Ancient Rome and the Town and Country Debate from the 1850s to the 1920s



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New Voices in Classical Reception Studies
Issue 6 (2011)



Ancient Rome and the Town and Country Debate from the 1850s to the 1920s


© Sarah Butler, The Open University

This article investigates the influence of ancient Rome in the town and country debate that became manifest between the 1850s and 1920s as the physically degenerative effects of the change from a rural to an urban society on Britain’s working classes threatened Britain’s status as a global power and, by the early twentieth century, Britain and the Empire’s safety. Further, this article will show that as intellectuals increasingly looked to historical analogy in an attempt to overcome the ‘evils’ inherent in an urban society, Rome became part of the structure of thought in a modern debate that pitted town and country, or the concepts of civilization and backwardness, against each other.1 Understanding why and how Republican Rome became a symbol of physical degeneracy and the failure of urbanization whilst Augustan Rome stood for urban renewal and supported a new vision of urbanism, a small town urbanism located in the countryside, adds a strand of knowledge to the existing scholarship on the history of modern Britain.

Following the seizure of common land in the Enclosure Acts of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries and with industrialization making redundant the domestic industries of the rural population, rural workers migrated to unhealthy industrial towns in search of employment and to live in accommodation that, according to Frederick Engels (1993: 85) was ‘badly planned, badly built…damp, and unwholesome’. Social commentators warned of the potential dangers of such an existence. Peter Gaskell in The Manufacturing Population of England (1833: 160-62) wrote of a great deterioration in the physique of urban workers. This deterioration W. Cooke Taylor also blamed on the move from ‘cottage’ to ‘lodging’ (1841: 257). In 1849, Charles Kingsley recorded in his diary (1880: 178) that London was rife with ‘typhus, consumption, and cholera’ whilst, that same year, Viscount Palmerston (1877: 131), at the time Foreign Secretary, informed his brother that ‘Cholera has been very active’ in virtually every town due to ‘noxious effluvia…choked-up drains, stinking sewers, and things of that kind’. By 1861 the situation was serious enough for the reformer Henry Mayhew to publish his study of London’s poor in order to:

give the rich a more intimate knowledge of the sufferings of the poor and…to bestir themselves to improve the condition of a class of people whose misery…is, to say the very least, a national disgrace to us (1861: iv)

Regardless of warnings and the initiatives of some industrialists to counteract the negative effects of industrialization, most chose to ignore the need for reform whilst a steady stream of workers into cities ensured high levels of productivity.2 However, as the century progressed and the unhealthy environment resulted in a progressively more unproductive workforce, it became gradually obvious that by not instigating a programme of urban reform, Britain’s future economic prosperity and global prestige was in jeopardy.3

As recognition grew that urban regeneration was one way to overcome the problem of physical degeneration in the masses, the megalopolis of Rome was increasingly cited in debates on the subject. Traditionally, the Romans were the acknowledged experts on city building.4 The expansion of the railways had drawn comparisons with Roman ingenuity in the construction of their transport system because, as the statistician Robert Dudley Baxter put it (1866: 549), the ‘Romans were the great Road-makers of the ancient world - the English are the great Railroad-makers of the modern world’. Discussions over urban water supplies had also included references to Rome. The Times (Remarks on the Water Supply of London, 15 Jan. 1850: 5) responded to the Liberal M.P. Sir William Clay ‘denying the risks of insalubrity connected with stagnancy and lead’ by suggesting that Clay ‘bring up his reading to the age of Augustus and Trajan, and not to withhold from us, in the 19th century, the benefit of Vitruvius’ and Pliny’s experience.’ In this way the nation might learn from ‘the sagacious reflections of those old philosophers on the quality and urban distribution of water’. Similarly, at the National Water Supply Exhibition at Alexandra Palace, the Chair, Mr. Hepworth Dixon (cited in The Times 27 Sept. 1879: 6), referred to Rome in order to highlight apathetic attitudes to ‘matters of such vital importance’ whilst, reporting on Lord Chichester’s speech at the Brighton Health Congress, The Times reported (13 Dec. 1881: 7)

With regard to the water supply of Brighton now, [Lord Chichester] said no one could complain, and he trusted that the sewerage of the town would prove of the benefit expected from it. Certainly this sewerage of Brighton was not an imitation in regard to magnitude of the cloaca of ancient Rome; but as the Romans appointed a goddess over the Cloaca Maxima, so he wished that the Brighton Corporation could so guard the capital of Sussex from the fear of evils arising from the subterranean channels from the houses.

According to social reformers, Roman inventiveness was evident in all aspects of ancient urbanization. Edwin Chadwick (cited in The Times 21 Mar. 1877: 11) expressed concern over the lack of escape routes from modern theatres, claiming that the Society of Arts had failed to look at the provision of escape routes in Roman theatres. He recommended that the Society study the plans ‘of the Coliseum’ as ‘the vomitorium was excellently arranged’. Even in debates over the advantages and disadvantages of burial or cremation, room could be found for Rome. A Times editorial stated (Ideas March Fast when they are Ideas, 25 Apr. 1885: 11) that people should be ‘free to have their corpses dissolved by fire or by earth’ as in Rome ‘both practices went on side by side’. Not all Roman solutions to urban expansion, though, were praised. ‘[N]o modern nation’ a sanitary engineer wrote in 1887, ‘has ever approached the extravagance of the supply of water to ancient Rome by her twenty aqueducts’ (cited in Effects of continued Drought on Water Supply, The Times 9 July 1887: 6). Whether employed positively or negatively, the city of Rome provided a benchmark by which the needs of a modern city could be judged.

In line with the tendency of some reformers to use ancient Rome to support their arguments, ancient historians recommended study of Rome’s experience of urbanization. Future Professor and Bishop the Rev. M. Creighton (1875: 6) considered study of Roman conurbations worthwhile as, in antiquity, only the Romans had built cities in conquered lands whilst Charles Merivale devoted the first four chapters of his General History of Rome to the development of the city. Although admitting that discussion of Rome’s early development was reliant on ‘poetical legends’ (1880: 26), on Rome’s later growth he was more certain. During the rule of Julius Caesar, Merivale wrote (666, 669), there began ‘a new era in the history of the city’ although it was Augustus who presided over Rome’s transformation by enlarging the city and laying out ‘new quarters…in broader ways, with lower houses in the Grecian fashion, faced at least with stone.’

It was, though, the gradual realization of the serious consequences to Britain of rural depopulation that caused Rome to become more firmly entrenched in the town and country debate.5 Historians had written of the consequences for Rome of denuding the countryside of its population during the Republic. For J.G. Sheppard (1861: 100-101), the consequences were disastrous.

