In 1776, baron Salomon von Otter, governor of the neighbouring county of Halland and jus patronatus of the local parish, stood opposite the men of Öja parish at a meeting outside the church. The powerful nobleman was for the third time arguing for the praiseworthy and legally required task of building a combined school and poor-house in cooperation with the neighbouring parish (where he happened to own most of the land). The peasants of Ö for a third time refused, both in writing and orally, on the grounds of their alleged right to self-government. The baron continued with his persuasions, and presented the support he had from the local nobility, among them the bishop. He was still met with a firm refusal. Eventually the baron ordered that they should build the house, referring (probably without much legal foundation) to his position as jus patronatus. Now everybody surrendered, except one farmer who refused to join in the final decision. This fact was carefully noted by the local clergyman, together with assurances that this unwise stubbornness would not suffice to impede the project.

In just over two hundred years, the United States has been transformed from a very largely rural and wilderness nation into an urban one. Rural Americans have gone from being the first majority to the last minority, to paraphrase historian John Shover (Shover,1976). All through this time policies directly and indirectly oriented to rural areas and rural people have been enunciated by the federal government. Rarely was the coordination of policy sought or achieved, however. Also, for generations the easy assumption was made that agricultural policy constituted rural policy. Further, a form of rural fundamentalism, closely related to a neo-Jeffersonian social outlook, reinforced a false sense of ‘rugged individualism’ as the essence of personal and collective success. Such gross oversimplifications have tended to mask some of the truly substantive problems of poor housing, race and gender inequities, unemployment, illiteracy, poor health, and malnutrition faced by rural and small town populations.

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.

In the burgeoning literature on war memorials and the commemoration of the war dead in Britain after 1918, the growth of village halls in rural areas has not been extensively analysed. K.S. Inglis has alerted us to the dichotomy of monuments to mourn the dead and amenities to serve the living. He noted that where a preference was made for utility over monumentality, local war memorial committees did not confine their attention to commemorating those who died on active service and made the Great Sacrifice, but also had in mind those who served and returned. The complex locally-determined processes of negotiating ways which would bring solace or comfort to the bereaved, through the creation of an object of mourning, has been examined with great care and detail, but analysis of urban-centred initiatives predominates.

Consequently, the linkage which might be made between the experience of war and the participation of ex-servicemen in village war memorial debates, the demise of old elites and the quest for improved social and material conditions in rural areas, the diminishing support for parish churches as the focal point of community life and the emergence of undenominational social centres, all point towards the need for further examination of the proceedings of local committees, where parish records allow. As British participation in the Great War contained the powerful rhetoric of a religious crusade and was not connected to the improvement of social conditions until the publication of war aims in January 1918, many committees gave priority to the creation of sacred objects of mourning, with much use of exhortatory moral language and Christian iconography.

In the nineteenth century, the old county of Montgomeryshire in Wales was mainly rural, with some industrialised towns. This article looks at the most prevalent crime dealt with in the county's Quarter Sessions, namely theft, and considers the gendered nature of law breaking. In particular it investigates the rural and urban landscapes and how they affected offenders’ activities and draws conclusions on the implications for policing.

This article fills an historiographical and methodological gap in our knowledge of the lived experience of the process of rural industrialisation. It uses a microhistorical study of a rapidly developing parish in the Somerset coalfield to question notions current in the historiography of rural class structures and community identity. It employs a variety of sources, including extracts from a particularly detailed early nineteenth-century journal, to demonstrate that the growing proportion of coal miners in the parish population from the late eighteenth century was well integrated, economically and culturally, into the local community. This argument runs counter to the stereotype that coal miners tended to form a ‘breed apart’ from the wider population. It is further argued that parish-based definitions of community, which have been emphasised in some of the most recent historiography, are less relevant in regions experiencing significant economic growth and structural change.

