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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11874 ***
+
+HODGE AND HIS MASTERS
+
+BY
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES
+
+Author of 'The Gamekeeper at Home,' 'Wild Life in a Southern County,'
+'The Amateur Poacher,' 'Round About A Great Estate,' Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The papers of which this volume is composed originally appeared in the
+_Standard_, and are now republished by permission of the Editor.
+
+In manners, mode of thought, and way of life, there is perhaps no class of
+the community less uniform than the agricultural. The diversities are so
+great as to amount to contradictions. Individuality of character is most
+marked, and, varying an old saw, it might be said, so many farmers so many
+minds.
+
+Next to the tenants the landowners have felt the depression, to such a
+degree, in fact, that they should perhaps take the first place, having no
+one to allow them in turn a 20 per cent, reduction of their liabilities.
+It must be remembered that the landowner will not receive the fruits of
+returning prosperity when it comes for some time after they have reached
+the farmer. Two good seasons will be needed before the landowner begins to
+recoup.
+
+Country towns are now so closely connected with agriculture that a
+description of the one would be incomplete without some mention of the
+other. The aggregate capital employed by the business men of these small
+towns must amount to an immense sum, and the depreciation of their
+investments is of more than local concern.
+
+Although the labourer at the present moment is a little in the background,
+and has the best of the bargain, since wages have not much fallen, if at
+all; yet he will doubtless come to the front again. For as agriculture
+revives, and the sun shines, the organisations by which he is represented
+will naturally display fresh vigour.
+
+But the rapid progress of education in the villages and outlying districts
+is the element which is most worthy of thoughtful consideration. On the
+one hand, it may perhaps cause a powerful demand for corresponding
+privileges; and on the other, counteract the tendency to unreasonable
+expectations. In any case, it is a fact that cannot be ignored. Meantime,
+all I claim for the following sketches is that they are written in a fair
+and impartial spirit.
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I. THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+    II. LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+   III. A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+    IV. GOING DOWNHILL
+
+     V. THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+    VI. AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS--OLD STYLE
+
+   VII. THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+  VIII. HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+    IX. THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+     X. MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+    XI. FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+   XII. THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'
+
+  XIII. AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+   XIV. THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+    XV. A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+   XVI. THE SOLICITOR
+
+  XVII. 'COUNTY COURT DAY'
+
+ XVIII. THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+   XIX. THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+    XX. HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+   XXI. A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+  XXII. THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN, COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+ XXIII. THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+  XXIV. THE COTTAGE CHARTER, FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+   XXV. LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES, THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+  XXVI. A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+ XXVII. GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+XXVIII. HODGE'S LAST MASTERS, CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+
+THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+
+The doorway of the Jason Inn at Woolbury had nothing particular to
+distinguish it from the other doorways of the same extremely narrow
+street. There was no porch, nor could there possibly be one, for an
+ordinary porch would reach half across the roadway. There were no steps to
+go up, there was no entrance hall, no space specially provided for crowds
+of visitors; simply nothing but an ordinary street-door opening directly
+on the street, and very little, if any, broader or higher than those of
+the private houses adjacent. There was not even the usual covered way or
+archway leading into the courtyard behind, so often found at old country
+inns; the approach to the stables and coach-houses was through a separate
+and even more narrow and winding street, necessitating a detour of some
+quarter of a mile. The dead, dull wall was worn smooth in places by the
+involuntary rubbings it had received from the shoulders of foot-passengers
+thrust rudely against it as the market-people came pouring in or out, or
+both together.
+
+Had the spot been in the most crowded district of the busiest part of the
+metropolis, where every inch of ground is worth an enormous sum, the
+buildings could not have been more jammed together, nor the inconvenience
+greater. Yet the little town was in the very midst of one of the most
+purely agricultural counties, where land, to all appearance, was
+plentiful, and where there was ample room and 'verge enough' to build
+fifty such places. The pavement in front of the inn was barely eighteen
+inches wide; two persons could not pass each other on it, nor walk
+abreast. If a cart came along the roadway, and a trap had to go by it, the
+foot-passengers had to squeeze up against the wall, lest the box of the
+wheel projecting over the kerb should push them down. If a great waggon
+came loaded with wool, the chances were whether a carriage could pass it
+or not; as for a waggon-load of straw that projected from the sides,
+nothing could get by, but all must wait--coroneted panel or plain
+four-wheel--till the huge mass had rumbled and jolted into the more open
+market-place.
+
+But hard, indeed, must have been the flag-stones to withstand the wear and
+tear of the endless iron-shod shoes that tramped to and fro these mere
+ribbons of pavements. For, besides the through traffic out from the
+market-place to the broad macadamised road that had taken the place and
+the route of an ancient Roman road, there were the customers to the shops
+that lined each side of the street. Into some of these you stepped from
+the pavement down, as it were, into a cave, the level of the shop being
+eight or ten inches below the street, while the first floor projected over
+the pavement quite to the edge of the kerb. To enter these shops it was
+necessary to stoop, and when you were inside there was barely room to turn
+round. Other shops were, indeed, level with the street; but you had to be
+careful, because the threshold was not flush with the pavement, but rose a
+couple of inches and then fell again, a very trap to the toe of the
+unwary. Many had no glass at all, but were open, like a butcher's or
+fishmonger's. Those that had glass were so restricted for space that, rich
+as they might be within in the good things of the earth, they could make
+no 'display.' All the genius of a West-end shopman could not have made an
+artistic arrangement in that narrow space and in that bad light; for,
+though so small below, the houses rose high, and the street being so
+narrow the sunshine rarely penetrated into it.
+
+But mean as a metropolitan shopman might have thought the spot, the
+business done there was large, and, more than that, it was genuine. The
+trade of a country market-town, especially when that market-town, like
+Woolbury, dates from the earliest days of English history, is hereditary.
+It flows to the same store and to the same shop year after year,
+generation after generation, century after century. The farmer who walks
+into the saddler's here goes in because his father went there before him.
+His father went in because his father dealt there, and so on farther back
+than memory can trace. It might almost be said that whole villages go to
+particular shops. You may see the agricultural labourers' wives, for
+instance, on a Saturday leave the village in a bevy of ten or a dozen, and
+all march in to the same tradesman. Of course in these latter days
+speculative men and 'co-operative' prices, industriously placarded, have
+sapped and undermined this old-fashioned system. Yet even now it retains
+sufficient hold to be a marked feature of country life. To the through
+traffic, therefore, had to be added the steady flow of customers to the
+shops.
+
+On a market-day like this there is, of course, the incessant entry and
+exit of carts, waggons, traps, gigs, four-wheels, and a large number of
+private carriages. The number of private carriages is, indeed, very
+remarkable, as also the succession of gentlemen on thoroughbred horses--a
+proof of the number of resident gentry in the neighbourhood, and of its
+general prosperity. Cart-horses furbished up for sale, with straw-bound
+tails and glistening skins; 'baaing' flocks of sheep; squeaking pigs;
+bullocks with their heads held ominously low, some going, some returning,
+from the auction yard; shouting drovers; lads rushing hither and thither;
+dogs barking; everything and everybody crushing, jostling, pushing through
+the narrow street. An old shepherd, who has done his master's business,
+comes along the pavement, trudging thoughtful and slow, with ashen staff.
+One hand is in his pocket, the elbow of the arm projecting; he is feeling
+a fourpenny-piece, and deliberating at which 'tap' he shall spend it. He
+fills up the entire pavement, and stolidly plods on, turning ladies and
+all into the roadway; not from intentional rudeness, but from sheer
+inability to perceive that he is causing inconvenience.
+
+Unless you know the exact spot it is difficult in all this crowd and
+pushing, with a nervous dread of being gored from behind by a bull, or
+thrown off your feet by a sudden charge of sheep, to discover the door of
+the Jason Inn. That door has been open every legitimate and lawful hour
+this hundred years; but you will very likely be carried past it and have
+to struggle back. Then it is not easy to enter, for half a dozen stalwart
+farmers and farmers' sons are coming out; while two young fellows stand
+just inside, close to the sliding bar-window, blocking up the passage, to
+exchange occasional nods and smiles with the barmaid.
+
+However, by degrees you shuffle along the sanded passage, and past the
+door of the bar, which is full of farmers as thick as they can stand, or
+sit. The rattle of glasses, the chink of spoons, the hum of voices, the
+stamping of feet, the calls and orders, and sounds of laughter, mingle in
+confusion. Cigar-smoke and the steam from the glasses fill the room--all
+too small--with a thick white mist, through which rubicund faces dimly
+shine like the red sun through a fog.
+
+Some at the tables are struggling to write cheques, with continual jogs at
+the elbow, with ink that will not flow, pens that scratch and splutter,
+blotting-paper that smudges and blots. Some are examining cards of an
+auction, and discussing the prices which they have marked in the margin in
+pencil. The good-humoured uproar is beyond description, and is increased
+by more farmers forcing their way in from the rear, where are their horses
+or traps--by farmers eagerly inquiring for dealers or friends, and by
+messengers from the shops loaded with parcels to place in the customer's
+vehicle.
+
+At last you get beyond the bar-room door and reach the end of the passage,
+where is a wide staircase, and at the foot a tall eight-day clock. A
+maid-servant comes tripping down, and in answer to inquiry replies that
+that is the way up, and the room is ready, but she adds with a smile that
+there is no one there yet. It is three-quarters of an hour after the time
+fixed for the reading of a most important paper before a meeting specially
+convened, before the assembled Parliament of Hodge's masters, and you
+thought you would be too late. A glance at the staircase proves the truth
+of the maid's story. It has no carpet, but it is white as well-scrubbed
+wood could well be. There is no stain, no dust, no foot-mark on it; no
+heavy shoe that has been tramping about in the mud has been up there. But
+it is necessary to go on or go back, and of the two the first is the
+lesser evil.
+
+The staircase is guarded by carved banisters, and after going up two
+flights you enter a large and vacant apartment prepared for the meeting of
+the farmers' club. At the farther end is a small mahogany table, with an
+armchair for the president, paper, pens, ink, blotting-paper, and a wax
+candle and matches, in case he should want a light. Two less dignified
+chairs are for the secretary (whose box, containing the club records,
+books of reference, &c., is on the table), and for the secretary's clerk.
+Rows of plain chairs stretch across the room, rank after rank; these are
+for the audience. And last of all are two long forms, as if for Hodge, if
+Hodge chooses to come.
+
+A gleam of the afternoon sun--as the clouds part awhile--attracts one
+naturally to the window. The thickness of the wall in which it is placed
+must be some two or three feet, so that there is a recess on which to put
+your arms, if you do not mind the dust, and look out. The window is half
+open, and the sounds of the street come up, 'baaing' and bellowing and
+squeaking, the roll of wheels, the tramp of feet, and, more distant, the
+shouting of an auctioneer in the market-place, whose stentorian tones come
+round the corner as he puts up rickcloths for sale. Noise of man and
+animal below; above, here in the chamber of science, vacancy and silence.
+Looking upwards, a narrow streak of blue sky can be seen above the ancient
+house across the way.
+
+After awhile there comes the mellow sound of bells from the church which
+is near by, though out of sight; bells with a soft, old-world tone; bells
+that chime slowly and succeed each other without haste, ringing forth a
+holy melody composed centuries ago. It is as well to pause a minute and
+listen to their voice, even in this railroad age of hurry. Over the busy
+market-place the notes go forth, and presently the hum comes back and
+dwells in the recess of the window. It is a full hour after the time
+fixed, and now at last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of
+heavy boots upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the
+landing; they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk comes,
+and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have company, boldly
+enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary arrives; finally
+the president appears, and with him the lecturer. There is a hum of
+greeting; the minutes are read; the president introduces the professor,
+and the latter stands forth to read his paper--'Science, the Remedy for
+Agricultural Depression.'
+
+Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the present
+period of distress. For many years past science had been like the voice
+crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only, had listened. Men had,
+indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone away home again, and, as the
+swine of the proverb, returned to their wallowing in the mire. One blade
+of grass still grew where two or even three might be grown; he questioned
+whether farmers had any real desire to grow the extra blades. If they did,
+they had merely to employ the means provided for them. Everything had been
+literally put into their hands; but what was the result? Why, nothing--in
+point of fact, nothing. The country at large was still undrained. The very
+A B C of progress had been neglected. He should be afraid to say what
+proportion of the land was yet undrained, for he should be contradicted,
+called ill names, and cried down. But if they would look around them they
+could see for themselves. They would see meadows full of rank, coarse
+grass in the furrows, which neither horse nor cattle would touch. They
+would see in the wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble,
+and altogether poor; that was where the water had stood and destroyed the
+natural power of the seed. The same cause gave origin to that mass of
+weeds which was the standing disgrace of arable districts.
+
+But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried out that
+the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain--it was their own intense
+dislike of making any improvement. The _vis inertiae_ of the agricultural
+class was beyond the limit of language to describe. Why, if the land had
+been drained the rain would have done comparatively little damage, and
+thus they would have been independent of the seasons. Look, again, at the
+hay crop; how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted because men would
+not believe that anything would answer which had not been done by their
+forefathers! The hay might have been saved by three distinct methods. The
+grass might have been piled against hurdles or light frame-work and so
+dried by the wind; it might have been pitted in the earth and preserved
+still green; or it might have been dried by machinery and the hot blast. A
+gentleman had invented a machine, the utility of which had been
+demonstrated beyond all doubt. But no; farmers folded their hands and
+watched their hay rotting.
+
+As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They had not
+cleaned the soil--there were horse-hoes, and every species of contrivances
+for the purpose; but they would not use them. They had not ploughed
+deeply: they had merely scratched the surface as if with a pin. How could
+the thin upper crust of the earth--the mere rind three inches thick--be
+expected to yield crop after crop for a hundred years? Deep ploughing
+could only be done by steam: now how many farmers possessed or used
+steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts where such a thing was
+unknown. They had neglected to manure the soil; to restore to it the
+chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak upon artificial manure
+was enough to drive any man who had the power of thought into temporary
+insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to see men positively turning away
+from the means of obtaining good crops, and then crying out that they were
+ruined. With drains, steam-ploughs, and artificial manure, a farmer might
+defy the weather.
+
+Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the farmer had
+good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The first he could get
+if he chose; and without the second, without capital, he had no business
+to be farming at all. He was simply stopping the road of a better man, and
+the sooner he was driven out of the way the better. The neglect of
+machinery was most disheartening. A farmer bought one machine, perhaps a
+reaping-machine, and then because that solitary article did not
+immediately make his fortune he declared that machinery was useless. Could
+the force of folly farther go? With machinery they could do just as they
+liked. They could compel the earth to yield, and smile at the most
+tropical rain, or the most continuous drought. If only the voice of
+science had been listened to, there would have been no depression at all.
+Even now it was not too late.
+
+Those who were wise would at once set to work to drain, to purchase
+artificial manure, and set up steam power, and thereby to provide
+themselves with the means of stemming the tide of depression. By these
+means they could maintain a head of stock that would be more than double
+what was now kept upon equal acreage. He knew full well one of the
+objections that would be made against these statements. It would be said
+that certain individuals had done all this, had deep ploughed, had
+manured, had kept a great head of valuable stock, had used every resource,
+and yet had suffered. This was true. He deeply regretted to say it was
+true.
+
+But why had they suffered? Not because of the steam, the machinery, the
+artificial manure, the improvements they had set on foot; but because of
+the folly of their neighbours, of the agricultural class generally. The
+great mass of farmers had made no improvements; and, when the time of
+distress came, they were beaten down at every point. It was through these
+men and their failures that the price of stock and of produce fell, and
+that so much stress was put upon the said individuals through no fault of
+their own. He would go further, and he would say that had it not been for
+the noble efforts of such individuals--the pioneers of agriculture and its
+main props and stays--the condition of farming would have been simply
+fifty times worse than it was. They, and they alone, had enabled it to
+bear up so long against calamity. They had resources; the agricultural
+class, as a rule, had none. Those resources were the manure they had put
+into the soil, the deep ploughing they had accomplished, the great head of
+stock they had got together, and so on. These enabled them to weather the
+storm.
