Tag Archives: Domesday Book

Seminars CXXXI & CXXXII: searching the margins of Anglo-Norman England

I’m sorry, did I say ‘the next week‘? Apparently I meant ‘the next month’. Wow, that’s never happened to the blog before, I do apologise. I have, for what it’s worth, been trying to secure the short-term future of my sanity and balance by actually seeing some bands, the medium-term future of history at my college by marking admissions tests and the long-term future of your humble blogger by offering myself as employee to people, and of course if anything comes of that you will hear in due course. But in the meantime, this is the only evening at home I shall have for a while even now so I should put some blog up, and that blog should be seminar reports. Given how immensely behind I am with these, I will skip one that I’ve no useful expertise with, Robert Hoyland speaking to the Earlier Middle Ages Seminar at London’s Institute of Historical Research on 7th March 2012 to the title, “Theophilus of Edessa and the Historiography of the 7th-8th-Century Near East”—sorry, Byzantinists and early Islamists—because although it had certain detective elements to it as Professor Hoyland was on the trail of a lost source, I knew almost none of the names involved and don’t read any of the languages and I have no means of evaluating how significant what he was saying was. Cool stemma diagram though! If you’re eager to know more I can revisit it, but otherwise I’ll move on to stuff I do have opinions about, those being my erstwhile colleague Emma Cavell, addressing the Late Medieval Seminar at the I. H. R. on the 9th March with the title, “Did Women Cause The Fall of Native Wales?” and Stephen Baxter, Chris Lewis and Duncan Probert addressing the Earlier Middle Ages Seminar there on the 14th March with the title, “Profile of a Doomed Élite: the structure of English landed society in 1066”.

View of Clun Castle

Clun Castle: capital of intrigue circa 1281!

Emma’s area of expertise is the March of Wales in the time of the Norman kings of England, and the Marcher lords who made their fortunes there, and even more specifically, the women in the Marcher lords’ families.1 What she had for us on this occasion was that, while becoming yet more expert on these people, she’d come across a number of letters to such women, Maud de Braose wife of Roger Mortimer (the first one) particularly, from local lords on the other side of the frontier, and what these letters were reporting was nothing less than military intelligence about the composition and motions of the army of Prince Llewellyn of Wales. This comes from a time in 1281 when Roger was out on campaign on that frontier because Llewellyn had just fortified it. Maud, meanwhile, was at Clun Castle and apparently running the command post, this information presumably going back out to Roger and the lords getting information back and so on. Unlike my period, we only have the letters in here, whereas I’m more used to having letters out, but nonetheless there she was at the centre of a fifth-column spy ring and she wasn’t the only one; Howys leStrange (good name madam!) is apparently reported commanding the defence of Welshpool when Llewellyn attacked, and the text that tells us this also tells us that while she was doing that she took care to hide all the documents in the castle. Yeah, I’ll bet! That is a relatively rare mention of such activity in the chronicles of the time, but the letters make it clear that there is more to tell. Emma has been working this up since, including details of a juicy family conspiracy between these groups, and I believe it’s now in some kind of print process, so you may be able to find out more soon!

Now, I thought this was pretty exciting myself, spies, spymistresses, treacherous compacts made on battlefields between mutually-cautious relatives and the last-but-one flash of Welsh independence briefly burning bright in the pan, but Emma got quite a grilling from Judith Bennett, no less, about the role her title had given the women and whether it was fair, and whether this evidence told us anything the Paston Letters don’t, and various others likewise sang up saying such behaviour wasn’t unusual in their area. I’ve had these questions (the ‘it’s not unusual’ sort) myself and I’m never sure what they’re supposed to achieve other than perhaps to imply that the questioner’s area of expertise is somehow more developed than the speaker’s.2 Well, great, but the paper isn’t about that area, so, can we talk about what was actually said perhaps? Anyway, you will see from my description that I thought it was good stuff and maybe you also think it sounds like that too.

