The story goes that Howel, a somewhat feeble prince reigning with his brothers in Dyfed, and sorely distressed by the invasions of the Danes, began to turn his mind to the peaceful pursuit of the jurist. He summoned four men from each _cantref_ in his dominions to meet at the Tŷ Gwyn (White House) on the river Taf in Carmarthenshire. There, as the fruit of their deliberations, was drawn up what is known in Welsh as "Hên Lyfr y Tygwyn" (The old Book of the White House). The manuscript itself as written by Archdeacon Blegwryd has not come down to us. For our knowledge of its contents we are dependent upon copies of a much later date, agreeing in substance though differing in many details; and containing, no doubt, the accretions of later times. The "Old Book" is divisible into three parts--the Venedotian Code, the Demetian Code, and the Gwentian Code--each part representing the customary law which prevailed in a particular part of Wales. It is probable that the laws were originally written in Latin, for the Archdeacon was the most famous scholar of his day in all Wales. The tradition that the new code was taken to Rome, {49} and submitted to the Pope for his approval, can scarcely be true, as the chronological difficulties in the way of its acceptance are well-nigh insuperable. Howel probably did pay a visit to Rome; but the visit must have been anterior to the historic meeting at the Tygwyn. The society which we see depicted in the codes is still tribal, that is to say its whole foundation, the status of individuals as well as all the rights of property, was based upon blood relationship. The feudal system, in the perfected form which we associate with the Normans in the early Middle Ages, did not exist in Wales; but some of the principles of feudalism were undoubtedly there. Perhaps the most important characteristic of the feudal system is the supremacy of the monarch, and the dependence upon him of a long chain of persons, all differing in status, and each dependent upon the one above him. This we find in Wales. There were princes reigning in the various divisions of the country, each of them, to all intents and purposes, independent of all the others. But they all acknowledged the overlordship of the King of Gwynedd; while he, in turn, acknowledged the overlordship of the King of England. Much as this state of things {50} conflicts with modern political notions, there was nothing curious about it in times when every crowned head in Europe acknowledged the spiritual headship of the Pope and the secular headship of the Emperor.