+
+The cry for a reduction of rent was an irresistible proof of what he had
+put forth--that it was the farmers themselves who were to blame. This cry
+was a confession of their own incompetency. If you analysed it--if you
+traced the general cry home to particular people--you always found that
+those people were incapables. The fact was, farming, as a rule, was
+conducted on the hand-to-mouth principle, and the least stress or strain
+caused an outcry. He must be forgiven if he seemed to speak with unusual
+acerbity. He intended no offence. But it was his duty. In such a condition
+of things it would be folly to mince matters, to speak softly while
+everything was going to pieces. He repeated, once for all, it was their
+own fault. Science could supply the remedy, and science alone; if they
+would not call in the aid of science they must suffer, and their
+privations must be upon their own heads. Science said, Drain, use
+artificial manure, plough deeply, keep the best breed of stock, put
+capital into the soil. Call science to their aid, and they might defy the
+seasons.
+
+The professor sat down and thrust his hand through his hair. The president
+invited discussion. For some few minutes no one rose; presently, after a
+whispered conversation with his friend, an elderly farmer stood up from
+the forms at the very back of the room. He made no pretence to rounded
+periods, but spoke much better than might have been expected; he had a
+small piece of paper in his hand, on which he had made notes as the
+lecture proceeded.
+
+He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case. He had proved to
+demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers were fools. Well,
+no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for everybody thought he could
+teach the farmer. The chemist, the grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine
+merchant, the lawyer, the doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant,
+the editor, the printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the
+ironmaster, the clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and
+railway porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers--to use an
+expressive Americanism, all the whole "jing-bang"--could teach the
+ignorant jackass of a farmer.
+
+Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a parcel for
+his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with the draper himself.
+The draper said he was just going to sell off the business and go into
+dairy farming, which was the most paying thing out. That was just when
+there came over from America a patent machine for milking cows. The
+draper's idea was to milk all his cows by one of these articles, and so
+dispense with labour. He saw no more of him for a long time, but had heard
+that morning that he went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and
+was now tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back.
+Everybody thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself,
+and then he found his mistake.
+
+One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so, seemed to him,
+a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not only uncalled-for and
+priggish, but downright brutal. It was that the man with little capital
+ought to be driven out of farming, and the sooner he went to the wall the
+better. Now, how would all the grocers and other tradesmen whom he had
+just enumerated like to be told that if they had not got 10,000_l_. each
+they ought to go at once to the workhouse! That would be a fine remedy for
+the depression of trade.
+
+He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man with small
+capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial, managed to raise
+himself and get up in the world. But, oh no; nothing of the kind; the
+small man was the greatest sinner, and must be eradicated. Well, he did
+not hesitate to say that he had been a small man himself, and began in a
+very small way. Perhaps the lecturer would think him a small man still, as
+he was not a millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for
+something in the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound
+or two over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there
+was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would not
+prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should like to ask the lecturer
+if he could give the name of one single scientific farmer who had
+prospered?
+
+Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and busted
+out of the room, and several others followed him, for the rain was already
+splashing against the window-panes. Others looked at their watches, and,
+seeing it was late, rose one by one and slipped off. The president asked
+if any one would continue the discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the
+professor to reply.
+
+The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came a heavy
+rolling sound--the unmistakable boom of distant thunder. He said that the
+gentleman who had left so abruptly had quite misconstrued the tenour of
+his paper. So far from intending to describe farmers as lacking in
+intelligence, all he wished to show was that they did not use their
+natural abilities, from a certain traditionary bowing to custom. They did
+not like their neighbours to think that they were doing anything novel. No
+one respected the feelings that had grown up and strengthened from
+childhood, no one respected the habits of our ancestors, more than he did;
+no one knew better the solid virtues that adorned the homes of
+agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say aught--[Boom! and the
+rattling of rain against the window]--aught that could--but he saw that
+gentlemen were anxious to get home, and would conclude.
+
+A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke up and
+hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so blocked with
+farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that movement was impossible.
+The place was darkened by the overhanging clouds, the atmosphere thick and
+close with the smoke and the crush. Flashes of brilliant lightning seemed
+to sweep down the narrow street, which ran like a brook with the
+storm-water; the thunder seemed to descend and shake the solid walls.
+'It's rather hard on the professor,' said one farmer to another. 'What
+would science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly spoken when the hail
+suddenly came down, and the round white globules, rebounding from the
+pavement, rolled in at the open door. Each paused as he lifted his glass
+and thought of the harvest. As for Hodge, who was reaping, he had to take
+shelter how he might in the open fields. Boom! flash! boom!--splash and
+hiss, as the hail rushed along the narrow street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+
+A large white poster, fresh and glaring, is pasted on the wall of a barn
+that stands beside a narrow country lane. So plain an advertisement,
+without any colour or attempt at 'display,' would be passed unnoticed
+among the endless devices on a town hoarding. There nothing can be hoped
+to be looked at unless novel and strange, or even incomprehensible. But
+here the oblong piece of black and white contrasts sufficiently in itself
+with red brick and dull brown wooden framing, with tall shadowy elms, and
+the glint of sunshine on the streamlet that flows with a ceaseless murmur
+across the hollow of the lane. Every man that comes along stays to read
+it.
+
+The dealer in his trap--his name painted in white letters on the
+shaft--pulls up his quick pony, and sits askew on his seat to read. He has
+probably seen it before in the bar of the wayside inn, roughly hung on a
+nail, and swaying to and fro with the draught along the passage. He may
+have seen it, too, on the handing-post at the lonely cross-roads, stuck on
+in such a manner that, in order to peruse it, it is necessary to walk
+round the post. The same formal announcement appears also in the local
+weekly papers--there are at least two now in the smallest place--and he
+has read it there. Yet he pauses to glance at it again, for the country
+mind requires reiteration before it can thoroughly grasp and realise the
+simplest fact. The poster must be read and re-read, and the printer's name
+observed and commented on, or, if handled, the thickness of the paper felt
+between thumb and finger. After a month or two of this process people at
+last begin to accept it as a reality, like cattle or trees--something
+substantial, and not mere words.
+
+The carter, with his waggon, if he be an elderly man, cries 'Whoa!' and,
+standing close to the wall, points to each letter with the top of his
+whip--where it bends--and so spells out 'Sale by Auction.' If he be a
+young man he looks up at it as the heavy waggon rumbles by, turns his
+back, and goes on with utter indifference.
+
+The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose minds were
+formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in half a century,
+have so identified themselves with the order of things in the parish that
+it seems to personally affect them when a farmer leaves his place. But
+young Hodge cares nothing about his master, or his fellow's master.
+Whether they go or stay, prosperous or decaying, it matters nothing to
+him. He takes good wages, and can jingle some small silver in his pocket
+when he comes to the tavern a mile or so ahead; so 'gee-up' and let us get
+there as rapidly as possible.
+
+An hour later a farmer passes on horseback; his horse all too broad for
+his short legs that stick out at the side and show some inches of stocking
+between the bottom of his trousers and his boots. A sturdy, thick-set man,
+with a wide face, brickdust colour, fringed with close-cut red whiskers,
+and a chest so broad he seems compelled to wear his coat unbuttoned. He
+pulls off his hat and wipes his partly bald head with a coloured
+handkerchief, stares at the poster a few minutes, and walks his horse
+away, evidently in deep thought. Two boys--cottagers' children--come home
+from school; they look round to see that no one observes, and then throw
+flints at the paper till the sound of footsteps alarms them.
+
+
+Towards the evening a gentleman and lady, the first middle-aged, the
+latter very young--father and daughter--approach, their horses seeming to
+linger as they walk through the shallow stream, and the cool water
+splashes above their fetlocks. The shooting season is near at hand,
+Parliament has risen, and the landlords have returned home. Instead of the
+Row, papa must take his darling a ride through the lanes, a little dusty
+as the autumn comes on, and pauses to read the notice on the wall. It is
+his neighbour's tenant, not his, but it comes home to him here. It is the
+real thing--the fact--not the mere seeing it in the papers, or the warning
+hints in the letters of his own steward. 'Papa,' is rather quiet for the
+rest of the ride. Ever since he was a lad--how many years ago is that?--he
+has shot with his neighbour's party over this farm, and recollects the
+tenant well, and with that friendly feeling that grows up towards what we
+see year after year. In a day or two the clergyman drives by with his low
+four-wheel and fat pony, notes the poster as the pony slackens at the
+descent to the water, and tells himself to remember and get the tithe.
+Some few Sundays, and Farmer Smith will appear in church no more.
+
+Farmer Smith this beautiful morning is looking at the wheat, which is, and
+is not, his. It would have been cut in an ordinary season, but the rains
+have delayed the ripening. He wonders how the crop ever came up at all
+through the mass of weeds that choked it, the spurrey that filled the
+spaces between the stalks below, the bindweed that climbed up them, the
+wild camomile flowering and flourishing at the edge, the tall thistles
+lifting their heads above it in bunches, and the great docks whose red
+seeds showed at a distance. He sent in some men, as much to give them
+something to do as for any real good, one day, who in a few hours pulled
+up enough docks to fill a cart. They came across a number of snakes, and
+decapitated the reptiles with their hoes, and afterwards hung them all
+up--tied together by the tail--to a bough. The bunch of headless snakes
+hangs there still, swinging to and fro as the wind plays through the oak.
+Vermin, too, revel in weeds, which encourage the mice and rats, and are,
+perhaps, quite as much a cause of their increase as any acts of the
+gamekeeper.
+
+Farmer Smith a few years since was very anxious for the renewal of his
+lease, just as those about to enter on tenancies desired leases above
+everything. All the agricultural world agreed that a lease was the best
+thing possible--the clubs discussed it, the papers preached it. It was a
+safeguard; it allowed the tenant to develop his energies, and to put his
+capital into the soil without fear. He had no dread of being turned out
+before he could get it back. Nothing like a lease--the certain
+preventative of all agricultural ills. There was, to appearance, a great
+deal of truth in these arguments, which in their day made much impression,
+and caused a movement in that direction. Who could foresee that in a few
+short years men would be eager to get rid of their leases on any terms?
+Yet such was the fact. The very men who had longed so eagerly for the
+blessing of security of tenure found it the worst thing possible for their
+interest.
+
+Mr. Smith got his lease, and paid for it tolerably stiffly, for at that
+period all agricultural prices were inflated--from the price of a lease to
+that of a calf. He covenanted to pay a certain fixed rental for so many
+acres of arable and a small proportion of grass for a fixed time. He
+covenanted to cultivate the soil by a fixed rotation; not to sow this nor
+that, nor to be guided by the change of the markets, or the character of
+the seasons, or the appearance of powerful foreign competitors. There was
+the parchment prepared with all the niceties of wording that so many
+generations of lawyers had polished to the highest pitch; not a loophole,
+not so much as a _t_ left uncrossed, or a doubtful interlineation. But
+although the parchment did not alter a jot, the times and seasons did.
+Wheat fell in price, vast shipments came even from India, cattle and sheep
+from America, wool from Australia, horses from France; tinned provisions
+and meats poured in by the ton, and cheese, and butter, and bacon by the
+thousand tons. Labour at the same time rose. His expenditure increased,
+his income decreased; his rent remained the same, and rent audit came
+round with the utmost regularity.
+
+Mr. Smith began to think about his lease, and question whether it was such
+an unmixed blessing. There was no getting out of it, that was certain. The
+seasons grew worse and worse. Smith asked for a reduction of rent. He got,
+like others, ten per cent, returned, which, he said looked very liberal to
+those who knew nothing of farming, and was in reality about as useful as a
+dry biscuit flung at a man who has eaten nothing for a week. Besides
+which, it was only a gracious condescension, and might not be repeated
+next year, unless he kept on his good behaviour, and paid court to the
+clergyman and the steward. Unable to get at what he wanted in a direct
+way, Smith tried an indirect one. He went at game, and insisted on its
+being reduced in number. This he could do according to the usual terms of
+agreement; but when it came to the point he found that the person called
+in to assess the damage put it at a much lower figure than he had himself;
+and who was to decide what was or was not a reasonable head of game? This
+attack of his on the game did him no good whatever, and was not
+unnaturally borne in mind--let us not say resented.
+
+He next tried to get permission to sell straw--a permission that he saw
+granted to others in moderation. But he was then reminded of a speech he
+had made at a club, when, in a moment of temper (and sherry), he had let
+out a piece of his mind, which piece of his mind was duly published in the
+local papers, and caused a sensation. Somebody called the landlord's
+attention to it, and he did not like it. Nor can he be blamed; we none of
+us like to be abused in public, the more especially when, looking at
+precedents, we do not deserve it. Smith next went to the assessment
+committee to get his taxes reduced, on the ground of a loss of revenue.
+The committee sympathised with him, but found that they must assess him
+according to his rent. At least so they were then advised, and only did
+their duty.
+
+By this time the local bankers had scented a time of trouble approaching
+in the commercial and agricultural world; they began to draw in their more
+doubtful advances, or to refuse to renew them. As a matter of fact, Smith
+was a perfectly sound man, but he had so persistently complained that
+people began to suspect there really was something wrong with his
+finances. He endeavoured to explain, but was met with the tale that he had
+himself started. He then honestly produced his books, and laid his
+position bare to the last penny.
+
+The banker believed him, and renewed part of the advance for a short
+period; but he began, to cogitate in this wise: 'Here is a farmer of long
+experience, born of a farming family, and a hardworking fellow, and, more
+than that, honest. If this man, who has hitherto had the command of a fair
+amount of capital, cannot make his books balance better than this, what
+must be the case with some of our customers? There are many who ride about
+on hunters, and have a bin of decent wine. How much of all this is
+genuine? We must be careful; these are hard times.' In short, Smith,
+without meaning it, did his neighbours an immense deal of harm. His very
+honesty injured them. By slow degrees the bank got 'tighter' with its
+customers. It leaked out--all things leak out--that Smith had said too
+much, and he became unpopular, which did not increase his contentment.
+
+Finally he gave notice that unless the rent was reduced he should not
+apply to renew the lease, which would soon expire. He had not the least
+intention in his secret mind of leaving the farm; he never dreamed that
+his notice would be accepted. He and his had dwelt there for a hundred
+years, and were as much part and parcel of the place as the elm-trees in
+the hedges. So many farms were in the market going a-begging for tenants,
+it was not probable a landlord would let a good man go for the sake of a
+few shillings an acre. But the months went by and the landlord's agents
+gave no sign, and at last Smith realised that he was really going to
+leave.
+
+Though he had so long talked of going, it came upon him like a
+thunderbolt. It was like an attack of some violent fever that shakes a
+strong man and leaves him as weak as a child. The farmer, whose meals had
+been so hearty, could not relish his food. His breakfast dwindled to a
+pretence; his lunch fell off; his dinner grew less; his supper faded; his
+spirits and water, the old familiar 'nightcap,' did him no good. His jolly
+ringing laugh was heard no more; from a thorough gossip he became
+taciturn, and barely opened his lips. His clothes began to hang about him,
+instead of fitting him all too tight; his complexion lost the red colour
+and became sallow; his eyes had a furtive look in them, so different to
+the old straightforward glance.
+
+Some said he would take to his bed and die; some said he would jump into
+the pond one night, to be known no more in this world. But he neither
+jumped into the pond nor took to his bed. He went round his fields just
+the same as before--perhaps a little more mechanically; but still the old
+routine of daily work was gone through. Leases, though for a short period,
+do not expire in a day; after awhile time began to produce its usual
+effect. The sharpness of the pain wore off, and he set to work to make the
+best of matters. He understood the capacity of each field as well as
+others understand the yielding power of a little garden. His former study
+had been to preserve something like a balance between what he put in and
+what he took out of the soil. Now it became the subject of consideration
+how to get the most out without putting anything in. Artificial manures
+were reduced to the lowest quantity and of the cheapest quality, such as
+was used being, in fact, nothing but to throw dust, literally, in the eyes
+of other people. Times were so bad that he could not be expected, under
+the most favourable circumstances, to consume much cake in the stalls or
+make much manure in that way.
+
+One by one extra expenditures were cut off. Gates, instead of being
+repaired, were propped up by running a pole across. Labour was eschewed in
+every possible way. Hedges were left uncut; ditches were left uncleaned.
+The team of horses was reduced, and the ploughing done next to nothing.