At the outbreak of the Second World War the holiday camp entrepreneur Billy Butlin agreed a secret deal to build an Admiralty training camp near Pwllheli in North Wales. The camp would be transferred to Butlin at the end of the war for use as a holiday camp. Whilst planners were initially horrified, the strategic argument that such camps would concentrate coastal development and also provide the necessary places for the expansion of ‘holidays with pay’ prevailed. More sustained opposition came from those concerned about the imposition of a culture of urbanised mass leisure on the Welsh heartland of the Llŷn Peninsula. For some, the threat was ‘bathing beauties’ and alcohol; more profoundly, many feared the destruction of a Welsh-speaking rural polity. National sentiment rallied around an alternative social service camp and an overt form of Welsh nation-building. Nonetheless, Butlin won the case and the holiday camp opened in 1947.

One of the most striking aspects of recent scholarship concerning electoral politics in the Victorian countryside is the widespread consensus that has developed that landlords did not – as was so commonly averred by Radical politicians at the time – use the threat of eviction as a weapon with which to terrorise farming tenants into voting as they were instructed. In the work of Norman Gash, Richard Olney and Frank O'Gorman, English tenants are represented as being quite happy to follow the lead offered them by their landlords, both from a ‘semi-feudal’ sense of loyalty and from a sense of gratitude for past favours and the hope of further favours to come. Even in Ireland, where a historiography dominated by Pomfret presented a much bleaker picture of landlord-tenant relations, the process of revision has considerably modified the received view. J. H. Whyte has argued that the landowners were far less tyrannical than had been generally thought, and regards as particularly erroneous the idea that landlords had regular recourse to eviction to punish tenants who had voted contrary to their wishes. This policy was not used, he suggests, because it patently did not work. Whyte's insights, though they have been modified in certain respects, were recently upheld in W. E. Vaughan's study of landlord and tenant relations in mid-Victorian Ireland. The history of politics in the Irish countryside is thus seen as having approximated that of England, and recent scholarship suggests a similar picture for Lowland Scotland, where, outside the Famine years, patterns of eviction were similar to those in Ireland. In only one country do the landowners still retain intact their reputation for electoral tyranny: Wales.

This article describes the development of the reading room, from the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century. Reading rooms were originally imposed upon the working classes by the upper classes, mainly the church and local landowners. Their establishment reflected contemporary attitudes to philanthropy, recreation and self-help and confirmed the great class divide. Little research has been carried out on this subject, and this article focuses particularly on rural Norfolk, explaining the distribution of the one hundred and sixty village reading rooms identified, their varying location and architectural styles, membership profile and differing methods of financing, including fund-raising social events. The article uses local and national archives and contemporary Ordnance Survey maps, as well as information from many local people. Reading rooms offered a much needed alternative to the public house for the working classes, although they tended to appeal more to the lower middle classes, and membership was mostly restricted to males. The difference between reading rooms in ‘open’ and ‘closed’ parishes is discussed. In the twentieth century, as other diversions appeared and the countryside became more democratised, reading rooms gradually declined. They were an important part of village life and have left interesting evidence of former lifestyles and attitudes.

New roads and, later, railways were essential for the modernisation and rapid economic development of north-western Italy in the early nineteenth century. The new routes also encouraged an increasing number of foreign travellers to visit the region. They opened up fresh tracts of countryside and provided novel viewpoints and points of interest; many travellers took the opportunity to record these views with topographical drawings and watercolours. In this article we make use of some of these views to examine how the modernised transport routes released new places to be celebrated by tourists and became themselves features and objects of especial interest and comment. We examine the works of three artists, one English and two Italian, who depicted landscapes of contrasting rural Ligurian landscapes. Their drawings and prints are contextualised and interpreted with maps, field data, archival documents and contemporary descriptions of roads and railways by travellers and in guidebooks.