The manuscript of Greater Domesday

The manuscript of Greater Domesday

Then the next week I was back in the same building to hear about a different native population being subjugated by the Norman yoke (MAYBE), slightly earlier, as Stephen Baxter and his team told us about the first results from the Profile of a Doomed Elite project that he is running at King’s College London. What they are trying to do is to properly, scientifically, electronically and most of all accurately count, identify, locate and describe the landholders of England in 1066 and work out what had happened to them in 1086 via the magic window of Domesday Book. This has, of course, been attempted before, but never so thoroughly, and in work that Stephen described as “riddled with mistakes” and “methodologically flawed”.3 There is a lot to do here, and it’s not easy: starting estimates are 27,000 pieces of property assigned to 1200 different personal names, only a very few of whom have titles and very many of whom might therefore be people with the same names. I am very familiar with that problem, as of course are they from the PASE Domesday project that Stephen also ran, and the digital solutions they were working out here were consequently of a lot of interest to me.4 They involve combining maps and tables of data, frequencies of names, their predecessors on the estates, their wealth and using all this stuff to arrive, not at solid identifications, but at confidence measures for possible identifications. I like this a lot because it avoids the two common problems with prosopographical databases where identification is uncertain, of either the database format forcing the user to decide where someone belongs before they have the full picture of the database completed, thus not actually allowing that database to help with the identification, or else that format not giving a way of assessing or making links at all, so that the identification always has to be done real-time by eye, and therefore not necessarily with consistency.5 Better still, it does not resolve this problem by having the computer do black-box identifications whose basis isn’t flexible. When our data is as variable as the Domesday data, pretending that we won’t sometimes get garbage out when we put it in is just unrealistic. This solution lets one measure how garbagey each result is, and as Stephen explained it’s solid enough to start doing statistics with, because adequate statistical methods can factor in things like confidence and make them part of the measurements. This should allow them to ask questions like: how long is the tail of small free independent English landholders left after the big guys whom we know lose out? how much of English wealth is actually peasant-held? How does the Church compare, how do women do compared to men? (A preliminary take at that last from 1066 suggests, apparently, that ninety per cent of lay wealth then was held by men and half the rest by Queen Edith! Lucky her?)

After Stephen had talked us through that in taut and dynamic style, Duncan and Chris filled in some texture. Duncan talked about the greater accuracy of micro-studies in this method because of small landholders pretty certainly not holding anywhere else so we see all their stuff; but most of a nation’s worth of micro-studies and a big enough computer of course equals one very detailed macro-study, so it will all add up. Chris, on the other hand, focused on the big identifiable people, not least Archbishop Stigand of Canterbury, who now emerges as the third largest landholder in England tempus rex Eadwardi (I presume after Earl Harold and the king?), and actually least, weirdly, Harold’s sister Gunnhild, although she was a professed nun apparently living on her own estates; nonetheless, they were only 30 hides, which makes her the smallest landholder the team can place in a secure family connection. Chris also showed us Danes settled in Wessex (described as such), mixed-name families, northern king’s thegns taking service with Norman earls and many other possibilities. I’m sure some of these have been spotted before, probably largely by Ann Williams, but of course they’re going to catch all that are reasonably catchable through this project and there seems no question that that will give them new things to say about how Normans became Anglo-Normans, how English dealt with or were dealt with by Normans and how that varied from place to place. There were questions, all the same, including a marvellously Heisenbergian one by Susan Reynolds pointing out that since the king’s commissioners themselves didn’t know the answers they were soliciting from the jurors at the inquests that made up the Domesday data, the enquiry was itself presumably changing the data; but, there wasn’t anything that the team didn’t have some means of testing for and trapping via the statistical analyses. It can’t be rock-solid accurate, of course, it just can’t, because of factors like Susan’s but also because of the variable data quality and so on, and also of course because of the large chunks of England not included in Domesday Book, but it might be as close as we can get…

1. For example the widows, as studied in Emma Cavell, “Aristocratic widows and the medieval Welsh frontier: The Shropshire evidence” in Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 6th Series Vol. 17 (Cambridge 2007), pp. 57-82.

