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Tenure and Contract

In an important article Scott Waugh cited a series of common law actions where the effects of a shift from tenure to contract may be observed—annuity, covenant, debt.200 Monstravit de compoto should probably be included. It responded to the mobility that bailiffs had acquired. Its use implies that that bailiff is unlikely to be re-employed. It implies a fixed-term office. Such mobility was unrooted in land tenure (since the question of bailiffs’ landlessness was central). It was rooted in salaried payment. The action of account then looks like a further instance of lordly clients turning ‘to the royal courts for the protection of their contractual claims’.201 The problem—if not the solution of royal courts—was visible from the twelfth-century Leges Henrici Primi.

Bailiffs’ mobility is a predicate of monstravit itself. ‘The sheriffs in whose bailiwicks they are found are to make them come to render their account’, stated the 1259 Provisions of Westminster (cap. 19). The bailiffs could be anywhere. The manorial manual Husbandry, addressed to manorial auditors, makes clear the problem:

And be sure to know, as for manors which are entrusted to bailiffs, where there is no reeve [provost] beyond the bailiff, that whatever damage comes to pass under the bailiff, the bailiff will answer for every thing, just as if he were the reeve. And the lord should look out carefully that [the bailiff] should have pledges, so whatever damage comes to pass under the bailiff, who has nothing of his own [in terms of property], that these pledges shall answer for him.[1] [2] [3]

John de Valle’s evasiveness is one example of this. He has no trouble evading the distraint to which he is liable. Indeed it is his success at doing precisely this that forces Agnes de Valence down the channel through which her action flows chasing de Valle’s pledges.

Was such mobility a consequence of being salaried? Historians have noted the general decline in land grants by lords to tenants and followers c. 1200—c.1275 in England, seeing a partial shift in the way lords rewarded followers and household servants.203 This is the hinge between a bailiff being literally a bailee for his lord of some manor, to a position where he is a salaried official.204 Plucknett gave the question no explicit consideration at all in his Creighton Lecture and bailiffs per se perhaps lose out historiographically to stewards or even reeves.[4] At least during the heyday of demesne farming in the second half of the thirteenth century bailiffs seem to have inhabited something of an intermediary position between the unfree, firmly rooted reeve and the free and sometimes familial, sometimes official steward.[5] It is not necessary for the argument here that any shift from tenure to contract should be absolute; simply that it was sufficient and prevalent enough to cause a real problem in bailiffs’ accountability. Seneschauncy (c. 1260—76) takes it for granted that bailiffs were salaried.[6] The bailiffs at the Priory of Ely were salaried in this period at 2d. a day.[7] A letter of Bishop Thomas Cantilupe of Hereford clearly presumes a market of mobile bailiffs and a licence to go where they would. In a very detailed letter to his steward about numerous matters of estate management, Cantilupe ordered John of Bradeham to ‘appoint Robert of Furches to the bailiwick [of Whitbourne], and this quickly lest he be lured into putting himself in service to someone else’.[8] The timing of the letter may be significant—18 November—precisely the period following on from the Michaelmas audit when landlords would review bailiffs’ past conduct with a view to future redeployment (much of Cantilupe’s letter is taken up with this), and therefore when bailiffs themselves might be hawking their services. A late fourteenth-century Durham manuscript assumes that a manorial reeve or bailiff will newly enter into office at the start of the (presumably financial) year and ‘secure for himself a clerk who can competently order his roll and estate’.[9]

In this context the prevalence of ‘merely prominent royal servants’[10] amongst those bringing actions of monstravit in the 1270s may be not that it shows monstravit was just a matter of laws for the boys. Its significance may rather be that even powerful servants of the crown apparently lacked satisfactory means to discipline or hold accountable their own senior officials.

This is striking in the common law context which often took bailiffs as equivalents for, or extensions of, their lords. Glanvill talks about bailiffs or stewards being appointed to ‘dispose of someone’s lands or goods’ with the qualification that this did not entitle them per se to act as the person’s representative in court (implying that they were doing precisely that).[11] Famously, in the writ of novel disseisin, the bailiff of the lord who had unjustly seised a plaintiff’s land could be summoned if his lord could not be found.[12] The Court of the Fair of St Ives speaks in 1275 about the ‘peace of the abbot and the bailiffs’, the one an extension of the other.[13] The conflation of agency and hence liability could be problematic. Conscientious rulers worried about it. A Duchess of Brabant included questions about her liability for the exactions of her officers in a questionnaire she put to Aquinas in the 1260s or early 1270s.[14] In 1219 William Marshal Il’s bailiffs ejected the Countess of Huntingdon (she said) from the manors of Baddow, Tottenham, and Kempston.[15] Responding that autumn to Henry III’s written reproach and censure, Marshal expressed how

