knights of the shire would be more liberal with their constituents'
money than those constituents would be with their own when there were
neighbours to encourage resistance to a merely distant terror.

The representation people had enjoyed in the shire and hundred moots
had been a boon, not because it enabled a few privileged persons to
attend, but because by their attendance the mass were enabled to stay
away. If the lord or his steward would go in person, his attendance
exempted all his tenants; if he would not, the reeve and four "best"
men from each township had to go. The "best," moreover, were not chosen
by election; the duty and burden was attached to the "best" holdings in
the township, and in the thirteenth century the sheriff was hard put to
it to secure an adequate representation. This "suit of court" was, in
fact, an obligatory service, and membership of parliament was long
regarded in a similar light. Parliament did not clamour to be created;
it was forced by an enlightened monarchy on a less enlightened people.
A parliamentary "summons" had the imperative, minatory sound which now
only attaches to its police court use; and centuries later members were
occasionally "bound over" to attend at Westminster, and prosecuted if
they failed. On one occasion the two knights for Oxfordshire fled the
country on hearing of their election, and were proclaimed outlaws.
Members of parliament were, in fact, the scapegoats for the people, who
were all "intended" or understood to be present in parliament, but
enjoyed the privilege of absence through representation. The greater
barons never secured this privilege; they had to come in person when
summoned, just as they had to serve in person when the king went to the
wars. Gradually, of course, this attitude towards representation
changed as parliament grasped control of the public purse, and with it
the power of taxing its foes and sparing its friends. In other than
financial matters it began to pay to be a member; and then it suited