need never shrink from tracing back its earlier forms to the first days when history has aught to tell us of the oldest life of our fathers and our brethren.