2. One would like, generously, to suppose that it was to offer scope for Tom Jones filks, but if so no-one grasped that nettle.

3. I guess that by this was implied Robin Fleming’s Kings and Lords in Conquest England (Cambridge 1991), not least because esteemed commentator Levi warned us some time ago that Stephen makes criticisms of this work in his The Earls of Mercia: Lordship and Power in Late Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford 2007) but I don’t know if Stephen would also have meant Ann Williams’s The English and the Norman Conquest (Woodbridge 1995).

4. Cf. Chris Lewis, “Joining the Dots: a methodology for identifying the English in Domesday Book” in Katherine Keats-Rohan (ed.), Family Trees and the Roots of Politics. The prosopography of Britain and France from the tenth to the twelfth century (Woodbridge 1997), pp. 69-87; Jonathan Jarrett, Rulers and Ruled in Frontier Catalonia 880-1010: pathways of power (Woodbridge 2010), p. 19.

5. I have actually spoken in public about this, at the Digital Diplomatics conference in Naples that I blogged some time ago, and my paper there, “Poor Tools to Think With: the human space in digital diplomatics” is, I believe, still under review for possible publication at this time, though it’s possible that it’s in press and no-one’s told me. Now I’ve said this, proofs will probably arrive in my INBOX just as I head out of town this week…

Domesday TV with Stephen Baxter

One strangeness of the whole Siena trip that I couldn’t really have anticipated was that I met someone who shared acquaintance with Dr Stephen Baxter, of KCL and reported here in the past, and then suddenly Stephen was news. I wouldn’t say I know Stephen well but we have exchanged draft work and argued a great deal about moneyers, and so on, and our interests overlap at the question of how aristocrats get into and maintain a position of control. Nothing too unusual. But when I returned from Siena it was to find that he was all over the Internet and being called “telegenic” by the Guardian, because of a programme he’d done for the BBC that was broadcast shortly after I returned, on Domesday Book.

Stephen Baxter with a replica of the Domesday Book at Kings College London

Stephen Baxter with a replica of the Domesday Book at Kings College London

The programme appears to have gone down well with those who saw it: I have no television and didn’t get around to checking the BBC’s Watch Again service until much too late, but a clip is still there (I can’t embed Flash video on WordPress, and the BBC appear to be wise to VodPod-equipped browsers, so you’ll have to watch it from their page) and they have a fairly extensive web-page up in support of it. The clip is good TV and makes splendid use of Cambridge’s Round Church, so I have to love it, but Stephen’s historical impact is rather greater here than it suggests, because he seems to have weighed in with his own take on a long-running controversy, one of early medieval history’s most guilty secrets: we don’t know what Domesday Book was actually for.

The manuscript of Greater Domesday

The manuscript of Greater Domesday

It’s not that there are no theories, you understand. I’m not going to go into this in detail here, not least because I’m going to link to others doing so, but it’s been supposed to be a land survey, a tax-list, an inventory of feudal lordship and a few other things besides. All of these explanations, however, are hampered by the fact that the surviving manuscripts are recorded with several different levels of detail that show that each ‘circuit’ of inquisitors were working to different standards, and that substantial pieces of the kingdom, most especially London (which would, of course, have been incredibly difficult to survey and might have had some special tax provision via its Cnihtengild or similar… but, still) are not covered. Also, some precursor texts like the Inquisitio Eliensis include more information than any part of the ‘finished’ Book, so why collect that if it wasn’t going to be used? There’s too many sorts of information included for any one of the purposes that have been suggested and not enough of any one sort of information for it to have actually worked for any of these explanations. I used to think, therefore, that the best answer was probably that the text we have was written up only after William the Conqueror’s death, when the whole purpose was redundant anyway, and so simply doesn’t answer to it because it was never going to be used. And then, of course, it would have been impossible to use it for that anyway so we’d never know.