my spirit was astonished—more than is scarcely possible—that you could have believed that I should have so offended against your dignity and excellence, since I have never done anything, or ordered anything to be done, against your excellence or dignity which could provide grounds for such an evil, suspicious surmise. As for your claim in your letters to me that when Earl David had died, my bailiffs, armed and with main force, injured his men and violently took off with the cattle which had been his, on my orders, dearest lord, I reply thus to your Excellency, that if this should have been done by my bailiffs, I know nothing about it, nor do I consent to any such acts, and that I will undertake to correct any excesses [excessus] of my bailiffs, should they have committed them, according to your will, and according to the laws and customs of the kingdom.[16]

The faultline between servants doing what they saw their master wanted but had not asked for and masters indicating what they wanted without ordering it was a persistent problem. Thomas Beckets murder is merely the most emblematic twelfth-century instance.[17]

Simon of Senlis’s letters show the upside of such a close identification by bailiff-agents with their lords’ interests. Senlis worries about his lord’s interests when buying London herring and St Ives cloth (a concern Grosseteste would repeat in his Rules for the Countess of Lincoln).[18] The ‘damage et hontage’ (to use the Court de Barons refrain)[19] done to a lord by bailiffs who did not identify with their lords’ interests is made clear in Henry Ill’s gravamina against his council in March 1261, a highly politicized instance. Henry described how his council went against this natural order to ‘appoint new bailiffs for conserving the king’s rights, but do so at their own pleasure without respect to the king, such that these bailiffs [balliui] do not think of themselves as the king’s men, and ignore his rights in order to please others rather than him’.[20]

Given the strong impetus to conflate agents’ and masters’ interests, the action of account is striking in that it indicates that such a happy conjunction had, too often, passed. Instead of being agents serving their lords’ interests and carrying out their orders, actions of account imply the bond between lord and bailiff worked differently towards the later thirteenth century. Robert of Chilton had been a man rooted in local Kentish politics. His bond with Battle was longstanding and it was a newcomer— Geoffrey of St Calais—who ruptured it. Chilton thought of himself as someone merely holding land of his lord. John de Valle was in status lesser, but in responsibilities greater. Despite his friends in high places de Valle was clearly an official of Agnes de Valence but curiously ‘unpropertied’ from monstravits perspective given the related case admitting his involvement in a tenement.[21] Yet records from (e.g.) the 1240s show powerful men and women seemingly at a loss to control such officials: Ralph de Neville, Chancellor and Bishop of Chichester;[22] Drogo, a member of the Turberville family;[23] Isabella de Fortibus, daughter of Gilbert de Clare;[24] later Gilbert himself;

Geoffrey de Lusignan; etc.[25] Given that the Clares and Lusignans had significant reputations themselves for having aggressive bailiffs, their inclusion may be notable. Licensing hard bailiffs to do hard business did not immunize barons from being ultimately unable to hold their own men to account.[26] A significant minority of baronial bailiffs seem distinct liabilities by the mid-thirteenth century.

What is striking is not that bailiffs should themselves want to profit in the course of service to their lord. It is that lords could get neither local compromise nor constrain bailiffs when they disagreed. Legal jurisdictions are important here. Robert of Chilton’s case showed that the question of jurisdiction was key to securing bailiffs’ accountability even in the early twelfth century. Chilton initially refused Battle’s jurisdiction but was ‘tricked’ into conceding it. His argument against a liability to account hinged (to recap) first on his own self-regard as an agent and secondly on his claim for the personal nature of that liability to the dead Abbot Henry For him, accepting Battle’s jurisdiction does seem to have been a matter of personal fidelity, not of official responsibility—and on something like those terms.[27]

The ‘old’, traditional form of the emerging action of account was directed towards a sheriff to secure an accounting at the county courts. Given the rough subsidiarity principle of English lawcourts, this implies several things jurisdictionally. It implies that any private rapprochement between bailiff and lord had failed. It then implies (predictably) that any attempt to resolve matters at the seigneurial court had failed.[28] The county court was the next step up. Even that though was a significant concession, given the unavoidable, public recognition that a lord’s ‘disciplinary jurisdiction’ had failed—and in his relations with his own officer.[29] Reputationally, none of these cases can have enhanced lordly status in tenants’ or neighbours’ eyes. It is possible that the 1259/1285 statutes were so strict because of the embarrassment that unaccountable bailiffs caused lords. Actions of account may have been not so much expressions of landlordly strength so much as expressions of landlordly loss of control.

