82 Gender and Space in Rural Britain, 1840–1920
It is perhaps possible that, prior to the deforestation witnessed in East Anglia
during the thirteenth century, Scots pines populated the Fens but Kingsley’s ref-
erence to the highlands reiterates his literary borrowings. Not only that, but his
description of the ‘low rolling uplands’ – confusing in its contradictory mix of
gradients – suggests the extent to which Kingsley is prepared to skew the geo-
logical reality of his Fenland setting.
But Kingsley’s explicitly derivative stance – while it ostensibly masculates the
Fenland and its inhabitants – also has the opposite eff ect. In citing Scott – whose
works, although still popular, were the products of the previous generation –
Kingsley exposes himself to accusations of antiquatedness, even redundancy.
Not only is the gap of time between Hereward’s rearguard action and its fi ctional
immortalization substantial but Kingsley seems to adopt a deliberately out-
moded register with which to narrate the outlaw’s life story. Th is has the eff ect
of rendering Hereward’s masculinity archaic, not unusual perhaps in historical
fi ction. But the dual impact of a historical framework and a romantic context
that is carefully established but consistently undermined is signifi cant. It not
only suggests that heroic masculinity, of the type demonstrated by Hereward
and his band of rebels, is anachronistic in Victorian society, but it revises our
appreciation for the ‘unromantic ruralism’ of the modern Fens and, with it, the
role of women in such an environment.^37 It also satirizes, as it plagiarizes, Scott’s
romantic discourse. Is this a deliberate act on Kingsley’s part?
Th e novel’s fi nal chapter moves the action forward by eighty years, long aft er
the death of Hereward and his wife Torfrida. Kingsley relates how the Deeping
Fen, located in south Lincolnshire, was fi nally drained by the Norman Rich-
ard de Rulos, new Lord of Bourne (Hereward’s former title) and William the
Conqueror’s Chamberlain. Th e new Fens may be unromantic but they are now
modernized and commercially viable:
Where had been lonely meres, foul water-courses, stagnant slime, there were now great
dykes, rich and fair corn and grass lands, rows of white cottages. Th e newly-drained land
swarmed with stocks of new breeds – horses and sheep from Flanders, cattle from Nor-
mandy; for Richard de Rulos was the fi rst – as far as history tells – of that noble class of
agricultural squires who are England’s blessing and England’s pride.^38Th e formerly insular Fens have become outward looking, housing has been
built for local citizens and Hereward’s dramatic stewardship of Bourne has been
superseded by the care of a very diff erent kind of nobleman, a ‘man of peace’.^39
Hereward is here no more than a distant memory although, signifi cantly, the
new master and mistress of Bourne have a familial connection to the outlaw.
Richard’s wife, Torfrida, is Hereward’s granddaughter. Th is connection through
the female line – Torfrida is the daughter of Torfrida, daughter to the original
Torfrida – speaks strongly for the survival of women and the adaptability of