The lands, where cultivated at all, had fallen into the hands of great proprietors, who indulged their extravagant taste by covering whole districts with piles of buildings…What was the result? There could be but one. “A bold peasantry, their country’s pride, Where once destroy’d can never be supplied”.

Despite Sheppard’s acknowledgment that Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘quotation’ was ‘trite’, he nevertheless considered ‘that we are in some danger of forgetting that it is true’.6 Sheppard (99) identified two causes for the destruction of Italy’s rural way of life, both of which applied to Britain; migration to the city and expansionism. Indeed, it was the settlement of Roman soldiers in the colonies that ‘finished the depopulation which a short-sighted policy had begun’.

Others, too, blamed the change in land ownership for the Republic’s fall. Merivale (1880: 194) wrote of ‘vast estates’ that fell ‘into the hands of the wealthy few’. Displacement of the population had been the result as many fled to the city. Creighton (1875: 55) dated the decline of Italy from the war with Hannibal after which smallholdings were ‘ruined, and men went to live in towns’. The Oxford historian Henry Pelham (1905: 185), like Sheppard, blamed Roman expansionism and migration to the city for physical degeneration in the masses. However, rather than lauding Republican characters, such as the Gracchi, who had been previously regarded as ‘heroes’ for fighting to stave off agricultural decline and introduce social reforms, Pelham (378, 408-10) saw instead ‘heroism’ in the activities of Augustus as it was he who ‘was busily engaged at Rome’ in introducing the domestic reforms necessary to rejuvenate the urban population following the civil wars. Not only did he regulate ‘the monthly distributions of corn to the poor’, he also instigated a programme of urban reform, controlled Rome’s water supply by keeping the aqueducts in good repair and ensured Rome’s safety from fire by appointing ‘the chief of a fire brigade’ with ‘jurisdiction’ over ‘disturbers of the peace’. Important in Pelham’s panegyric to the princeps (400) was his observation that Augustus endeavoured ‘to bring back society to the simpler and purer life which had once been the glory of Rome, and which still flourished in the country districts of Italy’.

In contrast, then, to the negative interpretations of Imperial Rome in the early to mid nineteenth century and in conjunction with growing concern in Britain over rural depopulation and the condition of the working classes, a revised and largely positive picture was emerging of the Imperial regime.7 Whereas Republican Rome had been without food and adequate water supplies, subjected to floods, fires and outbreaks of unrest, the Rome of Augustus was entirely the opposite. In Pelham’s opinion (1905: 367), the policies of the cautious, self-controlled and astute Augustus demonstrated how conservative statesmanship could create order out of chaos.

With historians suggesting that the change from a rural to urban society during the Republic contributed to the chaos of its last years and its fall, it was not hard for concerned Victorians to draw parallels between the Republic and Britain and predict Britain’s likely future. Although emigration to the vast open spaces of the colonies was still an option, the questions now hanging over the wisdom of further rural depopulation focused attention on the English countryside. For many commentators, Britain’s salvation, as Imperial Rome’s, lay in a return to rural living. As a consequence, Roman writers were read as advancing a rural Rome, in which moral values were located in the countryside and associated with Augustan attempts to restore Roman values. Political moralism and ruralism were brought together in understanding the Augustan age.8

For J.A. Froude (1886: 9) lessons could be learnt from the poet Horace, ‘a true prophet’, writing under the patronage of Augustus' political adviser Maecenas. Although, in Froude’s opinion (10, 9), there was little chance that free corn would be distributed to the masses in England, he nonetheless considered England’s fate ‘likely’ to be that of Rome’s should the population continue in employments that would leave future generations ‘sickly, poor and stunted wretches.’ Horace, Froude claimed, had witnessed ‘what we are now witnessing in England, - the fields deserted, the people crowding into cities. He noted the growing degeneracy.’ It was this vision of the Republic that made its study imperative. Wise politicians, Froude believed (1879: 3-4), could learn from the Republic’s experience as ‘[w]e see it in its growth; we see the causes which undermined its strength. We see attempts to check the growing mischief fail, and we see why they failed.’

Virgil’s pastoral poetry, which encouraged audiences to return to the distant, rural past in order to bring forth a new ‘Golden Age’, was also cited by commentators as evidence of degeneration in the Roman race during the Republic. Virgil had long been a favourite amongst intellectuals. The historian Thomas Babington Macaulay had written of a fondness for Virgil, whilst Robert Louis Stevenson considered that Virgil’s poetry spoke ‘of English places’ (cited by Griffin in Jenkyns, 1992: 147). Virgil had recognized that purity dwelt in the countryside, according to James Lonsdale’s translation of the Georgics II (1887: ll.458-60): ‘O husbandmen, too dear to Fortune, if they know their own blessedness! For them of herself, far from the clash of arms, all-righteous Earth pours from her soil an easy sustenance.’ By the late nineteenth century, Virgil’s value to a nation perceived to be suffering similar ‘evils’ as Republican Rome was, if anything, magnified. The Edinburgh professor W.Y. Sellar (1897: 81, 115) considered that Virgil’s ability to ‘cherish the whole land’, having suffered dispossession of his own land, could ‘give expression to the sense of disorder, insecurity, and distress’ that ‘accompanied…forced divisions and alienations of land’.9 As such, Sellar believed (91) ‘[i]f poetry’ ever exercised ‘a healing and reconciling influence on life’, Virgil could provide ‘some antidote to the excitement, the restlessness, the unsettlement of opinion in the present day’.10

Another factor exacerbating Rome’s problem, so William Inge (1888: 69), subsequently Dean of St. Paul’s, argued, was the falling birth rate. He cited Tacitus. ‘The habit of ‘limiting…children,’ as Tacitus euphemistically calls it,’ Inge wrote, ‘was condemned on political grounds as tending to diminish population at a time when the human harvest was bad’. Even so, for Froude (1886: 386), it was not so much the falling birth rate that was to be feared as the fact that Britain was being re-populated by the offspring of working class urbanites. It was impossible that later generations could ‘equal’ their forefathers if ‘bred in towns such as Birmingham and Glasgow’. Again Froude supplied readers with an Horatian image (Odes III, vi) of degenerate Romans who were ‘inferior to sires’ and as ‘likely to leave an offspring more degraded’, as proof of the inevitability of degeneration if Britain were to be re-populated by urban workers. This, in turn, would affect Britain’s economy as a nation’s wealth depended on a healthy population and history declared that such a race could not be bred ‘amidst foul drains and smoke blacks’.