What may it imply for dispute resolution at a county level when actions of account pass through the Exchequer of Pleas, Common Bench, or the eyre ses- sions?[30] We cannot tell how many cases occurred, and were resolved, at the county level or lower. A number of factors are at work, though: the seniority (political or official) of those bringing such cases; the argument that any action of account is some admission of failure; and the pre-1259 cases that we can see involving less powerful people. This implies that such cases are unlikely to constitute only a modest molehill. Yet evidence is lacking to claim they are all that is left of a mountain. The truth is probably somewhere in between, but, I suspect, more mountain than molehill. It may also imply something about ‘jurisdiction shopping’. It is hard to be certain that any tendency for cases to ascend jurisdictionally speaking implies an increased inability of lower jurisdictions to deal with unaccountable bailiffs. It may be simply that greater lords found these higher fora preferable. If so they most probably preferred them because they found them most congenial to winning. Either way the preferences of the powerful played a role.[31] A clear implication is that these visible cases must always be a subset of a bigger universe of cases that got resolved at lower jurisdictions.

S. F. C. Milsom, analysing lordly ‘disciplinary jurisdiction’, has seen a shift during the thirteenth century from tenurial relationships that had an ‘organic life in which tenement and dues are interdependent and kept in balance by the lord’s court’ to one where dues and services are ‘independent properties fixed in an external system of law’.[32] Actions of account, mostly brought after periods of service, offer some correlation. This contrast between organic, affectual relations and more formally legalized obligations seems similar to Michael Clanchy’s pithy contrast between ‘love and law’, or Thomas Bisson’s between the accountability of fidelity and the accountability of office. It is important though that any shift in disciplinary jurisdiction, ‘tenure to contract’, ‘law and love’, from ‘fidelity’ to ‘office’ is not interpreted absolutely.[33] The development of actions of account corresponds with Milsom’s shift from the personal to the impersonal (from Chilton’s personal ideal of accountability to de Valle’s broken contracts)—but it clearly coexisted with modes of fidelity.[34] Bailiffs and stewards swore oaths. In the transition from one bailiff (John of Crakehall, who will reappear) to another, Adam Marsh lamented in 1251 that Robert Grosseteste was suffering ‘considerable damage at the hands of some persons [servants of various sorts] who have no compunction in violating their fealty [aliquos qui uiolate fidei culpam non uerentur]’.[35]

In Bisson’s terms, Marsh was talking about competent, official estate agents,[36] but he happily frames the issue in terms of broken faith rather than breach of contract, even at this ‘late’ date.[37] After all, bailiffs’ oaths obligate them to uphold their lords’ interests writ large, as well as their wider communal duty, as is well expressed in John of Oxford’s ‘Luffield Book’. It gives a bailiffs’ oath:

Any bailiff receiving a bailiwick will swear so: Hear this Lord N., that I N. will faithfully conduct myself in my bailiwick and bear myself honestly towards the country, towards rich and poor and that I will reclaim as far as I can anything that was lost from my lord’s rights, or from your rights by my predecessors as bailiffs, and make known to my lord or to your council etc.[38]

There may have been progression from one to the other, but it is not clear from a case such as John de Valle’s that it was progress; nor is it clear that law triumphed ineluctably over love, however intricately it tangled relations between servants and masters. A drift from tenure to contract interacted with a change in conceptualizing and exacting accountability from bailiffs.[39] What our actions of account do seem to show are the limitations of both love and law. In this respect they are not dissimilar to twelfth- and thirteenth-century podesta. There too there are grounds for thinking that the ‘law’ expressed by sindacatio and the ‘love’ expressed by the character-building literature of the podesta manuals did not provide an infallible guarantee of professional, official conduct.[40]

