Ask anyone who has lived in the country and they’ll recall its idyllic moments. To end this series, I celebrate a few of those in paintings from the turn of the nineteenth to twentieth centuries.

This Ukrainian farm labourer is caught relaxing for a moment in the sun and flowers of early summer in Mykola Kuznetsov’s early In Celebration (1879-81).

The pair of ploughmen in Giovanni Segantini’s Ploughing may not have had time to study the fine mountain views near the Alpine village of Savognin, but they and the other labourers in the right distance are enjoying the fine weather.

A couple of years later, Segantini’s High Noon in the Alps (1892) catches this shepherdess enjoying a brief break in her work, in the intense summer sunshine of the high plateau.

Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret shows that even itinerant workers could sit together and eat to the music of a violin when living In the Forest in 1893. Behind them are two oxen, and the forest that’s currently their home.

In Poland, Teodor Axentowicz’s painting of Oberek Folk Dance in Front of a House from 1895 shows locals dancing the second most popular Polish folk dance after the polka. Most of these dancers are barefoot.

Edward Stott’s shepherd has stolen a moment of Peaceful Rest as his small flock drinks from a pond. He’s lighting a clay tobacco pipe, with his crook resting on his leg. Most of the painting uses a limited palette, with three splashes of colour standing out: the man’s face lit by the flame, the watchful sheepdog behind him, and a blue object protruding from the man’s jacket pocket.

Jules Bastien-Lepage’s Love in the Village shows a young couple on either side of a tumbledown fence, chatting intimately among the vegetable patches.

Idyllic moments indeed, but what happens in the country is often a far cry from the town.

Nikolai Astrup’s humorous painting of Early Courting from 1904 shows a young couple at the far left engaged in ‘clothed courting’ in the unromantic surroundings of a cowshed. He has a bottle of drink in his pocket; whether that’s to give him courage or to weaken the resistance of his girlfriend is unclear.

The couple have sought the privacy of the cowshed, out of everyone’s way, but the boyfriend appears unaware that they’re being watched by someone up in the roof. From the apparent direction of gaze of the girlfriend and the blush on her cheeks, she has just noticed the peeping tom or watchful relative. The setting is enhanced by the sunlight pouring through the far window, illuminating two rows of the back-ends of cows. The wood floor between the cows appears to be decorated with small sketches, but those are actually piles of cow dung. Courting in the country must have been a sensorily rich experience.

During the nineteenth century, paintings depicting ‘real’ life of ordinary people became increasingly popular, first in what has become known as social realism, pioneered by Jean-François Millet, then Naturalism, championed by Jules Bastien-Lepage until his untimely death in 1884. Among other themes, these put the case for the rural poor, and the desperate poverty that those living in the country had to endure.

Look carefully at many of their paintings, though, and the underlying stories aren’t as simple. One of the most evident problems is that many of those campaigning paintings used models who had been carefully posed. Look at their hands, feet and hair and you’ll often see someone who appears remarkably clean and kempt with no evidence of prolonged and arduous manual labour, even clothes that lack the dirt and mud so typical of those who work and walk on unpaved tracks and ploughed fields.

At the same time, photographic portraits of the poor became popular among some who sought to advance the art of photography. There are some notorious examples of early photographers who were caught posing carefully selected models in deliberately misleading circumstances, demonstrating how the camera can be made to lie.

My small selection of paintings of country people from the nineteenth century is an attempt to show some that appear most faithful records that weren’t intended to support political views or attract praise at a Salon.

Jules Breton had been born and brought up in the rural village of Courrières, and returned there to paint intimate portraits of those who continued to live there, including this Young Girl Knitting, seen in 1860. Many of these intimate works were sold to private collectors and have never been seen at exhibition.

His portrait of this Mother Feeding her Baby from 1863 shows her wearing clogs, and clothing that has seen better days. She is feeding a very young baby in front of a frugal fire in what can only be her normal domestic conditions.

Jean-François Millet had been born in the village of Gruchy, and was the first child of a farming family. Although his portrait of A Norman Milkmaid at Gréville from 1871 lacks fine detail to reinforce its authenticity, she’s clearly grubby and wasn’t painted in the studio.

Max Liebermann’s The Preserve Makers from 1879 shows a shed full of country women preparing foodstuffs for bottling and canning; the latter gradually came into use after 1810, but didn’t become popular until the First World War. This shows well the light factory work that was introduced to country areas in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and the women who provided its labour force.

Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret’s An Accident from 1879 is an exception among these, in that it was not only submitted to the Salon of 1880, but won the artist a first-class medal. It was also supposedly painted from memory, showing an incident that the artist witnessed with a medical friend who was similarly called to assist with an injury.

Despite that, it shows a country doctor cleaning and bandaging the injured hand of a boy, as the rest of the extended family looks on. Conditions appear primitive: the small bowl of water is heavily blood-stained, and the cloth by it looks filthy. It’s also rich in detail that appears authentic, from the boy’s shoe compared with that of the doctor, to the bald man standing in front of a treasured grandfather clock in the right background.

Of Bastien-Lepage’s many portraits of country people, his Nothing Doing from 1882 appears the most convincing. From his unlaced mud-caked boots to his filthy and frayed waistcoat, this young agricultural worker looks the part. Bastien had spent his childhood in the village of Damvillers, although he was the son of a local artist. He frequently returned to his home village to paint local characters, such as this boy.

The young woman in Breton’s Song of the Lark (1884) has detailed features that appear true to life, in her bare feet with grubby and battered toenails, and hands that have seen hard work with the hook she holds.

Évariste Carpentier had been born into a farming family near the small town of Kuurne in Belgium. The Turnip Washer from 1890 is among the last of his thoroughly Naturalist paintings. Alongside the farmyard birds, two figures are busy washing piles of turnips in a small and dirty pond.

