Common History
OK, so let’s tackle the elephant on the heath before we get stuck into this week’s blog.
No doubt all Terroir readers know this, but just to be certain, common land is NOT owned by ‘everybody’ or the ‘community’ or the ‘commoners’. It will be owned by someone (eg the Lord of the Manor) or, more often these days, by some body (such as a local authority or the National Trust), who are responsible for managing what happens to it.
By a happy coincidence, Terroir recently visited Limpsfield Commons and also obtained a copy of Shirley Corke’s posthumously published book of the same name.
Shirley Corke’s detailed and quite extraordinary history of the Commons is the result of a historical landscape survey, commissioned by the National Trust in the 1990s. If you want to experience the life and landscape of lowland common land through time, want an exemplar in how to research and interpret a landscape, or live locally and want to delve into your local history, then this is the book for you (and no, we’re not on commission!) https://limpsfieldsurrey.com/2021/12/07/limpsfield-commons-new-book-on-our-beautiful-common-now-available-for-purchase/
Limpsfield parish is in the far east of Surrey, right on the Kent border (and is none the worse for that). It is geologically diverse, stretching down the scarp slope of the North Downs (lovely views), over the intervening ribbon of Gault clay (spring line villages), back up onto the Greensand Ridge (more in a bit) and then down again onto the clay lands of the Low Weald. Limpsfield Common and Limpsfield Chart are, like so many commons in Surrey, located on the Greensand.
Here’s an image of what it looked like around 1893.
Extract from Ordnance Survey, One-inch to the mile, Revised New Series Revised: 1893 Published: 1895. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland' https://maps.nls.uk/index.html
The concept of a Surrey Heath is often perceived to be a heathery expanse of acid sandy common land, once grazed and now rapidly disappearing under a sturdy layer of post war, upstart woodland or housing, or a thinner veneer of military training land or golf course. Limpsfield’s commons do illustrate much of this but Corke’s history may imply a more complex history than many of us realised.
What has Limpsfield got today? Predictable, perhaps, the short answer is trees – lots and lots of them - and a golf course. Both Limpsfield Common and Limpsfield Chart are registered Commons, are open access land and are owned by the National Trust. The High Chart is none of these and is privately owned but at times it’s hard to tell the difference. All three areas are heavily used by walkers, strollers, dog exercisers - in other words anybody who fancies a breath of fresh air. There are public footpaths everywhere, and a plethora of forest rides and tracks on the High Chart which obviously get well used too. There is the Greensand Way, the Vanguard Way and even the Romans had a ‘way’ here in the shape of what is described as a minor Roman Road. Is this the Roman equivalent of a ‘B road’, or our modern historians’ denigration of what the Romans did for us?
Below - Limpsfield Common: lots of deciduous woodland, tracks and paths, car parks and welcoming signs and golfers; there is even some remnant heather.
Below - Limpsfield Chart and High Chart: Limpsfield Chart is not dissimilar to Limpsfield Common but as you move into the High Chart the scale changes and so does the woodland. Here is Ancient Replanted Woodland, with stands of ‘exotic’ conifers amongst the native and deciduous species. There is evidence of ‘commercial’ forestry and Forestry Commission grant schemes. But the easy access and woodland mix still makes for a grand afternoon out.
Back in the 11th Century, Limpsfield Estate belonged to one Harold, he who met his end when opposing William of Normandy at the Battle of Hastings. Subsequently, William I (aka William the Conqueror) gave the estate to the monks of Battle Abbey. By the 14th century, this Abbey outlier seemed to be fairly prosperous, and a document of 1312 makes mention of dovecots, water mills and fisheries. Corke notes that the list of woodlands is long. Three of these woods (Chert, Echenwode and Stafherstwode) “are common to all tenants of the manor both free and unfree throughout the whole year for their animals”. There is also mention of other woods which could offer rights of pasture, and seasonal ‘pannage’ ie for pigs to feast on fallen acorns at the appropriate time. In addition, documents indicate the presence of arable land, meadow and pasture, but Corke points out that there is no mention of open ground or of heath, gorse or furze.
The 15th century has been interpreted as one of neglect and decay and, by the Dissolution of the Monasteries (including Battle Abbey, of course), there Corke now finds reference to extensive areas of heath and furze. The customs which protected (or limited!) tenants’ rights, and the value of the commons (probably supporting a mixed landscape of woodland, underwood, and wood pasture, as well as arable and open pasture) were clearly being flouted; change would have been inevitable. The reduction of the population during the Black Death, suggests Corke, may also have resulted in the conversion of arable to heathland.
It is tempting to talk about many other fascinating aspects of Commons – reductions in area due to encroachment, of ‘digging’ (for clay or other useful products), of changes in agricultural and silvicultural practice, of social, economic and legal changes, but I will not steal Shirely Corke’s thunder and leave her to entertain and inform you on these topics.
By the 18th and 19th centuries, under the ownership and stewardship of the Leveson Gower family, the somewhat fragmented estate was being partially reassembled, but despite many other changes, the commons are still windswept open spaces, although the march of recolonising deciduous woodland can just be detected by the early 20th century.
In the 1920s, however, the Leveson Gowers bought out a number of commoners’ rights, and made the commons available for public ‘air and exercise’, to be managed by a committee of local people. In 1972, Richard Leveson Gower gave the Commons to the National Trust (https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/limpsfield-common). The High Chart – always wooded - remained as part of the family’s nearby Titsey Estate. By the 1960s, the return to woodland is pretty much complete.
