Thoughts on the Proposed Inclosure of Waltham (commonly called Epping) and Hainault Forests: In which a new plan is suggested for disafforesting the same: with the heads of the bill now proposed for that purpose

In Short

This book is a piece of contemporary political advocacy written by an "Old Inhabitant" of the Epping and Hainault Forests. It argues for the "disafforesting" of these lands—a process intended to extinguish the costly, inefficient, and often arbitrary rights held by the Crown, such as the maintenance of deer herds and the restrictive Forest Courts. By proposing a specific, moderate plan for land allotment, the author seeks to move beyond the gridlock of local opposition and administrative paralysis, offering a vision for a more stable and orderly landscape that respects both royal interests and local ownership.

The Story

The narrative begins with the author’s long-standing connection to the forests, a place he has frequented for years as a retreat from his professional life in London. He enters the fray during a moment of heightened tension in 1818. The Crown, through its Commissioners of Woods and Forests, has signaled its intent to settle its legal standing in the area, but the local landholders—particularly in the parish of Woodford—are in an uproar. Fearing a forced, sweeping enclosure that would strip them of their rights and land, they have passed a series of defensive resolutions. The author views these resolutions as misguided and built upon a fundamental misunderstanding of the government’s actual goals.

The heart of the book is a corrective argument. The author insists that the Crown has no desire to seize everything; rather, it wishes to exchange its vague, burdensome, and expensive forestal rights—which include the protection of deer that devastate local crops—for a definitive, manageable portion of the land. He outlines a sophisticated, moderate plan that replaces the looming threat of total enclosure with a piecemeal strategy. He proposes that the Crown accept specific, measured allotments of land, and that private owners be granted the right of "pre-emption"—the ability to purchase small, contiguous portions of this newly freed forest land to expand their own properties.

As the argument unfolds, the author addresses the practical benefits of this transition. He details how the removal of the deer and the abolition of the "forty days court" would liberate the forest from an archaic, medieval bureaucracy. He critiques the current state of the timber, noting that the traditional practice of "pollarding"—decapitating trees to feed a local demand for firewood—is ruining the forest’s natural beauty. By settling the ownership, he argues, the incentive for such destruction would vanish, allowing the land to transition into more ornamental and productive uses.

The book concludes by sharing the formal "Heads of the Bill," the actual legal framework being proposed to Parliament. This appendix formalizes the author's vision: the Crown gets its nursery for naval timber in the swampy "King's Woods," while the rest of the forest is disafforested, freed from royal jurisdiction, and left to the residents. The author leaves the reader with the firm conviction that this middle path is the only rational solution to a dispute that has dragged on for far too long, promising a future where the forest remains a scenic, well-managed, and legally secure asset for all stakeholders.

How It Unfolds

The Setting of the Stage The author establishes his credentials as a long-time, observant resident who loves the forest but recognizes its current state of legal and administrative decline. He immediately identifies the core conflict: a clash between the Crown’s desire for compensation and the local landowners' fear of losing their independence.

The Critique of the Opposition The author turns his attention to the meeting at Woodford, systematically dismantling the resolutions passed by the local inhabitants. He points out their contradictions, specifically noting the absurdity of claiming the deer cause no damage when their numbers have grown to hundreds.

The Practical Proposal The argument shifts to the "new plan," where the author suggests a system of small, measured allotments rather than a total takeover. He proposes a mechanism for landowners to purchase adjacent plots, ensuring the land is integrated into existing estates rather than becoming a source of paupers or squalor.

The Legislative Resolution The final portion of the book presents the formal "Heads of the Bill," which codifies the transition process. It provides a hard deadline for the removal of the deer and a clear timeline for the end of the Crown’s forestal rights, effectively signaling the transition into a modern era of land governance.

The People

The author, Thomas Street, stands as the central voice of reason. He is a pragmatic, well-connected individual who sees himself as a mediator between the distant, impersonal power of the Crown and the nervous, localized interests of the landowners. His primary goal is the resolution of a messy legal status quo.

The Commissioners of Woods and Forests are the primary administrative force. Initially feared as agents of potential confiscation, they are portrayed by the author as receptive and surprisingly flexible. They want to offload the financial burden of the forest—which costs them £300 annually—and are willing to accept the author's plan if it achieves their objective of securing naval timber.

The Freeholders and Landowners of parishes like Woodford represent the anxious public. They are characterized by their "local prejudices" and their fear of the unknown. They are prone to repeating "visionary" tales of impending social disaster, yet the author treats them with a firm, paternalistic patience, hoping to guide them toward a deal that is actually in their own best interest.

Finally, the "lower sort of people" inhabit the background of the argument. They are the ones currently exercising their traditional rights to cut firewood and maintain pollards. The author views their influence with skepticism, suggesting that their activities have marred the forest's beauty and that a change in legal status is necessary to curb these outdated practices.

In Its Own Voice

“Is not the separate Property of a Thing the great Cause of its endearment? Does any one respect a Common as much as he does his Garden?”

This reflection, attributed to South, is used by the author to argue that clear ownership—rather than communal ambiguity—is the key to valuing and preserving the land.

“The local knowledge acquired by occasional residence, for many years past, in the Forest of Waltham and the neighbourhood, and its having been the favourite spot where I have indulged in occasional relaxation from professional pursuits, my attention has been drawn to the notice given of an intended application to Parliament for an inclosure of that and also of Hainault Forest.”

In the opening, the author establishes his personal connection to the region as the foundation for his professional, albeit voluntary, intervention in the matter.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an exploration of the transition from feudal land management to modern property rights. It grapples with the tension between the "barbarous" remnants of royal authority—represented by the deer and the Forest Courts—and the growing desire for land that is private, ornamental, and economically productive. The author is deeply concerned with the aesthetic and functional health of the landscape; he sees the forest as a victim of its own legal limbo, where the lack of clear, singular ownership leads to the decapitation of trees and the degradation of the soil. Ultimately, it is a call to replace archaic, inefficient systems with a rational, market-oriented, and locally-sensitive framework for stewardship.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in urban planning, the history of land rights, or the preservation of the English countryside will find this a fascinating, albeit dense, primary document. It provides a rare, grounded look at how nineteenth-century citizens navigated the bureaucratic machinery of the state to influence regional development. You will experience the frustration of a man who knows the solution to a problem and is desperately trying to convince his neighbors to stop being their own worst enemies.

It is helpful to approach the book with an understanding of its period-specific tone. The author’s language is formal, slightly repetitive, and often displays the class-conscious prejudices of an 1818 professional, particularly when he dismisses the potential for "paupers" to inhabit the land. These attitudes, while jarring to a modern reader, are essential to understanding the social pressures that shaped the management of public lands. The prose is not designed for casual entertainment; it is an argument, complete with appendices, formal letters, and legal headers. However, for those willing to parse the layers of local politics and administrative detail, the book offers a vivid, practical insight into the long, complex process of defining the boundaries between what belongs to the public, the Crown, and the individual.