By the 1890s and with Blackwood’s Magazine (cited in Pick 1989: 223) reporting that, although society had improved generally, ‘the lowest stratum of all has not changed’ and Charles Booth’s (in Pfautz 1967: 30) findings that 30.7 per cent of Londoners were living in poverty and ‘at all times more or less in want’, the connections between overcrowded cities, physical degeneracy and social disorder, the countryside, health and social order, had become established in the Victorian mind. So, too, had the belief that the state of Republican Rome in its final years was analogous to that of Britain whilst, conversely, Imperial Rome’s success in overcoming the problems of urbanization made study of the early Empire worthwhile.11 Effectively, by the end of the century, Rome was acting both as a warning and a solution to the problems that faced modern Britain.

Intellectuals from all walks of life acknowledged the value of learning from the past. Charles Pearson, in National Life and Character (1893: 134), dismissed the ‘ancient idea…that city influences elevated and civilized men’ on the grounds that city living destroyed ‘physical stamina’, whilst Admiral Lord Beresford’s speech on the importance of fitness was reproduced in The Times (14 Oct. 1893: 9). Exhibitions of fitness, Beresford claimed, were not meant to create ‘athletes or gymnasts, as in the days of ancient Rome’, but to encourage a healthy lifestyle. The Conservative M.P. Lord Walsingham (cited in Rider Haggard 1899: 466) deemed Rome’s experience of urbanization and degeneration invaluable to a modern nation facing an uncertain future and fearing similar consequences:

[L]ook at the pure-bred Cockney…whose forefathers have for the last two generations dwelt within a two-mile radius of Charing Cross. And look at an average young labourer coming home from his day’s field work, and I think you will admit that the city breeds one stamp of human beings and that the country breeds another…Take the people away from their natural breeding and growing grounds, thereby sapping their health and strength in cities such as nature never intended to be the permanent home of men, and the decay of this country becomes only a matter of time. In this matter, as in many others, ancient Rome has a lesson to teach us.

However, it was Britain’s struggle to defeat the Boers in the Second Anglo-South African War that made the issue of working class degeneration an issue of national importance.12 With the ranks of the army drawn from the working classes and the so-called dregs of society, the war proved to many that the Army Chief, Lord Wolseley (cited in The Times 4 Dec. 1896: 6), was correct in warning that, ‘[n]o modern nation could be great without strong limbs’.13 As realization hit home that Britain and the Empire’s safety, as well as the economy, was dependent on rejuvenating the population, the country and its people, according to Alan Howkins (in Colls and Dodd 1986: 69), came to be ‘seen as the essence of England, uncontaminated by racial degeneration and the false values of cosmopolitan urban life’. In 1903, Henry Rider Haggard (1926: 133-34), who in 1899 had drawn the Government’s attention to the consequences of rural depopulation by claiming that there would be ‘grave’ consequences if it continued, reiterated his concern in a letter to H.H. Asquith (149) as he felt the Government had failed to ‘really take the matter to heart’. Plunging into foreign adventures whilst neglecting Britain was ‘madness’, in his opinion, as ‘[w]hat will it benefit us to gain the whole earth if we are to lose our country-bred population?’

With The Times (A New Suburb, 10 Sept. 1907: 7) again commenting on the ‘rural exodus which all deplore’ and claiming that since ‘the days of Ancient Rome agrarian questions’ had been ‘the most troublesome’ for statesmen, more overt analogies were drawn between the late Republic and Britain. The historian W. Warde Fowler (cited in The Times, 24 Oct. 1907: 7) considered it ‘difficult’ not to see that history was repeating itself. Especially striking was the similarity between the Republic’s urban masses and those of ‘London’. Although Rome’s situation was significantly worse, he insisted, it was ‘true enough that the factory system’ and ‘unwholesome’ cities had ‘produced much misery, much physical degeneracy’ (1908: 56). The Times (Panem et Circenses, 24 Oct. 1907: 7) commended Warde Fowler’s insightfulness, widening the analogy to suggest that the Roman Empire’s ultimate fate was also due to a physically degenerate population.

[T]here is at least enough in the decay of Roman society, as sketched by Mr. Warde Fowler, to make us think seriously about some of the signs of our own times….hands…beckon us to the downward road along which Imperial Rome hastened to its decay and fall. Nor can there be any doubt that any decline in home life and the domestic virtues must, if it spreads, spell national degeneration, as it did in ancient Rome among the masses.

Robert Baden-Powell (2007: 208), whose response to the Anglo-South African War had been to set up the Boy Scout Movement, published Scouting for Boys in 1908. ‘Recent reports on the deterioration of our race’ were a warning, he claimed, as ‘the fact that the soldiers fell away from the standard of their forefathers in bodily strength’ had contributed to the Roman Empire’s demise. British army recruits were not only shorter on average and underweight but three thousand men had been repatriated due to ‘bad teeth.’ In Baden-Powell’s opinion, school children, even those from middle class families, suffered from ‘knock-knees…curvature of the spine…flat feet…pigeon-breasts – all preventable deformities’. In contrast, according to some pro-Boers, the Boers embodied ‘the classical virtues of the Roman farmer-turned-reluctant-general, Cincinnatus’ or were ‘Tacitus’s German guerrillas come to life’ (Lowry 2000: 208).

However, if Republican Rome was consistently deployed to warn of the danger of urban-industrial society, Imperial Rome was consistently deployed to show the danger could be overcome. Positive assessments of the Augustan period became the norm. The classical scholar Evelyn Shuckburgh (1908: vii, 269), like Pelham, credited his ‘hero’ Augustus with refurbishing Rome, and instigating other measures ‘necessary’ for Rome’s safety. Horace and Virgil continued to be hailed as authorities on the advantages of country living. The translator of Horace, E.C. Wickham (1930: 10), claimed that Horace had seen the ‘moral defects of the Roman people’. According to Epode II, happiest was the man, who avoided ‘the Forum’ preferring the plough and to live alongside his family (138). For J.W. Mackail (1922: 63), Virgil’s Georgics carried a similar message, drawing ‘a living picture of a world of simplicity and industry, of hard work and true happiness’.14 Effectively, the pastoral had become attractive in reaction to the city.

Classicists were not alone in interpreting Roman writers from a modern perspective. In 1912, the geologist Archibald Geikie published The Love of Nature Among the Romans. For Geikie (1912: 35-6) there was a ‘diversity of manners and morals’ between the town and country-bred population during the late Republic that was particularly evident amongst the ‘lower orders’. Evidence could be found in Varro’s On Farming. Remarking on ‘the problem of the country versus the town’, Varro had written that ‘two distinct kinds of human life [had] been handed down to our time - that of the country and that of the town’ with the former preferable to the latter (30).15 In addition, Geikie considered that the works of Horace, Virgil, Cato the Censor, Pliny the Younger (an ‘excellent example of a Roman country-gentleman’) and Lucretius all demonstrated the benefits of country living. Even Ovid showed a love for nature that transcended ‘his interest in the gallantries, frivolities, and dissipations’ of the city (31, 100).