+Cleaning and weeding were gradually abandoned. Several fields were allowed
+to become overrun with grass, not the least attention being paid to them;
+the weeds sprang up, and the grass ran over from the hedges. The wheat
+crop was kept to the smallest area. Wheat requires more previous labour
+and care as to soil than any other crop. Labour and preparation cost
+money, and he was determined not to spend a shilling more than he was
+absolutely compelled. He contrived to escape the sowing, of wheat
+altogether on some part of the farm, leaving it out of the rotation. That
+was a direct infringement of the letter of the agreement; but who was to
+prove that he had evaded it? The steward could not recollect the crops on
+several hundred acres; the neighbouring tenants, of course, knew very
+well; but although Smith had become unpopular, they were not going to tell
+tales of him. He sold everything he dared off the farm, and many things
+that he did not dare. He took everything out of the soil that it was
+possible to take out. The last Michaelmas was approaching, and he walked
+round in the warm August sunshine to look at the wheat.
+
+He sat down on an old roller that lay in the corner of the field, and
+thought over the position of things. He calculated that it would cost the
+incoming tenant an expenditure of from one thousand two hundred pounds to
+one thousand five hundred pounds to put the farm, which was a large one,
+into proper condition. It could not be got into such condition under three
+years of labour. The new tenant must therefore be prepared to lay out a
+heavy sum of money, to wait while the improvement went on, must live how
+he could meanwhile, and look forward some three years for the commencement
+of his profit. To such a state had the farm been brought in a brief time.
+And how would the landlord come off? The new tenant would certainly make
+his bargain in accordance with the state of the land. For the first year
+the rent paid would be nominal; for the second, perhaps a third or half
+the usual sum; not till the third year could the landlord hope to get his
+full rental. That full rental, too, would be lower than previously,
+because the general depression had sent down arable rents everywhere, and
+no one would pay on the old scale.
+
+Smith thought very hard things of the landlord, and felt that he should
+have his revenge. On the other hand, the landlord thought very hard things
+of Smith, and not without reason. That an old tenant, the descendant of
+one of the oldest tenant-farmer families, should exhaust the soil in this
+way seemed the blackest return for the good feeling that had existed for
+several generations. There was great irritation on both sides.
+
+Smith had, however, to face one difficulty. He must either take another
+farm at once, or live on his capital. The interest of his capital--if
+invested temporarily in Government securities--would hardly suffice to
+maintain the comfortable style of living he and his rather large family of
+grown-up sons and daughters had been accustomed to. He sometimes heard a
+faint, far off 'still small voice,' that seemed to say it would have been
+wiser to stay on, and wait till the reaction took place and farming
+recovered. The loss he would have sustained by staying on would, perhaps,
+not have been larger than the loss he must now sustain by living on
+capital till such time as he saw something to suit him. And had he been
+altogether wise in omitting all endeavours to gain his end by conciliatory
+means? Might not gentle persuasion and courteous language have ultimately
+produced an impression? Might not terms have been arranged had he not been
+so vehement? The new tenant, notwithstanding that he would have to contend
+with the shocking state of the farm, had such favourable terms that if he
+only stayed long enough to let the soil recover, Smith knew he must make a
+good thing of it.
+
+But as he sat on the wooden roller under the shade of a tree and thought
+these things, listening to the rustle of the golden wheat as it moved in
+the breeze, he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket, and glanced down a
+long, long list of farms to let. Then he remembered that his pass-book at
+the bank showed a very respectable row of figures, buttoned up his coat,
+and strolled homeward with a smile on his features. The date fixed for the
+sale, as announced by the poster on the barn, came round, and a crowd
+gathered to see the last of the old tenant. Old Hodge viewed the scene
+from a distance, resting against a gate, with his chin on his hand. He was
+thinking of the days when he first went to plough, years ago, under
+Smith's father. If Smith had been about to enter on another farm old Hodge
+would have girded up his loins, packed his worldly goods in a waggon, and
+followed his master's fortunes thither. But Smith was going to live on his
+capital awhile; and old Hodge had already had notice to quit his cottage.
+In his latter days he must work for a new master. Down at the sale young
+Hodge was lounging round, hands in pocket, whistling--for there was some
+beer going about. The excitement of the day was a pleasurable sensation,
+and as for his master he might go to Kansas or Hong-Kong.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+
+The sweet sound of rustling leaves, as soothing as the rush of falling
+water, made a gentle music over a group of three persons sitting at the
+extremity of a lawn. Upon their right was a plantation or belt of trees,
+which sheltered them from the noonday sun; on the left the green sward
+reached to the house; from the open window came the rippling notes of a
+piano, and now and again the soft accents of the Italian tongue. The walls
+of the garden shut out the world and the wind--the blue sky stretched
+above from one tree-top to another, and in those tree-tops the cool
+breeze, grateful to the reapers in the fields, played with bough and leaf.
+In the centre of the group was a small table, and on it some tall glasses
+of antique make, and a flask of wine. By the lady lay a Japanese parasol,
+carelessly dropped on the grass. She was handsome, and elegantly dressed;
+her long drooping eyelashes fringed eyes that were almost closed in
+luxurious enjoyment; her slender hand beat time to the distant song. Of
+the two gentlemen one was her brother--the other, a farmer, her husband.
+The brother wore a pith helmet, and his bronzed cheek told of service
+under tropical suns. The husband was scarcely less brown; still young, and
+very active-looking, you might guess his age at forty; but his bare
+forehead (he had thrown his hat on the ground) was marked with the line
+caused by involuntary contraction of the muscles when thinking. There was
+an air of anxiety, of restless feverish energy, about him. But just for
+the moment he was calm and happy, turning over the pages of a book.
+Suddenly he looked up, and began to declaim, in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+                       'He's speaking now,
+      Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"
+      For so he calls me. Now I feed myself
+      With most delicious poison!'
+
+Just then there came the sharp rattle of machinery borne on the wind; he
+recollected himself, shut the volume, and rose from his seat. 'The men
+have finished luncheon,' he said; 'I must go and see how things are
+getting on.' The Indian officer, after one glance back at the house, went
+with him. There was a private footpath through the plantation of trees,
+and down this the two disappeared. Soon afterwards the piano ceased, and a
+lady came slowly across the lawn, still humming the air she had been
+playing. She was the farmer's sister, and was engaged to the officer. The
+wife looked up from the book which she had taken from the table, with a
+smile of welcome. But the smile faded as she said--'They have gone out to
+the reapers. Oh, this farm will worry him out of his life! How I wish he
+had never bought it! Don't let Alick have anything to do with farms or
+land, dear, when you are married.'
+
+The girl laughed, sat down, took her hand, and asked if matters were
+really so serious.
+
+'It is not so much the money I trouble about,' said the wife. 'It is Cecil
+himself. His nature is too fine for these dull clods. You know him, dear;
+his mind is full of art--look at these glasses--of music and pictures.
+Why, he has just been reading "Antony and Cleopatra," and now he's gone to
+look after reapers. Then, he is so fiery and quick, and wants everything
+done in a minute, like the men of business in the "City." He keeps his
+watch timed to a second, and expects the men to be there. They are so
+slow. Everything agricultural is so slow. They say we shall have fine
+seasons in two or three years; only think, _years_. This is what weighs on
+Cecil.'
+
+By this time the two men had walked through the plantation, and paused at
+a small gate that opened on the fields. The ground fell rapidly away,
+sloping down for half a mile, so that every portion of the fields below
+was visible at once. The house and gardens were situate on the hill; the
+farmer had only to stand on the edge to overlook half his place.
+
+'What a splendid view!' said the officer. The entire slope was yellow with
+wheat--on either hand, and in front the surface of the crop extended
+unbroken by hedge, tree, or apparent division. Two reaping-machines were
+being driven rapidly round and round, cutting as they went; one was a
+self-binder and threw the sheaves off already bound; the other only laid
+the corn low, and it had afterwards to be gathered up and bound by
+hand-labour. There was really a small army of labourers in the field; but
+it was so large they made but little show.
+
+'You have a first-rate crop,' said the visitor; 'I see no weeds, or not
+more than usual; it is a capital crop.'
+
+'Yes,' replied the farmer, 'it is a fine crop; but just think what it cost
+me to produce it, and bear in mind, too, the price I shall get for it.' He
+took out his pocket-book, and began to explain.
+
+While thus occupied he looked anything but a farmer. His dress was indeed
+light and careless, but it was the carelessness of breeding, not
+slovenliness. His hands were brown, but there were clean white cuffs on
+his wrist and gold studs; his neck was brown, but his linen spotless. The
+face was too delicate, too refined with all its bronze; the frame was well
+developed, but too active; it lacked the heavy thickness and the lumbering
+gait of the farmer bred to the plough. He might have conducted a great
+financial operation; he might have been the head of a great mercantile
+house; he might have been on 'Change; but that stiff clay there, stubborn
+and unimpressionable, was not in his style.
+
+Cecil had gone into farming, in fact, as a 'commercial speculation,' with
+the view of realising cent. per cent. He began at the time when it was
+daily announced that old-fashioned farming was a thing of the past.
+Business maxims and business practice were to be the rule of the future.
+Farming was not to be farming; it was to be emphatically 'business,' the
+same as iron, coal, or cotton. Thus managed, with steam as the motive
+power, a fortune might be made out of the land, in the same way as out of
+a colliery or a mine. But it must be done in a commercial manner; there
+must be no restrictions upon the employment of capital, no fixed rotation
+of crops, no clauses forbidding the sale of any products. Cecil found,
+however, that the possessors of large estates would not let him a farm on
+these conditions. These ignorant people (as he thought them) insisted upon
+keeping up the traditionary customs; they would not contract themselves
+out of the ancient form of lease.
+
+But Cecil was a man of capital. He really had a large sum of money, and
+this short-sighted policy (as he termed it) of the landlords only made him
+the more eager to convince them how mistaken they were to refuse anything
+to a man who could put capital into the soil. He resolved to be his own
+landlord, and ordered his agents to find him a small estate and to
+purchase it outright. There was not much difficulty in finding an estate,
+and Cecil bought it. But he was even then annoyed and disgusted with the
+formalities, the investigation of title, the completion of deeds, and
+astounded at the length of a lawyer's bill.
+
+Being at last established in possession Cecil set to work, and at the same
+time set every agricultural tongue wagging within a radius of twenty
+miles. He grubbed up all the hedges, and threw the whole of his arable
+land into one vast field, and had it levelled with the theodolite. He
+drained it six feet deep at an enormous cost. He built an engine-shed with
+a centrifugal pump, which forced water from the stream that ran through
+the lower ground over the entire property, and even to the topmost storey
+of his house. He laid a light tramway across the widest part of his
+estate, and sent the labourers to and fro their work in trucks. The
+chaff-cutters, root-pulpers, the winnowing-machine--everything was driven
+by steam. Teams of horses and waggons seemed to be always going to the
+canal wharf for coal, which he ordered from the pit wholesale.
+
+A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and, having once
+commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to cease. They were for
+ever at work tearing up the subsoil and bringing it to the surface. If he
+could have done it, he would have ploughed ten feet deep. Tons of
+artificial manure came by canal boat--positively boat loads--and were
+stored in the warehouse. For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage
+of materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter above,
+hoisted up by a small crane. There was, too, an office, where the
+'engineer' attended every morning to take his orders, as the bailiff might
+at the back-door of an old farmhouse. Substantial buildings were erected
+for the shorthorn cattle.
+
+The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all thrown
+together, such divisions as were necessary being made by iron railings.
+Machines of every class and character were provided--reaping-machines,
+mowing-machines, horse-hoes, horse-rakes, elevators--everything was to be
+done by machinery. That nothing might be incomplete, some new and
+well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled artisans--they could
+scarcely be called labourers--who were engaged to work these engines. The
+estate had previously consisted of several small farms: these were now
+thrown all into one, otherwise there would not have been room for this
+great enterprise.
+
+A complete system of booking was organised. From the sale of a bullock to
+the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper. All these entries,
+made in books specially prepared and conveniently ruled for the purpose,
+came under Cecil's eye weekly, and were by him re-entered in his ledgers.
+This writing took up a large part of his time, and the labour was
+sometimes so severe that he could barely get through it; yet he would not
+allow himself a clerk, being economical in that one thing only. It was a
+saying in the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the
+estate by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in
+the master's books.
+
+Cecil's idea was to excel in all things. Some had been famous for
+shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for wheat. He
+would be celebrated for all. His shorthorns should fetch fabulous prices;
+his sheep should be known all over the world; his wheat should be the crop
+of the season. In this way he invested his capital in the soil with a
+thoroughness unsurpassed. As if to prove that he was right, the success of
+his enterprise seemed from the first assured. His crops of wheat, in which
+he especially put faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same
+land, totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the
+neighbourhood. Men came from far and near to see them. Such was the effect
+of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing, and the
+consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and of liberal
+manure, that here stood such crops of wheat as had never previously been
+seen. These he sold, as they stood, by auction; and no sooner had the
+purchasers cleared the ground than the engines went to work again, tearing
+up the earth. His meadow lands were irrigated by the centrifugal pump, and
+yielded three crops instead of one. His shorthorns began to get known--for
+he spared no expense upon them--and already one or two profitable sales
+had been held. His sheep prospered; there was not so much noise made about
+them, but, perhaps, they really paid better than anything.
+
+Meantime, Cecil kept open house, with wine and refreshments, and even beds
+for everybody who chose to come and inspect his place. Nothing gave him
+such delight as to conduct visitors over the estate and to enter into
+minute details of his system. As for the neighbouring farmers they were
+only too welcome. These things became noised abroad, and people arrived
+from strange and far-off places, and were shown over this Pioneer's Farm,
+as Cecil loved to call it. His example was triumphantly quoted by every
+one who spoke on agricultural progress. Cecil himself was the life and
+soul of the farmers' club in the adjacent market town. It was not so much
+the speeches he made as his manner. His enthusiasm was contagious. If a
+scheme was started, if an experiment was suggested, Cecil's cheque-book
+came out directly, and the thing was set on foot without delay. His easy,
+elastic step, his bright eye, his warm, hearty handshake, seemed to
+electrify people--to put some of his own spirit into them. The circle of
+his influence was ever increasing--the very oldest fogeys, who had
+prophesied every kind of failure, were being gradually won over.
+
+Cecil himself was transcendently happy in his work; his mind was in it; no
+exertion, no care or trouble, was too much. He worked harder than any
+navvy, and never felt fatigue. People said of him--'What a wonderful man!'
+He was so genuine, so earnest, so thorough, men could not choose but
+believe in him. The sun shone brightly, the crops ripened, the hum of the
+threshing-machine droned on the wind--all was life and happiness. In the
+summer evenings pleasant groups met upon the lawn; the song, the jest went
+round; now and then an informal dance, arranged with much laughter, whiled
+away the merry hours till the stars appeared above the trees and the dew
+descended.
+
+Yet to-day, as the two leaned over the little gate in the plantation and
+looked down upon the reapers, the deep groove which continual thought
+causes was all too visible on Cecil's forehead. He explained to the
+officer how his difficulties had come about. His first years upon the farm
+or estate--it was really rather an estate than a farm--had been fairly
+prosperous, notwithstanding the immense outlay of capital. A good
+percentage, in some cases a high-rate of percentage, had been returned
+upon the money put into the soil. The seasons were good, the crops large
+and superabundant. Men's minds were full of confidence, they bought
+freely, and were launching out in all directions.
+
+They wanted good shorthorn cattle--he sold them cattle; they wanted
+sheep--he sold them sheep. They wanted wheat, and he sold them the
+standing crops, took the money, and so cleared his profit and saved
+himself trouble. It was, in fact, a period of inflation. Like stocks and
+shares, everything was going up; everybody hastening to get rich.
+Shorthorns with a strain of blue blood fetched fancy prices; corn crops
+ruled high; every single thing sold well. The dry seasons suited the soil
+of the estate, and the machinery he had purchased was rapidly repaying its
+first cost in the saving of labour. His whole system was succeeding, and
+he saw his way to realise his cent. per cent.
