society, those of Hraegel-thane, which is Railthane or keeper of the king's clothes; of Staller or Horse-thane, keeper of the royal horse; of Dishthane or table-servant; and of Byrele or Scenca, one who poured especially for the king, and was probably kept busy at it. None of them occupations that appeal particularly to our independent, self-respecting times.

But as by help of his Companions the prince's spoils increase from the war-trappings of a few slain owners to the sack of townships and the wealth of kingdoms, the Companions' part in them keeps pace, and so too their appreciation of position near the royal person and in the popular regard. We shall not, however, trace the rise of these originally menial functions to offices of national importance: hear in few words how after several centuries of royal service these same servants, Clothes-thane, Horse-thane, Dish-thane, Bottle-thane, have risen to the offices whose names are more familiar to us in their corresponding Frankish forms of Chamberlain or keeper of the royal property, of Marshal or commander of the royal troops, of Steward (Seneschal) or major in the royal house. What independent, self-respecting citizen would not be pleased to occupy such a position nowadays?

But with modern nomenclature enters no small part of modern character. Between the AngloSaxon Clothes-thane and his successor the Norman Chamberlain, lies a mighty gap, material and

moral,― to be bridged by us with briefest possible explanation.

First, then, with regard to the material side. We may properly suppose that as a king or lord enlarged his lands beyond his power of personal supervision, he would set over them those whom he might most trust, his nearest thanes or servitors. And these, as fit reward for their increase of service, are given name and partial fruits of ownership, the final fact of it remaining as before. For it must be remembered that the vassal is, legally, a slave: the king owns him and so whatever he by courtesy is said to own. He in turn will under royal leave own his retainers, of whom some may in like manner hold their lands and slaves. Has not the reader recognized in these arrangements the beginnings of a Feudal System, which shall rule all Europe through the Middle Ages and prolong its crippled power even into modern times?

But the beginning of a Feudal System marks the ending, from a moral standpoint, of its parent form. Real Companionship is passing, and with it the spirit of Companionship. The causes of this change? Were doubtless several, of which the more immediate seem as follows:

First in sight if not in strength among such causes was the now necessitated separation between thane and lord: as the king's vice-gerent the noble becomes valuable proportionally to that separation. But, on the other hand, the bond

between the two is thereby enfeebled: in place of the close personal relation and free play of feeling rises distant, cold officialdom. Contrast the warmth of that old English hall-life where the retainer clasped and kissed his lord and laid hand and head upon his knees, with the ice of that formality whereby his vassals swore to Conqueror William: "Hear, my lord; I become liege man of yours for life and limb and earthly regard; and I will keep faith and loyalty to you for life and death, God help me!" and received the investing kiss from him who was stark man to all that knew him." A powerful performance it must certainly have been though methinks said vassals did protest too much and William was unnecessarily affectionate, for absolute sincerity—; one which, at any rate, would make the deepest possible impression on whatever moral sense the swearer

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might possess. But neither that nor any feeling, good or bad, for his stark brother could keep Bishop Odo from revolting against him at the earliest opportunity. A dungeon, even starker than his relative, did keep him in the end; I wonder if a little less starkness and some love might not have kept him in the beginning. So much, however, of the oath of homage and its operation in this instance. For the other instances we are justified in guessing that the Conqueror's precaution of dispensing scattered holdings and of demanding a direct allegiance from each under-vassal dwelling thereupon proved more efficacious as

preventives of disloyalty than did the liegeman's memory of his homage and loud public protestation. The temptation of power and possession had otherwise proved stronger than his unsupported probity could bear.

But, it will or ought to be objected, the loyalty that must be kept alive by constant petting and that can't survive the test of exile, isn't worth accounting such. True enough; we may account it non-existent; and then, if we are so inclined, we may explore the reasons of its non-existence. Was the trouble with the character of Earl or that of Lord or those of both? Probably the last; but for present purposes a brief look at the first case will suffice to show us that for one thing the princely character itself could no longer inspire pure loyalty. Let us compendiously compare the older practice and the newer.

We have doubtless long since come, by multiplied examples and remarks, to know that characteristic of the ancient prince which could inspire his earldom's uttermost devotion. It was a love for them revealing itself not alone nor chiefly through the medium of many ceremonious gifts, but also and quite as convincingly, perhaps, through the accompaniments of these,— the word, the look, the smile, the touch, which carried deeper messages from soul to soul. We may furthermore remember the hypothesis that this feeling was if anything less likely to have been spontaneous than to have been produced by an originally sel

fish care, through long activity creating for itself a soul of love.

But, however general among the great this state of feeling had once been, or however largely a bard's dream of good, in time there came to view the evidences of a gradual departure from the old ideal. Whether with the growth of kingdoms and the cares thereof, and the consequent loosening of close friendships, or with the prince's magnified esteem of power for its own sake and the concomitant weakening of the power of popular opinion over him, the prince does not in these new days prove such as to secure the love of his Companions. A testimony thereto not the less trustworthy for its indirectness meets us in the record of successive laws under the Saxon and the Danish kings of England, securing the Companion against possible abuse by his prince. Even in Alfred's day such special legislation had multiplied surprisingly; and when, in the next century, the Danish conqueror, Canute, revived the old form from the wreck of conquest, his Housecarles, as they now were called, got rights and privileges amounting practically to emancipation. What better testimony were discoverable? In olden days these rights were taken as a matter of course, merged and forgotten in enjoyment of far greater privileges; and the talk was chiefly about duties. Imagine Beowulf presenting Bills of Rights against Lord Hygelac, "with whom all good had its beginning," or Wiglaf against Beowulf, "the