As debate on the nation’s health took on a new urgency political parties, including socialists, produced reports and plans for the development of towns and the countryside.16 As the Labour Leader reported on 14 August 1908 (cited in Howkins 1986: 68), socialism ‘would not destroy but recreate and greatly sweeten and ennoble the towns’ whilst villages would ‘be restored, invigorated and enriched’. In 1907, the Labour M.P. Keir Hardie (cited in The Times, 14 Jan. 1907: 11) used Republican Rome as an example of a civilization destroyed by the deracination of the rural inhabitants in order to highlight what was occurring in Britain. ‘The lands of Rome passed into the hands of the great landlords’, Hardie stated, ‘who subdued the peasantry and broke their spirits, and the causes that brought about Rome’s ruin are not to be allowed to exist in this country’.

The issue of breeding re-surfaced, not least as Baden-Powell (2007: 209) warned of ‘much pauper over-population due to want of self-restraint’ amongst the working classes. The Physical Deterioration Committee of 1904 had also found that degeneration was not all pervasive but restricted to slum dwellers. ‘The evil is…greatest’, the Report stated (cited in Pick 1989: 185), ‘in one-roomed tenements, the overcrowding there being among persons usually of the lowest type, steeped in every kind of degradation and cynically indifferent to the vile surroundings engendered by their filthy habits, and to the pollution of the young brought up in such circumstances’. In the same year, the eugenicist Francis Galton contributed an article to The American Journal of Sociology. The aim of eugenics, he stated (1904: 3-4), was ‘to cause the useful class in the community to contribute more than their proportion to the next generation.’ He suggested that ‘a “golden book” of thriving families’ should be produced in which those intending to marry should detail ‘their race, profession, and residence’ as well as their parentage. Amongst others, Galton’s fellow eugenicist Karl Pearson (cited in Galton 1904: 7) felt ‘confident’ that Galton had found a solution to a national problem of how ‘the next generation’ would ‘be mentally and physically equal to the past generation’. George Bernard Shaw (cited in Galton 1904: 21) agreed, claiming that there was no reason ‘for refusing to face the fact that nothing but a eugenic religion can save our civilization from the fate that has overtaken all previous civilizations’.

Not all, though, were convinced by Galton. As J.M. Robertson (cited in Galton 2004: 23) expressed it, ‘Rome did not rise through the fecundity or fall through the fecundity of her ruling or other classes’. Others believed that a healthy environment and balanced diet would reverse degeneration. For the physician Robert Hutchison (cited in Galton 2004: 11), a proper diet from birth to adulthood would ensure ‘a satisfactory race’, whilst G. Archdall Reid, M.D. (cited in Galton 2004: 17, 19) felt that the hereditary argument should be dismissed altogether. There was no proof, he argued, that the offspring of urbanites were ‘inferior’ to the offspring of ‘rustics’, as ‘life in the slums deteriorates the individual, it does not affect directly the hereditary tendencies of the race’. Instead, he believed, the slums and ‘other evil influences of civilisation’ - poor or insufficient provisions, unhealthy air and disease - were to blame. With the opportunity, then, to arrest degeneration in the present, rather than the future, generation, the environmental argument gained ground.

Regardless, though, of recognition of the problem and the politician Viscount Milner’s pronouncement that ‘Back to the Land’ was becoming ‘a watchword’ across the political spectrum, and with London’s population increasing by 300,000 every ten years, little had been achieved practically to rectify the situation (cited in Howkins 1991: 226). However, one scheme with a chance of succeeding in relieving overcrowding and halting degeneration lay, in the opinion of The Times, in the ideas of Ebenezer Howard and the garden city movement, a movement in which Rider Haggard ‘expressed himself strongly in favour’ (cited in The Times 5 May 1903: 10). According to Dugald Macfadyen (1933: 26, 29), Howard’s aim was ‘a marriage of Town and Country’, his vision that of ‘a transformed English industrial civilisation’17 and, as the suffragette Mary Neal (cited in Howkins 1991: 230) remarked in 1910, ‘an interchange between town and country’ was essential for the future.18

By 1908, with the establishment of eight companies at the newly constructed Letchworth, the economic advantages of garden cities were also plain to observers. Howard himself referred to the economic motive that contributed to the establishment of the garden city movement in a letter to The Times (26 March 1919: 7). It began, he wrote, ‘with the express object of increasing the productive powers of the nation and of solving the twin evils of the overgrowth of great cities and the decay of rural districts’.19 The economic benefits were also evident to L. Fisher (1903: 85), reviewer of Howard’s Garden Cities of To-morrow. Rather than purchasing highly priced slums and rebuilding, Howard, Fisher wrote, ‘would go straight to the country, where land is cheap…and build a brand new town’.

As interest in town planning intensified, so too did interest in Roman town planning. Since the late nineteenth century, the archaeology of Britain had increasingly featured in histories of early Britain and newspapers printed articles on excavations in Britain with growing regularity.20 According to Macfadyen (1933: 129), the unearthing of Romano-British towns proved to Howard that Roman cities were constructed with ‘conventional order and individual integrity’ in mind. Town planning, Howard (cited in Macfadyen 1933: 129) himself stated, was ‘as old as towns themselves…[t]he Romans were always town planners’. With this in mind, in 1913, the historian Francis Haverfield published Ancient Town-Planning which, as his contemporary J.S Reid (1914: 244) commented, appeared ‘at an opportune time’. Haverfield (1913: A2 and 4) admitted Town-Planning was ‘a scholar’s contribution to a modern movement’ and designed to aid city reformers in the art of town-planning.21 Believing what needed to be planned for when constructing dwellings for workers was the ‘health and convenience’ of mankind, Haverfield suggested that students of the ancient world ‘might proffer parallels from antiquity’, particularly ‘the Hellenistic and Roman ages’ as they resembled ‘the present day in their care’ for the individual (4). Regardless of the fact that the Romans did not have ‘to provide lungs for their cities’ (145), Haverfield specifically recommended Roman town planning since the Romans had made more consistent efforts ‘to plan towns’ than previous ages (18).