+
+But by degrees the dream faded. He attributed it in the first place to the
+stagnation, the almost extinction, of the iron trade, the blowing out of
+furnaces, and the consequent cessation of the demand for the best class of
+food on the part of thousands of operatives and mechanics, who had
+hitherto been the farmers' best customers. They would have the best of
+everything when their wages were high; as their wages declined their
+purchases declined. In a brief period, far briefer than would be imagined,
+this shrinking of demand reacted upon agriculture. The English farmer made
+his profit upon superior articles--the cheaper class came from abroad so
+copiously that he could not compete against so vast a supply.
+
+When the demand for high-class products fell, the English farmer felt it
+directly. Cecil considered that it was the dire distress in the
+manufacturing districts, the stagnation of trade and commerce and the
+great failures in business centres, that were the chief causes of low
+prices and falling agricultural markets. The rise of labour was but a
+trifling item. He had always paid good wages to good men, and always meant
+to. The succession of wet seasons was more serious, of course; it lowered
+the actual yield, and increased the cost of procuring the yield; but as
+his lands were well drained, and had been kept clean he believed he could
+have withstood the seasons for awhile.
+
+The one heavy cloud that overhung agriculture, in his opinion was the
+extraordinary and almost world-spread depression of trade, and his
+argument was very simple. When men prospered they bought freely, indulged
+in luxurious living, kept horses, servants, gave parties, and consumed
+indirectly large quantities of food. As they made fortunes they bought
+estates and lived half the year like country gentlemen--that competition
+sent up the price of land. The converse was equally true. In times of
+pressure households were reduced, servants dismissed, horses sold,
+carriages suppressed. Rich and poor acted alike in different degrees but
+as the working population was so much more numerous it was through the low
+wages of the working population in cities and manufacturing districts that
+the farmers suffered most.
+
+It was a period of depression--there was no confidence, no speculation.
+For instance a year or two since the crop of standing wheat then growing
+on the very field before their eyes was sold by auction, and several lots
+brought from 16_l_. to 18_l_. per acre. This year the same wheat would not
+fetch 8_l_. per acre; and, not satisfied with that price, he had
+determined to reap and thresh it himself. It was the same with the
+shorthorns, with the hay, and indeed with everything except sheep, which
+had been a mainstay and support to him.
+
+'Yet even now,' concluded Cecil, shutting his pocket-book, 'I feel
+convinced that my plan and my system will be a success. I can see that I
+committed one great mistake--I made all my improvements at once, laid out
+all my capital, and crippled my self. I should have done one thing at a
+time. I should, as it were, have grown my improvements--one this year, one
+next. As it was, I denuded myself of capital. Had the times continued
+favourable it would not have mattered, as my income would have been large.
+But the times became adverse before I was firmly settled, and, to be
+plain, I can but just keep things going without a loan--dear Bella will
+not be able to go to the sea this year; but we are both determined not to
+borrow.'
+
+'In a year or two I am convinced we shall flourish again; but the waiting,
+Alick, the waiting, is the trial. You know I am impatient. Of course, the
+old-fashioned people, the farmers, all expect me to go through the
+Bankruptcy Court. They always said these new-fangled plans would not
+answer, and now they are sure they were right. Well, I forgive them their
+croaking, though most of them have dined at my table and drank my wine. I
+forgive them their croaking, for so they were bred up from childhood. Were
+I ill-natured, I might even smile at them, for they are failing and
+leaving their farms by the dozen, which seems a pretty good proof that
+their antiquated system is at best no better than mine. But I can see what
+they cannot see--signs of improvement. The steel industry is giving men
+work; the iron industry is reviving; the mines are slowly coming into work
+again; America is purchasing of us largely; and when other nations
+purchase of us, part, at least, of the money always finds its way to the
+farmer. Next season, too, the weather may be more propitious.
+
+'I shall hold on, Alick--a depression is certain to be followed by a rise.
+That has been the history of trade and agriculture for generations.
+Nothing will ever convince me that it was intended for English
+agriculturists to go on using wooden ploughs, to wear smock-frocks, and
+plod round and round in the same old track for ever. In no other way but
+by science, by steam, by machinery, by artificial manure, and, in one
+word, by the exercise of intelligence, can we compete with the world. It
+is ridiculous to suppose we can do so by returning to the ignorance and
+prejudice of our ancestors. No; we must beat the world by superior
+intelligence and superior energy. But intelligence, mind, has ever had
+every obstacle to contend against. Look at M. Lesseps and his wonderful
+Suez Canal. I tell you that to introduce scientific farming into England,
+in the face of tradition, custom, and prejudice, is a far harder task than
+overcoming the desert sand.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+GOING DOWNHILL
+
+
+An aged man, coming out of an arable field into the lane, pauses to look
+back. He is shabbily clad, and there is more than one rent in his coat;
+yet it is a coat that has once been a good one, and of a superior cut to
+what a labourer would purchase. In the field the ploughman to whom he has
+been speaking has started his team again. A lad walks beside the horses,
+the iron creaks, and the ploughman holding the handles seems now to press
+upon them with his weight, and now to be himself bodily pulled along. A
+dull November cloud overspreads the sky, and misty skits of small rain
+sweep across the landscape. As the old man looks back from the gate, the
+chill breeze whistles through the boughs of the oak above him, tearing off
+the brown dry leaves, and shaking out the acorns to fall at his feet. It
+lifts his grey hair, and penetrates the threadbare coat. As he turns to
+go, something catches his eye on the ground, and from the mud in the
+gateway he picks up a cast horse-shoe. With the rusty iron in his hand he
+passes slowly down the lane, and, as he goes, the bitter wind drives the
+fallen leaves that have been lying beside the way rustling and dancing
+after him.
+
+From a farmer occupying a good-sized farm he had descended to be a
+farmer's bailiff in the same locality. But a few months since he was
+himself a tenant, and now he is a bailiff at 15_s_. a week and a cottage.
+There is nothing dramatic, nothing sensational, in the history of his
+descent; but it is, perhaps, all the more full of bitter human
+experiences. As a man going down a steep hill, after a long while finds
+himself on the edge of a precipitous chalk pit, and topples in one fall to
+the bottom, so, though the process of going downhill occupied so long, the
+actual finish came almost suddenly. Thus it was that from being a master
+he found himself a servant. He does not complain, nor appeal for pity. His
+back is a little more bowed, he feels the cold a little more, his step is
+yet more spiritless. But all he says about it is that 'Hard work never
+made any money yet.'
+
+He has worked exceedingly hard all his lifetime. In his youth, though the
+family were then well-to-do, he was not permitted to lounge about in
+idleness, but had to work with the rest in the fields. He dragged his
+heavy nailed shoes over the furrows with the plough; he reaped and loaded
+in harvest time; in winter he trimmed the hedgerows, split logs, and
+looked after the cattle. He enjoyed no luxurious education--luxurious in
+the sense of scientifically arranged dormitories, ample meals, and
+vacations to be spent on horseback, or with the breechloader. Trudging to
+and fro the neighbouring country town, in wind, and wet, and snow, to
+school, his letters were thrashed into him. In holiday time he went to
+work--his holidays, in fact, were so arranged as to fall at the time when
+the lad could be of most use in the field. If an occasion arose when a lad
+was wanted, his lessons had to wait while he lent a hand. He had his play,
+of course, as boys in all ages have had; but it was play of a rude
+character with the plough lads, and the almost equally rough sons of
+farmers, who worked like ploughmen.
+
+In those days the strong made no pretence to protect the weak, or to
+abnegate their natural power. The biggest lad used his thews and sinews to
+knock over the lesser without mercy, till the lesser by degrees grew
+strong enough to retaliate. To be thrashed, beaten, and kicked was so
+universal an experience that no one ever imagined it was not correct, or
+thought of complaining. They accepted it as a matter of course. As he grew
+older his work simply grew harder, and in no respect differed from that of
+the labourers, except that he directed what should be done next, but none
+the less assisted to do it.
+
+Thus the days went on, the weeks, and months, and years. He was close upon
+forty years old before he had his own will for a single day. Up to almost
+that age he worked on his father's farm as a labourer among the labourers,
+as much under parental authority as when he was a boy of ten. When the old
+man died it was not surprising that the son, so long held down in
+bondage--bondage from which he had not the spirit to escape--gave way for
+a short period to riotous living. There was hard drinking, horse-racing,
+and card-playing, and waste of substance generally.
+
+But it was not for long, for several reasons. In the first place, the lad
+of forty years, suddenly broken forth as it were from school, had gone
+past the age when youth plunges beyond recall. He was a grown man, neither
+wise nor clever; but with a man's sedateness of spirit and a man's hopes.
+There was no innate evil in his nature to lead him into unrighteous
+courses. Perhaps his fault rather lay in his inoffensive disposition--he
+submitted too easily. Then, in the second place, there was not much money,
+and what there was had to meet many calls.
+
+The son found that the father, though reputed a substantial man, and a man
+among farmers of high esteem and good family, had been anything but rich.
+First there were secret debts that had run on for fully thirty years--sums
+of from fifty to one hundred pounds--borrowed in the days of his youth,
+when he, too, had at last been released in a similar manner from similar
+bondage, to meet the riotous living in which he also had indulged. In
+those earlier days there had been more substance in cattle and corn, and
+he had had no difficulty in borrowing ready money from adjoining farmers,
+who afterwards helped him to drink it away. These boon companions had now
+grown old. They had never pressed their ancient comrade for the principal,
+the interest being paid regularly. But now their ancient comrade was dead
+they wanted their money, especially when they saw the son indulging
+himself, and did not know how far he might go. Their money was paid, and
+reduced the balance in hand materially.
+
+Now came a still more serious matter. The old man, years ago, when corn
+farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the prospect of profit to
+take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all arable. To do this he was
+obliged, in farming phrase, to 'take up'--_i.e._ to borrow--a thousand
+pounds, which was advanced to him by the bank. Being a man of substance,
+well reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds was
+forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms. The enterprise, however, did
+not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so profitable. In the end he
+had the wisdom to accept his losses and relinquish the second farm before
+it ate him up. Had he only carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid
+the whole of the bank's advance, all might yet have been well. But he only
+repaid five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing. The
+bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old
+gentleman upright--as he was--was not at all anxious to have the money
+back, as it was earning fair interest. So the five hundred remained on
+loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite purpose.
+
+Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much money at
+command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or whether he thought
+he could increase the produce of his farm by putting it in the soil, it is
+not possible to say. He certainly put the five hundred out of sight
+somewhere, for when his son succeeded him it was nowhere to be found.
+After repaying the small loans to his father's old friends, upon looking
+round the son saw cattle, corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred
+pounds in ready money. The ready money had been muddled away--simply
+muddled away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all
+extravagant.
+
+The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing manner, for the
+belief still existed that there was money in the family. That belief was
+still further fostered because the old friends whose loans had been repaid
+talked about that repayment, and so gave a colour to the idea. The heir,
+in his slow way, thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan.
+He could only repay it by instalments--a mode which, to a farmer brought
+up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he might meet one he
+would be sure to put off the next--or by selling stock (equivalent to
+giving up his place), or by borrowing afresh. So he asked and obtained a
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred, and was accommodated, on
+condition that some one 'backed' him. Some one in the family did back him,
+and the fatal mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden. A loan
+never remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced. In
+itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm to
+carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens piled
+themselves up. By a species of gravitation such a burden attracts others,
+till the last straw breaks the camel's back. This, however, was not all.
+
+The heir discovered another secret which likewise contributed to sober
+him. It appeared that the farm, or rather the stock and so on, was really
+not all his father's. His father's brother had a share in it--a share of
+which even the most inquisitive gossips of the place were ignorant. The
+brother being the eldest (himself in business as a farmer at some
+distance) had the most money, and had advanced a certain sum to the
+younger to enable him to start his farm, more than a generation since.
+From that day to this not one shilling of the principal had been repaid,
+and the interest only partially and at long intervals. If the interest
+were all claimed it would now amount to nearly as much as the principal.
+The brother--or, rather, the uncle--did not make himself at all unpleasant
+in the matter. He only asked for about half the interest due to him, and
+at the same time gave the heir a severe caution not to continue the
+aforesaid riotous living. The heir, now quite brought down to earth after
+his momentary exaltation, saw the absolute necessity of acquiescence. With
+a little management he paid the interest--leaving himself with barely
+enough to work the farm. The uncle, on his part, did not act unkindly; it
+was he who 'backed' the heir up at the bank in the matter of the
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred pounds. This five hundred
+pounds the heir had never seen and never would see: so far as he was
+concerned it did not exist; it was a mere figure, but a figure for which
+he must pay. In all these circumstances there was nothing at all
+exceptional.
+
+At this hour throughout the width and breadth of the country there are
+doubtless many farmers' heirs stepping into their fathers' shoes, and at
+this very moment looking into their affairs. It may be safely said that
+few indeed are those fortunate individuals who find themselves clear of
+similar embarrassments. In this particular case detailed above, if the
+heir's circumstances had been rigidly reduced to figures--if a
+professional accountant had examined them--it would have been found that,
+although in possession of a large farm, he had not got one scrap of
+capital.
+
+But he was in possession of the farm, and upon that simple fact of
+possession he henceforth lived, like so many, many more of his class. He
+returned to the routine of labour, which was a part of his life. After
+awhile he married, as a man of forty might naturally wish to, and without
+any imputation of imprudence so far as his own age was concerned. The wife
+he chose was one from his own class, a good woman, but, as is said to be
+often the case, she reflected the weakness of her husband's character. He
+now worked harder than ever--a labourer with the labourers. He thus saved
+himself the weekly expense of the wages of a labourer--perhaps, as
+labourers do not greatly exert themselves, of a man and a boy. But while
+thus slaving with his hands and saving this small sum in wages, he could
+not walk round and have an eye upon the other men. They could therefore
+waste a large amount of time, and thus he lost twice what he saved. Still,
+his intention was commendable, and his persistent, unvarying labour really
+wonderful. Had he but been sharper with his men he might still have got a
+fair day's work out of them while working himself. From the habit of
+associating with them from boyhood he had fallen somewhat into their own
+loose, indefinite manner, and had lost the prestige which attaches to a
+master. To them he seemed like one of themselves, and they were as much
+inclined to argue with him as to obey. When he met them in the morning he
+would say, 'Perhaps we had better do so and so,' or 'Suppose we go and do
+this or that.' They often thought otherwise; and it usually ended in a
+compromise, the master having his way in part, and the men in part. This
+lack of decision ran through all, and undid all that his hard work
+achieved. Everything was muddled from morn till night, from year's end to
+year's end. As children came the living indoors became harder, and the
+work out of doors still more laborious.
+
+If a farmer can put away fifty pounds a year, after paying his rent and
+expenses, if he can lay by a clear fifty pounds of profit, he thinks
+himself a prosperous man. If this farmer, after forty years of saving,
+should chance to be succeeded by a son as thrifty, when, he too has
+carried on the same process for another twenty years, then the family may
+be, for village society, wealthy, with three or even four thousand pounds,
+besides goods and gear. This is supposing all things favourable, and men
+of some ability, making the most of their opportunities. Now reverse the
+process. When children came, as said before, our hard-working farmer found
+the living indoors harder, and the labour without heavier. Instead of
+saving fifty pounds a year, at first the two sides of the account (not
+that he ever kept any books) about balanced. Then, by degrees, the balance
+dropped the wrong way. There was a loss, of twenty or thirty pounds on the
+year, and presently of forty or fifty pounds, which could only be made
+good by borrowing, and so increasing the payment of interest.
+
+Although it takes sixty years--two generations--to accumulate a village
+fortune by saving fifty pounds a year, it does not occupy so long to
+reduce a farmer to poverty when half that sum is annually lost. There was
+no strongly marked and radical defect in his system of farming to amount
+for it; it was the muddling, and the muddling only, that did it. His work
+was blind. He would never miss giving the pigs their dinner, he rose at
+half-past three in the morning, and foddered the cattle in the grey dawn,
+or milked a certain number of cows, with unvarying regularity. But he had
+no foresight, and no observation whatever. If you saw him crossing a
+field, and went after him, you might walk close behind, placing your foot
+in the mark just left by his shoe, and he would never know it. With his
+hands behind his back, and his eyes upon the ground, he would plod across
+the field, perfectly unconscious that any one was following him. He
+carried on the old rotation of cropping in the piece of arable land
+belonging to the farm, but in total oblivion of any advantage to be
+obtained by local change of treatment. He could plan nothing out for next
+year. He spent nothing, or next to nothing, on improved implements; but,
+on the other hand, he saved nothing, from a lack of resource and
+contrivance.
