vill1 [19]
of its early stages is connected not with freedom, but with serfdom. Seebohm's results have a marked resemblance to some of the views held by the eighteenth-century lawyers, and also to those held by Palgrave and by Coote, but his theory is nevertheless original, both in the connexion of the parts with the whole, and in its arguments: he knows how to place in a new light evidence which has been known and discussed for a long time, and for this reason his work will be suggestive reading even to those who do not agree with the results. The chief strength of his work lies in the chapters devoted to husbandry; but if one accepts his conclusions, what is to be done with the social part of the question? Both sides, the economic and the social, are indissolubly allied, and at the same time the extreme consequences drawn from them give the lie direct to everything that has hitherto been taken for granted and accepted as proved as to this period. Can it really be true that the great bulk of free men was originally in territorial subjection, or rather that there never was such a thing as a great number of free men of German blood, and that the German conquest introduced only a cluster of privileged people which merged into the habits and rights of Roman possessors? If this be not true and English history testifies on every point to a deeper influence exercised by the German conquerors, does not the collapse of the social conclusion call in question the economical premises? Does not a logical development of Seebohm's views lead to conclusions that we cannot accept? These are all perplexing questions, but one thing is certain; this last review of the subject has been powerful enough to necessitate a reconsideration of all its chief points. Happily, this does not mean that former work has been lost. I have not been trying the patience of my readers by a repetition of well-known views without some cogent reasons. The subject is far too wide and important to admit of a brilliantly unexpected solution by one mind or even one generation of workers. A superficial observer may be so much struck by the variations and contradictions, that he will fail to realise the intimate dependence of every new investigator on his predecessors. 'The subjective side of history,' as the Germans would say, has been noticed before now and the taunt has been administered with great force: 'Was ihr den Geist der Zeiten heisst, das ist im Grund der Herren eigener Geist, in dem die Zeiten sich bespiegeln,' Those who do not care to fall a prey to Faust's scepticism, will easily perceive that individual peculiarities and political or national pretensions will not account for the whole of the process. Their action is powerful indeed: the wish to put one's own stamp on a theory and the reaction of present life on the past are mighty incitements to work. But new schools do not rise in order to pull down everything that has been raised by former schools, new theories always absorb old notions both in treatment of details and in the construction of the whole. We may try, as conclusion of our review of historical literature, to notice the permanent gains of consecutive generations in the forward movement of our studies. The progress will strike us, not only if we compare the state of learning at both ends of the development, but even if we take up the links of the chain one by one. The greatest scholars of the time before the French Revolution failed in two important respects: they were not sufficiently aware of the differences between epochs; they were too ready with explanations drawn from conscious plans and arrangements. The shock of Revolution and Reaction taught people to look deeper for the laws of the social and political organism. The material for study was not exactly enlarged, but instead of being thrown together without discrimination, it was sifted and tried. Preliminary criticism came in as an improvement in method and led at once to important results. Speaking broadly, the field of conscious change was narrowed, the field of organic development