Shepherds were a critical component of the early wool industry in colonial Australia and persisted even after fencing was adopted and rapidly spread in the later nineteenth century. Initially shepherds were convicts, but after transportation ceased in the late 1840s, emancipists and free men were employed. Their duty was the same as in England: look after the flock during the day, and pen them nightly in folds made of hurdles. Analysis of wages and flock sizes indicates that pastoralists achieved good productivity gains with larger flocks but inflation of wages reduced the gains to modest levels. The gold rushes and labour shortages of the 1850s played a minor role in increasing both wages and flock sizes. Living conditions in huts were primitive, and the diet monotonous. Shepherds were exposed to a range of diseases, especially in Queensland. Flock-masters employed non-whites, usually at lower wages, and women and children. Fences only replaced shepherds when pastoralists realised that the new technology of fences, combined with other changes, would give them higher profits. The sheep were left to fend for themselves in the open paddocks, a system used to this day.

For better than a decade American historians have debated whether or not U.S. farmers were ‘capitalist’ or ‘non-capitalist’ during the nineteenth century. This debate has tended to use market integration as the key index for determining where they should be conceptually located,-although Henretta and Merrill, who fired the opening salvos in the debate, focused more on how farmers understood what they were doing, and Genovese has long insisted that the direct relations of production are the basis for defining specific modes of production. This argument is important not only insofar as it sharpens our knowledge of early American social formations, but also as it aids in interpreting political disputes that occurred on local and national levels.

In this paper my intention is to discuss the diversity of rural landscapes, still detectable in spite of two centuries and more of industrialisation, and to point to the roots of this diversity, in a time when local differences in habitat were bonded to contrasts in culture, economy and society. The stimulus, perhaps even the courage, to write this essay came from reading Braudel's The Identity of France: History and Environment, for his joyous exploration of that country generates an awareness of the need for a deep sense of place as a foundation for understanding rural history. For me one key to this is seen in figure 1, a new map of settlement in England and Wales in the middle years of the last century, a product of my work on rural settlements. Everitt, using the case of Kent as a basis for an evaluation of the use of landscapes as a historical source, has emphasised the importance of countrysides in understanding the evolution of the landscapes of field, forest, heath, fell, fen, marsh, down and wald (Everitt, 1986: 6–13, 338–40; for wald see Everitt, 1986: passim and Ekwall, 1970: 491–2). Figure 1 is one measure of the diversity and a source of this discussion.

Two questions will no doubt greet the arrival of this journal: why rural history? and why now? The current economic climate is hardly favourable for ventures of this kind. But recent developments in the numerous fields which touch on matters rural indicate a real academic need for a new forum for interdisciplinary exchange. Much exciting and innovative work has been carried out over the past decade – on the nature and structure of rural communities; on regional differences and identity; on how rural workers are defined and represented by others and by themselves; on the relationship between the urban and the rural. Yet this research has been scattered across a range of disciplines and subdisciplines, many of which tend to be regarded as marginal to the central thrust of historical investigation. In areas like folklore studies or art history, ideas of the rural have developed apace, and the terms of the analysis of the rural community have acquired considerable methodological complexity. Yet the study of ‘rural history’ continues to be rather narrowly defined, confined by an essentially economistic agenda that has excluded much of the most fascinating recent work. Rural history is often seen as synonymous with agricultural history, and although the latter has generated a great deal of valuable and interesting research, its privileging of the economic perspective has tended to preclude the methodological inclusiveness that now seems necessary to foster cross-fertilisation between the disparate areas in which the study of rural society is being pursued.

Cuba is a paradigmatic case where the term and concept of the peasantry remains of lived importance. Cuban peasants had a significant role in the past as they did return to the political agenda after the Revolution with particular emphasis under Raul Castro’s administration. However, the Cuban case has not been significantly explored from a long-term perspective that connects the old debates and dimensions of land reforms under developmentalist states to the new agrarian questions in the global era. Based on secondary sources, semi-structured interviews and updated data on land structures, this article explores the long-term process of land reform in Cuba.