Throughout the career of Léon Augustin Lhermitte he painted the working lives of farmworkers and country people. In his pastel of The Farmworkers’ Supper from 1913, he shows those who have been working outdoors during the long day enjoying a meal at its end.

Together these paintings build a dispassionate image of a countryside that might have been lacking in worldly goods, but was hardly starved and pestilent. And, as I’ll show in the next and concluding article, at times rural life could still be idyllic.

The late nineteenth century brought great changes throughout Europe. Country areas were depopulated as cities attracted labour to work in their factories, lured by the empty promise of material comforts. Food markets became dominated by larger suppliers and merchants, and smaller farms with low yields found themselves unable to compete. Although mechanisation was developing rapidly, machinery cost money, and smaller farms were unable to benefit from the productivity improvements occurring on larger farms.

One substantial improvement that many could use was better drainage of arable land. Although hardly technological, as most land drains are made from baked clay, many areas across Europe had suffered waterlogging of their best fields during the winter. Land drains dug into the field to draw water to a ditch at the edge significantly increased areas under cultivation, as well as crop yields.

More substantial drainage works had already turned large areas of bog and marsh into productive farmland, throughout the Netherlands, and in areas like the Fens in England during the decades prior to 1820. Both remain among the largest civil engineering projects undertaken in Europe.

Steam engines came into agricultural use in the late nineteenth century. At first they were largely static, but from the 1860s they became self-propelled, now known as traction engines and still a popular feature of country fairs. Teams travelled the countryside hiring out the services of their steam engine for threshing and ploughing.

After the First World War, internal combustion engines replaced steam, and the first real tractors came into use.

Heinrich Vogeler’s Farmer Ploughing from the period 1930-42 shows a tractor with an internal combustion engine and its own tracks, towing a heavy plough.

Lighter wheeled tractors became popular during the middle of the twentieth century. Percy Shakespeare’s painting of December on the Downs, Wartime, made in the period 1939-44, is its own lesson in agricultural history. In the distance, on one of the rolling chalk downs in the south of England, are three horse-drawn ploughs tackling some of the steeper ground.

With a high proportion of men serving in the armed forces, the two tractors in the foreground are being driven and tended by young women, dubbed the Women’s Land Army. The further of the two tractors is drawing a lighweight wheeled plough, better suited to this land.

In 1942, when Frances Hodgkins was living in the south-west of England, at Corfe Castle in Dorset, she painted this gouache of Broken Tractor showing the mechanical disarray that overtook many farmyards during the twentieth century, as their ageing farm machinery fell beyond economic repair.

With networks of railways and later roads reaching deep into many country districts, agricultural produce could be transported in bulk and travel from producer to consumer in a matter of hours. Early morning trains carrying milk to cities became widespread.

JMW Turner was among the first painters to capture this in his Rain, Steam, and Speed – The Great Western Railway in 1844. This pioneering railway connected London with rich farming country across the south of England, down into western counties, eventually reaching Cornwall in 1859, fifteen years after Turner had completed this painting.

Giuseppe De Nittis here shows The Passing of a Train through productive French countryside between 1869-80.

The winners here though were those farmers who were already prospering. Smallholders and others who still farmed using traditional methods were left behind, in increasing poverty and neglect.

For those working the land to grow crops, the start of the year was after the harvest was complete, when the first cooler days of autumn came in, before rain turned the fields and tracks to mud, and the winter’s frosts began. This was the time to start preparing arable fields for the growing season next year, with their first ploughing.

Robert Bevan’s The Turn Rice-Plough, Sussex from about 1909 shows two ploughmen turning a plough in a field in the south-east of England. Its title is probably a simple error for turnwrest, a dialect name used in Kent and Sussex to describe any type of one-way plough that needed to be turned at the end of a furrow as shown here.

Depending on the soil, weather and intended crop, this could be the first of more than five sessions with the plough, before the seed could be sown.

Pastures by rivers were often encouraged to flood during the winter, particularly in the month of February Fill Dyke as shown so well in Benjamin Williams Leader’s painting of country near Worcester in 1881. This both improved soil fertility and kept weeds at bay.

Jean-François Millet revisited his successful painting of a sower from fifteen years earlier in two pastel paintings with the same title, The Sower, from around 1865. In the distance to the right are two horses drawing a spike harrow, used following ploughing to prepare the surface of the earth for seed.

Once the young plants were growing vigorously, all that remained for the growing season was to keep them free from weeds, a laborious and back-breaking task commonly assigned to women.

Jules Breton’s The Weeders from 1868 is set in the fields just outside his home village of Courrières, where these labourers are pulling up thistles and other weeds until the moment the light becomes insufficient for them to work any longer.

Farmers with sheep or cattle usually timed the arrival of the lambs and calves for the spring, to give the young animals as much benefit as possible from the fine weather of the summer.

Rosa Bonheur’s Weaning the Calves (1879) is set in a glorious summer Alpine or Pyrenean landscape, with a dry stone herdsman’s hut at the left, where the menfolk lived while they were away from their families during the summer transhumance to upland grazing.

Anton Mauve’s Return of the Flock (1886-7) shows a small flock of unshorn ewes with young lambs, on the move in the late Spring or early summer.

In some cattle areas at least, once the Spring lambs and calves had been safely delivered into the care of their mothers, couples took the opportunity to get married, as confirmed by analyses of English parish registers. For those growing crops, though, there was little respite during the growing season, when fields had to be kept free of weeds before harvest.

By the end of the Spring or early summer, sheep and cattle were moved to summer grazing to allow the grass in hay meadows to grow ready for mowing during July or August, depending on the latitude and weather.