+
+As the years went by he fell out of the social life of the times; that is,
+out of the social life of his own circle. He regularly fed the pigs; but
+when he heard that the neighbours, were all going in to the town to attend
+some important agricultural meeting, or to start some useful movement, he
+put his hands behind his back and said that he should not go; he did not
+understand anything about it. There never used to be anything of that
+sort. So he went in to luncheon on bread and cheese and small ale. Such a
+course could only bring him into the contempt of his fellow-men. He became
+a nonentity. No one had any respect for or confidence in him. Otherwise,
+possibly, he might have obtained powerful help, for the memory of what his
+family had been had not yet died out.
+
+Men saw that he lived and worked as a labourer; they gave him no credit
+for the work, but they despised him for the meanness and churlishness of
+his life. There was neither a piano nor a decanter of sherry in his house.
+He was utterly out of accord with the times. By degrees, after many years,
+it became apparent to all that he was going downhill. The stock upon the
+farm was not so large nor of so good a character as had been the case. The
+manner of men visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the
+very carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call at
+a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own coarse way
+that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him, and bore him down
+with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly, without showing any spirit;
+but, on the other hand, without resentment, for he never said ill of any
+man behind his back.
+
+It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had seen a jar
+of spirits carried into the house from the wine merchant's cart. A jar of
+spirits had been delivered at the house at intervals for years and years,
+far back into his father's time, and every one of those who now expressed
+their disgust at his supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in
+that house without stint. He did not drink--he did not take one-half at
+home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and auctions
+every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and they called to
+mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and pointed out to their
+acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was coming home to him.
+
+No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the declining
+farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain every drop, and to
+linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or ten, or fifteen years about.
+He cannot, like the bankrupt tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes,
+put up his shutters at once and retire from view. Even at the end, after
+the notice, six months at least elapse before all is over--before the farm
+is surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
+place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his neighbours
+are concerned he is in public view for years previously. He has to rise in
+the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees them in the road; he
+passes through groups of them in the market-place. As he goes by they look
+after him, and perhaps audibly wonder how long he will last. These people
+all knew him from a lad, and can trace every inch of his descent. The
+labourers in the field know it, and by their manner show that they know
+it.
+
+His wife--his wife who worked so hard for so many, many years--is made to
+know it too. She is conspicuously omitted from the social gatherings that
+occur from time to time. The neighbours' wives do not call; their
+well-dressed daughters, as they rattle by to the town in basket-carriage
+or dog-cart, look askance at the shabby figure walking slowly on the path
+beside the road. They criticise the shabby shawl; they sneer at the slow
+step which is the inevitable result of hard work, the cares of maternity,
+and of age. So they flaunt past with an odour of perfume, and leave the
+'old lady' to plod unrecognised.
+
+The end came at last. All this blind work of his was of no avail against
+the ocean steamer and her cargo of wheat and meat from the teeming regions
+of the West. Nor was it of avail against the fall of prices, and the
+decreased yield consequent upon a succession of bad seasons. The general
+lack of confidence pressed heavily upon a man who did not even attempt to
+take his natural place among his fellow-men. The loan from the bank had
+gradually grown from five to seven or eight hundred by thirties, and
+forties, and fifties added to it by degrees; and the bank--informed,
+perhaps, by the same busybodies who had discovered that he drank--declined
+further assistance, and notified that part, at least, of the principal
+must be repaid. The landlord had long been well aware of the state of
+affairs, but refrained from action out of a feeling for the old family.
+But the land, from the farmer's utter lack of capital, was now going from
+bad to worse. The bank having declined to advance further, the rent began
+to fall into arrear. The landlord caused it to be conveyed to his tenant
+that if he would quit the farm, which was a large one, he could go into a
+smaller, and his affairs might perhaps be arranged.
+
+The old man--for he was now growing old--put his hands behind his back and
+said nothing, but went on with his usual routine of work. Whether he had
+become dulled and deadened and cared nothing, whether hope was extinct, or
+he could not wrench himself from the old place, he said nothing. Even then
+some further time elapsed--so slow is the farmer's fall that he might
+almost be excused for thinking that it would never come. But now came the
+news that the old uncle who had 'backed' him at the bank had been found
+dead in bed of sheer old age. Then the long-kept secret came out at last.
+The dead man's executors claimed the money advanced so many, many years
+ago.
+
+This discovery finished it. The neighbours soon had food for gossip in the
+fact that a load of hay which he had sold was met in the road by the
+landlord's agent and turned back. By the strict letter of his agreement he
+could not sell hay off the farm; but it had been permitted for years. When
+they heard this they knew it was all over. The landlord, of course, put in
+his claim; the bank theirs. In a few months the household furniture and
+effects were sold, and the farmer and his aged wife stepped into the
+highway in their shabby clothes.
+
+He did not, however, starve; he passed to a cottage on the outskirts of
+the village, and became bailiff for the tenant of that very arable farm to
+work which years ago his father had borrowed the thousand pounds that
+ultimately proved their ruin. He made a better bailiff than a farmer,
+being at home with every detail of practice, but incapable of general
+treatment. His wife does a little washing and charing; not much, for she
+is old and feeble. No charity is offered to them--they have outlived old
+friends--nor do they appeal for any. The people of the village do not heed
+them, nor reflect upon the spectacle in their midst. They are merged and
+lost in the vast multitude of the agricultural poor. Only two of their
+children survive; but these, having early left the farm and gone into a
+city, are fairly well-to-do. That, at least, is a comfort to the old folk.
+
+It is, however, doubtful whether the old man, as he walks down the lane
+with his hands behind his back and the dead leaves driven by the November
+breeze rustling after, has much feeling of any kind left. Hard work and
+adversity have probably deadened his finer senses. Else one would think he
+could never endure to work as a servant upon that farm of all others, nor
+to daily pass the scenes of his youth. For yonder, well in sight as he
+turns a corner of the lane, stands the house where he dwelt so many, many
+years; where the events of his life came slowly to pass; where he was
+born; where his bride came home; where his children were born, and from
+whose door he went forth penniless.
+
+Seeing this every day, surely that old man, if he have but one spark of
+feeling left, must drink the lees of poverty to the last final doubly
+bitter dregs.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+
+'Where do he get the money from, you?' 'It be curious, bean't it; I minds
+when his father drove folks' pigs to market.' These remarks passed between
+two old farmers, one standing on the sward by the roadside, and the other
+talking to him over the low ledge, as a gentleman drove by in a
+Whitechapel dog-cart, groom behind. The gentleman glanced at the two
+farmers, and just acknowledged their existence with a careless nod,
+looking at the moment over their heads and far away.
+
+There is no class so jealous of a rapid rise as old-fashioned farming
+people. They seem to think that if a man once drove pigs to market he
+should always continue to do so, and all his descendants likewise. Their
+ideas in a measure approximate to those of caste among the Hindoos. It is
+a crime to move out of the original groove; if a man be lowly he must
+remain lowly, or never be forgiven. The lapse of time makes not the least
+difference. If it takes the man thirty years to get into a fair position
+he is none the less guilty. A period equal to the existence of a
+generation is not sufficient excuse for him. He is not one whit better
+than if he had made his money by a lucky bet on a racehorse. Nor can he
+ever hope to live down this terrible social misdemeanour, especially if it
+is accompanied by the least ostentation.
+
+Now, in the present day a man who gets money shows off more than ever was
+the case. In the olden time the means of luxury were limited, and the
+fortunate could do little more than drink, and tempt others to drink. But
+to-day the fortunate farmer in the dog-cart, dressed like a gentleman,
+drove his thorough-bred, and carried his groom behind. Frank D----, Esq.,
+in the slang of the time, 'did the thing grand!' The dog-cart was a
+first-rate article. The horse was a high-stepper, such as are not to be
+bought for a song; the turn-out was at the first glance perfect. But if
+you looked keenly at the groom, there was a suspicion of the plough in his
+face and attitude. He did not sit like a man to the manner born. He was
+lumpy; he lacked the light, active style characteristic of the
+thoroughbred groom, who is as distinct a breed as the thoroughbred horse.
+The man looked as if he had been taken from the plough and was conscious
+of it. His feet were in top-boots, but he could not forget the heavy
+action induced by a long course of walking in wet furrows. The critics by
+the hedge were not capable of detecting these niceties. The broad facts
+were enough for them. There was the gentleman in his ulster, there was the
+resplendent turn-out, there was the groom, and there was the thoroughbred
+horse. The man's father drove their pigs to market, and they wanted to
+know where he got the money from.
+
+Meantime Mr. D----, having carelessly nodded, had gone on. Half a mile
+farther some of his own fields were contiguous to the road, yet he did
+not, after the fashion of the farmer generally, pause to gaze at them
+searchingly; he went on with the same careless glance. This fact, which
+the old-fashioned folk had often observed, troubled them greatly. It
+seemed so unnatural, so opposite to the old ideas and ways, that a man
+should take no apparent interest in his own farm. They said that Frank was
+nothing of a farmer; he knew nothing of farming. They looked at his ricks;
+they were badly built, and still worse thatched. They examined his
+meadows, and saw wisps of hay lying about, evidence of neglect; the fields
+had not been properly raked. His ploughed fields were full of weeds, and
+not half worked enough. His labourers had acquired a happy-go-lucky style,
+and did their work anyhow or not at all, having no one to look after them.
+So, clearly, it was not Frank's good farming that made him so rich, and
+enabled him to take so high and leading a position.
+
+Nor was it his education or his 'company' manners. The old folk noted his
+boorishness and lack of the little refinements which mark the gentleman.
+His very voice was rude and hoarse, and seemed either to grumble or to
+roar forth his meaning. They had frequently heard him speak in public--he
+was generally on the platform when any local movement was in progress--and
+could not understand why he was put up there to address the audience,
+unless it was for his infinite brass. The language he employed was rude,
+his sentences disjointed, his meaning incoherent; but he had a knack of an
+_apropos_ jest, not always altogether savoury, but which made a mixed
+assembly laugh. As his public speeches did not seem very brilliant, they
+supposed he must have the gift of persuasion, in private. He did not even
+ride well to hounds--an accomplishment that has proved a passport to a
+great landlord's favour before now--for he had an awkward, and, to the
+eye, not too secure a seat in the saddle.
+
+Nor was it his personal appearance. He was very tall and ungainly, with a
+long neck and a small round head on the top of it. His features were flat,
+and the skin much wrinkled; there seemed nothing in his countenance to
+recommend him to the notice of the other sex. Yet he had been twice
+married; the last time to a comparatively young lady with some money, who
+dressed in the height of fashion.
+
+Frank had two families--one, grown up, by his first wife, the second in
+the nursery--but it made no difference to him. All were well dressed and
+well educated; the nursery maids and the infants went out for their
+airings in a carriage and pair. Mrs. D----, gay as a Parisian belle, and
+not without pretensions to beauty, was seen at balls, parties, and every
+other social amusement. She seemed to have the _entrée_ everywhere in the
+county. All this greatly upset and troubled the old folk, whose heads
+Frank looked over as he carelessly nodded them good-morning driving by.
+The cottage people from whose ranks his family had so lately risen,
+however, had a very decided opinion upon the subject, and expressed it
+forcibly. "'Pend upon it," they said, "'pend upon it, he have zucked
+zumbody in zumhow."
+
+This unkind conclusion was perhaps not quite true. The fact was, that
+Frank, aided by circumstances, had discovered the ease with which a man
+can borrow. That was his secret--his philosopher's stone. To a certain
+extent, and in certain ways, he really was a clever man, and he had the
+luck to begin many years ago when farming was on the ascending side of the
+cycle. The single solid basis of his success was his thorough knowledge of
+cattle--his proficiency in dealership. Perhaps this was learnt while
+assisting his father to drive other folks' pigs to market. At all events,
+there was no man in the county who so completely understood cattle and
+sheep, for buying and selling purposes, as Frank. At first he gained his
+reputation by advising others what and when to buy; by degrees, as people
+began to see that he was always right, they felt confidence in him, and
+assisted him to make small investments on his own account. There were then
+few auctioneers, and cattle were sold in open market. If a man really was
+a judge, it was as good to him as a reputation for good ale is to an
+innkeeper. Men flock to a barrel of good ale no matter whether the inn be
+low class or high class. Men gather about a good judge of cattle, and will
+back him up. By degrees D---- managed to rent a small farm, more for the
+purpose of having a place to turn his cattle into than for farming
+proper--he was, in fact, a small dealer.
+
+Soon afterwards there was an election. During the election, Frank gained
+the good-will of a local solicitor and political agent. He proved himself
+an active and perhaps a discreetly unscrupulous assistant. The solicitor
+thought he saw in Frank talent of a certain order--a talent through which
+he (the solicitor) might draw unto himself a share of other people's
+money. The lawyer's judgment of men was as keen as Frank's judgment of
+cattle. He helped Frank to get into a large farm, advancing the money with
+which to work it. He ran no risk; for, of course, he had Frank tight in
+the grasp of his legal fist, and he was the agent for the landlord. The
+secret was this--the lawyer paid his clients four per cent, for the safe
+investment of their money. Frank had the money, worked a large farm with
+it, and speculated in the cattle markets, and realised some fifteen or
+perhaps twenty per cent., of which the lawyer took the larger share.
+Something of this sort has been done in other businesses besides farming.
+Frank, however, was not the man to remain in a state of tutelage, working
+for another. His forte was not saving--simple accumulation was not for
+him; but he looked round the district to discover those who had saved.
+
+Now, it is a fact that no man is so foolish with his money as the working
+farmer in a small way, who has put by a little coin. He is extremely
+careful about a fourpenny piece, and will wrap a sovereign up in several
+scraps of paper lest he should lose it; but with his hundred or two
+hundred pounds he is quite helpless. It has very likely occupied him the
+best part of his lifetime to add one five-pound note to another, money
+most literally earned in the sweat of his brow; and at last he lends it to
+a man like Frank, who has the wit to drive a carriage and ride a
+thoroughbred. With the strange inconsistency so characteristic of human
+nature, a half-educated, working farmer of this sort will sneer in his
+rude way at the pretensions of such a man, and at the same time bow down
+before him.
+
+Frank knew this instinctively, and, as soon as ever he began to get on,
+set up a blood-horse and a turn-out. By dint of such vulgar show and his
+own plausible tongue he persuaded more than one such old fellow to advance
+him money. Mayhap these confiding persons, like a certain Shallow, J.P.,
+have since earnestly besought him in vain to return them five hundred of
+their thousand. In like manner one or two elderly ladies--cunning as
+magpies in their own conceit--let him have a few spare hundreds. They
+thought they could lay out this money to better advantage than the safe
+family adviser 'uncle John,' with his talk of the Indian railways and a
+guaranteed five per cent. They thought (for awhile) that they had done a
+very clever thing on the sly in lending their spare hundreds to the great
+Mr. Frank D---- at a high rate of interest, and by this time would perhaps
+be glad to get the money back again in the tea-caddy.
+
+But Frank was not the man to be satisfied with such small game. After a
+time he succeeded in getting at the 'squire.' The squire had nothing but
+the rents of his farms to live upon, and was naturally anxious for an
+improving tenant who would lay out money and put capital into the soil. He
+was not so foolish as to think that Frank was a safe man, and of course he
+had legal advice upon the matter. The squire thought, in fact, that
+although Frank himself had no money, Frank could get it out of others, and
+spend it upon his place. It did not concern the squire where or how Frank
+got his money, provided he had it--he as landlord was secure in case of a
+crash, because the law gave him precedence over all other creditors. So
+Frank ultimately stepped into one of the squire's largest farms and cut a
+finer dash than ever.
+
+There are distinct social degrees in agriculture. The man who occupies a
+great farm under a squire is a person of much more importance than he who
+holds a little tenancy of a small proprietor. Frank began to take the lead
+among the farmers of the neighbourhood, to make his appearance at public
+meetings, and to become a recognised politician--of course upon the side
+most powerful in that locality, and most likely to serve his own interest.
