Friday, 15 May 2015

Reading a book

Hello everyone,
I was having a chat through Facebook yesterday with a friend of mine about issues with finding work, and I explained a bit about my current situation with the farm and labouring work and the law and all.  It seemed to me that since I'm having a little trouble figuring out what my next step in life should be, the best thing to do would be to look at the problem from a different angle.  Now, one thing that I've arranged to do is to try a session of "life coaching" that (for various reasons) I can get at the Government's expense.  But I also decided to try something from the "so crazy it might just work" column too.  I decided to try bibliomancy.
Bibliomancy is the idea that one can divine the future from books.  Since in another age I would have been classed as a peasant, I decided to try a book from an age when peasants were common: the Domesday Book.
Now, I should say that I don't think that a set of 900 year old tax and land title records is actually going to foretell my future: assuming that they had an actual message for me would probably be evidence of schizophrenia.  What I do wonder is whether they might suggest an idea I haven't considered before, or point up something I've already decided without really noticing.
 My copy of the Domesday Book runs to about 1500 pages, with entries in four columns containing about 10 entries each.  Through the magic of Facebook, I asked for suggestions of pages, columns and entries.
 
This is what my friends came up with (slightly edited for clarity) -
Diane (358 - 2 - 7)In 'Ossulstone' Hundred … Ranulph Flambard holds 3½ hides [a unit of land] of the bishop.  There is land for 5 ploughs.  There are in demesne 2 ploughs; and 3 ploughs among the villans [a peasant living in a village].  There are 14 bordars [peasants ranking below villans] on 1½ hides.  There is meadow for 2 ploughs and rendering 2 shillings [of tax]. There is no pasture.  There is a wood for making fences.  All together it is worth £4; when received, the same; in the time of King Edward [i.e. January 1066] 100 shillings. Godwine held this land under Bishop William.  He could not give it or sell it without the bishop’s permission in the time of King Edward.
Ammie (876 - 4 - 3): In Great Driffield … the king [holds] 4½ carucates [a measure of land].  In Great Kendale the king holds 6 carucates. In Eastburn the king holds 6 carucates.  In Kirkburn the king holds 5 carucates.
Madison (1472 - 3 - 9): In “Wimundahala” [there are] 2 free men [under obligation]to Burgheard with 12 acres.  [In the time of King Edward] as now half a plough. Then it was worth 2 shillings, now 3 shillings and 500 herrings.
Alix (1256 – 2 – 8): In Darmsden 25 free men held 1 carucate of land. St Æthelthryth had [a right to their service] in the time of King Edward.  Then 6 ploughs, now 2; 3 acres of meadow.  It is worth 20 shillings.  Roger Bigod holds it from the abbot because the abbot established a claim against him before the Bishop of St L. but before that he held it from the king.
So what can one make of this?
The land at Ossulstone was clearly prosperous, but Godwine was also stuck with it unless he was allowed to give it or sell it.  I guess the lesson is that prosperity can restrict one’s freedom, but also that accepting limitations on one’s freedom can lead to economic wellbeing.  None of this, of course, would be a surprise to anyone who has, you know, held a job or had a boss.  For myself, I’m willing to accept having my freedom cut back if it would get me nearer my vision of a white picket fence, basset hound and 2.4  children.  I guess that the feeling of being trapped comes when you lose (or give up) your freedom without getting something that you want in return.
The lands at Great Driffield, Great Kendale, Eastburn and Kirkburn belonged to the King and there was no need to record the identities, or even the presence, of past owners, labourers, or any other people.  The lesson I’d take from this is that if you let yourself be too tightly connected with someone with a “big” personality, reputation or the like, you may find your identity being swallowed up by them.  Again, not a big surprise after you’ve been exposed to people a bit.  I suppose that sometimes there may also be a temptation to allow your identity to be subsumed by someone else.
The land at Wimundahala seems to have changed its output before and after the Norman Conquest, such that it generated an extra shilling in tax and was yielding significant fisheries as well.  It’s no great insight, but a massive shake-up in the established order can be a source of prosperity.  Since extra revenue was being generated, presumably this means the unnamed free men were doing better as well, even if the name of the person to whom they owed obligations may have changed.  I suppose this supports the point of before about considering whether a reduction (at least an alteration?) of one’s liberty may still carry prosperity.
The lands at Darmsden seem to have undergone a ‘rationalisation’ before and after the Conquest, with a reduction in workforce or at least output.  It’s hard to see how this could have followed from the change of overlord from the king to the abbot.  So, a change of leadership (or at any rate changes further up the food chain) might not make a difference if you keep your eyes on your own job.  But, if you mess that up, you could be looking at much worse consequences for your quality of life.  No great insight there, but in this age of hyperpartisanship it’s clearly sensible to keep things in perspective.
Conclusion
Giving up some of one’s personal freedom to travel, to work at a profession of one’s choosing and to exercise and develop one’s own identity (and the like) may be an acceptable trade off, if what you get in exchange is what you really want.  The feeling of being trapped comes when you find you’ve given them up for something less than what you want.  That, more than any other question of politics or economics or anything else, is probably the key to happiness in life.

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