  • [1] Walter of Henley, 442 (Husbandry, cap. 57).
  • [2] Waugh, ‘Tenure to Contract’, esp. 816-24; D. A. Carpenter, ‘The Second Century of EnglishFeudalism’, P&P 168 (2000), 30-71, esp. 34-6, 50-5 on (e.g.) the Ferrers’ use of both tenured anduntenured officials, and 57-8 for tenured stewards.
  • [3] 204 See Fletas presumption, discussed by Plucknett, Mediaeval Bailiff, 2; Harvey, ‘Pipe Rolls and theAdoption of Desmesne Farming’, 351; Prestwich, Plantagenet England, 427, associates salaried manorialofficials with direct management of desmesnes and periods of inflation (as in the early thirteenth century).
  • [4] For stewards see Carpenter, ‘Second Century’; Hershey, ‘Rise and Fall of William de Bussey’.For reeves see P. D. A. Harvey, ‘The Manorial Reeve in Twelfth Century England’, in Ralph Evans (ed.),Lordship and Learning: Studies in Memory of Trevor Aston (Woodbridge, 2004), 125—38. The questionis particularly problematic since, as was noted at the outset, two men could both be called bailiffsyet be doing very different jobs. Paul Brand, ‘Stewards, Bailiffs and the Emerging Legal Profession’,in Ralph Evans (ed.), Lordship and Learning: Studies in Memory of Trevor Aston (Woodbridge, 2004),shows a sequence of lordly officials acting legally as ‘bailiffs’ but who then turn out to be stewardsfunctionally. The bailiff here evaporates into a completely fictional legal person. For service remittances given to reeves in lieu of payment see Noke, ‘Agency and the Excessus Balance’ at 149—50. Foran example c. 1230, see Select Documents of the English Lands of the Abbey of Bec, ed. Marjorie Chibnall,CS 3rd ser. 73 (1951), 65.
  • [5] Harvey, ‘Manorial Reeve in Twelfth Century England’. Although bailiffs could themselves bevilleins: see the 28 October 1282 note by the Abbot of Ramsey that he has appointed Robert ofVandry and Roger Smith ‘villeins of ours at Gravenhurst, as our bailiff and attorney for the custody of . . . [the] manor of Gravenhurst’. They were to account for it too. Translated in J. AmbroseRaftis, The Estates of Ramsey Abbey: A Study in Economic Growth and Organziation, Studies and Texts3 (Toronto, 1957), App. D, 315 [=CUL MS, fo. 66v].
  • [6] Seneschauncy, cap. 80 (Walter of Henley, 293, comment 94—6).
  • [7] Edward Miller, The Abbey and Bishopric of Ely: The Social History of an Ecclesiastical Estate fromthe Tenth to the Early Fourteenth Century (Cambridge, 1951), 255; similarly, Raftis, Estates of RamseyAbbey, 263-4 (post-1348). Ramsey also used wage labour, see 199—201.
  • [8] 209 Registrum Thome de Cantilupo, 108 (18 November 1276). Borough custumals’ prohibitionsagainst luring another’s servants from service correlate this at a far more general level. See e.g. forNorthampton c. 1260 and Waterford c. 1300, Borough Customs, i. 215—16.
  • [9] 2*0 Durham Dean and Chapter Library MS Loc. 2, 15 (v) cited from Walter of Henley, 464—7 at 464.For dating, Walter, 249 (=‘Oschinsky’ MS 83). Compare the late thirteenth-/early fourteenth-centuryrule that ‘All bailiffs after accounting are to be inquired into in place without delay by good and lawworthy men [bonos et legales homines] who are sworn and assigned for this in every vill’, from CUL MSDd. VII. 6, cited from Walter of Henley, 463-4 (=‘Oschinsky’ MS 41).
  • [10] Brand, Kings, Barons and Justices, 314.
  • [11] Glanvill, 133. He goes on to provide the writ to effect this. Also Britton, i. 305—6. See S. F.C. Milsoms comments in The Legal Framework of English Feudalism (Cambridge, 1976), 18—21esp. 20, on ‘vicarious liability’ and Plucknett, Mediaeval Bailiff, 14—15.
  • [12] Glanvill, 167—8.
  • [13] Select Pleas in Manorial Courts and Other Seignorial Courts, ed. F. W Maitland, SS 1 (London,1889), 138.
  • [14] 215 ‘De regimine judaeorum’ (c. 1261—1271), in Aquinas: Selected Political Writings, ed.A. P. d’Entreves, trans. J. G. Dawson (Oxford, 1974), 92—4. It is unclear which Duchess of BrabantAquinas addressed: Aquinas, PoliticalWritings, trans. R. W. Dyson (Cambridge, 2002), xx.
  • [15] 216 Royal and Other Historical Letters [ ... ] Henry III, ed. W W. Shirley, RS, 2 vols. (London,1862—6), i. #40. For William Marshal I’s bailiff’s encroachments on Earl David of Huntingdon’s landin 1217 see i. #5.
