by RICHARD
MUIR
Tempus Publishing (paperback), £18.99
review by
Chris Hurst
Like most people, I was
brought up to believe that prehistoric Britons lived in small enclosures
dwarfed by limitless expanses of forest surrounding them. The forest, in our
historical imaginations, was huge; thousands upon thousands of trees
(mostly oak) covered the entire geography of the British Isles - a bit like the weather map,
really, but filled green cauliflowered shapes instead of white clouds or
blue rain. This vast Wildwood persisted well into the Middle Ages, although the
Romans cleared bits of it, and was the haunt of highwaymen, merry outlaws, wild
animals, and lost children who ventured into the clutches of wicked witches and
werewolves. I never stopped to question most bits of that somewhat simplistic
view (apart from the lycanthropes) until reading this book, which completely
debunks most of those suppositions within the first couple of pages of the
first chapter.
Dr Muir's book is about trees as important elements in the historical landscape
- but it is no "scholarly" dissertation researched primarily within a
library. He works from the ground up, with sources of information which
are mainly empirical; from fieldwork with muddy boots to painstaking
detective work correlating his observations with first edition Ordinance
Survey maps and ancient records. Above all, he is a man who is passionate
about trees and the evolving landscape which they and we mutually inhabit. His
main source of inspiration was the land in which he spent his boyhood, the well
wooded Yorkshire Dales - but this is not a book merely about that region
because it's inevitably applicable to any part of Europe where trees and men have engaged in
a symbiotic relationship over an appreciable length of time. It's an absolute
treasure-trove of information that has completely changed the way I look at my
landscape of forest and hedgerow down here, in south-west Wales.
There's so much of interest. From this book I've learnt that my surname
actually means a wooded mound in Old English, and that place names containing
references to woodlands as well as the qualities and use of trees are
remarkably common. The richness of this particular vocabulary reflects the
Celtic and Old English origins of our language, delineates the introduction of
the Old Norse elements, and evolves into the later tongues of Middle
English and Tudor. Hollins, for example, means a holly grove standing within
the surrounds of the larger wooded area - and which was mainly exploited
as a source of winter fodder. Holly grows its sharp leaves on the lower
branches as a form of defence against browsing animals but doesn't anticipate
attack on parts that are out of reach so the evergreen leaves are soft here.
In many of the more coldly mountainous areas of Britain holly was an important economic
resource in the farming community, and leases on stands of holly were carefully
controlled and strictly regulated by monastic landlords, being subject to legal
paperwork even in 1536.
Richard Muir writes about the old crafts of charcoal-burning, building,
and furniture making as well as the people who inhabited the forest such as
Robin Hood. His research is pretty comprehensive (without much mention of
pagans and Druids, but hey, we all know a bit about those guys and gals in any
case) and should appeal to just about anyone. At first I thought I would find
it a difficult read because I tend to switch off as soon as I'm faced with
anything overtly intellectual, but the subject matter is interesting and
his style of writing is easy. I could go on and on relating
fascinating fact after fascinating fact, but it would make the review long and
spoil the fun of discovery ....... but there's just one more I can't resist.
The oldest known published form of Babes In
The Wood appeared in Norwich, published by Thomas Millington in
1595. It was set in Wayland Wood, near Griston, which was previously known as
"Wailing" Wood although there are obvious connections to the mythical
blacksmith with the Wiltshire burial chamber. The legend was about two orphaned
toddlers who were placed in the care of an uncle until they came of sufficient
age to inherit their estates. The uncle paid two assassins to take the babes
into the woods for speedy despatch, but the assassins were charmed by the
innocence of the children and abandoned them alive. Sadly, the children died
slowly from starvation so there wasn't a happy ending - and presumably the
wicked uncle got the estates.
If the book lacks anything it's illustrations in colour, although there are
many clear and detailed black and white pictures in addition to a
wealth of maps, diagrams and pie charts. The photos are largely the author's
own, and he says in the introduction that his years of work involved
considerable expense offset in part by a donation from the Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society towards
the illustration costs. It's lovely that someone with a huge passion for
and knowledge of the landscape of Britain is driven by a need to share this
with as many others as possible - and really, in a way, the lack of glossy
colour reinforces the humanity of this book and makes it more of a gift.
Thank you, Richard Muir, woodsman extraordinaire, it was great
"meeting" you through the pages.
Available
from Amazon.co.uk
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