Monoscapes - Agri-culture: Reconnecting People, Land and Nature - page 31

There were no hedges, no ditches, no commons, no grassy lines. . . and the wretched
labourer has not a stick of wood, and has not a place for a pig or cow to graze. What
a difference there is between the faces you see here, and the round, red faces you see
in the wealds and forests. 9
During the late 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries, there was, of course,
a period of extraordinary innovation in agriculture in Europe - so much
so that this is now known as the Agricultural Revolution, as if it were the
only one, rather than just the latest before our modern period. Over a
period of about 150 years, crop and livestock production in the UK
increased three to fourfold, as innovative technologies, such as the seed
drill, novel crops such as turnips and legumes, fertilization methods,
rotation patterns, selective livestock breeding, drainage, and irrigation,
were developed by farmers and spread to others through tours, open-days,
farmer groups, and publications, and then adapted to local conditions by
rigorous experimentation. 10 However, throughout this time, the 'wastes'
were never more than a symbol of backwardness. Arthur Young, great
innovator, reformer and writer, was moved to call those who opposed
enclosure 'goths and vandals', and as assistant tithe commissioner, he
indicated that the heaths of Suffolk were 'mere sand encumbered with furze
(gorse) and fit for nothing but rabbits and sheepwalk' . After enclosures, poor farmers
had to sell their animals, as they had lost rights to fodder beyond their
farms; many, given smaller plots in lieu of grazing rights, sold their land
and, according to Jane Humphries, 'the money was drunk in the ale house' . 11
The poet John Clare was an exception when he wrote with feeling about
what had been lost. Most contemporary commentators focused on the
economic gains from enclosure. He, by contrast, mourned the loss of
memories accumulated over the ages, the open field system having
persisted for 700 years by this time. In his journal, Clare wrote in 1824
about what had been lost:
Took a walk in the fields and saw an old wood stile taken away from a favourite
spot which it had occupied all my life. . . it hurt me to see it was gone for my affections
claim a friendship with such things, but nothing is lasting in this world. Last year,
Langley bush was destroyed, an old whitethorn that had stood for more than a
century, full of fame. The gypsies, shepherds and herdsmen all had their tales of its
history, and it will be long ere its memory is forgotten. 12
Not only are both the stile and the old named tree lost, but the memories,
too. They persist for a while, perhaps for generations; but without renewal,
they eventually die. The enclosures disenfranchized small farmers and
commoners, and forced many to move to urban centres for work. So