Mykola Pymonenko’s undated Haymaking shows women in Ukraine raking in the harvest to be transported by a hay wain drawn by a pair of oxen.

Samuel Palmer’s Shearers from about 1833-35 shows the seasonal work of a shearing gang, relieving these adult sheep of their fleece before the weather became too hot.

Meanwhile, the summer’s grain crop ripened and was ready for harvest.

Pieter Brueghel the Elder’s Harvesters from 1565 includes most of the outdoor stages from cutting the grain using scythes to transporting the harvest by cart for threshing.

Once the harvest was home, demands on the arable farmer eased, and some English parish records show a peak of marriages during the early autumn in areas predominantly farming sheep and grain. This was also the time for the harvest of fruit such as apples.

Camille Pissarro’s overtly Divisionist painting of Apple Picking, Éragny, was largely completed during the autumn of 1887.

This decisive phase of the year is shown well in Evelyn De Morgan’s Cadence of Autumn from 1905, here centred on the fruit harvest. Five women are shown in a frieze, against a rustic background. From the left, one holds a basket of grapes and other fruit, two are putting marrows, apples, pears and other fruit into a large net bag, held between them. The fourth crouches down from a seated position, her hands grasping leaves, and the last is stood, letting the wind blow leaves out from each hand. They wear loose robes coloured in accordance with their phases in the season.

The landscape behind them contains a watermill and surrounding buildings. At the left, the trees are heavy with fruit and the fields either green or ripe corn. At the right, the trees are barren, and the landscape hilly and more wintry. Soft blue-white patches of mist are visible in the foreground on the right. The passing of the season, and the fruit harvest, progresses in time from the left to the right.

By that time, the first fields were being ploughed in preparation for the following year.

Before the nineteenth century, when many farms either concentrated on sheep and arable, or on the raising of cattle, their economies were contrasting. The arable farmer was committed to labour-intensive work and investment throughout the year, with any cash return occurring once the harvest had been sold. Livestock farmers had lower labour requirements for much of the year, with their peak demand during Spring calving, and could spread the sale of animals more evenly over the year, with more immediate returns on their investment. This also enabled those involved in livestock farming to have more free time to engage in crafts and other sidelines.

Those living in the country succeeded largely by self-help. Many skills were common knowledge, augmented by advice and help from the more experienced. If your roof was leaky, then you didn’t normally call in a roofing specialist, but repaired it yourself with the aid of family and friends.

It’s unlikely that the people working on the thatched roof of James Ward’s Overshot Mill (1802-1807) were specialist thatchers, whose services could only be afforded by the more wealthy.

Most tools were simple in design and construction, and rustic. Sharpening the blade of a heavy scythe used for mowing was performed by beating it with a hammer, as shown in Léon Augustin Lhermitte’s painting of The Haymakers from 1887. Finer blades were normally brought to a keen edge using a whetstone.

Working in iron and other metals required not only specialist skills but equipment possessed by the local blacksmith, who made and fitted shoes on horses, put rims on wooden wheels, and fashioned iron hinges for doors.

Francisco Goya’s Forge from 1817 is a superb depiction of the physically demanding work of the blacksmith. Its extensive use of black is also a herald of the Black Period to come in Goya’s paintings at the end of that decade.

These had changed little in the latter years of the nineteenth century, as seen in Alfred Sisley’s Forge at Marly-le-Roi from 1875, although a little more light is being cast in through its glass window.

Ernst Josephson’s Spanish Blacksmiths from 1882 shows a smith in the shredded remains of his white shirt, and his ‘striker’ to the right in his black waistcoat, with a horseshoe hanging below the roof of their forge in Seville.

Döme Skuteczky’s painting In the Smithy from 1897 shows another smithy, this time in Slovakia.

With the industrial revolution, hammers grew too large to be wielded by a man, and relied on first water- then steam-power. Joseph Wright of Derby’s An Iron Forge (1772) is one of his series of faithful portrayals of the small-scale technological advances of the day. It shows a group of workers forging a white-hot iron casting, using a tilt-hammer powered by a water-wheel. Also present is the wife and children of the iron-founder, stressing the family nature of these small forges at the time.

Not all metal-working was heavy and large-scale. Jean-Eugène Buland uses his Naturalist style to depict The Tinker (1908), who repaired damaged pots, pans, and domestic metal objects in a cottage industry that predated the Industrial Revolution.

Markets rose to become an important feature of many towns during the Middle Ages. Initially they provided the opportunity for farmers with excess to trade that for other produce or money, and for trades like bakers to ensure their supply of flour. By 1600, many across Europe were strictly regulated to prevent the involvement of intermediary traders, speculation and hoarding. In some, bells were rung to mark the start and end of trading, and doing deals outside that period was punishable by substantial fines. Both parties involved, producers and consumers, were keen to deal directly.

As some farms increased production to generate regular income from sales at market, samples of grain were brought for the buyer to inspect, and in larger towns and cities markets came to specialise in classes of produce, such as grain, fruit and vegetables, or meat. By the start of the nineteenth century, local laws and rules were relaxed to allow middlemen, dealers, who quickly became merchants, and often richer than either producer or consumer.

Smaller markets in towns remained more traditional, but most produce was then traded by increasingly affluent merchants in cities. In some European countries, the businesses of some merchants grew to enormous size, controlling commodity markets during the twentieth century.

Constant Troyon’s magnificent On the Way to Market from 1859 shows a couple driving their few cattle and a flock of sheep, with wicker panniers being used to transport young lambs. Judging by the trees, this is set in the autumn, when their livestock were in peak condition.

Petrus van Schendel’s Market by Candlelight from 1865 shows a town market in the late afternoon when the nights had drawn in. This young woman is selling small quantities of fruit and vegetables, probably from the family farm.