David Roffe

David Roffe

A little while back, however, an independent scholar by the name of David Roffe started to put about an idea that the reason the texts and the apparent purposes of the inquiry that generated them don’t match up is that the texts we have were not generated by the inquiry. He argues that the inquiry of 1085 was very simply aimed at raising a huger-than-ever-before geld to pay the army that would be required to fend off an imminent Danish invasion. This all unrolled well enough, and the invasion never came—bonus! But Domesday Book is not, argues Roffe, [edit: and helpfully explains in a comment below after which I revised this paragraph] the text of that inquiry but a later piece of editing, probably for more local administrative purposes—he fingers Ranulf Flambard for Great Domesday, at least. Now, obviously this has not met with universal acceptance, and it doesn’t diminish the problem of what the much more detailed Little Domesday was for, but it can’t be denied that it would explain a few things. (His argument is set out in full on his webpage here and in his 2007 book Decoding Domesday.)

A page from the Exon Domesday

A page from the Exon Domesday, a separate survey of Devon and Cornwall that seems to have been part of the same project as the Domesay Book

Now, however, Stephen joins the fray, fresh from having superintended the addition of the huge amount of data on persons alive “tempus regis Gulielmi” to the equally huge Prosopography of Anglo-Saxon England database. This gives him perhaps as good a perspective as anyone has on what’s in the text, and his argument is now that the book was a political exercise making it clear to his baronage that, well, he Knew Where They Lived, a process of record that they were prepared to entertain because the record itself gave them security of tenure. He has a lengthy blog post on the BBC’s World History site here where he explains himself. This too is pretty convincing, to me at least. I wonder if in fact one couldn’t go further—indeed, if Stephen didn’t in the programme—and see it as a nationwide propaganda exercise, intended to demonstrate to all to what depth the king ruled his country by inquiring into every last detail of it, ensuring that nothing was hidden, making him akin to the Final Judge, the one in charge of, you know, Doomsday… and of course, creating governmentality. Too glib, perhaps. What is odd about this programme and blog post, though, is that this is a pretty major piece of scholarly development, and like Roffe’s, it is basically being carried out on broadcast media. I assume that print publication is also in the works but by the time it emerges, the debate will probably have moved on. This is, I think, something fairly new for early medieval studies. I have no idea how it and the TV programme will be scored in the Research Excellence Framework! but then, neither does anyone else… I think this is encouraging, anyway, not only that TV (and “telegenic” TV at that) can be made from fairly abstract historical debate, and then that historians of the full calibre are willing to do that kind of work in this kind of forum, where people can actually see what we do and get excited about it.

Part of the manuscript of the Inquisitio Eliensis

Part of the manuscript of the Inquisitio Eliensis

The only thing, the only thing that bothers me about this really, is that the BBC and other sources more widely appear to have picked up the idea that the whole of PASE is Stephen’s baby. I believe he is now its coordinator, and I don’t doubt that he did the bulk of the Domesday work, but it’s been going rather longer than he’s been at KCL, I know several of the other contributors and indeed did some of the technical mangling of data that means it contains moneyers’ names myself. I don’t blame this on Stephen at all, I’m sure it’s the Beeb being sloppy, but all the same I feel a little narked on behalf of the people who gave their working lives to this project for years. Databases don’t get you jobs, we have found. Of course, with this kind of coverage, maybe that’s set to change…

Still! Never mind that. While attempting to see if anyone had illegally loaded the Domesday program onto Youtube, I instead found this small extra chunk of Stephen visiting a traditional parchment maker and this may serve many of you and interest still others, although it would be slightly easier to watch had I not seen too much of the revived Dr Who, I’m sure some of you will know what I mean. I commend it to the house, anyway.

