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10 eggs, and the spinning of 3 lb. of flax; the giving of one day's work at harvest-time, the carrying of coals, and the getting of peat, lime, or firewood were recognized parts of the rent payment. Further, in some places all tenants were compelled to have their corn ground at the landlord's mill, or their beer brewed in his brewery, making a small payment in return for such services.

In addition to these tenants, there was a slowly diminishing class of small landowners, known as yeomen or freeholders. These men had succeeded in gaining possession by purchase of their holdings, and were free from the grip of any landlord. Their stronghold was the west of England. They were a sturdy, hard-working body of men, and from their ranks Cromwell had drawn his best supporters during the Civil War.

Open Fields and Common Lands. The methods of cultivation were of a primitive type, for farming practice had made little progress during many centuries. The chief work of the rural community was to feed itself, and therefore the greatest emphasis was placed on corn-growing. The arable lands were distributed in a peculiar manner, which had survived in more than half the English villages for at least 600 years. The whole arable land on the estate was cut up into fields, which were then divided into an enormous number of narrow strips. These were shared out among tenants and yeomen in proportion to the size of their holdings. For instance, in one part of an estate there would be an area of very fertile land. This was declared to be a "field," divided into strips 220 yards by 22 yards-i.e., one acre in area-and the strips were then allotted to the various claimants. In another part of the estate would be a comparatively unfertile area, and the same process applied to this patch. In practice, the arable land was often divided into at least 10 or 12 fields, each of which was subdivided into these narrow strips. In places the strips were less than one acre in area; we find one man holding 80 acres in 164 strips, another 166 acres in 217 parcels, a third two acres in six bits. They were not fenced off separately, but marked out by leaving a "balk" or strip of unploughed land about a yard wide between; a fence round the whole field kept out straying cattle till after harvest.

On the land thus curiously distributed the farmers raised their crops, working on a two or three years' rotation. In the three-field system a piece of land was sown one year with wheat or rye, and next year with oats or barley; then, being exhausted, it was allowed to lie fallow in the third year, after which it began another round. In the two-field plan land was cultivated one year and left fallow the next. Thus every year one-third or one-half of the arable land' was unproductive. Meanwhile the cattle were fed by being allowed to wander on the common pastures. These pastures were large areas of unfenced land, over the whole of which anyone's cattle had the right to roam at large. Hay was obtained from the common meadows, and when cut was shared out among the villagers in proportion to the size of their holdings. Finally, in the waste land, swamps, and woodland round the village, supplies of wood and peat for fuel, bracken for bedding, and acorns for the pigs could be procured; and these common rights of pasture and fuel were of no small value, especially to the poorer villagers. The whole of this agricultural life was in some places controlled by the village community, which met periodically, and exerted a powerful influence. It decided what crops should be sown, and when; fixed days before which

harvesting and haymaking must be completed; limited the number of cattle each person might put on the pastures; settled disputes between farmers; appointed officials to enforce its decisions; chose a shepherd to tend the cattle; saw to the erection of fences, and employed boys to act as scarecrows. It was a village parliament, with large powers.

Faults of the System. It needs little insight to detect the defects in the above arrangements. The "mingle-mangle" distribution of arable land caused a great waste of land in balks and footpaths. The balk was seldom cleared, and was therefore a breeding-place for weeds. There was a great waste of time in moving labour, implements, carts, etc., from one strip to another. If a man had 100 strips scattered over the whole face of the estate, he would waste hours in getting from one to the other at ploughing or harvest time. Again, the treatment of the land was very crude. The wood plough still prevailed in many parts, and did little more than scratch the surface. Draining, weeding, better rotations, all were useless unless all farmers undertook them, and the progressive cultivator found it wellnigh impossible to get his more backward neighbours to adopt such innovations. Hence the land lay water-logged during rainy seasons, weeds flourished unchecked, and the soil yielded only about four times the quantity of grain sown. Finally, the fallow fields represented a serious waste of valuable land. No wonder, therefore, that Arthur Young and others fumed at the open fields. Never were more miserable crops seen than those in the open fields; they are absolutely beneath contempt; the husbandry is universally bad; the fields are in a slovenly condition; the farmers are a poor, wretched sort of people. These are some of Young's verdicts, and they are only slightly exaggerated. The pastures also contained every conceivable fault. No attempts were made to improve the quality of the grass, for everybody's business is nobody's. The land was over-stocked, and rabbits sometimes competed with cattle for supremacy. Cattle diseases spread quickly, and so serious were these distempers that in 1759 the king ordered thanksgiving services throughout the kingdom to celebrate the disappearance of an especially bad outbreak. The sheep reared under such conditions weighed about 28 lb., and yielded 3 lb. to 4 lb. of wool. The "black sheep'' of nursery fame committed an unpardonable exaggeration when it described its fleece as being capable of filling three bags-unless the bags were very small. The cattle were small and bony, and improved breeding was impossible. Further, the absence of any root crops for winter food made it necessary to kill the great bulk of the live stock when winter approached, and the nation existed on salt meat for a few months. Still, in spite of its bad economy, this system had satisfied men's primitive needs for centuries. The villager was often engaged in industry as a by-occupation, and from his two sources of income produced sufficient to supply his wants. No man was landless, for even the cottager had facilities for keeping a few animals on the common pasture. But the whole system, inert and unprogressive, must inevitably collapse when placed alongside better ideas or subjected to the pressure of new circumstances. These ideas and circumstances came in the 18th century, and with their arrival the old methods were at once doomed to disappear.