Smaller local markets were also dominated by seasonal produce. Léon Lhermitte brought this scene of an Apple Market, Landerneau, Brittany (c 1878) to life with his detailed realism. With a cart on the move in the background, and sellers ready with their scales, it shows the small-scale bustle of an otherwise quiet country town. Precious few men are in sight as these farmers’ wives sell small quantities of their fruit to locals.

Lhermitte’s later pastel of the Vegetable Market in St-Malo (1893) shows a wider range of farm produce, again largely being traded between women. Arcades like this were common alongside indoor markets selling anything from fish to crockery.

By this time, large cities such as Paris had famous markets.

This painting by Léon Lhermitte of Les Halles in 1895 shows the central market in Paris, described so well by Émile Zola in his novel Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris, 1873). This market is thought to have been founded in the eleventh century, and moved indoors into its halls in 1183. It grew steadily in size and importance as the main food market for Paris, and was housed in glass and iron in the 1850s. Most of its markets moved away in 1969, and the remains were demolished during the 1970s.

Larger markets gained their own indoor areas where regular traders could establish permanent stalls.

Harold Gilman’s oil painting of Leeds Market, from about 1913, shows an everyday view of one of England’s northern cities. This building had only been constructed in 1901-04, and housed the fruit and vegetable stalls next to a grand central hall. This was a far cry from markets of just a few decades earlier, let alone those of the seventeenth century.

One important staple crop has been largely forgotten from both agricultural and rural history: the humble potato. First imported from South America to Europe in the latter half of the sixteenth century, for the first couple of centuries it was considered exotic eating. It quietly became increasingly important during the eighteenth century, and is now widely credited as the food that enabled the population boom in much of Europe in the nineteenth century.

For several years from 1845, a fungus-like organism late blight caused widespread crop failure in the poorer parts of Ireland, Scotland and elsewhere, causing the Great Irish Famine, with at least a million dying from starvation.

The potato is unusual for storing large amounts of starch in its tuber. Although starch is only about one fifth of the potato by weight, the remainder being water, it came be the staple food for much of the working population, in both country and city. Overton has calculated using estimated crop yields from the early nineteenth century that an acre of potatoes would have provided about 2.5 times as many calories as an acre of wheat.

Like wheat, growing potatoes is a process of amplification. Tubers from the previous crop are sown in the ground, and multiply to yield many times the weight originally sown. Production is thus not dependent on conventional seed, but on seed potatoes with a more limited life. If a whole crop is destroyed by blight, not only is there nothing to eat that year, but the seed potatoes for the following year are also lost. Blight remains in the soil, and once affected that land has to be used for crops other than potatoes.

However, potatoes had other advantages in a war-torn and taxed Europe. While troops rampaging in foreign countryside would often raid or burn fields of grain, damaging or stealing potatoes proved more resistant to invaders. They were also likely to escape taxes or charges levied on other arable crops.

During the eighteenth century, labourers fortunate enough to have a little land they could farm for themselves started to grow potatoes, to supplement their limited diet. Small potato patches sprung up in the countryside, and around towns. Production at scale remained unusual until the following century, when some English counties including Lancashire and Middlesex devoted significant areas to supply the growing cities. That in turn depended on transport such as canals and then railways to deliver sacks of potatoes to urban consumers.

When Vincent van Gogh was living in Borinage in Belgium, he was among labourers whose staple food was potatoes, in one of the areas that had grown them for longer than most. His Still Life with Potatoes, painted in September 1885, is his tribute to the humble vegetable.

Potato production was painted extensively by social realists including Jean-François Millet, in the middle of the nineteenth century.

Millet shows this back-breaking work in his Potato Planters from about 1861.

The Potato Harvest from 1855 is another more substantial work developed from Millet’s drawings. In the foreground, a man and woman are working together to fill sacks with the harvested potatoes, to be loaded onto the wagon behind them. The other four work as a team to lift the potatoes using forks and transfer them into wicker baskets, a gruelling task. Although the fields in the left distance are lit by sunshine, the dark scud-clouds of a heavy shower fill the sky at the right. Being poor, none of the workers has any wet-weather gear. The soil is also poor, full of stones, and yields would have been low despite the full sacks shown at the right.

Millet’s most famous single work, The Angelus, was completed around 1857-59. This had been commissioned by the American collector Thomas Gold Appleton, as Prayer for the Potato Crop, but underwent modification before Millet renamed it. At some stage, it’s thought to have included a child’s coffin, but that was overpainted.

It shows a couple, praying the Angelus devotion normally said at six o’clock in the evening, over the potatoes they have been harvesting. It’s dusk, and as the last light of the day fades in the sky, the bell in the distant church is ringing to mark the end of work, and the start of the evening. Next to the man is the fork he has been using to lift potatoes from the poor, stony soil; his wife has been collecting them in a wicker basket, now resting at her feet. Behind them is a basic wheelbarrow with a couple of sacks of potatoes on it, ready to be taken home.

Twenty years later, Jules Bastien-Lepage painted what’s now sometimes known as October or Potato Gatherers (1878), but was originally shown as October: Potato Gatherers.

Vincent van Gogh painted Woman Lifting Potatoes (1885) and similar scenes during his time living with his parents in Nuenen, in North Brabant, the Netherlands.

János Pentelei Molnár’s The Potato Harvest from 1901 takes this theme into the early years of the twentieth century, in Hungary.

Laurits Andersen Ring’s A Man Digging Potatoes from 1901 is pure social realism, as this smallholder uses his spade to lift the potatoes that are his staple diet. I believe that the plants shown here have suffered from potato blight, which also swept Europe periodically causing more famine and death.