  • [16] 217 Royal and Other Historical Letters [...] Henry III, i. #41.
  • [17] As a wider problem see Petri Cantoris Parisiensis Verbum adbreviatum, ed. Monique Boutry,Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 196 (Turnhout, 2004), 171 (§1.18).
  • [18] TNA SC 1/6/141 (1226—32). See further Jeanne Stones and Lionel Stones, ‘Bishop RalphNeville, Chancellor to King Henry III, and His Correspondence: A Reappraisal’, Archives 16 (1984),227—57. Grosseteste’s Rules (cap. xii/28): ‘buy your wine, and your wax and your wardrobe at the fairof St Botolph [. . .] your robes purchase at St Ives’ (Walter of Henley, 398).
  • [19] 22° Court Baron at e.g. 22, 23.
  • [20] DBM #30 cap. 10 [6] at 214. See also cap. 5 [3] at 212. The ‘new bailiffs’ are in practice sheriffs,but Henry, I think, uses the wider term to stress the unnaturalness of the outcome. For the Council’sretort, DBM #31 (March—April 1261), caps. 3 [5] at 220—2; 6 [10] at 224. Here they certainlyavow the principle that baronial agents were accountable. Cf. Edwards retort to criticisms of WalterLangton as Treasurer in 1301, Prestwich, Edward I, 526.
  • [21] Calendar Justiciary Rolls Ireland, ii. 1295—1303, 322.
  • [22] CRR 1237-1242, 430 #2121 (May 1242); CRR 1242-1243, 336 #1708 (February 1243),against John Blund for Sussex lands.
  • [23] CRR 1242-1243, 298 #1530 (January/February1243) against William of Bretevill for landsin Devon).
  • [24] For 1256—60 (for Roger of Donescumbe, her chaplain, for land at Lambeth andKennington): TNA E 13/1e mm. 2d and 9 (Exchequer plea rolls); E 159/43 m. 8 (King’sRemembrancer Memoranda Rolls) against Richard of Halstede for Holderness, 1269, and notwithstanding Denholm-Young’s remark, Seignorial Administration, 159.
  • [25] Further examples and references from 1267, Brand, Kings, Barons and Justices, 314—18.
  • [26] 227 Clare’s bailiffs’ reputation: CPR 1258—1266, 53 (July 1259 inquiry and public invitationfor plaints against into Richard de Clare’s bailiffs); generally, David Carpenter, The Struggle forMastery: Britain 1066—1284 (London, 2003), 371, 461. Geoffrey’s bailiffs’ reputation: Matthew Paris,Chronica majora v. 737—9 (on William de Bussey, actually a steward); TNA JUST 1/82 m. 24d (useof his Trumpington mill as a fatal prison) (1261 eyre, Cambs.); The 1258—9 Special Eyre of Surreyand Kent, ed. Andrew H. Hershey, Surrey Record Society 38 (Woking, 2004), ##114—5, 124, 146,182. Commentary: Hershey, ‘Rise and Fall of William de Bussey’; Carpenter, Reign of Henry III, 102,327—8; J. R. Maddicott, ‘Magna Carta and the Local Community’, P&P 102 (1984), 25—65 at 57.
  • [27] 228 See the contrast Bisson draws between an accountability of fidelity and an accountability ofoffice (Crisis of the Twelfth Century, esp. 316—49). I take this distinction as a contrast, and avoid thepresumption of an absolute opposition or chronological progression from an ‘accountability of fidelity’ to an ‘accountability of office’: e.g. ‘was an accountability of fidelity ultimately self-contradictory?’(350); ‘realization that fidelity might not always entail competence’ (336). See e.g. Chronicle of Jocelin,42, noting Abbot Samson’s appointment to offices on merit not affection (nisi essent idonei). See alsoBisson’s slightly different distinction about the compatibility of ‘lordship’ and ‘office’, 351. Bisson’snegative definition of the old (fidelitarian) accountability whose deficiencies he sees the new (official) accountability remedying are best summarized at Crisis of the Twelfth Century, 324. Udo Wolter,‘Verwaltung, Amt, Beamter, V—VI’, in Otto Brunner, Werner Conze, and Reinhart Koselleck (eds.),Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe: Historisches Lexikon zurpolitisch-sozialen Sprache in Deutschland, 8 9 (Stuttgart, 1972—97), vii. 38, on German officials, takes a similar approach in detecting a movefrom personalized service to functional objectification of tasks, implicitly in the later thirteenth andfourteenth centuries.