+His assurance, and, it must be owned, his ready wit, helped him in coming
+to the front. When at the front, he was invited to the houses of really
+well-to-do country people. They condoned his bluff manners--they were the
+mark of the true, solid British agriculturist. Some perhaps in their
+hearts thought that another day they might want a tenant, and this man
+would serve their turn. As a matter of fact, Frank took every unoccupied
+farm which he could get at a tolerably reasonable rent. He never seemed
+satisfied with the acreage he held, but was ever desirous of extending it.
+He took farm after farm, till at last he held an area equal to a fine
+estate. For some years there has been a disposition on the part of
+landlords to throw farms together, making many small ones into one large
+one. For the time, at all events, Frank seemed to do very well with all
+these farms to look after. Of course the same old-fashioned folk made
+ill-natured remarks, and insisted upon it that he merely got what he could
+out of the soil, and did not care in the least how the farming was done.
+Nevertheless, he flourished--the high prices and general inflation of the
+period playing into his hand.
+
+Frank was now a very big man, the biggest man thereabout. And it was now
+that he began to tap another source of supply--to, as it were, open a
+fresh cask--_i.e._ the local bank. At first he only asked for a hundred or
+so, a mere bagatelle, for a few days--only temporary convenience. The bank
+was glad to get hold of what really looked like legitimate business, and
+he obtained the bagatelle in the easiest manner--so easily that it
+surprised him. He did not himself yet quite know how completely his showy
+style of life, his large acreage, his speeches, and politics, and
+familiarity with great people, had imposed upon the world in which he
+lived. He now began to realise that he was somebody. He repaid the loan to
+the day, waited awhile and took a larger one, and from that time the
+frequency and the amount of his loans went on increasing.
+
+We have seen in these latter days bank directors bitterly complaining that
+they could not lend money at more than 7/8 or even 1/2 per cent., so
+little demand was there for accommodation. They positively could not lend
+their money; they had millions in their tills unemployed, and practically
+going a-begging. But here was Frank paying seven per cent, for short
+loans, and upon a continually enlarging amount. His system, so far as the
+seasons were concerned, was something like this. He took a loan (or
+renewed an old one) at the bank on the security of the first draught of
+lambs for sale, say, in June. This paid the labourers and the working
+expenses of the hay harvest, and of preparing for the corn. He took the
+next upon the second draught of lambs in August, which paid the reapers.
+He took a third on the security of the crops, partly cut, or in process of
+cutting, for his Michaelmas rent. Then for the fall of the year he kept on
+threshing out and selling as he required money, and had enough left to pay
+for the winter's work. This was Frank's system--the system of too many
+farmers, far more than would be believed. Details of course vary, and not
+all, like Frank, need three loans at least in the season to keep them
+going. It is not every man who mortgages his lambs, his ewes (the draught
+from a flock for sale), and the standing crops in succession.
+
+But of late years farming has been carried on in such an atmosphere of
+loans, and credit, and percentage, and so forth, that no one knows what is
+or what is not mortgaged. You see a flock of sheep on a farm, but you do
+not know to whom they belong. You see the cattle in the meadow, but you do
+not know who has a lien upon them. You see the farmer upon his
+thoroughbred, but you do not know to whom in reality the horse belongs. It
+is all loans and debt. The vendors of artificial manure are said not to be
+averse sometimes to make an advance on reasonable terms to those
+enterprising and deserving farmers who grow so many tons of roots, and win
+the silver cups, and so on, for the hugest mangold grown with their
+particular manure. The proprietors of the milk-walks in London are said to
+advance money to the struggling dairymen who send them their milk. And
+latterly the worst of usurers have found out the farmers--_i.e._ the men
+who advance on bills of sale of furniture, and sell up the wretched client
+who does not pay to the hour. Upon such bills of sale English farmers have
+been borrowing money, and with the usual disastrous results. In fact, till
+the disastrous results became so conspicuous, no one guessed that the
+farmer had descended so far. Yet, it is a fact, and a sad one.
+
+All the while the tradespeople of the market-towns--the very people who
+have made the loudest outcry about the depression and the losses they have
+sustained--these very people have been pressing their goods upon the
+farmers, whom they must have known were many of them hardly able to pay
+their rents. Those who have not seen it cannot imagine what a struggle and
+competition has been going on in little places where one would think the
+very word was unknown, just to persuade the farmer and the farmer's family
+to accept credit. But there is another side to it. The same tradesman who
+to-day begs--positively begs--the farmer to take his goods on any terms,
+in six months' time sends his bill, and, if it be not paid immediately,
+puts the County Court machinery in motion.
+
+Now this to the old-fashioned farmer is a very bitter thing. He has never
+had the least experience of the County Court; his family never were sued
+for debt since they can remember. They have always been used to a year's
+credit at least--often two, and even three. To be threatened with public
+exposure in the County Court because a little matter of five pounds ten is
+not settled instantly is bitter indeed. And to be sued so arbitrarily by
+the very tradesman who almost stuffed his goods down their throats is more
+bitter still.
+
+Frank D----, Esq.'s coarse grandeur answered very well indeed so long as
+prices were high. While the harvests were large and the markets inflated;
+while cattle fetched good money; while men's hearts were full of
+mirth--all went well. It is whispered now that the grand Frank has
+secretly borrowed 25_l_. of a little cottage shopkeeper in the adjacent
+village--a man who sells farthing candles and ounces of tea--to pay his
+reapers. It is also currently whispered that Frank is the only man really
+safe, for the following reason--they are all 'in' so deep they find it
+necessary to keep him going. The squire is 'in,' the bank is 'in,' the
+lawyer is 'in,' the small farmers with two hundred pounds capital are
+'in,' and the elderly ladies who took their bank-notes out of their
+tea-caddies are 'in.' That is to say, Mr. Frank owes them so much money
+that, rather than he should come to grief (when, they must lose pretty
+well all), they prefer to keep him afloat. It is a noticeable fact that
+Frank is the only man who has not raised his voice and shouted
+'Depression.' Perhaps the squire thinks that so repellent a note, if
+struck by a leading man like Frank, might not be to his interest, and has
+conveyed that thought to the gentleman in the dog-cart with the groom
+behind. There are, however, various species of the façade farmer.
+
+'What kind of agriculture is practised here?' the visitor from town
+naturally asks his host, as they stroll towards the turnips (in another
+district), with shouldered guns. 'Oh, you had better see Mr. X----,' is
+the reply, 'He is our leading agriculturist; he'll tell you all about it.'
+Everybody repeats the same story, and once Mr. X----'s name is started
+everybody talks of him. The squire, the clergyman--even in casually
+calling at a shop in the market town, or at the hotel (there are few inns
+now)--wherever he goes the visitor hears from all of Mr. X----. A
+successful man--most successful, progressive, scientific, intellectual.
+'Like to see him? Nothing easier. Introduction? Nonsense. Why, he'd be
+delighted to see you. Come with me.'
+
+Protesting feebly against intruding on privacy, the visitor is hurried
+away, and expecting to meet a solid, sturdy, and somewhat gruff old
+gentleman of the John Hull type, endeavors to hunt up some ideas about
+shorthorns and bacon pigs. He is a little astonished upon entering the
+pleasure grounds to see one or more gardeners busy among the parterres and
+shrubberies, the rhododendrons, the cedar deodaras, the laurels, the
+pampas grass, the 'carpet gardening' beds, and the glass of distant
+hothouses glittering in the sun. A carriage and pair, being slowly driven
+by a man in livery from the door down to the extensive stabling,
+passes--clearly some of the family have just returned. On ringing, the
+callers are shown through a spacious hall with a bronze or two on the
+marble table, into a drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a short
+iron grand open with a score carelessly left by the last player, a harp in
+the corner, half hidden by the curtains, some pieces of Nankin china on
+the side tables.
+
+Where are the cow-sheds? Looking out of window a level lawn extends, and
+on it two young gentlemen are playing tennis, in appropriate costume. The
+laboured platitudes that had been prepared about shorthorns and bacon pigs
+are quite forgotten, and the visitor is just about to ask the question if
+his guide has not missed the farm-house and called at the squire's, when
+Mr. X---- comes briskly in, and laughs all apology about intrusion to the
+winds in his genial manner. He insists on his friends taking some
+refreshment, will not take refusal; and such is the power of his vivacity,
+that they find themselves sipping Madeira and are pressed to come and dine
+in the evening, before one at least knows exactly where he is. 'Just a
+homely spread, you know; pot-luck; a bit of fish and a glass of Moet; now
+_do_ come.' This curious mixture of bluff cordiality, with unexpected
+snatches of refinement, is Mr. X----'s great charm. 'Style of farming;
+tell you with pleasure.' [Rings the bell.] 'John' (to the manservant),
+'take this key and bring me account book No. 6 B, Copse Farm; that will be
+the best way to begin.'
+
+If the visitor knows anything of country life, he cannot help recollecting
+that, if the old type of farmer was close and mysterious about anything,
+it was his accounts. Not a word could be got out of him of profit or loss,
+or revenue: he would barely tell you his rent per acre, and it was
+doubtful if his very wife ever saw his pass-book. Opening account book No.
+6 B, the explanation proceeds.
+
+'My system of agriculture is simplicity itself, sir. It is all founded on
+one beautiful commercial precept. Our friends round about here [with a
+wave of the hand, indicating the country side]--our old folks--whenever
+they got a guinea put it out of sight, made a hoard, hid it in a stocking,
+or behind a brick in the chimney. Ha! ha! Consequently their operations
+were always restricted to the same identical locality--no scope, sir, no
+expansion. Now my plan is--invest every penny. Make every shilling pay for
+the use of half a crown, and turn the half-crown into seven and sixpence.
+Credit is the soul of business. There you have it. Simplicity itself. Here
+are the books; see for yourself. I publish my balance half-yearly--like a
+company. Then the public see what you are doing. The earth, sir, as I said
+at the dinner the other day (the idea was much applauded), the earth is
+like the Bank of England--you may draw on it to any extent; there's always
+a reserve to meet you. You positively can't overdraw the account. You see
+there's such a solid security behind you. The fact is, I bring commercial
+principles into agriculture; the result is, grand success. However, here's
+the book; just glance over the figures.'
+
+The said figures utterly bewilder the visitor, who in courtesy runs his
+eye from top to bottom of the long columns--farming accounts are really
+the most complicated that can be imagined--so he, meantime, while turning
+over the pages, mentally absorbs the personality of the commercial
+agriculturist. He sees a tall, thin farmer, a brown face and neck, long
+restless sinewy hands, perpetually twiddling with a cigar or a gold
+pencil-case--generally the cigar, or rather the extinct stump of it, which
+he every now and then sucks abstractedly, in total oblivion as to its
+condition. His dress would pass muster in towns--well cut, and probably
+from Bond Street. He affects a frock and high hat one day, and
+knickerbockers and sun helmet the next. His pockets are full of papers,
+letters, etc., and as he searches amid the mass for some memorandum to
+show, glimpses may be seen of certain oblong strips of blue paper with an
+impressed stamp.
+
+'Very satisfactory,' says the visitor, handing back No 6 B; 'may I inquire
+how many acres you occupy?'
+
+Out comes a note-book. 'Hum! There's a thousand down in the vale, and
+fifteen hundred upland, and the new place is about nine hundred, and the
+meadows--I've mislaid the meadows--but it's near about four thousand.
+Different holdings, of course. Great nuisance that, sir; transit, you see,
+costs money. City gentlemen know that. Absurd system in this country--the
+land parcelled out in little allotment gardens of two or three hundred
+acres. Why, there's a little paltry hundred and twenty acre freehold dairy
+farm lies between my vale and upland, and the fellow won't let my waggons
+or ploughing-tackle take the short cut, ridiculous. Time it was altered,
+sir. Shooting? Why, yes; I have the shooting. Glad if you'd come over.'
+
+Then more Madeira, and after it a stroll through the gardens and
+shrubberies and down to the sheds, a mile, or nearly, distant. There, a
+somewhat confused vision of 'grand shorthorns,' and an inexplicable jumble
+of pedigrees, grand-dams, and 'g-g-g-g-g-g-dams,' as the catalogues have
+it; handsome hunters paraded, steam-engines pumping water, steam-engines
+slicing up roots, distant columns of smoke where steam-engines are tearing
+up the soil. All the while a scientific disquisition on ammonia and the
+constituent parts and probable value of town sewage as compared with
+guano. And at intervals, and at parting, a pressing invitation to dinner
+[when pineapples or hot-house grapes are certain to make their appearance
+at dessert]--such a flow of genial eloquence surely was never heard
+before!
+
+It requires a week at least of calm reflection, and many questions to his
+host, before the visitor--quite carried away--can begin to arrange his
+ideas, and to come slowly to the opinion that though Mr. X---- is as open
+as the day and frank to a fault, it will take him a precious long time to
+get to the bottom of Mr. X----'s system; that is to say, if there is any
+bottom at all to it.
+
+Mr. X---- is, in brief, a gambler. Not in a dishonest, or even suspicious
+sense, but a pure gambler. He is a gigantic agricultural speculator; his
+system is, as he candidly told you, credit. Credit not only with the bank,
+but with everybody. He has actually been making use of you, his casual and
+unexpected visitor, as an instrument. You are certain to talk about him;
+the more he is talked of the better, it gives him a reputation, which is
+beginning to mean a great deal in agriculture as it has so long in other
+pursuits. You are sure to tell everybody who ever chooses to converse with
+you about the country of Mr. X----, and Mr. X----'s engines, cattle,
+horses, profuse hospitality, and progressive science.
+
+To be socially popular is a part of his system; he sows corn among society
+as freely as over his land, and looks to some grains to take root, and
+bring him increase a hundred fold, as indeed they do. Whatever movement is
+originated in the neighbourhood finds him occupying a prominent position.
+He goes to London as the representative of the local agricultural chamber;
+perhaps waits upon a Cabinet Minister as one of the deputation. He speaks
+regularly at the local chamber meetings; his name is ever in the papers.
+The press are invited to inspect his farms, and are furnished with minute
+details. Every now and then a sketch of his life and doings, perhaps
+illustrated with a portrait, appears in some agricultural periodical. At
+certain seasons of the year parties of gentlemen are conducted over his
+place. In parochial or district matters he is a leading man.
+
+Is it a cottage flower-show, a penny reading, a cricket club, a benefit
+society--it does not matter what, his subscriptions, his name, and his
+voice are heard in it. He is the life and soul of it; the energy comes
+from him, though others higher in the scale may be the nominal heads. And
+the nominal heads, knowing that he can be relied upon politically, are
+grateful, and give him their good word freely. He hunts, and is a welcome
+companion--the meet frequently takes place at his house, or some of the
+huntsmen call for lunch; in fact, the latter is an invariable thing.
+Everybody calls for lunch who happens to pass near any day; the house has
+a reputation for hospitality. He is the clergyman's right hand--as in
+managing the school committee. When the bishop comes to the confirmation,
+he is introduced as 'my chief lay supporter.' At the Rural Diaconal
+Conference, 'my chief supporter' is one of the lay speakers. Thus he
+obtains every man's good word whose good word is worth anything. Social
+credit means commercial credit. Yet he is not altogether acting a part--he
+really likes taking the lead and pushing forward, and means a good deal of
+what he says.
+
+He is especially quite honest in his hospitality. All the same, so far as
+business is concerned, it is pure gambling, which may answer very well in
+favourable times, but is not unlikely to end in failure should the strain
+of depression become too severe. Personal popularity, however, will tide
+him over a great deal. When a man is spoken highly of by gentry, clergy,
+literally everybody, the bank is remarkably accommodating. Such a man may
+get for his bare signature--almost pressed on him, as if his acceptance of
+it were a favour--what another would have to deposit solid security for.
+
+In plain language, he borrows money and invests it in every possible way.
+His farms are simply the basis of his credit. He buys blood shorthorns, he
+buys blood horses, and he sells them again. He buys wheat, hay, &c., to
+dispose of them at a profit. If he chose, he could explain to you the
+meaning of contango, and even of that mysterious term to the uninitiated,
+'backwardation.' His speculations for the 'account' are sometimes heavy.
+So much so, that occasionally, with thousands invested, he has hardly any
+ready money. But, then, there are the crops; he can get money on the
+coming crops. There is, too, the live stock money can be borrowed on the
+stock.
