which he prescribes. They are to become his serfs, subject to the laws
on mainmorte.[11] Wherever they may go he is to have the right of
fetching them back. From father to son they are his born domestics,
applicable to any pursuit he pleases, taxable and workable at his
discretion. They are not allowed to transmit anything to a child
unless the latter, "living from their pot," can, after their death,
continue their service. "Not to be killed," says Stendhal, "and to
have a good sheepskin coat in winter, was, for many people in the
tenth century, the height of felicity"; let us add, for a woman, that
of not being violated by a whole band. When we clearly represent to
ourselves the condition of humanity in those days, we can comprehend
how men readily accepted the most obnoxious of feudal rights, even
that of the droit du seigneur. The risks to which they were daily
exposed were even worse.[12] The proof of it is that the people
flocked to the feudal structure as soon as it was completed. In
Normandy, for instance, when Rollo had divided off the lands with a
line, and hung the robbers, the inhabitants of the neighboring
provinces rushed in to establish themselves. The slightest security
sufficed to repopulate a country.

People accordingly lived, or rather began to live once more, under
the rude, iron-gloved hand which used them roughly, but which afforded
them protection. The seignior, sovereign and proprietor, maintains for
himself under this double title, the moors, the river, the forest, all
the game. It is no great evil, since the country is nearly a desert,
and he devotes his leisure to exterminating large wild beasts. He
alone possessed the resources. He is the only one that is able to
construct the mill, the oven, and the winepress; to establish the
ferry, the bridge, or the highway, to dike in a marsh, and to raise or
purchase a bull. To indemnify himself he taxes for these, for forces