On the 20th May, 1864 the English poet John Clare died. His work was largely neglected in his lifetime. It was only during the twentieth century that his work was re-evaluated and re-incorporated into the canon of English poetry. He was renowned as a nature poet, and was revered for his fierce defence of the English countryside. Clare sought to protect the dignity of the agricultural workers who laboured ceaselessly to save it from the pernicious effects of modernisation and industrialisation.
Clare maintained that the English landscape was sacred and that every native Englishman had and kept a pact with the land that was sacrosanct. All of this changed with the introduction of the Enclosure Acts, laws which were only enacted to benefit wealthy landowners.
Clare saw the destruction first hand, he saw the total desecration of the fields in his native Northamptonshire. Trees and hedges were uprooted, fens were drained and pastures were ploughed. His response was both caustic and uncompromising, it was undeniable that this was both an abomination and a profanity. Clare was only fourteen when these laws were implemented. The legislators justified these as methods that would increase yields.
However, the old way of life rapidly vanished as swathes of precious land were privatised for profit. In his poem “Helpston Green” he opines,
“But now, alas, your hawthorn bowers
All desolate we see
The tyrant’s hand their shade devours
And cuts down every tree.”
The fields were no longer the property of hard working, humble smallholders, they became the sole preserve of the rich, indolent elites.
These shallow, avaricious interlopers had no concept of the divinity in nature, it was simply another resource to exploit, and to further enrich themselves. These new landowners considered their new acquisition as yet another commodity. It was this casual dismissal of centuries of diligence and devotion which shocked him the most. When he learned that his favourite elm trees were to be condemned, he remarked that “I have been several mornings to bid them farewell”. He knew that the dedication of cultivation of these ancient trees was more than work, it was a vocation. In English folklore trees are divine and almost akin to holy totems.
Clare was fragile, and vulnerable. He suffered greatly with his mental health and spent most of his life in asylums. This mental fragility threatened to overshadow his legacy as a poet. However it must still be acknowledged that in spite of his emotional difficulties, his tremendous insight and lucidity shines through his poetry.
Ponderings 
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