Haverfield’s (18) fascination with Roman towns lay in their unity, in the sense that Roman towns were ‘harmonized’ with ‘the whole…treated as one organism’. He was critical of modern architects who had until recently ‘only one idea of a small house’ that characterized ‘monotonous streets’ in poor areas of towns (131). Moreover, the attention the Romans gave to avoiding the unsanitary conditions of modern cities by providing water and sewers made them worthy of study (17). Nevertheless, despite his obvious admiration for Roman building methods, Haverfield (132) clearly had reservations about an urban existence. Although, in his opinion, an inhabitant of Silchester ‘learnt’ about ‘town-life’ from Rome, what he failed to learn was:

town-life in its highest form. When his town had been ‘haussmannized’ and fitted with Roman streets, and equipped with Roman Forum and Basilica, and the rest, he yet continued to live – perhaps more happily than the true townsman – in his irregularly grouped houses and cottages amid an expanse of gardens.

In other words, as ancient Britons had not been subjected to Roman town-life ‘in its highest form’ they had benefitted to a greater extent than urbanites in more comprehensively Romanized provinces, such as Gaul. Haverfield clearly considered that a happier existence might be gained in the country amidst the eccentricities of English villages rather than in towns constructed strictly according to Roman or French order. However, he (129) refrained from calling Silchester a garden city as such cities added ‘some of the features of the country to a town’ whereas Silchester’s town plan suggested ‘urban features’ had been inserted into the country. The publication of Town-Planning at a time when rigorous town planning was recommended for garden cities ensured that Haverfield’s theories found an audience.

Letchworth, though, was the only garden city constructed before the war and, as thousands opted to move to the outskirts of cities, urban planners also looked at suburban development. The Hampstead Garden suburb was described in The Times (Back to the Land, 6 May 1907: 4) as a ‘suburb with a difference’ being constructed for profit and as ‘a social experiment’. It was:

to show that a plan of residence may be provided on the outskirts of a large town which may accommodate not one class but many, and which may have a beauty of its own – not the accidental charm of the country or the planned symmetry of a fine town, but the beauty of a group of houses standing amid trees and flowers and arranged, with reference to each other, according to one harmonious design.22

H.G. Wells (1914: 64) hinted at an apparently philanthropic motive behind the change in attitude to town planning both in the countryside and the suburbs. However, whilst philanthropy might urge the movement to ‘re-house’ the masses in a ‘more agreeable manner’, the benefits to the State were clear. Not only did it ease the problem of overcrowded cities and provide a healthy environment that ensured workers remained productive but escape from the city, so it was believed, was the key to restoring the family unit to its pre-industrial state which, in turn, would help rejuvenate the nation.23 Warde Fowler (cited in The Times 21 Oct. 1907: 9) had alluded to this, claiming that ‘the transition’ from farm to urban dwelling, as well as making the working classes militarily unfit, had been responsible for ‘the decay of home life’ in Britain in the same way as it had in Rome. The Times (Panem et Circenses, 24 Oct. 1907: 7) again commended Warde Fowler’s discernment in linking the demise of the traditional family to population degeneration. There could be no doubt, The Times commented, that a ‘decline in home life and the domestic virtues must, if it spreads, spell national degeneration, as it did in ancient Rome among the masses.’ Canon Rawnsley, co-founder of the National Trust, (cited in The Times 20 July 1914: 5) echoed The Times in a sermon in St. Paul’s in 1914,maintaining that the decay of home life was a ‘national peril’, a peril that ‘would conduce to the fall of England’ as it had ‘to the fall of Greece and Rome’. Nonetheless, with expanding cities a natural by-product of industrialization, the countryside continued to shrink. As the Manchester Guardian (The Peak Dwellers, 6 May 1913: 4) reported, the smoke-cloud surrounding Manchester now extended to nearly fifteen miles beyond the city, with Whaley Bridge standing on the boundary between ‘smoke and rusticity’.

Although, in 1914, the town and country debate gave way to the far more pressing issues that arose with the onset of total war, it resurfaced with the cessation of hostilities. World War I had a profound effect on the discourse.24 Soldiers’ palpable craving for the English countryside and home is apparent from the war poetry of Edward Wyndham Tennant (Home Thoughts in Laventie), Ivor Gurney (To England – a Note) and others. Posters sent overseas reminded troops of home and country. A George Clausen poster (in Hardie and Sabin 1920: Poster 10) issued by the Underground Electric Railways Company in 1916 displayed a quintessential English scene with a church, thatched cottages, a woman and child. Postcards sent home revealed a genuine yearning for rural England.25 John Buchan (1940: 182) admitted in 1940 that the war had left him ‘with an intense craving for a country life’. He idolised the Border country, which in his imagination, was an ‘appropriate setting…for the shepherds of Theocritus and Virgil…and for Horace’s Sabine farm’ (35). What emerged at the end of the war was, in Alison Light’s words (1991: 17), ‘conservatism with a small ‘c”. This ‘conservatism’ included a rural vision, but a vision that remained influenced by Rome. David Lloyd George (cited in The Times 25 Nov. 1918: 13) reaffirmed the value of Rome to Britain. In an election campaign speech he asked, ‘What is our task? To make Britain a fit country for heroes to live in.’ He called for schemes whereby ex-soldiers and sailors could be settled on the land and, in so doing, he praised Augustus. It was Augustus who ‘settled the soldiers on the land, and it was only then that you had real peace and prosperity in the Roman Empire. Now, that’, Lloyd George concluded, ‘is a lesson’.26

However, despite expectations that discharged servicemen would opt for country living, many preferred the city. The New Statesman reported (On Being Provoked, 16 Oct. 1920: 42), ‘we were told that, after the war, hosts of demobilised men would decline to return to the desk and the factory, and long for the rustic ideal of ‘three acres and a cow”. Rather, modern men preferred the city: ‘modern (like ancient) urbanisation is not a consequence of special local conditions, but is the result of instincts or desires which are inborn’ in ‘modern men’. Nevertheless, with Lloyd George claiming (cited in The Times 25 Nov. 1918: 13) ‘rehousing inside a town’ was impossible due to limited space and with Letchworth an example of what could be achieved with planning, the construction of Welwyn Garden City, defined by Major W.H. Close in Garden Cities and Town Planning (1923: 292) as ‘a town planned for industry and healthy living’, commenced.

The post-war surge in nationalism, however, altered ideas of town planning. Haverfield’s pre-war notions of town planning based on a Roman model subsided as preference grew for construction in an English style. As Close stated (283-4), although ‘Greeks and Romans’ had grouped ‘public buildings into a common centre’ surrounded with houses, this was no longer ideal as ‘houses packed together’ had ‘no adequate outlets of breathing-spaces’. Haverfield’s perception of modern town planning as an art was similarly dismissed by Close. The ‘science of town planning’ had replaced ‘the ancient art of building towns’, he stated, as ‘[w]ithout the application of scientific methods evils are inherent in a development so huge and containing so many difficult problems’. Macfadyen (1935: 252) suggested that Letchworth had developed along its own lines without the strictures of the Roman model and his description of ‘cottage building’ (1933: 97) conjured up a distinctly English rural scene.