Although the girls shown in Léon Frédéric’s Three Sisters from 1896 are clean and well dressed, they’re sat together peeling their staple diet of potatoes in a plain and barren farmhouse. A glimpse of the shoes of the girl at the left confirms that they’re neither destitute nor affluent.

Vincent van Gogh’s The Potato Eaters (1885) is another revealing insight into the lives of poor labourers in Nuenen, who are about to feast on a large dish of potatoes under the light of an oil lamp.

Émile Friant’s The Frugal Meal (1894) continues the social theme, as a poor family with four daughters sits down to a meal consisting of a bowl piled high with potatoes, and nothing else. More worryingly, the pot on the floor at the left is empty.

Further reading

Christopher Shepherd’s brilliant essay on the history of the potato in The Oxford Handbook of Agricultural History (2024), ed. Jeannie Whayne, Oxford UP, ISBN 978 0 19 092416 4.

In the more northerly latitudes, grass that’s essential for cattle to graze grows little during the winter months. Farmers keeping cattle therefore have to provide alternative feed for their livestock for several months each year. This can include root crops such as brassica varieties including turnips and swedes (also known as rutabaga), but the most widespread is cut and dried grass as hay.

Where climate and day-length are suitable, as in much of England and France, dedicated hay meadows can provide two harvests each year. Left ungrazed through the winter, the first is normally ready to mow in the late Spring, and when there’s sufficient rainfall during the early summer, a second hay harvest can be obtained before the weather deteriorates in the early autumn. The mowing of hay has also been known as math, and mowing a second time is thus the aftermath or lattermath.

The essential requirement for hay is that it’s dried thoroughly, or it will rot over time and become unusable as fodder. In the centuries before mechanisation during the nineteenth century, this process was described as: first mow the grass, “scatter it about, gather it in windrows, cock it overnight, scatter it about, windrow it, cock it, and so on to the stack and stack it”. (Fussell) Those steps are shown well in paintings.

The companion to Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s painting of the grain harvest, The Hay Harvest from 1565 shows all stages in progress. In the left foreground a man is beating the blade on his scythe to sharpen it ready for mowing. Three women are striding towards him with the rakes they use to scatter and gather the mown hay. Behind them, in the valley, others are gathering the hay into small stacks or cocks, where it continues to dry before being loaded onto the hay wagon to be taken back to the farm.

At the right are wicker baskets containing other crops, including what appear to be peas or beans, together with a red fruit.

Ferdinand Hodler’s marvellous Mower from about 1898 is seen sharpening the blade on his heavy scythe using a whetstone, as the sun rises behind and to the left.

The couple in Jules Bastien-Lepage’s Haymakers from 1877 are enjoying a short break from their labours, with the mown hay behind them still scattered to dry, before it can be raked into cocks.

Henri-Jean Martin painted Summer, or Mowers in 1903, as mechanisation was spreading across Europe. Several small clusters of men are mowing the hay in this meadow with their scythes, as three young women are dancing in a ring on the bed of flowers, and another sits nursing an infant.

Henry Moret’s Haymaking in Brittany from 1906 shows a smaller team busy mowing and raking on steeper ground.

In Camille Pissarro’s Divisionist painting of Haymaking, Éragny from the summer of 1887, a team of women are raking the cocks into haystacks.

Women in this hay meadow in Ukraine are raking in the harvest to be transported by a hay wain drawn by a pair of oxen, as painted in Mykola Pymonenko’s undated Haymaking.

In Jean-François Millet’s Haystacks: Autumn from about 1874, the harvest has been gathered, and three huge haystacks dominate the canvas. At the foot of one of them, a shepherd leans on his staff, resting from his labours as his flock grazes on the stubble.

Surplus hay was also a good cash crop for those who could get it transported to towns and cities. Along the east coast of England, barges were filled with hay then taken to London for sale. Much of the land in the county of Middlesex, to the west of London, was devoted to producing hay to feed horses in the city.

Robert Bevan’s painting of Hay Carts, Cumberland Market from 1915 is a view of London’s last hay market, near to the artist’s studio. By this time, the bales shown were made by mechanical baling machines and brought to London by barge.

In the next article in this series, I’ll look at a novel crop that soon became the staple food for many, the potato.

Modern domestic cattle originated during the Stone Age from the aurochs, in the Fertile Crescent. Although they remained in Europe until they became extinct in the seventeenth century, aurochs were never domesticated, and few farmers would have known of their existence.

Cattle go under a bewildering variety of English names: cows are females, usually kept for their milk; an ox, plural oxen, can be a generic term for both males and females, or applied more strictly to castrated males commonly used for drawing carts and ploughs; bulls are males used for breeding; steers are young males, often castrated and reared for their meat; finally, bullocks were originally young males, but are now assumed to have been castrated.

Cattle have been bred and raised as draught animals, often seeing wider use than horses, particularly when power is required rather than speed, for their meat, milk and hide. As herbivores, their dung also makes good fertiliser.

One of Paulus Potter’s last paintings, Cows Grazing at a Farm from 1653, shows half a dozen cattle, typical for many small farms of the time, including those primarily working a sheep-corn system for cereal production.

Just as sheep were associated more with arable farming, cattle were often grazed on land unsuitable for crops, including open woodlands, as shown in Rosa Bonheur’s A Herdsman with his Flock from 1852. In some areas, particularly before the enclosures of the eighteenth century and later, these small herds grazed on common land that was shared by locals or all-comers.

Until the advent of the milking machine in the early twentieth century, milking of all domestic animals used as sources of milk could only be performed by hand, wherever the animals might be. Most cows were milked where they were grazing, and for much of the year that required the milkmaid (this being almost exclusively the task of women) to start work in the fields at first light.

Adriaen van de Velde’s undated Milkmaid with Cow and Goats in Front of a Barn is a farmyard delight, with the cow being milked looking directly at the viewer.

