Tag Archives: John Stewart Collis

The Unchanging Woods, Maybe

You enter the wood — and you might just as well be in the Middle Ages. When I hear people speak of the Dark Ages, I remind myself how in those days the sun shone in just the same way as it does now, and the flowers glittered in woods where there was no difference from what we see today. … Inside the wood we are in the past as well as in the present.

With these thoughts, John Stewart Collis draws his book Down to Earth, now the second part of the combined volume The Worm Forgives the Plough (see my book review) to a close.

And in a way his thoughts from 1947 are still true today: nature is timeless, specially in a wood.

But in another way, the woods of 2014 are very different from those of 1947. The old practice of coppicing is all but dead: a few nature reserves struggle to practise something approaching it; enlightened landowners fell woods in patches rather than clear-felling whole landscapes, approximating the mosaic of new glades, fine old trees, brushwood, young trees and woodland edges bursting with songbirds that characterise true coppice. Often, in the old way of things, coppicing deliberately left behind a few ‘standards’ here and there, fine straight oaks or other hardwoods to grow large timbers for building ships or roof beams. Now, woods are more likely to be managed industrially for timber, or are sadly neglected with ivy on every trunk, brambles all around the forest floor.

Reeves' Muntjac, introduced from China, are now widespread across Britain and Europe
Reeves’ Muntjac, introduced from China, are now widespread across Britain and Europe

And it gets worse. Where Collis took for granted that woods in springtime saw the primrose, then the bluebell, with here and there an orchid, our wild flowers have declined markedly for reasons to do with human interference. Visitors from the cities pick nice-looking flowers, or dig them up to plant in their gardens. Accidental introductions of deer, especially the Muntjac, graze native flowers down to nothing. Many flowers listed in field guides as common are becoming hard to find outside nature reserves.

Numbers of deer in general, including our native Roe and Fallow, are increasing (and they are spreading into the suburbs) as gamekeeping declines. Since all our large native predators like bear, wolf, lynx, wolverine have long ago been hunted to extinction, there is nothing but human hunting to control deer numbers, and current levels of hunting are insufficient. Maybe George Monbiot is right: our woods need rewilding.

 

Love of Nature is deep in England

Love of Nature is deep in England

The love of Nature is deep in England. And I think that what is behind this love is the instinct that Nature has a secret for us, and answers our questions. Take that foxglove over there… It stands singly where there had been such a wonderful display of bluebells that it then looked as if a section of the sky had been established upon earth… That foxglove with its series of petal-made thimbles held up for sale to the bees, puts me at ease upon the subject of — progress. It is quite obvious that the foxglove cannot be improved… The fact is we get perfection in this form and in that form… There is no point in our gazing raptly into the future for paradise if it is at our feet.

—John Stewart Collis, The Worm Forgives the Plough. Vintage, 2009. page 253.

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In the Garden of Eden

In the Garden of Eden

The Worm Forgives the Plough, by John Stewart Collis (Vintage Classics edition)
The Worm Forgives the Plough, by John Stewart Collis (Vintage Classics edition)

I turn off the road, enter the wood, and sit down under the tree. The sun gleams upon everything, there is glittering and shining everywhere. A green caterpillar is lowered down by an invisible thread in front of me, and as it swings about, the sun shines through its transparency… A bush over there is glittering with rain-drops, little white lanterns fastened to the lower side of twigs; but if I swing my head slightly to one side, some of those lights turn colour, becoming red and purple…

We have invented a word for it: beauty. I am surrounded here with law, order, and beauty, and am myself absolutely happy here… I begin to grasp the obvious fact that this place is — perfect. And suddenly I realize where I am! I am in the Garden of Eden.

—John Stewart Collis, The Worm Forgives the Plough. Vintage, 2009. pages 232-233.

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Classic Book Review: The Worm Forgives the Plough, by John Stewart Collis

The Worm Forgives the Plough, by John Stewart Collis (Vintage Classics edition)
The Worm Forgives the Plough, by John Stewart Collis (Vintage Classics edition). The fine linocut of teasels is by Angie Lewin.

I promised myself I would only review books I really loved, that I would urge a close friend to read, sure they wouldn’t be disappointed. Few books pass this test.

John Stewart Collis was an educated man, born in  Ireland in 1900, living and working in England. He wrote some biographies and pottered along quietly in the literary life. Then the Second World War came along. Wanting to work for his country, but too old to fight and not fancying a dull desk job, he volunteered for the Land Army. It consisted mainly of women, “Land Girls”, as thousands of farm labourers joined the armed forces.

"We could do with thousands more like you: Join the WOMEN'S Land Army". Second World War recruitment poster
“We could do with thousands more like you: Join the WOMEN’S Land Army”. Second World War recruitment poster

Collis makes the long-gone era of scythes and horses immediately accessible. As a professional writer, he is from our modern urban world, familiar with politics, technology, change,  middle-class angst. As a man experiencing the daily toil of following the plough or harrow, hoeing by hand, harvesting, pacing oneself while looking out for the owner’s car (a good moment to appear busy), he is in that rural world painted in such a golden light by the wartime posters.

And he’s funny. He notes that farm work is not an exhilarating form of exercise — he recommends a game of tennis for that; instead, you go at it steadily, never hurrying, whatever the weather. He is perfectly capable of writing wide-eyed descriptions, as when he kneels down beside an ancient tree-trunk and admires the insects hidden under the bark “building their Jerusalem in these countries of decay which must represent for them the acme of perfection”, the strange world of the fungi. But much more often he is direct, matter-of-fact: he likes to test the rotten wood with his boots.

Collis has the gift — I’d say it was rare — of noticing that the ordinary aspects of life and work all around him are strange and temporary. Here he is on what it is like trying to harness a farm horse by yourself:

When I came to harnessing for the first time I was surprised at the weight of the harness. I found that the breeching and attendant straps were as heavy as a saddle. When I tried putting the collar on I found I had put the bridle on first. Having taken off the bridle, the collar still wouldn’t go on — for the simple reason that you must reverse it while negotiating the head, which I had not done, thus following the example of Wordsworth who also failed in this matter. I was no more successful with the hames; I got them the wrong way round, and when at last I got them the right way round, I failed to pin them under the collar in a sufficiently tight notch. This done, I was now ready to put the horse into the cart. But I was not prepared for the difficulty of backing it straight between the shafts nor for the weight of the cart when lifted up by one of the shafts, nor for the difficulties confronting me in continuing the good work. For, having thrown over the long chain that rests on the breeching, and dodged under the horse’s neck to catch it on the other side, I missed it and it rolled back so that I had to throw it over again, all the time holding up the shaft with one hand while I went to the other side. And after this came the fixing of the remaining chains, all of which I put into the wrong notches.

I don’t know about you, but I’m sweating and powdered with stable dust just reading about it.

With the arrival of the first combine harvesters, which Collis admires, he perceives that the old way of life is going to be utterly disrupted, even while he and the other farm labourers continue to work on the farm, while the village pubs were still full of countrymen. It would be nostalgic, only the writing is quite unsentimental, and we are right there alongside Collis, looking up from our work as we watch the new machine as it roars and rattles along doing the work of twenty men, and reflect on what it will mean. This is something special.  And I promise you’ll want to go out and buy a well-balanced axe and billhook, to try the pleasure for yourself.

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Buy it from Amazon.co.uk (commission paid)