II.: Composition of the Council.

Formal writs had to be issued, specifying the time, place, and reason of assembling, at least forty days in advance. Each of the really powerful men of the realm—archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, and “other greater barons”—received a separate writ addressed to him individually, while the “smaller barons” were summoned collectively and indirectly through the sheriffs and bailiffs of each district.

It is clear that the meetings contemplated were purely baronial assemblies, since none but Crown tenants were invited to attend. “The common consent of my kingdom,” in John’s mouth, was synonymous with “the consent of my barons.” The King’s Council had by this time freed itself from any complicated theories as to its own composition, which may ever have hampered it. It was now entirely homogeneous, a feudal muster of Crown–vassals.

It is unnecessary here to examine the rival theories professing to explain the composition of the Anglo–Saxon Witenagemot, or to discuss the exact connection between that institution and the Curia Regis of the Norman Kings. As matter of fact, the early constitution of the court of the Conqueror or of Rufus seems to have been monarchic rather than aristocratic or democratic; that is to say, it depended to a great extent on the personal will of the King. No evidence exists, of date anterior to the Great Charter, of any magnate thrusting himself unbidden into a royal council or forcing the King to issue a formal invitation. On one occasion, indeed, the action of Henry II. in omitting to issue a writ laid him open to criticism. This was in October, 1164, when a special council was summoned to Northampton to pass judgment upon questions at issue between the King and Thomas à Becket. The primate was ordered to appear for judgment; but the formal writ of summons, which every holder of a barony was wont to receive, was withheld. Apparently, contemporary opinion condemned this omission. It is safer to infer, then, that as early as 1164, the method of issuing these writs had become uniform, but this constitutional understanding was not reduced to writing until embodied in Magna Carta. It was in 1215 that the magnates of England formulated a distinct claim to be present at the King’s councils; and even then the demand only referred to assemblies summoned for one specific purpose. Previously, attendance was reckoned not as a privilege, but rather as a burden incident to the possession of land.

Mr. Round maintains that under John “the writ of summons suddenly assumed a very real importance,” and argues, with much plausibility, that the present chapter proves “that the Crown had been endeavouring to use the writ as a means of excluding its opponents from the assembly.” The barons, on their part, unable to assert a right to attend uninvited, “insisted that they all must be summoned.”