Jean-François Millet’s Woman Milking a Cow (1854-60) shows one of this secret army of milkmaids working on location as usual.

Alfred Roll’s full length portrait of Manda Lamétrie, Farmer from 1887 is a Naturalist depiction of a working woman farmer who has just milked the cow behind her. Although she’s far too clean and tidy, it’s of historical interest in that her pail is modern and manufactured from metal.

In the harsher winters of northern Europe, cattle were usually brought in to shelter from the worst of the weather, which would otherwise reduce the milk yield of cows. This allowed the milkmaid to share their shelter.

Gerard ter Borch put the milkmaid and her cow at the centre of this painting, A Maid Milking a Cow in a Barn from about 1652-54. As was universal at that time, milk was collected in a wooden bucket that would have been scrubbed thoroughly before use, but fell far short of modern standards of hygiene.

Cow’s milk wasn’t bottled until the end of the nineteenth century, when processing such as pasteurisation was also introduced. Until then, milk sold in towns and cities often came fresh from the cow.

George Morland’s painting of St. James’s Park from 1788-90 shows a military family together in what’s now a central London park, but was at that time still quite rural, with a cow being milked at the left. This appears to have been a common sight until well into the nineteenth century.

Milk was also transformed into foods such as cheese, as a means of preserving its nutritional value long after the milk would have become sour and inedible. Small-scale cheese production has been widespread throughout the world since long before historical records began. Processing methods have been varied, resulting in innumerable local varieties of cheese that are distinctive of their areas of origin. Milk has also been processed into curds, butter, cream and yogurt.

One great benefit of milking cows was exposure to cowpox, a mild viral illness that provided immunity against its mutilating and often deadly relative smallpox. In 1796, the British physician Edward Jenner made the association between the two diseases, leading to the introduction of vaccination using cowpox virus, and the eventual eradication of smallpox in 1980, long after the eradication of the milkmaids who had made it all possible.

Constant Troyon’s Oxen Going to Work from 1855 shows teams of oxen being driven off to be hitched up to carts or ploughs in draught.

From the end of the Middle Ages, farms started to specialise in breeding cattle for their meat. Across Europe, tracks and later roads developed for crews of itinerant drovers to drive herds to market, where they were sold for slaughter, to yield beef, and their hides were processed into leather.

Sidney Richard Percy’s On the Road to Loch Turret, Crieff (1868) shows a few cattle watering close to this drover’s road near the market town of Crieff in Scotland. Cattle were driven here from rough grazing to the north, and some were sold in Crieff to be driven south through England to the pastures of Norfolk, where they were fattened before walking onward to London, to become roast beef for diners there. Few Londoners would have realised how many hundreds of miles their dinner had walked to reach its plate.

Next week I’ll look at the second favourite food of cattle, hay.

Ancient farmers discovered that repeatedly growing the same crop on the same plot of land soon led to falling yields and crop failure. We now understand this is the result of falling soil fertility: as successive harvests extract nitrogen and other essentials from the soil, without their replenishment there’s none for the plants to incorporate into their fruit or seed. Although animal fertiliser could compensate to some extent, the only solution was to ‘rest’ that land, to allow its soil fertility to be restored.

In southern Europe, including lands bordering the Mediterranean, crop rotation had been adopted by classical times, and was described by the Roman poet Virgil. This typically followed a two-year cycle:

• In one year, the plot would be ploughed and sown, sometimes in both Spring and autumn, to grow crops for harvest.
• The following year, that plot would be left unused, lying fallow.

As a result, at any time half the arable land would be productive, and half fallow and without a crop.

In northern Europe, a three-year cycle developed during the Middle Ages and later. This might run:

• In one year, the plot would be ploughed and sown in the autumn with a winter grain crop.
• The following year, that plot would be sown in the early Spring, with a grain or forage crop, or legumes (peas or beans).
• The third year, that plot would left fallow until the autumn, when it started the cycle again with autumn ploughing.

This is reflected in a different pattern in arable land, with only a third of it being left fallow at any time.

During the seventeenth century, farmers in the Low Countries appear to have adopted more elaborate rotations, and those were imported to England as the Norfolk Four-Course Rotation in the following century. In this:

• The first year brought a wheat crop, sown in the Spring and harvested at the end of summer.
• The second year brought roots, such as swedes or turnips, normally used to feed cattle, which grazed the land and enriched it with manure.
• The third year brought barley or oats, sown in the Spring and harvested at the end of summer.
• The fourth and final year the plot was rested with grass and clover, again used to graze cattle which enriched it with manure.

This depended on integrating livestock production with arable farming, by adding cows to the sheep-corn system, which had become increasingly popular over this period.

One way to assess this is in paintings of farmed countryside, looking at the patterns of usage in fields. I show a small selection of examples here.

In Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s The Harvesters from 1565, much of the land visible is devoted to a single wheat crop, sown at the same time, and harvested together at the end of the summer. Some fields on the lower ground, closer to the town and estuary in the distance, are still green, though, suggesting they may be pasture being grazed during their fallow year.

At the same time as crop rotations were being developed, land was being enclosed and its use transformed from communal grazing for livestock to arable fields. John Crome captures this in this painting of Mousehold Heath, Norwich (c 1818-20), showing the low rolling land to the north-east of the city which had been open heath and common land until the late eighteenth century. By 1810, much of it had been enclosed and ploughed up for agriculture.

At about the same time, Alexandre Calame’s Swiss Landscape shows the shore of one of the country’s large lakes, probably Lake Geneva, with much smaller plots of land within large open fields, and a range of different crops being cultivated. This is more typical of the older sub-divided fields close to villages during earlier centuries in England.