  • [28] For analogous comments on the difficulties of tenants getting real due process from a seigneurial court when they contested dues and services, Milsom, Legal Framework, 26—7, 33^.
  • [29] 23° The phrase is Milsom’s, Legal Framework, ch. 1, but esp. 25—35. He is using it in the context ofenforcing tenurial dues and services.
  • [30] For a famous case at the Exchequer see Select Cases in the Exchequer of Pleas, cix—cx, on Bogo deClare’s 1286 case against his wardrober (sic, not his bailiff), Walter of Reygni. Jenkinson and Formoyrefer here to two actions involving Bogo, but I have neither found this on the rolls nor found furtherreferences. They edit it as #170 (=TNA E 13/12 m. 32d). See also TNA SC 1/12/147 (Edward Ito Edmund of Cornwall, 15 February 1288, re the case). For commentary: M. S. Giuseppi, ‘TheWardrobe and Household Accounts of Bogo de Clare, A.D. 1284-6’, Archaeologia 70 (1920), 1—56(including an edition of the accounts cited as evidence during the case, 19—56); Denholm-Young,Seignorial Administration, 156—8; Plucknett, Legislation of Edward I, 153 n. 2, and The MediaevalBailiff, 28 n. 2; and Alan Harding, England in the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge, 1993), 150—1.On Bogo: F. M. Powicke, The Thirteenth Century, 1216—1307, 2nd edn. (Oxford, 1962), 475; JohnR. H. Moorman, Church Life in England in the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge, 1945), 26—30; HenrySumerson, ‘Clare, Bogo de (1248—1294)’, in ODNB.
  • [31] I am grateful to David Carpenter for discussion. On cases floating to higher jurisdictions inFrance see Fredric L. Cheyette, ‘“Suum cuique tribuere”’, French Historical Studies 6 (1970), 287—99,esp. 289-90, 297-8.
  • [32] Milsom, Legal Framework, 34-5.
  • [33] Clanchy, ‘Law and Love’ suggests a distinction, not a progression. In the common law Milsomalso saw no master plan. See Clanchy’s helpful review to Milsom’s revised Historical Foundations of theCommon Law in Modern Law Review 44 (1981), 597—600. On the distinction between accountabilityof fidelity and of office, again Bisson, Crisis of the Twelfth Century, esp. 316—49.
  • [34] David Carpenter has made this point in arguing for the waxing and waning of ‘fiscal feudalism’in thirteenth-century England e.g. with reference to the 1207 tax writ that ‘precisely contrasted thetwo ways [royal, official if you like, and honorial, fidelitarian a la Bisson] of thinking about power’,Carpenter, ‘Second Century’, 63, also 71. By ‘fiscal feudalism’ Carpenter means relations that producemoney for lords, formally grounded in tenurial bonds but where the question at issue is whether thatbond carries any meaning beyond the fiscal (44). He argues it does (58—71).
  • [35] The Letters of Adam Marsh, ed. C. H. Lawrence, OMT, 2 vols. (Oxford, 2006—10), i. #22 at52—3, Lawrence’s translation.
  • [36] Bisson, Crisis of the Twelfth Century, e.g. 324, 329.
  • [37] 238 Cf. Marc Bloch, La Societe feodale (Paris, 1994 edn.), 617—19.
  • [38] ‘(De jure jurandi ballivorum). Aliquis ballivus recipiens ballivam jurabit sic. Hoc auditisdomine N. quod ego N. fideliter me geram in balliva mea et honeste me portabo erga patriam sciliceterga divitem et pauperem, et quod alienatum fuit de jure domini mei vel de jure vestro per ballivosantecessores meos revocabo pro posse meo, et scire faciam domino meo vel vobis et consilio vestroetc.’, Court Baron, 77. The Modus tenendi curias gives a somewhat circular oath for reeves: ‘You will beloyal to your lord and loyally do what pertains to a reeve and loyally will you take on all receipts andloyally will you discharge yourself of loyal [sic, dealx’] costs, by your ability and your knowledge, sohelp you God and his saints,’ 103.
  • [39] This is what Mary Douglas would call changes in thought styles: Douglas, Thought Styles(London, 1996), xii, ‘a distinctive thought style develops as the communicative genre for a social unitspeaking to itself about itself, and so constituting itself’. Also Douglas, How Institutions Think.
  • [40] See John Sabapathy, A Medieval Officer and a Modern Mentality: Podesta and the Quality ofAccountability’, Mediaeval Journal 1.2 (2011), 43-79.
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