Writing in 1960 Margaret Stacey asserted that, ‘Women, compared with men, tend to show group characteristics regardless of other social factors like class. Their training from childhood sets them apart from boys and together as potential wives and mothers.’ This article will question whether Oxfordshire women did indeed believe that there was a commonality in their experiences at this time, irrespective of the locality in which they lived or the class to which they belonged, or whether these differences were more significant than their shared gender. The first objective of this article is therefore to analyse the role class played in determining women's experiences of life in Oxfordshire at this time. Leading on from this, the second objective is to investigate the importance of locality upon lived experience, and to engage, in Charles Phythian-Adams' words, in the process of ‘unravelling localized identities’ (1987). Using Oxfordshire as a case study it is possible to examine a range of communities: rural, urban and suburban. This article will demonstrate how the nature of these different communities affected women's experiences of living within them. The third objective is to discuss the ways in which the women I interviewed expressed their experiences of rural living through the oral history interview, and how their accounts relate to contemporary debates and existing historical interpretations.

This paper seeks to place the seventeenth-century enclosure riots at Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire, in both their local and national contexts and to consider the Crown's changing attitudes towards enclosure during the period under consideration. The surviving local records are such that it is not only possible to trace the economic and social backgrounds of many of the rioters, but also to ascertain the eventual outcome of the unrest and the factors that contributed to it: an investigation that many historians of enclosure riots, in their reliance on central records, have been reluctant to undertake. As a manor of the Duchy of Cornwall, Berkhamsted was, in the early decades, subject to the attention of a powerful landlord, with a great deal of legal muscle. In 1640, however, the tables were turned, partly due to opposition to the Crown in other royal manors and in government. It appears that having the Crown as landlord ultimately ensured the rioters' success. A local landlord would have been able to concentrate his energies on the enclosure. Berkhamsted Common was preserved for posterity.

Translated by Laura Cunniff

Scholars tend to interpret the European peasantry's incorporation into mass politics at the beginning of the twentieth century in terms of two equally extreme situations, citing either the peasantry's support for traditional oligarchies, or its anti-capitalist radicalism. By contrast, this article explores how the confluence between a broad network of peasant families and leased agricultural properties in the Valencian region of Spain helped generate mass support for an anti-liberal (and eventually Francoist) legal system. The authors highlight the uniqueness of the social and productive context of Valencian agriculture during the late 1800s and early 1900s, as well as the tensions that existed between landowners and tenants. Such tensions, they argue, did not stop these two groups from efficiently collaborating in favour of an economic orientation that was both developmentalist and politically anti-liberal.

This article explores how estates in the Scottish Highlands were managed after the clearances. The land system had been radically redrawn, creating consequences that those who inherited the post-clearance world endeavoured to manage. At the centre of the post-clearance Highlands were the estate managers, or factors, who were effectively responsible for the economic and social conditions on their employers’ estates. They controlled the levers of Highland life and faced the realities of the post-clearance order. Prominent among this group was Evander McIver. This article examines McIver's career up to 1873, framed by a discussion of the ‘Highland Question’ of how estates reacted to the continuing poverty and occasional destitution of their small tenants, or crofters. McIver held adamant views on this question, and the origins and expression of these views through his career are delineated in this article.

The publication of The Art and Mystery of Historical Archaeology, a festschrift in honour of James Deetz, makes a useful starting point for assessing the remarkable development of American historical archaeology over the last four decades. The discipline of ‘historical archaeology’ is the New World equivalent of British post-medieval archaeology. It is the study of the material culture of colonial and industrial America. Unlike its highly marginalised British counterpart, the discipline has seen an enormous growth in America over the last two decades, reflected in the creation of numerous posts both in universities and public-sector archaeology. This article seeks firstly to discuss some of the main contributions to the festchrift and areas of promise for future research. Secondly it will assess the relevance of some recent contributions on the history of consumption to Deetz's concept of the ‘Georgian world view’ and the notion of radical change in eighteenth-century material culture.