Fleming’s Normans (and her Danes and her English)

Once finished with ‘pope month’ on the course, we had ‘Normans fortnight’, and I used the opportunity to read Robin Fleming’s Kings and Lords in Conquest England, which I’d wanted to do for, er, well more or less since I first read any of her work as an undergraduate I think, so quite a long time, in none of which time had it ever been quite relevant enough.1 But now I have.

The manuscript of Great Domesday

The manuscript of Great Domesday

In some ways I guess this doesn’t read as innovative as it did when it came out, or at least as the author pitches it, but that would be because she’d blazed the trail of using Domesday Book for really big-scale social history of England and a lot of other people also started doing it once she’d shown them how it could be done. I was very conscious while making notes that there has been an awful lot of work since she wrote, but hadn’t been that much on relevant subjects before: a great deal of what’s in her footnotes was thirty or forty years old even then. Anyway, the elevator pitch of it would be: using Domesday over many areas, we can see that the patterns of lay land-holding were hugely changed between 1066 and 1086, and that only a small part of this can be seen as continuity from an Anglo-Saxon landholder to a new Norman one. Small estates were clumped together by means fair and foul, but big ones were broken up and the result was a much more divided and controllable nobility for William I in 1086 than Edward the Confessor had in 1066, when Harold and his brothers actually held more land than the king, a pattern set up by Cnut’s consolidation of the nobility. That process is discussed in the first part of the book, and one of the things that makes this so interesting is the long comparison 1016 to 1086, albeit mainly studied through the 1086 telescope of Domesday.2 It’s at that end where the real argument lies, and figures like this really knock the difference home:

Proportions of land held by Edward the Confessor and his earls as per Fleming

Proportions of land held by William the Conqueror and his barons, 1086, as per Fleming

The timing of all this is also crucial: she sees a turning point around 1075, when the last English landholders to whom a new Norman landholder can be allowed to succeed are dying out. From there on land has to be acquired by other means, although that was never the only one. This means that a lot of estates had probably assumed the form that Domesday shows them in only very recently in 1086, and that we can fit the acquisition of land into a slow change that also appears in William’s domestic and ecclesiastical politics of initial accommodation hardening into subjection. This is all anchored with masses of detail, I mean masses. She never uses two or three examples when six exist, and this is effective. It sacrifices something on accessibility: the language of English land tenure is somewhat unusual and if you don’t already know what soke is or what berewicks are you will need a dictionary because there’s no help coming here, and no glossary either which might have been a kind gesture. But the upshot of it is all to convince, with the sort of mass of data that only Domesday scholars can really marshal for this period.3

Shires in which the different English magnate families dominated in 1066Spread of landholding of William the Conqueror's baronage by family 1086, as per Fleming

Three things only bug me about the arguments here, and these are three carps in a whole pool of beautiful goldfish, if you see what I mean. You know by now that this is my way of showing I really read the thing, to try and argue with details, right? So. The first thing is, a point she makes several times but which is easily lost sight of, that we are dealing here only with lay land, which is between a third and two-thirds of all land in England perhaps. So although if you’re studying the lay aristocracy we have indeed got 100% of their known assets under consideration, if you were interested in the peasantry then we’re looking at rather less. The second thing is another that she admits but I don’t think she really allows the reader time to see how it might affect the argument: Domesday does not record Anglo-Saxon subtenancies in as much detail as it does Anglo-Norman ones, so the fact that tempus regis willelmi land tenure appears to be split between many people and tempus regis eadwardi rather fewer may not all be the fact that Harold of Wessex and brothers and Leofric of Mercia had most of the country sewn up between them, undeniable though that probably is, but partly that we are not seeing the people over who they were lords. That said, it could be argued against that since Domesday is mainly interested in tenants-in-chief, this doesn’t really affect the upper level and might even militate towards better representation of Anglo-Saxon tenancies whose nature didn’t match the categories that Domesday‘s surveyors were working with. So maybe that doesn’t matter.