By 1853, when the Pre-Raphaelite landscape artist Thomas Seddon visited Brittany and painted Léhon, from Mont Parnasse, Brittany, this small village had retained similar small plots being farmed in different ways, almost like the allotment gardens that developed around cities at this time.

Fields shown on the side of Les Jalais in Camille Pissarro’s Côte de Jalais, Pontoise from 1867 are divided into larger strips, and are at different stages of cultivation. Some are still earth brown following ploughing, others are green, and some may be ready to harvest. These appear to be in a longer crop rotation, perhaps four-course.

Although the classical two-year cycle was retained for longer in southern France, by 1890-92 when Paul Cézanne painted this Hillside in Provence, the pattern of colour in the fields makes it more likely that a three-year or longer rotation was in use.

By the early twentieth century, most farmland in England had been enclosed, but the fields in Percy Shakespeare’s painting of December on the Downs, Wartime, from the period 1939-44, remain open and still in use for a sheep-wheat system.

Perhaps the lesson here is that accounts of land use and crop rotations are too generalised to reflect the rich variety of local farming methods. As I have so far concentrated on arable and sheep farming, in the next article I’ll look at cattle and milk production.

Wheat and cereals were by no means the only crops grown at scale by farmers, although the acreage devoted to them accounted for the majority of arable land in most parts of Europe until the nineteenth century. Other crops were adopted for two main benefits: to sell for profit as a ‘cash crop’, or to improve the soil, often as part of a crop rotation system.

Buckwheat was a traditional local crop where the land rises up from the bog of Teufelsmoor, an artists’ colony to the north of Bremen, in Lower Saxony. In Fritz Overbeck’s Buckwheat Fields at Weyerberg from about 1897, he catches a small field of the pseudocereal in full flower, the upper parts pale gold in the light of the setting sun. Buckwheat isn’t a grass at all, but is more closely related to sorrel and rhubarb, with edible triangular seeds. It thrives on the poor, acid soils in this area, provided they are well-drained. Because it has a short growing period of only 10-12 weeks, it can suppress summer weeds, and thrives best in soil with low nitrogen content.

Theodor von Hörmann’s oil sketch of a Sainfoin Field at Znaim II from about 1893 shows a crop now little-known: sainfoin, a chalk-loving forage crop which used to be important for working horses. Sainfoin is a legume, so not only feeds the farm’s horses, but also increases the nitrogen content in soil. It’s equally good food for cattle and sheep.

I’m not sure where Mykhaylo Berkos painted these Flax Blooms in 1893; they’re a particularly appropriate theme for an accomplished oil painter, as flax is the source of linseed oil, one of the major drying oils used as a binder in many oil paints, and its fibres can be used for ‘canvas’ too.

The common flax appears to have been first domesticated in the Middle East, and has spread steadily across Europe, reaching northern Europe around five thousand years ago. Unlike other sources of drying oils, it prospers in the cool and wetter climates of northern Europe. It has been used widely for the production of fabrics for clothing and many other purposes, and its seed as a foodstuff, used as an edible oil and ground into flour.

Emile Claus here shows Flax Harvesting in 1904, near his cottage in East Flanders, Belgium. Below are some flax seeds ready for pressing to make linseed oil.

Vincent van Gogh’s painting after Millet shows a Peasant Woman Bruising Flax (1889), an early part of the process of transforming it into linen. Below, Max Liebermann shows a later stage as flax fibres are spun into yarn, in The Flax Barn at Laren (1880-90).

Although grown in more limited quantities, crops used for the manufacture of dyes became important in some regions. Among those was madder, used widely to dye clothing and, after processing, in artists paints.

Jan Vermeer’s Christ in the House of Martha and Mary from about 1654-56 is a good example of the use of Madder Lake by one of the Dutch Masters.

One of the early challenges in the history of art materials was the transformation of vegetable dyes into pigments, in many cases, the process of laking. The need was simple: take a vegetable dye such as the Crimson derived from Madder plants, and fix it into pigment particles which can be dispersed in gum solution (watercolour) or a drying oil medium.

Neither the Romans nor the Greeks appear to have solved this on any scale, but at some time between the Classical civilisations and the pre-Renaissance, someone discovered that aluminium salts would combine with the colourants in Madder extract and make a pigment which was suitable for fine art painting: Madder Lake.

Over time, many different recipes for the preparation of Madder Lakes evolved. By using different species of Madder plant, adjusting the method of extracting the colourants from its root, and using different salts for the laking process, Madder Lakes covered a broad range of hues from pale purples through pinks to brilliant scarlet.

Another important crop was clover, a legume that fixes nitrogen in the soil, so increasing its fertility for subsequent food crops.

Jules Breton’s Blessing of the Wheat in Artois from 1857 shows more than fields of wheat. As the artist wrote to his then fiancée Élodie:
Against a dazzling background of light in which the gold of the wheat combines with the emerald green of the clover, losing itself finally in the sky in a warm, transparent vapour, a solemn and silent procession of country folk moves slowly and piously along, with the sun at their backs and their shadows in front.

Farmers in much of Britain and France didn’t appear to grow many of these alternatives until the eighteenth century, but in the Low Countries of what is now the Netherlands and Belgium they were locally common even before the previous century. This helped build the Low Countries into a great trading nation and bring on the Dutch Golden Age with its fine paintings.

Jan Bieleman has given figures for the percentage of arable land devoted to different types of crop in West-Zeeuws-Vlaanderen between 1670-1795. Throughout those two centuries, wheat and pulses (peas, beans) were most popular at 24-30% each, with barley in third place. Flax was grown on 4% until it decreased after 1720, rapeseed (a brassica crop still grown widely for its oil) on 2-4%, with madder, potatoes and carrots on even less land. Only about 15% of the area was lying fallow at any time, making it highly productive for the period. That leads us to look at crop rotation in the next article, where paintings can be particularly useful as historical records.