Just as before the war, multi-faceted motives underlay post-war ideas of town planning. Sir Theodore Chambers, Chairman of the Company formed to build Welwyn Garden City in 1920 (cited in Macfadyen 1933: 135), viewed the movement as economically and politically advantageous.

[T]he unemployment of over 1,300,000 persons in England – and this number is steadily increasing – is putting a terrible strain on the resources of a country already exhausted by a long and terrible war. It represents too a vast amount of seething discontent in a land which was to be made fit for heroes, and is thus a serious and growing menace to the stability of the Society – a menace which our self-interest if not our humanity should cause us to make every possible effort to remove.

Fear of civil unrest in Britain had risen as a result of demobilization. The overthrow of the Czar by the Bolsheviks in 1917 and post-war revolutions in Germany, Austria and Bulgaria testified to the power of the masses. In November 1922, the Conservative Prime Minister Andrew Bonar Law (Bonar Law Papers Nov, 1922: no ref.) spoke of the need for calm: ‘The crying need of the nation at this moment…is that we should have tranquility and stability both at home and abroad’.27 International town planners reported on the unsuitability of European housing schemes designed to cram people into cities. Their prime concern, stated Macfadyen (1935: 255), was the potential for the spread of communism amongst city workers. In their opinion, ‘blocks of flats on the Vienna plan bred Communists’ as the ‘loss of individuality, of idealism, of home and human affections’ made workers ‘an easy prey to herd movements’. In other words, the construction of flats, reminiscent of the Roman insulae, was perceived to be for a political community. Thus, revolutionary activity pushed English town planners towards a non-European and non-Roman urbanism. Recommended instead were:

small independent homes and gardens not only for the sake of the people who live in them but still more for the stability and continuity of the State, and the civilisation it represents. If you want a population which will be an easy tool in the hands of a stunt politician build flats and make everyone a “number.” If you want people who can take care of themselves, who will take a pride in the maintenance of their town and their country on the best standards they know, build for them, or enable them to build individual homes, however small, at about the rate of twelve to the acre with enough space for each to allow of some privacy.

However, although the idea of ‘individual homes’ made the structured town planning of the Romans less attractive, in other ways the history of Rome generally and Roman Britain particularly continued to appeal to those involved in the debate on town and country. After all, as the renowned town planner Patrick Abercrombie stated (cited in Matless 1998: 180), the Romans were ‘the first to plan the country consciously on a national scale’. The historian R.G. Collingwood developed Haverfield’s work in Roman Britain but, in line with post-war thinking, there was a subtle shift in the interpretation of Romano-British towns. Collingwood (1923: 66-7), like Haverfield, considered that the Romanization of Britain had been incomplete as only in London was there a ‘purely Roman culture…devoid of distinctively British traits’. The reason for this, Collingwood explained, was that London was a ‘cosmopolitan’ city whereas in the country an ‘individual civilization’ still existed. He contrasted the close construction of London houses with the haphazard scattering of houses (48-9) ‘over spaces that were mostly open gardens’ in Silchester, arguing that smaller cities had retained their ruralism and ‘Britishness’ in ways that London could not. Consequently, for Collingwood unlike his predecessor, Silchester was ‘something of a garden city’. According to Collingwood (67), Romano-British towns had effectively developed in a similar, uniquely English way as modern towns. Roman Britain, he concluded, ‘was not an urban civilization’.

As archaeologists continued to reveal Roman Britain, popular interest in all things Roman grew. In 1922 the Oxford historian H.H.E. Craster reviewed four books written for a general readership; Collingwood’s Roman Britain, the architect William Lethaby’s Londinium: Architecture and the Crafts, R.A. Smith’s A Guide to the Antiquities of Roman Britain, and B. Windle’s The Romans in Britain. All four, Craster stated (1922: 142), acknowledged that ‘the Roman occupation’ was central to ‘English history’. Fascination with the ‘domestic’ also resulted in the publication of books dealing with the domestic side of life in Rome itself. For instance, C.E. Boyd’s Public Libraries and Literary Culture in Ancient Rome appeared in 1922, followed by Walton Brooks McDaniel’s Roman Private Life and its Survivals in 1925. Particularly noteworthy was Cyril Bailey’s The Legacy of Rome introduced by the former Prime Minister H.H. Asquith (in Bailey 1923: 1), who claimed that the book aimed ‘to give a comprehensive estimate of the Legacy which Rome has left to the modern world’. Legacy brought together a series of essays dealing with Roman culture and society. In particular, the Oxford fellow Hugh Last’s ‘Family and Social Life’ appeared to be influenced by post-war attitudes to town and country.

For Last, Roman society provided a template by which contemporary society could be judged a success or failure. Last (in Bailey 1923: 213) focused on what he considered the foundation of a successful nation and a Roman invention, the home. To emphasize the importance of ‘home’ to the Roman, he cited from Cicero’s speech following the destruction of his home in 57 B.C.: ‘Is there anything…more hallowed, is there anything more closely hedged about with every kind of sanctity than the home of each individual citizen’.28 In Last’s opinion, even allowing for the ‘rhetoric justified by the occasion’, it was safe to assume that Cicero ‘expressed a sentiment which the audience would share’. Having established the Romans to have been home-loving individuals, it naturally followed that ‘the virtues…held in highest honour…gravitas, pietas, and simplicitas’ were virtues learnt there (211). Moreover, Last’s representation of the Roman family (220) suggested that the adoption of ancient family values could help resolve the contemporary situation. Last showed the importance of the family, describing Roman fathers as men with authority over the family (215) and mothers (219) devoted ‘to their children’ and influential in their lives. Effectively, he implied that Roman society had found the right balance in family relationships, a balance that was missing in British families.

It was though, for Last (209-10), not through study of the Roman elite but of those who lived in ‘the back-street and the village’, that the reasons for Rome’s successes and failures could be found as it was their ‘virtues and failings [that] made Rome what she was’. He compared ancient and modern urbanites, implying that both family life and its associated virtues were unobtainable in the city. The masses of Rome, he stated (233), dwelt ‘in the great blocks of tenements built in the style of a modern slum, where home life was a thing utterly unknown’. Last stressed, however, (234) that not all Romans were without virtue, singling out for praise those who retained ‘the undiminished vigour of the Roman ideal’ in colonies such as African Timgad and in the country.