+
+Here lies the secret reason of the dread of foreign cattle disease. The
+increase of our flocks and herds is, of course, a patriotic cry (and
+founded on fact); but the secret pinch is this--if foot-and-mouth,
+pleuro-pneumonia, or rinderpest threaten the stock, the tenant-farmer
+cannot borrow on that security. The local bankers shake their heads--three
+cases of rinderpest are equivalent to a reduction of 25 per cent. in the
+borrowing power of the agriculturist. The auctioneers and our friends have
+large transactions--'paper' here again. With certain members of the hunt
+he books bets to a high amount; his face is not unknown at Tattersall's or
+at the race meetings. But he does not flourish the betting-book in the
+face of society. He bets--and holds his tongue. Some folks have an ancient
+and foolish prejudice against betting; he respects sincere convictions.
+
+Far and away he is the best fellow, the most pleasant company in the
+shire, always welcome everywhere. He has read widely, is well educated;
+but, above all, he is ever jolly, and his jollity is contagious. Despite
+his investments and speculations, his brow never wears that sombre aspect
+of gloomy care, that knitted concentration of wrinkles seen on the face of
+the City man, who goes daily to his 'office.' The out-of-door bluffness,
+the cheery ringing voice, and the upright form only to be gained in the
+saddle over the breezy uplands, cling to him still. He wakes everybody up,
+and, risky as perhaps some of his speculations are, is socially
+enlivening.
+
+The two young gentlemen, by-the-by, observed playing lawn-tennis from the
+drawing-room window, are two of his pupils, whose high premiums and
+payments assist to keep up the free and generous table, and who find
+farming a very pleasant profession. The most striking characteristic of
+their tutor is his Yankee-like fertility of resource and bold
+innovations--the very antipodes of the old style of 'clod-compeller.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS-OLD STYLE
+
+
+Towards the hour of noon Harry Hodson, of Upcourt Farm, was slowly
+ascending the long slope that led to his dwelling. In his left hand he
+carried a hare, which swung slightly to and fro as he stepped out, and the
+black-tipped ears rubbed now and then against a bunch of grass. His
+double-barrel was under his right arm. Every day at the same hour Harry
+turned towards home, for he adhered to the ways of his fathers and dined
+at half-past twelve, except when the stress of harvest, or some important
+agricultural operation, disturbed the usual household arrangements. It was
+a beautiful October day, sunny and almost still, and, as he got on the
+high ground, he paused and looked round. The stubbles stretched far away
+on one side, where the country rose and fell in undulations. On the
+distant horizon a column of smoke, broadening at the top, lifted itself
+into the sky; he knew it was from the funnel of a steam-plough, whose
+furnace had just been replenished with coal. The appearance of the smoke
+somewhat resembled that left by a steamer at sea when the vessel is just
+below the horizon. On the other hand were wooded meadows, where the rooks
+were cawing--some in the oaks, some as they wheeled round in the air. Just
+beneath him stood a row of wheat ricks--his own. His gaze finally rested
+upon their conical roofs with satisfaction, and he then resumed his walk.
+
+Even as he moved he seemed to bask in the sunshine; the sunshine pouring
+down from the sky above, the material sunshine of the goodly wheat ricks,
+and the physical sunshine of personal health and vigour. His walk was the
+walk of a strong, prosperous man--each step long, steady, and firm, but
+quite devoid of haste. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, in the very
+prime of life, and though stooping a little, like so many countrymen, very
+tall, and built proportionately broad across the shoulders and chest. His
+features were handsome--perhaps there was a trace of indolence in their
+good-humoured expression--and he had a thick black beard just marked with
+one thin wavy line of grey. That trace of snow, if anything, rather added
+to the manliness of his aspect, and conveyed the impression that he was at
+the fulness of life when youth and experience meet. If anything, indeed,
+he looked too comfortable, too placid. A little ambition, a little
+restlessness, would perhaps have been good for him.
+
+By degrees he got nearer to the house; but it was by degrees only, for he
+stayed to look over every gate, and up into almost every tree. He stopped
+to listen as his ear caught the sound of hoofs on the distant road, and
+again at the faint noise of a gun fired a mile away. At the corner of a
+field a team of horses--his own--were resting awhile as the carter and his
+lad ate their luncheon. Harry stayed to talk to the man, and yet again at
+the barn door to speak to his men at work within with the winnowing
+machine. The homestead stood on an eminence, but was hidden by elms and
+sycamores, so that it was possible to pass at a distance without observing
+it.
+
+On entering the sitting-room Harry leaned his gun against the wall in the
+angle between it and the bureau, from which action alone it might have
+been known that he was a bachelor, and that there were no children about
+the house to get into danger with fire-arms. His elderly aunt, who acted
+as housekeeper, was already at table waiting for him. It was spread with a
+snow-white cloth, and almost equally snow-white platter for bread--so much
+and so well was it cleaned. They ate home-baked bread; they were so many
+miles from a town or baker that it was difficult to get served regularly,
+a circumstance which preserved that wholesome institution. There was a
+chine of bacon, small ale, and a plentiful supply of good potatoes. The
+farmer did full justice to the sweet picking off the chine, and then
+lingered over an old cheese. Very few words were spoken.
+
+Then, after his dinner, he sat in his arm-chair--the same that he had used
+for many years--and took a book. For Harry rather enjoyed a book, provided
+it was not too new. He read works of science, thirty years old, solid and
+correct, but somewhat behind the age; he read histories, such as were
+current in the early part of the present century, but none of a later date
+than the end of the wars of the First Napoleon. The only thing modern he
+cared for in literature was a 'society' journal, sent weekly from London.
+These publications are widely read in the better class of farmsteads now.
+Harry knew something of most things, even of geology. He could show you
+the huge vertebrae of some extinct saurian, found while draining was being
+done. He knew enough of archaeology to be able to tell any enthusiastic
+student who chanced to come along where to find the tumuli and the
+earthworks on the Downs. He had several Roman coins, and a fine bronze
+spearhead, which had been found upon the farm. These were kept with care,
+and produced to visitors with pride. Harry really did possess a wide fund
+of solid, if quiet, knowledge. Presently, after reading a chapter or two,
+he would drop off into a siesta, till some message came from the men or
+the bailiff, asking for instructions.
+
+The farmstead was, in fact, a mansion of large size, an old manor-house,
+and had it been situate near a fashionable suburb and been placed in
+repair would have been worth to let as much per annum as the rent of a
+small farm. But it stood in a singularly lonely and outlying position, far
+from any village of size, much less a town, and the very highway even was
+so distant that you could only hear the horse's hoofs when the current of
+air came from that direction. This was his aunt's--the housekeeper's--great
+complaint, the distance to the highway. She grumbled because she could not
+see the carriers' carts and the teams go by; she wanted to know what was
+going on.
+
+Harry, however, seemed contented with the placid calm of the vast house
+that was practically empty, and rarely left it, except for his regular
+weekly visit to market. After the fashion of a thoroughbred farmer he was
+often rather late home on market nights. There were three brothers, all in
+farms, and all well to do; the other two were married, and Harry was
+finely plagued about being a bachelor. But the placid life at the old
+place--he had succeeded to his father--somehow seemed to content him. He
+had visitors at Christmas, he read his books of winter evenings and after
+dinner; in autumn he strolled round with his double-barrel and knocked
+over a hare or so, and so slumbered away the days. But he never neglected
+the farming-everything was done almost exactly as it had been done by his
+father.
+
+Old Harry Hodson was in his time one of the characters of that country
+side. He was the true founder of the Hodson family. They had been yeomen
+in a small way for generations, farming little holdings, and working like
+labourers, plodding on, and never heard of outside their fifty-acre farms.
+So they might have continued till this day had not old Harry Hodson arose
+to be the genius--the very Napoleon--of farming in that district. When the
+present Harry, the younger, had a visitor to his taste--_i.e._ one who was
+not in a hurry--he would, in the evening, pull out the books and papers
+and letters of his late father from the bureau (beside which stood the
+gun), and explain how the money was made. The logs crackled and sparkled
+on the hearth, the lamp burnt clear and bright; there was a low singing
+sound in the chimney; the elderly aunt nodded and worked in her arm-chair,
+and woke up and mixed fresh spirits and water, and went off to sleep
+again; and still Harry would sit and smoke and sip and talk. By-and-by the
+aunt would wish the visitor good-night, draw up the clock, and depart,
+after mixing fresh tumblers and casting more logs upon the fire, for well
+she knew her nephew's ways. Harry was no tippler, he never got
+intoxicated; but he would sit and smoke and sip and talk with a friend,
+and tell him all about it till the white daylight came peeping through the
+chinks in the shutters.
+
+Old Harry Hodson, then, made the money, and put two of his sons in large
+farms, and paid all their expenses, so that they started fair, besides
+leaving his own farm to the third. Old Harry Hodson made the money, yet he
+could not have done it had he not married the exact woman. Women have made
+the fortunes of Emperors by their advice and assistance, and the greatest
+men the world has seen have owned that their success was owing to feminine
+counsel. In like manner a woman made the policy of an obscure farmer a
+success. When the old gentleman began to get well to do, and when he found
+his teeth not so strong as of yore, and his palate less able to face the
+coarse, fat, yellowy bacon that then formed the staple of the household
+fare, he actually ventured so far as to have one joint of butcher's meat,
+generally a leg of mutton, once a week. It was cooked for Sunday, and, so
+far as that kind of meat was concerned, lasted till the next Sunday. But
+his wife met this extravagant innovation with furious opposition. It was
+sheer waste; it was something almost unpardonably prodigal. They had eaten
+bacon all their lives, often bacon with the bristles thick upon it, and to
+throw away money like this was positively wicked. However, the-old
+gentleman, being stubborn as a horse-nail, persisted; the wife, still
+grumbling, calmed down; and the one joint of meat became an institution.
+Harry, the younger, still kept it up; but it had lost its significance in
+his day, for he had a fowl or two in the week, and a hare or a partridge,
+and, besides, had the choicest hams.
+
+Now, this dispute between the old gentleman and his wife--this dispute as
+to which should be most parsimonious--was typical of their whole course of
+life. If one saved cheese-parings, the other would go without cheese at
+all, and be content with dry bread. They lived--indeed, harder than their
+own labourers, and it sometimes happened that the food they thought good
+enough was refused by a cottager. When a strange carter, or shepherd, or
+other labourer came to the house from a distance, perhaps with a waggon
+for a load of produce or with some sheep, it was the custom to give them
+some lunch. These men, unaccustomed even in their own cottages to such
+coarse food, often declined to eat it, and went away empty, but not before
+delivering their opinion of the fare, expressed in language of the rudest
+kind.
+
+No economy was too small for old Hodson; in the house his wife did almost
+all the work. Nowadays a farmer's house alone keeps the women of one, or
+even two, cottages fully employed. The washing is sent out, and occupies
+one cottage woman the best part of her spare time. Other women come in to
+do the extra work, the cleaning up and scouring, and so on. The expense of
+employing these women is not great; but still it is an expense. Old Mrs.
+Hodson did everything herself, and the children roughed it how they could,
+playing in the mire with the pigs and geese. Afterwards, when old Hodson
+began to get a little money, they were sent to a school in a market town.
+There they certainly did pick up the rudiments, but lived almost as hard
+as at home. Old Hodson, to give an instance of his method, would not even
+fatten a pig, because it cost a trifle of ready money for 'toppings,' or
+meal, and nothing on earth could induce him to part with a coin that he
+had once grasped. He never fattened a pig (meaning for sale), but sold the
+young porkers directly they were large enough to fetch a sovereign
+a-piece, and kept the money.
+
+The same system was carried on throughout the farm. The one he then
+occupied was of small extent, and he did a very large proportion of the
+work himself. He did not purchase stock at all in the modern sense; he
+grew them. If he went to a sale he bought one or two despicable-looking
+cattle at the lowest price, drove them home, and let them gradually gather
+condition. The grass they ate grew almost as they ate it--in his own
+words, 'They cut their own victuals'--_i.e._ with their teeth. He did not
+miss the grass blades, but had he paid a high price then he would have
+missed the money.
+
+Here he was in direct conflict with modern farming. The theory of the
+farming of the present day is that time is money, and, according to this,
+Hodson made a great mistake. He should have given a high price for his
+stock, have paid for cake, &c., and fattened them up as fast as possible,
+and then realised. The logic is correct, and in any business or
+manufacture could not be gainsaid. But Hodson did just the reverse. He did
+not mind his cattle taking a little time to get into condition, provided
+they cost him no ready money. Theoretically, the grass they ate
+represented money, and might have been converted to a better use. But in
+practice the reverse came true. He succeeded, and other men failed. His
+cattle and his sheep, which he bought cheap and out of condition, quietly
+improved (time being no object), and he sold them at a profit, from which
+there were no long bills to deduct for cake.
+
+He purchased no machinery whilst in this small place--which was chiefly
+grass land--with the exception of a second-hand haymaking machine. The
+money he made he put out at interest on mortgage of real property, and it
+brought in about 4 per cent. It was said that in some few cases where the
+security was good he lent it at a much higher rate to other farmers of
+twenty times his outward show. After awhile he went into the great farm
+now occupied by his son Harry, and commenced operations without borrowing
+a single shilling. The reason was because he was in no hurry. He slowly
+grew his money in the little farm, and then, and not till then, essayed
+the greater. Even then he would not have ventured had not the
+circumstances been peculiarly favourable. Like the present, it was a time
+of depression generally, and in this particular case the former tenant had
+lived high and farmed bad. The land was in the worst possible state, the
+landlord could not let it, and Hodson was given to understand that he
+could have it for next to nothing at first.
+
+Now it was at this crisis of his life that he showed that in his own
+sphere he possessed the true attribute of genius. Most men who had
+practised rigid economy for twenty years, whose hours, and days, and weeks
+had been occupied with little petty details, how to save a penny here and
+a fourpenny bit yonder, would have become fossilised in the process. Their
+minds would have become as narrow as their ways. They would have shrunk
+from any venture, and continued in the old course to the end of their
+time.
+
+Old Hodson, mean to the last degree in his way of living, narrow to the
+narrowest point where sixpence could be got, nevertheless had a mind. He
+saw that his opportunity had come, and he struck. He took the great corn
+farm, and left his little place. The whole country side at once pronounced
+him mad, and naturally anticipated his failure. The country side did not
+yet understand two things. They did not know how much money he had saved,
+and they did not know the capacity of his mind. He had not only saved
+money, and judiciously invested it, but he had kept it a profound secret,
+because he feared if his landlord learnt that he was saving money so fast
+the rent of the little farm would have been speedily raised. Here, again,
+he was in direct conflict with the modern farmer. The modern man, if he
+has a good harvest or makes a profit, at once buys a 'turn-out,' and grand
+furniture, and in every way 'exalts his gate,' When landlords saw their
+tenants living in a style but little inferior to that they themselves kept
+up, it was not really very surprising that the rents a few years back
+began to rise so rapidly. In a measure tenants had themselves to blame for
+that upward movement.
+
+Old Hodson carried his money to a long distance from home to invest, so
+anxious was he that neither his landlord nor any one else should know how
+quickly he was getting rich. So he entered upon his new venture--the great
+upland farm, with its broad cornfields, its expanse of sheep walk and
+down, its meadows in the hollow, its copses (the copses alone almost as
+big as his original holding), with plenty of money in his pocket, and
+without being beholden to bank or lawyer for a single groat. Men thought
+that the size of the place, the big manor-house, and so on, would turn his
+head. Nothing of the kind; he proceeded as cautiously and prudently as
+previously. He began by degrees. Instead of investing some thousand pounds
+in implements and machinery at a single swoop, instead of purchasing three
+hundred sheep right off with a single cheque, he commenced with one thing
+at a time. In this course he was favoured by the condition of the land,
+and by the conditions of the agreement. He got it, as it were, gradually
+into cultivation, not all at once; he got his stock together, a score or
+two at a time, as he felt they would answer. By the year the landlord was
+to have the full rent: the new tenant was quite able to pay it, and did
+pay it without hesitation at the very hour it was due. He bought very
+little machinery, nothing but what was absolutely necessary--no expensive
+steam-plough. His one great idea was still the same, _i.e._ spend no
+money.