Peasants at work on a plough team, from the Luttrell Psalter

Peasants at work on a plough team, from the Luttrell Psalter

The question that really seemed uncovered to me is one that I kept asking, especially during the penultimate chapter which tries to document how much of the new lords’ landholdings were simply stolen or extorted. This is a really interesting chapter, and contains fascinating hints of collusion. What happens, I wanted to ask, having had this conversation with Matthew Innes several times in the past,4 when land changes hands? Do we really envisage the people who had owned it packing up their bags and leaving? Was England, or indeed Europe always full of migrants of purchase like this? Well, sometimes perhaps, especially in my area where they sometimes come to the frontier and start a new life, but more often surely they stay put, they just don’t own the land any more. What is happening with some of these cases is surely primarily a change of revenue flow; someone new gets to take the renders and the people working the land stay the same. A lot of the people we’re dealing with here likely weren’t working the land before, of course, and they may now have to. But all the same I think there is not only a great difference between physically expelling people from their lands and simply taking possession, in terms of title, tax and rights, of it while they stay in place with lessened status. I also think that envisaging the latter rather than the former makes it a lot easier to imagine how this whole process could be carried out without the whole of England essentially becoming wasteland and all the English fugitives.

1. Robin Fleming, Kings and Lords in Conquest England, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought 4th Series 15 (Cambridge 1991).

2. In this I think she, as with very many other people in fact, owes a lot to the similar perspective of Pauline Stafford, Unification and Conquest: a political and social history of England in the tenth and eleventh centuries (London 1978) and I don’t know if this is one of those I-internalised-it-so-good-I-forgot-it-wasn’t-mine things I described the other day but I find it very weird that that book isn’t cited or in this one’s bibliography.

3. It ought to be noted, however, that Fleming’s figures above differ quite a lot from the results that Mark Lawson got doing the same sums, or at least attempting to: see his “Edward the Confessor’s England” in James Campbell, Patrick Wormald & Eric John (edd.), The Anglo-Saxons (Harmondsworth 1982), pp. 226-227 at p. 226.

4. You can find Matthew discussing the like in his “Land, Freedom and the Making of the Early Medieval West” in Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 6th Series Vol. 16 (Cambridge 2006), pp. 39-73.

Seminary XXXIX: how many times did William the Conqueror survey England?

Seminars at the Institute of Historical Research have resumed as heralded here earlier, and the Earlier Middle Ages one started a week late on Wednesday 21 January for reasons I haven’t gleaned, with Sally Harvey speaking to the title, “Domesday Book: an inquest of sheriffs?”

Great Domesday, at the National Archives

Great Domesday, at the National Archives

There is such a wealth and weight of scholarship on Domesday Book that several of the audience confessed themselves unable to keep up with it, in fact John Gillingham said that one of the luxuries he’d permitted himself on retirement was to stop trying. That said, we still don’t fully understand what the thing was actually for, and whether it could have fulfilled that purpose or not. Its partial coverage (however massive the successful coverage was), its inconsistent recording standards and its wealth of information seem to fit no single purpose, and any combination of purposes badly. There is more information there than one would want for a tax register, or a land register, or a simple inventory of England even, and yet many dues not recorded, much land omitted, and so on. At the moment, therefore, I think the consensus is that it didn’t really work, so intuiting its purpose from the actual result is probably impossible. Work is however getting somewhere by working on the process of its manufacture and compilation, and this is where Professor Harvey came in.