The Growth of Agricultural Science. During the 18th century experimental agriculture became fashionable. George III loved to be called the Farmer King, and many of the big landowners began to pay attention to their own estates. Walpole, while Prime Minister, always read the letters

from his farm steward before touching state documents. Townshend, bored with politics, abandoned public life and has come down in history as "Turnip" Townshend. Agricultural societies were formed, and books on farming sold well. Throughout the country experiments were the order of the day. Out of all this enthusiasm came important practical results. Townshend, for instance, showed that by proper cultivation turnips could be grown on the land which had formerly lain fallow. These not merely improved the soil, but provided a valuable winter food for cattle. Other investigators proved that the same results could be obtained by planting the fallow with clover and lucerne. As a result of these discoveries there need no longer be any idle land, nor need the cattle be decimated every autumn. Better drainage, deeper ploughing, hoeing, afforestation, new varieties of seed, and better rotation, all were investigated with highly satisfactory results, while new types of agricultural machinery were constantly being devised. Experiments in cattle-breeding gave miraculous returns. Sheep were increased in weight from 28 lb. to 80 lb., and their fleeces from 3 lb. to 12 lb.; the weight of the average cow was raised from 370 lb. to 800 lb., and most of this increase was in flesh, not in bone. All these discoveries pointed the way to increased production and profit. One enthusiastic landlord raised the annual value of his estate from £2,000 to £20,000 in 40 years, and the road to affluence was open to all who could tread it.

But what was the small open-field farmer to do with these new ideas? Generally he refused even to consider them. Slow, cautious, and hidebound, inheriting the ideas of his ancestors with their lands, he regarded the newfangled notions with indifference or contempt. Some of them came from abroad, and were therefore anathema to the insular Briton. Others were urged by men who had failed at farming. What, for instance, could Arthur Young, who had failed twice, teach the experienced open-field cultivator? In some cases the small farmer was interested; but even assuming he had the necessary capital to effect improvements, what could he do? His freedom of action was limited at every turn by the conditions prevailing around him. Until he could get his arable and pasture land separated from that of his fellows no improvement was possible. To expect great improvements from the small farmers was, as one writer put it, as hopeless "as it would be to expect to gather pineapples from thistles.'' Hence came the first impetus to the destruction of the open-field system.

The second came from the industrial revolution, and the general growth in population. The former increased the demand for wool, the latter the demand (and price) for corn. The Napoleonic wars cut off some food imports, drove the country to depend on its own production, and pushed the price of wheat up to about 100/- a quarter. But the old system was incapable of coping with either of these needs. Meanwhile a third disruptive force was at work. Land at this time was the key to political power and social position. Votes, parliamentary power, and patronage went with land; local government was in the hands of the squires; and no man, however wealthy, could hope to be admitted to the inner circle of English society unless he was the owner of many broad acres. Therefore the rising class of manufacturers and merchants rushed to buy land, and these new brooms made a clean sweep of many agricultural antiquities. To the business mind farming must be made to pay higher profits and rents. It must become a commercial proposition.

Enclosures. The joint result of these combined forces was a boom of enclosures between 1760 and 1850. By enclosure we mean the abolition of all open fields and common spaces, and the allotment to each person of a definite area, fenced in, on which he can work entirely in accordance with his own ideas. Enclosures were essential if the land was to be fully utilized. They had to come, and yet they had grievous effects on many of the agricultural population. This was due partly to the manner in which they were carried out, and partly to the fact that the new style of farming required more capital than many small farmers possessed. Enclosure might take place by unanimous agreement among all the farmers, the landlord included. But as such unanimity was seldom possible, parliamentary assistance was sought in the form of a private act. Parliament in the 18th century was largely a landowners' club, with a sprinkling of commercial men. Its members believed in high farming; their creed was enlightened self-interest. Therefore the landlord who appealed for a private enclosure act was sure of a good reception, and between 1760 and 1845 4,200 acts were passed authorizing the enclosure of about 7,000,000 acres―i.e., practically the whole of the remaining open fields and commons. Each act appointed commissioners"a most precious piece of delegated despotism" (Young)-with full powers to survey and share out the estate. The commissioners heard claims from the villagers, but as they generally demanded legal proof of each man's rights, many claims which were purely the product of custom were repudiated. The cottagers, for instance, could often plead nothing but long custom as their right to use the common pasture; but as such a claim was usually rejected by the commissioners, or was met by compensation in money, the cottagers lost all access to wood, waste, or pasture. Henceforth to keep a cow was impossible for them. Others lost their holdings because of defects in their titles. Those who could prove their claims surrendered all their arable strips and common rights, and received in return a block of land, on which they had to grow crops, rear cattle, produce hay, and find firewood.

