In October 1606, London merchant Bevil Lewes proffered a bill of complaint in Star Chamber alleging assault, repeated riot and destruction of property in ‘a great wood and certain lands’ near Faversham in Kent purchased in December 1602 from the local magistrate Sir William Lovelace. His story of tribulations at the hands of ‘inhabitants there, being men of their own disposition contentious and not willing to live answerable to your majesty's most sound and wholesome laws’, recounted one episode in a struggle which began in 1595 and involved at least half a dozen attempts at unilateral enclosure before finally subsiding after May 1609, following Lewes's dispossession and descent into a mire of debt litigation. None of the enclosures survived longer than a few months, one lasted barely a week, and another, by dint of pre-emptive riot, was never completed at all. Defendants confirmed that fences, hedges and ditches were destroyed on four occasions, usually under cover of darkness, and that in 1606 a farmhouse under construction was demolished and crops on the ground were flattened. Bevil Lewes alleged two further rounds of hedge-breaking and property destruction that year, and an earlier riot involving the burning of a timber house-frame. Between 1596 and 1610 allegations of assault, riot, trespass, property destruction and perjury generated litigation in Common Pleas, King's Bench and Chancery, five bills of complaint in Star Chamber, and indictments and convictions at the county sessions and assizes.

In 1836 under the auspices of section 62 of the New Poor Law, 3,069 poor people from Norfolk were assisted to emigrate to North America. Their passages, and various other requirements including spending money, travel to the port, equipment for the voyage and settling of debts, were paid for out of the poor rates. The rationale for this outflow of people revolved around the issue of surplus labour, which was believed to have a corrosive and unsettling effect upon the state of rural society. Emigration had long been seen as a potential safety valve for surplus labour. Clause 62 can be traced back to the vigorous debate about assisted emigration associated with Robert Wilmot Horton. For one emigration season, it looked as if parochial government were capable of rising to the challenge of solving its surplus labour problems and simultaneously satisfying the needs of the labour-hungry British colonies. This paper examines the Norfolk emigration fever by using a previously unused data set of nineteenth-century emigration (Ministry of Health files held at the Public Record Office). It argues that assisted emigration was the result of a concerted rational policy, applied by the parish officers aimed to benefit emigrants and those left behind. The policy was neither haphazard nor accidental and, though inspired by fear of the consequences of implementing the New Poor Law, was not a panicked response. It argues that the arrangements for assisted emigration resulted in a process of interchange and interaction between rich and poor which makes a mockery of the term ‘shovelling out paupers’. The poor emigrants who were targeted were assisted because they were good labourers, not useless indigents incapable of providing for themselves. The findings shed further light on the nature of emigrating populations, the emigratory process and the mindset of both rich and poor at the time of the introduction of the New Poor Law.

The deference shown by English tenant farmers to their landlords was the despair of English radicals in the nineteenth century. This was especially the case for Cobden and Bright, the leaders of the Anti-Corn Law League. As firm believers in Ricardo's theory of rent, according to which only landowners gained from the Corn Laws, they felt that tenant-farmers should have been the natural allies of the League. Unfortunately, they proved unable to convince farmers of this logic. Their attempts to drive a wedge between landlord and tenant remained unavailing – until 1845, when John Bright raised the question of the game laws in the Commons. The select committee that followed tapped a rich vein of farmer resentment and hostility, one that led nowhere at the time but remained to be exploited for the next forty years.

Throughout the nineteenth century one of the main issues that preoccupied central government policy-makers was how poverty should be dealt with, in order to reduce poor relief expenditure. The Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, as Karel Williams argues, aimed to introduce a general rule against out-door relief by substituting instead a workhouse test that sought to deter paupers with its axiom of ‘less eligibility’. In practice, as Williams explains, regulations only stipulated that a workhouse test was to be strictly applied in the case of able-bodied male applicants and this gave unions the discretion to award out-door relief to other types of pauper. For example a number of unions continued to grant small out-door relief allowances to the aged, widows and infirm on medical out-door relief orders. Others found that it was not possible to follow poor relief guide-lines because they did not have the workhouse capacity to relieve all pauper applicants before the 1860s. This was because a comprehensive administrative infrastructure was not put in place in most unions until after the passing of the Union Chargeability Act of 1865. Once workhouse capacity had been improved with the creation of dispensaries and new medical wards, central government expected out-door poor relief expenditure to decrease. Consequently, in 1870 concern was expressed when they calculated that only 15 per cent of paupers were relieved within workhouses. A new discourse on the causes of poverty, as outlined by organisations such as the Charity Organisation Society, demanded that stricter poor relief regulations should be implemented.