All map images reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland' https://maps.nls.uk/index.html
To summarise a book of some hundred pages, and with extensive illustrations, in three paragraphs is ridiculous. Buy it, read it, and lose yourself in the world of an ancient estate. And don’t worry about the technical stuff (avowsons, copyhold, dottards, firbote and Frankpledge). There is an excellent glossary at the end.
A Contested Landscape
Part 1 - Invasion
by Keren Jones PhD, CMLI, Dip LA (Glos)
I am delighted to be asked by Terroir to contribute a guest blog – one that draws on my passion for both landscape and family history.
Over the years, as I collected my many family stories, I increasingly wanted to better understand the context in which they were made. My own personal journey into the past has also made me think a better understanding of the past can help us have a better understanding about some of the big issues we face today. Inequalities in access to land and nature is one of those hot topics that has been very much in the spotlight as a result of COVID lockdowns. To explore this issue further, I have chosen to talk about the story of land and landscape of the Welsh borders, and how, as ownership changed overtime, so did the fortunes of ordinary people depended on the land for their livelihoods.
Through dedicated genealogical sleuthing I have confidently traced my ancestral line in Shropshire through nine generations, and also found that my family name goes back to the beginning of the local parish records in the 16th century.
My forebears lived in, and around, Farlow, a small hamlet on the north-side of Titterstone Clee, whose name originates from the Saxon word for “ferny bank”. Farlow sits within a beautiful mixed landscape made up of upland pasture and lowland fields, which are peppered with farms, cottages and small holdings that originate from between the 16th to 19th centuries.
Where the slopes get steeper pasture turns into woodland, whilst lower down, near the old water courses, there is arable land and hay meadows.
It sounds idyllic, but the backstory of the Clee Hills is one of contested land ownership, privatisation and the erosion of common ownership. This is Border Country in every sense of the word. For those who were poor and living on the margin, the loss of their rights to access common land had a big, and irreversible, impact on their ability to make a living and put food on the table.
As my research became more extensive and involved frequent visits and walks in this beautiful countryside, I began to feel deeply connected to the Clee Hills and surrounding areas. Terroir explains why. Although Terrroir’s own origins stem from the word terra, the Latin for land, it doesn’t just mean the physical site or the visual landscape, but all the nuances that go with it. In South Shropshire I was discovering a terroir that wakens all your senses, especially a sense of being and a sense of place. Through the lens of family history, I had found a landscape narrative comprised of many rich layers, laid down in a line that stretched back to ancient times. To understand why this landscape is contested, I needed to look beyond the family story itself.
The first humans to arrive in Border country were ice age refugees, who had hidden in the caves of the Pyrenees. As it got warmer, the animals they hunted migrated north and, in pursuit, so did their hunters - now nomads in transit. Encountering the Great Wild Wood that cloaked much of Britain, they gradually carved out regular hunting and trading routes. Farlow sits on one of these ancient roots, known as the Clun Clee Ridgeway, that eventually terminates on the banks of the River Severn and the wider world.
After these nomads, came the first settlers and the first significant human land grab. These Celtic, Iron Age people, built a swathe of hilltop forts across the upland of South Shropshire, including several in the Clee Hills, of which one is Nordy Bank sitting at a natural vantage point and still intact. One of the imprints on the landscape that has lasted through time. It is a large, circular, enclosed area with stunning views, and thousands of years after it was built, was repurposed as a location for the open air gatherings of primitive Methodists. These were often long, all-day camp meetings of public praying and preaching, activities which my Wesleyan great, great aunts and uncles probably participated in with fervour.
From the Iron Age onwards, invasion after invasion continued to impact on the land. 55BC marked the arrival of the Roman’s in Britain, and though slow to conquer the Welsh Borders, a century later they were well established. Despite the aggressive land take, there were certain natural resources that the Romans believed couldn’t be privatised: air, sea, rivers, roads, parks, wasteland, cattle pastures, woodland and wild animals. Despite showing some respect for aspects for the natural world the Roman Empire proved to be unsustainable and eventually crumbled, as well all know.
The way of life of the newcomers, the Anglo-Saxons was very different, including how they farmed. My history lessons as a child told me that Anglo-Saxon settlement was more organic and less impactful than that of the Roman Empire. Although we now know that the transition from a nomadic to a settled way of life was one of the biggest historical milestones in climate change caused by the human race, there are lessons to be learnt from the Anglo Saxon approach. Their farming was a collective endeavour, which was localised, rather than centralised. Boundaries constructed were for protecting animals, not restricting the movement of people.
It was the Norman invasion of 1066 that marked one of the most dramatic changes on the relationship between people and the land in our country. William the Conqueror was adamant that all land, including all natural resources, belonged to the Crown. Much of South Shropshire became designated as Royal Forest, which overtime transitioned into Deer Parks with ditches, pales and stone walls to keep the landless out.
As a result the landless in South Shropshire were pushed into the marginal upland areas of the Clee Hills. On the southerly slopes of Brown Clee, at Heath, there is a small Norman Church, surrounded by lumps and bumps of a deserted village (one of many such villages). This is where the indigenous people migrated to, in order to survive.
As the climate deteriorated in late Medieval times, however, these higher marginal areas were abandoned, or turned to pasture – a process accelerated by the Black Death and resultant dramatic reduction in the overall population.
For many, the transition to pastoral farming did not result in better living and working conditions. During my research I found an academic paper studying the records made in 1524 about the people in Farlow and Stottesdon, and whether they made enough money to pay a lay subsidy to the King. Only a handful in Farlow, were able to do so: “nearly all the people of the area were in a state of wretched poverty, and the rest very close to that state”.
The roots of inequality in access to the land and to natural resources were now firmly established.
Part 2 - Enclosure next week