The exchange was often a bad one, since the compensation for the loss of common rights proved inadequate. Further, the cost of enclosing, fencing, road-making, etc., was heavy, and seems to have worked out at about £3 per acre. A man who received 50 acres of land in the redistribution had therefore to find £150. This probably meant borrowing money or mortgaging the land; and once that burden was on a man's back it might be difficult to remove. The loss of the right to get firewood was in itself a serious blow. If a farmer was a tenant, enclosure was followed by an increase in rent. Thus, to sum up, the cottager lost all but his cottage and small garden; the farmer lost facilities for pasture and firewood; the tenant had his rent raised; and yeoman was loaded with debt. True, the bigger farmers and wealthier men benefited, but it is grimly interesting to find Young, the arch-apostle of enclosure, admitting in 1801 that "by 19 enclosure bills in 20 (the poor) are injured." An eminent modern scholar has declared that "in every way, both directly and indirectly, enclosures tended to divorce the poor from the soil."

What were the victims to do? The cottager either became an agricultural labourer, earning a few shillings a week and leaning on the Poor Law to bring his income up to the bare subsistence level, or went away to find work in the industrial towns. The tenant had to abandon his farm unless he could pay the increased rents. The yeoman often sold his few acres and

became a large tenant, or left the countryside to find work in the cities. So began an extensive emigration from the land, and the town sucked in men whose ancestors had been farmers for centuries.

These developments enabled the landowners to press forward with the consolidation of small farms into big ones. At the same time estates were added to estates, until eventually, about 1870, 4,000 people owned more than half the land of England and Wales. The landlord let out this land in large blocks, sometimes equal to twenty or thirty of the old tenures, to tenant farmers, who provided their own capital, and worked the land with the aid of machinery and hired labourers-labourers whose only interest in land lay in their miserable weekly wage. Thus we get that rural trinity of landlord, farmer, and labourer, a combination which exists scarcely anywhere else.

Economic and Social Consequences. The economic consequences of the agricultural revolution were brilliant, the social consequences were disastrous. The new system, stimulated by science, high prices, capital, and the reclamation of waste lands, succeeded in coping for a time with the demand for foodstuffs. The technique of wheat-growing improved rapidly, and English agriculture became the envy of continental observers. But the social result, immediate and ultimate, was black. The new order was built up on the wrecked happiness of many poor, and the agricultural labourer sank to a level even below that of the factory worker. The agricultural revolution took from him his cow, just at a time when the industrial revolution was destroying his domestic industries. He revolted occasionally, and was ruthlessly suppressed. An investigation of 1843 found him working for a miserable wage, living in an over-crowded, tumble-down, one or two-storied cottage-capital got better returns from growing corn than building cottages-enjoying a diet of potatoes and bread, with meat as a very rare treat once a week. His wife went out to work for 8d. or 9d. a day. His children were sent to the fields at 8, 9, or 10 years, and picked stones, frightened birds, and did other cdd jobs for 4d. to 6d. a day. The total family earnings might amount to 16/-, seldom more. Typhus was common, morals were rare, education was ignored.

Small Holdings. As these results, good and bad, became evident, even such zealots as Young and Sinclair realized that a rural system in which the labourer had no direct interest in the soil was bad. They therefore began, as early as 1801, to urge the claims of the cottager's cow, and advocated the reservation of cottage allotments in all future enclosures. But the wind which they themselves had done so much to raise was too strong, and so only about 2,000 acres (out of a total enclosed area of over 7,000,000 acres) were ear-marked for labourers' allotments up to 1868. During the discussions on reform during the eighties, the need for allotments or small holdings was urged. Jesse Collings' "three acres and a cow' ideal was attractive, for it was felt that not merely should the rural and urban workers be able to get access to land which they could work in their spare time, but also that England would benefit by securing a class of small peasant proprietors or tenants such as were found in most European countries.

Hence began a series of acts which aimed at providing allotments for spare-time work, and small holdings (up to 50 acres) for full-time work. These acts at first made little progress. The local bodies were slow to use the powers given them, the lack of compulsory purchase clauses was a

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