I don’t want to try and explain the whole process of compilation, because I’m not up with that research either and anything I say will probably be outdated and wrong (David Roffe’s pages linked in the sidebar will give you a far better grounding than I can). So I will give you first the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle version of events, and then explain how Professor Harvey was differing from it and what it might imply if she be right. The Chronicle, first. Only the E manuscript, also known as the Peterborough Chronicle, covers this (the only other late-runner, D, coughing out in 1079 except for one misplaced entry), and it says:

… the king had great thought and very deep conversation with his council about this land, how it was occupied, or with which men. Then he sent his men all over England into every shire and had them ascertain how many hundreds of hides there were in the shire, or what land and livestock the king himself had in the land, or what dues he ought to have in twelve months from the shire. Also he had it recorded how much land his archbishops had, and the diocesan bishops, and his abbots and earls, and – though I tell it at too great length – what or how much each man had who was occupying land here n England, in land or in livestock, and how much money it was worth. He had it investigated so narrowly that there was not one single hide, not one yard of land, not even (it is shameful to tell – but it seemed no shame to him to do it) one ox, not one cow, not one pig was left out, that was not set down to the record, And all the records were brought to him afterwards.

The Chronicler pretty clearly remembered the commissioners’ visit, or knew someone who did, and from that we can tell that they felt that Peterborough abbey (or Medeshamstede, as it then was) had been pretty thoroughly hung out to dry, and they seem to have heard similar complaints from elsewhere. But that only tells what they knew, of course, and we know that in fact large areas were not covered, most obviously London (which would have been impossible, given how much of it must have been small plots belonging to someone whose principal holdings were in other places). Professor Harvey was emphasising, albeit with considerable pauses to check her place in her notes and so on that made this paper something of an endurance test for the audience, that the towns generally were quite poorly covered, however, and that quite a lot of their returns are less inventories than records of exemptions that would be covered elsewhere because of belonging to various important tenants-in-chief. In these exemptions, she argued, it becomes clear that the sheriffs were reporting to the king or to the commissioners. Once, once only, a sheriff’s report is copied up in such a way that his first-person record is preserved, but Professor Harvey thought that mostly such things were beyond recovery (I did ask, because that sounded marvellous). She also found many lesser cases where sheriffs clearly had difficulties accounting for the dues that had once been paid and now weren’t, and generally reading these records closely reveals land-grabbing and corruption on a huge scale, although as many people pointed out, it had after all been a Conquest…

Anyway, the sheriffs seem to have been deeply involved in the recording, and Professor Harvey suggested (to general agreement) that in fact a preliminary return was probably made by the sheriffs, at least for the royal lands—who else could do it, after all?—and maybe for others too, and then checked by the commissioners, all of whom were operating outside their home areas like early Carolingian missi (if Wendy Hoofnagle is reading, her ears may now be pricking up…).

Everyone's favourite corrupt Anglo-Norman sheriff

Everyone's favourite corrupt Anglo-Norman sheriff

Why do we think they were checked? Because Dr Harvey also however found protests against sheriffs, complaints and stories of abuse and theft, that were allowed to remain in the finished Domesday, or we wouldn’t know. And of course we know that commissioners were appointed and sent out, and we can identify some of them, even if the Peterborough experience may not have been typical. And sometimes the sheriffs were able to put their side, and sometimes their victims got to put theirs, and whether anything was done about it is hard to say: there is some evidence of sheriffs being removed or pursued for compensation for misdeeds before Domesday, but after it gets very confused because of William I’s death and an almost immediate coup against William II that confuses motives for removal from office. All the same, what I can’t help but call ‘tormented voices‘ singing out through Domesday Book really struck me as an idea.

One thing that came out in questions was that coup, in fact. The resentment that Peterborough felt about the survey is pretty clear. Also pretty clear is that most of England was covered by it in varying degrees, with people apparently being encouraged to check on each other, rat on their officials, and generally mess things up for sheriffs all of whom would presumably have had their friends among the big aristocracy, who would be watching their own backs even as William made them check on other peoples’ favoured sheriffs… It was observed that the 1088 coup is very hard to get hold of because there seem to be so many sides; perhaps it was less Rufus and more Domesday that set them all against the power and each other. How close did William the Conqueror get to destroying the kingdom of England with a survey, at that rate? Worth pondering…

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is quoted here from Michael Swanton’s translation, M. Swanton (transl.), The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (London 1996, repr. 1997), s. a. 1085 E.