The rewriting of Roman history to fit a post-war and inherently conservative ideology continued throughout the 1920s. The Egyptologist Arthur Weigall’s Wanderings in Roman Britain was serialized in the Daily Mail. Like Collingwood, he regarded Silchester as the prototype of garden cities (1926: 204). Its houses with their ‘red brick and timber walls…red tiled roofs, and…bottle-glass window-panes’ must, he wrote, have resembled ‘an ordinary ‘antique’ bungalow in a modern garden city’. Weigall, though, went further, maintaining that a direct line linked the countryside during the Roman occupation to the present (258-9). The fields and houses complete with English gardens ‘which constitute for us our dearest picture of the unrivalled English countryside’, he stated, ‘were here when our Roman-British ancestors of this neighbourhood went into Corinium (Cirencester) or Glevum (Gloucester)… transacted their business in the Latin tongue, and discussed the latest news from Rome in the shadow of the colonnades of the local Forum.’ By implication, the ancestors of modern Britons were country-dwellers who commuted into cities.

During his second term as Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin also implied as much in his speech to the Classical Association in January 1926 (1938: 110). During the Roman occupation, he stated:

Roman thought and Roman manners imposed themselves upon our island and made themselves a home here. Rome must have seemed very real and present to the children of the near-by hamlets as they saw the great roads creeping towards them, past them, and ever onwards in ruthless and undeviating course, making the farthest ends of the island pervious to the legions’ tread…Beautiful buildings, kindly plants and flowers now so familiar came in the wake of the eagles and sank their foundations and their roots in English soil.

For Baldwin, it was possibly ‘subconscious memories’ of this time and ‘the mingling of blood for four centuries’ that had contributed to ‘modifying certain characteristics’ inherited from the Saxons and ‘saved us from becoming what Carlyle called ‘A gluttonous race of Jutes and Angles, capable of no grand combinations, lumbering about in pot-bellied equanimity”.29

However, by the late 1920s, as urban reconstruction began to make a real difference to urbanites, the historians J.C. and H.G. Robertson (1928: 314-5) offered a more balanced picture of cities than pre-war historians and even Last had offered. In The Story of Greece and Rome they maintained that even in cities ‘good’ Romans could be found. Although admitting that Rome brought to mind an image of New York or Paris, ‘of a city given over to frivolity and immorality’, they added that even ‘in the most wicked and profligate of modern cities’ there were ‘countless’ individuals living ‘normal lives…So it was in Rome’. On one point though, the Robertsons and Last agreed (229). ‘The Roman’s heart’, they argued, ‘was in his family and his farm; all other occupations and interests – war, politics, trade, education, religion were subordinate to these. The family was the basis of the Roman state’. Romans, like modern Britons, ‘loved to escape’ to the country which remained the ‘home of an unspoiled and frugal race, kindly, industrious, and self-respecting’. Thus, two cultures emerged post-war: the Latin culture of the city and the real and unchanging culture of the English countryside.

The transformation in Britain from a rural to an urban society had adversely affected the working classes but little was done to improve conditions for urban labourers living and working in unhealthy, overcrowded cities while profits remained high. However, as the physically degenerative effects of an urban existence increasingly threatened Britain’s global standing, there evolved a debate on town and country in which Rome was consistently deployed as a negative or conservative image. Gradually, as the image of the city as civilized and country as backwards reversed, the city of Rome at the time of the Republic became a symbol of urban degeneracy representing all the dangers of social and environmental degradations that could be perceived in an industrial city. At the same time, Augustus was lauded for implementing urban reform and promoting a return to country living. A combination of the two had, it was argued, restored Rome to its former glory and rejuvenated the Roman population. Effectively, the late nineteenth century view of Roman urbanism drew a distinction between the uncontrolled megalopolis of Republican Rome and the ordered city of Augustus. Historians implied that modern cities, like Augustan Rome, retained their potential for reform and civilization and could be restored, but the city would have to be very different from Republican Rome and the industrial chaos of contemporary towns.30

By the early twentieth century, as fear for the safety of the Empire and Britain was added to the list of concerns that could be blamed on a degenerate population, Romano-British towns, which had retained their association with culture and civilization and been at the forefront of the cultural change in Britain that had rendered it Roman, were used to support a counter-type to Roman Republican urbanism. The planned city movement wished to see the creation of small urban centres set amidst the countryside constructed with due regard for order and health along the lines of Romano-British towns. Through these urban centres Roman civilized values could be spread. This small town urbanism together with the growing pastoral movement rejected the industrial life. Virtue was to be found in ‘ruralism’ and the conservative instinct was to support a dictatorial imposition of Augustan ‘rural’ values on British society.

Following the devastation of the Great War, as the values of country life inherent in the English countryside came to be seen as unchanging, the values of urbanism became somehow ephemeral. In this re-assessment Republican Rome remained a negative image that encouraged the English vernacularism of garden cities and the ‘house’ centred model of urban development, designed specifically to avoid European/Roman revolutionary activity. Nonetheless, although there was a move away from Rome, so architecturally dominant in the early nineteenth century and in the municipal planning of London, Birmingham, Leeds and Liverpool, to a non-urbanism based on the English village, historians continued to write extensively on Roman Britain, exploring the everyday domestic and cultural lives of its inhabitants. With the family and community perceived to be the basis of both ancient and modern societies and with both sharing a love of the country, Rome’s experience of urbanization remained an important reference point for Britons during the inter-war years.

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1 Raymond Williams (1975: 9) states that whilst the city represented ‘learning, communication, [and] light, the countryside was perceived as ‘a place of backwardness, ignorance [and] limitation’. Jane Harding and Anthea Taigel (1996: 237) have tracked the origins of the debate back to the Renaissance, reproducing maps of towns to show the importance of the provision of ‘orchards and gardens and little pastures’ for the population in the 1600s.

2 In the 1760s Matthew Boulton provided allotments for workers at the Birmingham Soho Works and, in 1797, Sir Thomas Bernard argued that urban workers should be allocated land that could be tended by labourers in their free time (Harding and Taigel, 1996: 239, 238).

3 By 1850 the population of the cities exceeded that of the country (Williams, 1975: 261). According to G.M. Trevelyan (1958: 13), the 1850s were ‘the worst period for sanitary conditions’ as many rapidly constructed houses had deteriorated into slums.