In the personality of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, undisputed mistress of Whig society in the two closing decades of the eighteenth century, were combined a heady mixture of formidable intellectual qualities and a recklessness and frivolity extraordinary even by the standards of the day. Leaving aside her involvement in high politics, the ambivalence of her personal relationships and her adventures at the card table, she would be memorable alone as a fashion icon whose excesses, particularly where her milliner and coiffeuse were concerned, were legendary. From the moment she appeared in public with a three-foot hair tower created with pads of horsehair and set off with an exotic arrangement of stuffed birds and ostrich feathers, female society high and low began its lengthy love affair with feathers.1 Fashions might ebb and flow, yet feathers, in some form or another, would intermittently adorn women's clothes (and the uniforms of some units of the Army) for the next century or so. This article is largely concerned with the efforts of various individuals and groups to bring an end to the trade in exotic plumage which fed upon the demand for the feathers of birds from tropical and subtropical territories.

On 10th April 1902 a sometime landscape artist and self-educated musical antiquarian took his seat in the Drill Hall at Kendal in Westmorland. Frank Kidson, an acknowledged authority on the subject, had been invited there to judge the first ever Folk-Song Competition. In introducing his guest the general adjudicator ‘could only say Mr Kidson was a walking encyclopoedia on these things’.

The perceived need for a characteristically English art music bestowed considerable significance on folk-song, for both theory and practice in continental Europe suggested that such material comprised the essential ingredient of any such national music. To contextualise the importance of Kidson's task this article begins by briefly examining the condition of music in England in the late nineteenth century before considering the requirements to be made of this as yet largely untapped national resource.

In the writing on institutional organisation and collective strike action among agricultural workers in Lowland Scotland during the early twentieth century until the outbreak of the Second World War, Richard Anthony has provided an extensive discussion on farm servants.2 However, in general, little attention has been given to casually employed workers. One such group, known as the Achill workers or the Irish ‘tattie howkers’, employed to harvest the potato crop in south-western and central Scotland, attempted to organise themselves and pursued collective strike action on a number of occasions. That group, which comprised some 1,500 to 2,000 workers, undertook strike action in 1907. That action was followed by intensive campaigns in 1918, 1919, 1920, 1921, and 1938; a further attempted strike was also reported in 1912. Much of their collective action was assisted by institutional support from unions which were already organising workers. But workers also attempted to organise themselves with the assistance of these existing unions in the years 1918 to 1921, 1925, 1926 and 1929, and to form their own union in 1909, 1910 and 1938. This paper will examine these attempts during this period.

This paper draws on and forms part of the growing body of literature which examines critically the relationships between landscape and Englishness in the first half of the twentieth century. In particular this paper develops our understanding of the moral geographies of outdoor recreation and the popular discovery of rural England. It also shows how national identity itself was seen to be threatened by first, the alteration of the English landscape to accommodate new kinds of visitors, and second, by the apparent inability of those visitors to enjoy the English countryside in an appropriate way. These issues are explored through the variety of ways in which the Cotswolds were being discovered and encountered in the first half of the twentieth century. This was occurring at a time when rural England more generally was being ‘discovered’, explored, constructed and re-created both physically and in print through non fictional rural writing, guide books and topographical works. Discovering the Cotswolds and England was a deeply contested activity fraught with tensions and paradoxes which were themselves informed by ideas of class and culture.

This paper draws on data collected for the author's doctoral thesis (Maclean, 1997), which examined migration and social change in remote rural areas. The research took place mainly in 1995–6, and consisted of tape-recorded interviews and 18 months' ethnographic fieldwork in a parish in the Scottish Highlands, and the use of data including the Census Small Area Statistics and Register of Sasines. Although informed by the research as a whole, the central focus of this paper is data drawn from twenty interviews with members of fifteen families, most of whom were born in the first three decades of the twentieth century. A further ten people provided supplementary data in interviews in which family migration patterns were not the main focus (see table 1 for details). Places and people involved in the research have been given pseudonyms to protect anonymity, privacy and confidentiality, in accordance with the British Sociological Association's Ethical Guidelines.

In the Yorkshire Dales, where the destruction of the rural setting is less advanced than in most other parts of England, countrysides frequently exist as historical palimpsests that incorporate elements from various earlier phases of colonisation and exploitation. The region is noted for the survival of antiquities of many kinds. In places, pollarded trees are significant components in the scenic pastiche, though prior to this survey there was no general recognition that their distribution is closely linked to the main themes that have conditioned the process of landscape development. The survey, which collected details on 186 ancient trees within a study area around 17 miles long by 8 miles wide, was undertaken according to the perspectives of landscape history. These not only seek to discover the evolution of landscapes, but also recognise that evidence is embedded in features like trees, fields, trackways and so on.

Although not a figure now widely known, Sir Ebenezer Howard has had a profound influence on British and, indirectly, on European and American urban planners. The historian Robert Fishman noted in 1978 that while Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright had become legendary as visionary architects and urban planners, Howard, probably more influential in the evolution of urban planning than either of them, has remained relatively obscure. Howard, like his more famous contemporaries, has always been characterized as Utopian by some because he imagined that city planning could aid in the creation of an entirely new society. For Howard, this society was to be one in which social divisions would be eliminated and the standards of living of all citizens would be raised through participatory social democracy organized at the city level. Howard attempted to realize this new society through building experimental communities to serve as models to be emulated elsewhere.