Reference

Jan Bieleman (2010), Five Centuries of Farming, a short history of Dutch agriculture 1500-2000, Wageningen Academic, ISBN 978 90 8686 133 0.

So far in this series, I have concentrated on the production of staple cereals such as wheat and rye. The fundamental aim of that arable farming is simply to multiply the number of grains of cereal, so that for each seed sown there are more harvested and delivered as food. Example figures given by Mark Overton for a typical English farm in the early sixteenth century suggest a gross wheat yield of 8-12 bushels per acre (forgive the antiquated units!), for a fixed cost in seed of 2.5 bushels per acre, giving net yields of 5.5-9.5 bushels per acre. By 1854, net yield of wheat had risen to 30 bushels per acre.

Early arable farmers realised that soil quality was key to the efficiency of this process. When seed is sown in soil of high fertility, then harvest yield will be higher. Thin soils were easiest to cultivate but also the quickest to lose their fertility, so farmers had to develop methods for increasing soil fertility to compensate. Among those discovered to be beneficial were:

• ‘resting’ the soil by leaving it fallow and uncultivated;
• growing a nitrogen-fixing crop such as clover or legumes (peas or beans);
• applying fertiliser such as dung.

The first two resulted in systems of crop rotation, a subject I’ll cover in the future. This article looks at one of the most popular methods for delivering fertiliser in the form of animal dung, using sheep, the best mobile source available in much of Europe at the time.

Sheep have other value as farm livestock, providing meat, milk and fleeces, but those were limited relative their value as fertilisers of the soil. During the day, sheep both graze and deposit dung and urine on the ground; at night they stop grazing, but continue to drop dung and urine. Daytime dung therefore fertilises their grazing pastures, while that of the night can be used to fertilise the soil used to grow cereals. The value of the latter was so great that many landowners controlled its rights, known as folding rights, to benefit their own land with sheep dung rather than the soil of their tenants.

Jean-François Millet’s Shepherd Tending His Flock shows thin and scrawny sheep feeding on the stubble left after harvest, common practice in areas with lighter soils where sheep-corn farming became popular.

Anton Mauve’s Return of the Flock (1886-7) shows a small flock of unshorn ewes with young lambs, in the late Spring or early summer, possibly on the move to or from folding.

This engraving by Welby Sherman from one of Samuel Palmer’s sketches in his Shoreham sketchbooks, Evening (1834), shows a small flock in a fold at night, where they’re fertilising the soil as the shepherd dozes behind them.

The most famous of Millet’s few nocturnes, The Sheepfold, Moonlight from 1856-60, shows a shepherd working his dogs to bring his flock into a fold or pen on the plain near Barbizon. He is doing this under a waning gibbous moon lighting the backs of the sheep.

Strangely, folding of sheep as a mobile source of dung as fertiliser was widely practised across England, but almost unknown in the Low Countries including the Netherlands. As a practice it could compromise the value of sheep for other purposes. Those grazing on rolling chalk downs in daytime might have to walk several miles each day to drop their dung overnight in arable fields in the valley, and return, so fattening less for slaughter.

Sheep could also be driven longer distances to market, as shown in Constant Troyon’s On the Way to Market from 1859.

Heinrich Bürkel’s Shepherds in the Roman Campagna from 1837 has an almost documentary quality, in the rough and dusty peasants slumped on their horses and donkeys. In the foreground a couple of ewes are looking up at their lambs being carried in a pannier, and a dog is challenging a snake by the roadside.

In areas where domestic animals moved between highland pastures for the summer, and lowland grazing for the winter, including much of Spain, sheep could cover great distances each year in the transhumance.

Realising the value of their fleeces required annual shearing by hand.

The Shearers (c 1833-35) is the most ambitious of Samuel Palmer’s works from his period at Shoreham. This shows the seasonal work of a shearing gang, in a sophisticated composition drawing the gaze to the brilliant and more distant view beyond. The curious collection of tools to the right was the subject of preparatory sketches, and seems to have been carefully composed. However they have defied any symbolic interpretation, and may just ‘look right’.

Millet’s Sheep Shearing from about 1854 shows the highly skilled task of hand-shearing the fleece from a sheep. A man holds the animal still, resting over the end of a large barrel. A woman is using hand shears to cut the fleece from the sheep, as was universal before the introduction of machine shearing from 1888. Even with highly skilled hands, this is a difficult process, and it’s hard to remove the complete fleece. In some parts of the world, itinerant shearing teams would have performed this task, but for small flocks on poor farms it had to be carried out by those working the farm.

Fleeces generated the wool trade, centred on towns and cities that grew rich from the proceeds of wool and its weaving into fabrics. Ports specialising in the import and export of wool flourished around the coasts of Europe, and prosperous and powerful families made their fortunes from fleeces sheared on farms hundreds or even thousand of miles away.

In this period, one of the natural predators of sheep, the Eurasian wolf, was hunted to extinction in much of Western Europe. Pieter Brueghel the Younger’s The Good Shepherd from 1616 shows a shepherd being attacked by a wolf, as he tries to save his flock, which are running in panic into the nearby wood.

Other parts of the British Isles saw rural areas stripped of their human, farming populations, only to be replaced by sheep. William Watson’s Highland Wanderers – Morning Glen Croe, Argyllshire (1906) shows a valley in the middle of the Arrochar ‘Alps’, an exceptionally rugged mountainous area of the Cowal Peninsula, to the north-west of Loch Lomond in Scotland. By this time, the Highland Clearances had driven most of the human population into the cities further south, or to flee overseas as migrants.

Next week I’ll conclude this account in paintings of arable farming by considering cash crops, such as flax and madder.