4 Replicating Roman building technology empowered the elite. Janet Delaine (in Wyke and Biddiss, 1999: 146) explores the ‘conceptual parallels’ between Roman aqueducts and Roman inspired railway stations that were irrefutably a ‘message of secular achievement and civic power’. According to Norman Vance (1997: 74), it was the growth in urban populations that stimulated ‘interest in the size and living conditions of ancient Rome’. Richard Jenkyns (1992: 32) claims that ‘one Roman influence that perhaps looms larger in the nineteenth century than before is the city of Rome itself’.

5 The agrarian depression of the 1880s was a major contributing factor to rural depopulation. According to Richard Perren, by 1870 ‘British agriculture was near the end of about two decades of general prosperity’ although its impact was not felt until the end of the decade (1995: 1, 7). He identifies two causes for the decline, firstly, the ‘removal of barriers to competitive imports’ and, secondly, the decline of agriculture ‘in importance within the national economy because manufacturing and services were growing faster’ (1995: 6).

6 Sheppard was quoting from the Irish poet Oliver Goldsmith’s (1730-1774) Deserted Village.

7 In 1817 Earl Grey (cited in The Times, 24 Sept. 1817: 3), subsequently Prime Minister, described the Emperors as ‘monsters’.

8 Both Horace and Virgil were ‘at the heart of what every classically educated schoolboy needed to know’ (Vance, 1997: 176).

9 Raymond Williams states (1975: 27), ‘the contrast within Virgilian pastoral is between the pleasures of rural settlement and the threat of loss and eviction’.

10 On Virgil’s influence in this period see Vance (1997: 133ff). According to J.S Bratton (in Mackenzie, 1987: 89), the ‘[i]nterconnection of the enjoyment and beauty of the countryside with its rootedness in history is the essential link in turning the merely idyllic into the inspiration’.

11 There were some who denigrated comparative history as looking to the past ran counter to the idea of progress. Nonetheless, as Vance states (1997: 4), since the Romans were depicted as ‘a practical people, like the Victorians’ it was difficult ‘to repudiate them completely, even in the name of progress or technology’.

12 According to Donal Lowry (2000: 222) the war confirmed that

‘Britain’s military manhood was…physically ‘degenerate’ and apparently lacking in the yeoman qualities which had sustained their forefathers’.



13 The dregs being ‘the pathological outcasts, the poorest, the stupidest, the criminally inclined’ (Farwell, 1987: 85).

14 See also Mackail (1926: 74).

15 Geikie was citing from Varro’s On Farming, III. i

16 According to Alun Howkins (in Colls and Dodd 1986: 68) ‘a rural vision was central to an English socialism’. In line with the new ‘rural vision’, utopian fictions increasingly began to appear. They were set in a period that pre-dated industrialization, such as William Morris’ News from Nowhere (1890) that portrayed, according to Krishan Kumar, ‘an alternative socialist utopia’ in Medieval Britain. Between 1889 and 1900 ’62 utopias and novels’ were published under the influence of the American socialist Edward Bellamy’s novel Looking Backward (1888), which was also cited by Ebenezer Howard has an influence on his ideas for the Garden City Movement (Kumar 1987: 134-5). As Dennis Hardy states, ‘sometimes it is the land itself that is at the heart of attempts to restore the human soul and rebuilding society. Direct contact with the soil is seen as regenerative, and salvations is likened to the very process of growth that is observed in Nature’ (2000: 20).

17 Macfadyen (1933: 127) believed that garden cities, unlike the suburbs, would stem ‘the tide of population now leaving the country-side’ and ‘deal with the root evil, rural depopulation’.

18 Efforts to improve living conditions for workers had resulted in the construction of model villages in the nineteenth century. The industrialist Titus Salt founded Saltaire in Bradford in 1853 which provided healthier housing, allotments, a hospital, library and gymnasium for workers. The construction of Port Sunlight in Merseyside for the employees of Lever Brothers soap factory began in 1888. Bournville near Birmingham was constructed on a site chosen by the Cadburys for its healthier environment in 1893. These, however, were company towns specifically intended for company employees (see, for instance, Harvey 1906).

19 The Times (Garden City Movement, 21 Aug. 1908: 11) also saw the Garden City as ‘a thoroughly business proposition, and not a philanthropic proposition’.

20 The Rev H.M. Scarth published Early Britain, Roman Britain in 1882. Scarth (1882: vii) believed that archaeology was the ‘handmaid of history’. His interest lay in the transformation of Britain’s landscape with the construction of towns and military stations and their suburbs. Based on examination of villas and domestic paraphernalia at Silchester, Scarth (180) concluded that urbanization had caused ‘a great change in the habits and manners’ of Britons. He also claimed that Romano-British ‘commercial cities’ and ‘towns’ had exerted ‘their influence over parts of the island to a very recent date’ (219). For the cultural impact of Roman excavation in Britain see Hingley (2000: 109ff) and (2008).

21 Ancient Town-Planning was an extension of a paper given at the University of London in 1910 (Creighton Lecture). It was also submitted to the London Conference on Town-Planning that same year (1913: A2)

22 Alan Jackson (1973: 133) alleges that many ‘Londoners dreaming of a new house in the suburbs were seeking to renew contact with the rural environment which their immediate ancestors had deserted in the hope of attaining higher living standards in the metropolis’. For Howkins (1991: 231), ‘the reasons behind the movement out of the city were as much ideological as physical – the new country man and woman were not simply leaving a crowded in sanitary urban area, they were going to a rural myth which they were recreating’.

23 Lewis Mumford (1946: 156) states that it was ‘with the expansion of mechanical industry” that “family functions, both immediate and remote, were dwarfed. Remoteness of the dwelling-house from the work-place made it less possible for the family to meet as a unit even for meals’.

24 Stephen Daniels (1994: 213) claims that the ‘trenches enhanced the allure of pastoral England as a refuge from the absurd theatre of Flanders, that boundless, discomposed lane, a no man’s land, an anti-landscape’.

25 Alun Howkins (1986: 81) writes of the ‘patriotic motifs, soldiers dreaming of fields and lanes, with wives and children living in rose-covered cottages’ that appeared on postcards.

26 There is a parallel here between the need for land for returning soldiers after World War I and for those returning to Italy after the Battle of Philippi in 42-1 B.C. PA Brunt estimates that approximately 50,000 returning veterans were entitled to allotments of land after that battle (1971: 493).

27 Address given to electors of the Central Division of Glasgow in November 1922.

28 This is taken from Cicero’s speech ‘On his house’ - ‘The Speech of M.T. Cicero for his house. Addressed to the Priests’, Orations, Vol. 3, (Yonge, trans: 1913-21).

29 For Thomas Carlyle’s quote see Carlyle (1858: Chapter 3).

30 See Mumford (1961).

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