+
+Yet he was not bigoted or prejudiced to the customs of his
+ancestors--another proof that he was a man of mind. Hodson foresaw, before
+he had been long at Upcourt Farm, that corn was not going in future to be
+so all in all important as it had been. As he said himself, 'We must go to
+our flocks now for our rent, and not to our barn doors.' His aim,
+therefore, became to farm into and through his flock, and it paid him
+well. Here was a man at once economical to the verge of meanness, prudent
+to the edge of timidity, yet capable of venturing when he saw his chance;
+and above all, when that venture succeeded, capable of still living on
+bacon and bread and cheese, and putting the money by.
+
+In his earlier days Hodson was as close of speech as of expenditure, and
+kept his proceedings a profound secret. As he grew older and took less
+active exercise--the son resident at home carrying out his
+instructions--he became more garrulous and liked to talk about his system.
+The chief topic of his discourse was that a farmer in his day paid but one
+rent, to the landlord, whereas now, on the modern plan, he paid eight
+rents, and sometimes nine. First, of course, the modern farmer paid his
+landlord (1); next he paid the seedsman (2); then the manure manufacturer
+(3); the implement manufacturer (4); the auctioneer (5); the railroad, for
+transit (6); the banker, for short loans (7); the lawyer or whoever
+advanced half his original capital (8); the schoolmaster (9).
+
+To begin at the end, the rent paid by the modern farmer to the
+schoolmaster included the payment for the parish school; and, secondly,
+and far more important, the sum paid for the education of his own
+children. Hodson maintained that many farmers paid as much hard cash for
+the education of their children, and for the necessary social surroundings
+incident to that education, as men used to pay for the entire sustenance
+of their households. Then there was the borrowed capital, and the short
+loans from the banker; the interest on these two made two more rents.
+Farmers paid rent to the railroad for the transit of their goods. The
+auctioneer, whether he sold cattle and sheep, or whether he had a depôt
+for horses, was a new man whose profits were derived from the farmers.
+There were few or no auctioneers or horse depositories when he began
+business; now the auctioneer was everywhere, and every country town of any
+consequence had its establishment for the reception and sale of horses.
+Farmers sunk enough capital in steam-ploughs and machinery to stock a
+small farm on the old system, and the interest on this sunk capital
+represented another rent. It was the same with the artificial manure
+merchant and with the seedsman. Farmers used to grow their own seed, or,
+at most, bought from the corn dealers or a neighbour if by chance they
+were out. Now the seedsman was an important person, and a grand shop might
+be found, often several shops, in every market town, the owners of which
+shops must likewise live upon the farmer. Here were eight or nine people
+to pay rent to instead of one.
+
+No wonder farming nowadays was not profitable. No wonder farmers could not
+put their sons into farms. Let any one look round their own neighbourhood
+and count up how many farmers had managed to do that. Why, they were
+hardly to be found. Farmers' sons had to go into the towns to get a
+livelihood now. Farming was too expensive a business on the modern
+system--it was a luxury for a rich man, who could afford to pay eight or
+nine landlords at once. The way he had got on was by paying one landlord
+only. Old Hodson always finished his lecture by thrusting both hands into
+his breeches pockets, and whispering to you confidentially that it was not
+the least use for a man to go into farming now unless he had got ten
+thousand pounds.
+
+It was through the genius of this man that his three sons were doing so
+well. At the present day, Harry, the younger, took his ease in his
+arm-chair after his substantial but plain dinner, with little care about
+the markets or the general depression. For much of the land was on high
+ground and dry, and the soil there benefited by the wet. At the same time
+sheep sold well, and Harry's flocks were large and noted. So he sauntered
+round with his gun, and knocked over a hare, and came comfortably home to
+dinner, easy in his mind, body, and pocket.
+
+Harry was not a man of energy and intense concentrated purpose like his
+father. He could never have built up a fortune, but, the money being
+there, Harry was just the man to keep it. He was sufficiently prudent to
+run no risk and to avoid speculation. He was sufficiently frugal not to
+waste his substance on riotous living, and he was naturally of a placid
+temperament, so that he was satisfied to silently and gradually accumulate
+little by little. His knowledge of farming, imbibed from his father,
+extended into every detail. If he seldom touched an implement now, he had
+in his youth worked like the labourers, and literally followed the plough.
+He was constantly about on the place, and his eye, by keeping the men
+employed, earned far more money than his single arm could have done. Thus
+he dwelt in the lonely manor-house, a living proof of the wisdom of his
+father's system.
+
+Harry is now looking, in his slow complacent way, for a wife. Being forty
+years of age, he is not in a great hurry, and is not at all inclined to
+make a present of himself to the first pretty face he meets. He does not
+like the girl of the period; he fears she would spend too much money. Nor,
+on the other hand, does he care for the country hoyden, whose mind and
+person have never risen above the cheese-tub, with red hands, awkward
+gait, loud voice, and limited conversation. He has read too much, in his
+quiet way, and observed too much, in his quiet way, also, for that. He
+wants a girl well educated, but not above her station, unaffected and yet
+comely, fond of home and home duties, and yet not homely. And it would be
+well if she had a few hundreds--a very small sum would do--for her dower.
+It is not that he wants the money, which can be settled on herself; but
+there is a vein of the old, prudent common sense running through Harry's
+character. He is in no hurry; in time he will meet with her somewhere.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+
+Two vehicles were gradually approaching each other from opposite
+directions on a long, straight stretch of country road, which, at the
+first glance, appeared level. The glare of the August sunshine reflected
+from the white dust, the intense heat that caused a flickering motion of
+the air like that which may be seen over a flue, the monotonous low
+cropped hedges, the scarcity of trees, and boundless plain of cornfields,
+all tended to deceive the eye. The road was not really level, but rose and
+fell in narrow, steep valleys, that crossed it at right angles--the glance
+saw across these valleys without recognising their existence. It was
+curious to observe how first one and then the other vehicle suddenly
+disappeared, as if they had sunk into the ground, and remained hidden for
+some time. During the disappearance the vehicle was occupied in cautiously
+going down one steep slope and slowly ascending the other. It then seemed
+to rapidly come nearer till another hollow intervened, and it was abruptly
+checked. The people who were driving could observe each other from a long
+distance, and might naturally think that they should pass directly,
+instead of which they did not seem to get much nearer. Some miles away,
+where the same road crossed the Downs, it looked from afar like a white
+line drawn perpendicularly up the hill.
+
+The road itself was narrow, hardly wider than a lane, but on either side
+was a broad strip of turf, each strip quite twice the width of the
+metalled portion. On the verge of the dust the red pimpernel opened its
+flowers to the bright blue cloudless sky, and the lowly convolvulus grew
+thickly among the tall dusty bennets. Sweet short clover flowers stood but
+a little way back; still nearer the hedges the grass was coarser, long,
+and wire-like. Tall thistles stood beside the water furrows and beside the
+ditch, and round the hawthorn bushes that grew at intervals on the sward
+isolated from the hedge. Loose flints of great size lay here and there
+among the grass, perhaps rolled aside surreptitiously by the
+stone-breakers to save themselves trouble. Everything hot and dusty. The
+clover dusty, the convolvulus dusty, the brambles and hawthorn, the small
+scattered elms all dusty, all longing for a shower or for a cool breeze.
+
+The reapers were at work in the wheat, but the plain was so level that it
+was not possible to see them without mounting upon a flint heap. Then
+their heads were just visible as they stood upright, but when they stooped
+to use the hook they disappeared. Yonder, however, a solitary man in his
+shirt-sleeves perched up above the corn went round and round the field,
+and beside him strange awkward arms seemed to beat down the wheat. He was
+driving a reaping machine, to which the windmill-like arms belonged.
+Beside the road a shepherd lingered, leaning on a gate, while his flock,
+which he was driving just as fast and no faster than they cared to eat
+their way along the sward, fed part on one side and part on the other. Now
+and then two or three sheep crossed over with the tinkling of a bell. In
+the silence and stillness and brooding heat, the larks came and dusted
+themselves in the white impalpable powder of the road. Farther away the
+partridges stole quietly to an anthill at the edge of some barley. By the
+white road, a white milestone, chipped and defaced, stood almost hidden
+among thistles and brambles. Some white railings guarded the sides of a
+bridge, or rather a low arch over a dry watercourse. Heat, dust, a glaring
+whiteness, and a boundless expanse of golden wheat on either hand.
+
+After awhile a towering four-in-hand coach rose out of the hollow where it
+had been hidden, and came bowling along the level. The rapid hoofs beat
+the dust, which sprang up and followed behind in a cloud, stretching far
+in the rear, for in so still an atmosphere the particles were long before
+they settled again. White parasols and light dust coats--everything that
+could be contrived for coolness--gay feathers and fluttering fringes,
+whose wearers sat in easy attitudes enjoying the breeze created by the
+swift motion. Upon such a day the roof of a coach is more pleasant than
+the thickest shade, because of that current of air, for the same leaves
+that keep off the sun also prevent a passing zephyr from refreshing the
+forehead. But the swifter the horses the sweeter the fresh wind to fan the
+delicate cheek and drooping eyelid of indolent beauty. So idle were they
+all that they barely spoke, and could only smile instead of laugh if one
+exerted himself to utter a good jest. The gentleman who handled the
+ribbons was the only one thoroughly awake.
+
+His eyes were downcast, indeed, because they never left his horses, but
+his ears were sharply alive to the rhythmic beat of the hoofs and the
+faint creak and occasional jingle of the harness. Had a single shoe failed
+to send forth the proper sound as it struck the hard dry road, had there
+been a creak or a jingle too many, or too few, those ears would instantly
+have detected it. The downcast eyes that looked neither to the right nor
+left--at the golden wheat or the broad fields of barley--were keenly
+watching the ears of the team, and noting how one of the leaders lathered
+and flung white froth upon the dust. From that height the bowed backs of
+the reapers were visible in the corn. The reapers caught sight of the
+coach, and stood up to look, and wiped their brows, and a distant hurrah
+came from the boys among them. In all the pomp and glory of paint and
+varnish the tall coach rolled on, gently swaying from side to side as the
+springs yielded to the irregularities of the road. It came with a heavy
+rumble like far-away thunder over the low arch that spanned the dry
+water-course.
+
+Meantime the vehicle approaching from the opposite direction had also
+appeared out of a hollow. It was a high, narrow gig of ancient make, drawn
+by a horse too low for the shafts and too fat for work. In the gig sat two
+people closely pressed together by reason of its narrow dimensions. The
+lady wore a black silk dress, of good and indeed costly material, but
+white with the dust that had settled upon it. Her hands were covered with
+black cotton gloves, and she held a black umbrella. Her face was hidden by
+a black veil; thin corkscrew curls fringed the back of her head. She was
+stout, and sat heavily in the gig. The man wore a grey suit, too short in
+the trousers--at least they appeared so as he sat with his knees wide
+apart, and the toe of one heavy boot partly projecting at the side of the
+dash-board. A much-worn straw hat was drawn over his eyes, and he held a
+short whip in his red hand. He did not press his horse, but allowed the
+lazy animal to go jog-trot at his own pace. The panels of the gig had lost
+their original shining polish; the varnish had cracked and worn, till the
+surface was rough and grey. The harness was equally bare and worn, the
+reins mended more than once. The whole ramshackle concern looked as if it
+would presently fall to pieces, but the horse was in much too good a
+condition.
+
+When the four-in-hand had come within about a hundred yards, the farmer
+pulled his left rein hard, and drew his gig right out of the road on to
+the sward, and then stopped dead, to give the coach the full use of the
+way. As it passed he took off his straw hat, and his wife stooped low as a
+makeshift for bowing. An outsider might have thought that the aristocratic
+coach would have gone by this extremely humble couple without so much as
+noticing it. But the gentleman who was driving lifted his hat to the dowdy
+lady, with a gesture of marked politeness, and a young and
+elegantly-dressed lady, his sister, nodded and smiled, and waved her hand
+to her. After the coach had rolled some fifty yards away, the farmer
+pulled into the road, and went on through the cloud of dust it had left
+behind it, with a complacent smile upon his hard and weather-worn
+features. 'A' be a nice young gentleman, the Honourable be,' said he
+presently. 'So be Lady Blanche,' replied his wife, lifting her veil and
+looking back after the four-in-hand. 'I'm sure her smile's that sweet it
+be a pleasure for to see her.'
+
+Half a mile farther the farmer drew out of the road again, drove close to
+the hedge, stopped, and stood up to look over. A strongly-built young man,
+who had been driving the reaping machine in his shirt-sleeves, alighted
+from his seat and came across to the hedge.
+
+'Goes very well to-day,' he said, meaning that the machine answered.
+
+'You be got into a good upstanding piece, John,' replied the old man
+sharply in his thin jerky voice, which curiously contrasted with his still
+powerful frame. 'You take un in there and try un'--pointing to a piece
+where the crop had been beaten down by a storm, and where the reapers were
+at work. 'You had better put the rattletrap thing away, John, and go in
+and help they. Never wasted money in all my life over such a thing as that
+before. What be he going to do all the winter? Bide and rust, I 'spose.
+Can you put un to cut off they nettles along the ditch among they stones?'
+
+'It would break the knives,' said the son.
+
+'But you could cut um with a hook, couldn't you?' asked the old man, in a
+tone that was meant to convey withering contempt of a machine that could
+only do one thing, and must perforce lie idle ten months of the year.
+
+'That's hardly a fair way of looking at it,' the son ventured.
+
+'John,' said his mother, severely, 'I can't think how you young men can
+contradict your father. I'm sure young men never spoke so in my time; and
+I'm sure your father has been prospered in his farming' (she felt her silk
+dress), 'and has done very well without any machines, which cost a deal of
+money--and Heaven knows there's a vast amount going out every day.'
+
+A gruff voice interrupted her--one of the reapers had advanced along the
+hedge, with a large earthenware jar in his hand.
+
+'Measter,' he shouted to the farmer in the gig, 'can't you send us out
+some better tackle than this yer stuff?'
+
+He poured some ale out of the jar on the stubble with an expression of
+utter disgust.
+
+'It be the same as I drink myself,' said the farmer, sharply, and
+immediately sat down, struck the horse, and drove off.
+
+His son and the labourer--who could hardly have been distinguished apart
+so far as their dress went--stood gazing after him for a few minutes. They
+then turned, and each went back to his work without a word.
+
+The farmer drove on steadily homewards at the same jog-trot pace that had
+been his wont these forty years. The house stood a considerable distance
+back from the road: it was a gabled building of large size, and not
+without interest. It was approached by a drive that crossed a green, where
+some ducks were waddling about, and entered the front garden, which was
+surrounded by a low wall. Within was a lawn and an ancient yew tree. The
+porch was overgrown with ivy, and the trees that rose behind the grey
+tiles of the roof set the old house in a frame of foliage. A fine old
+English homestead, where any man might be proud to dwell. But the farmer
+did not turn up the drive. He followed the road till he came to a gate
+leading into the rickyard, and, there getting out of the gig, held the
+gate open while the horse walked through. He never used the drive or the
+front door, but always came in and went out at the back, through the
+rickyard.
+
+The front garden and lawn were kept in good order, but no one belonging to
+the house ever frequented it. Had any stranger driven up to the front
+door, he might have hammered away with the narrow knocker--there was no
+bell--for half an hour before making any one hear, and then probably it
+would have been by the accident of the servant going by the passage, and
+not by dint of noise. The household lived in the back part of the house.
+There was a parlour well furnished, sweet with flowers placed there fresh
+daily, and with the odour of those in the garden, whose scent came in at
+the ever open window; but no one sat in it from week's end to week's end.
+The whole life of the inmates passed in two back rooms--a sitting-room and
+kitchen.
+
+With some slight concessions to the times only, Farmer M---- led the life
+his fathers led before him, and farmed his tenancy upon the same
+principles. He did not, indeed, dine with the labourers, but he ate very
+much the same food as they did. Some said he would eat what no labourer or
+servant would touch; and, as he had stated, drank the same smallest of
+small beer. His wife made a large quantity of home-made wine every year,
+of which she partook in a moderate degree, and which was the liquor
+usually set before visitors. They rose early, and at once went about their
+work. He saw his men, and then got on his horse and rode round the farm.
+He returned to luncheon, saw the men again, and again went out and took a
+turn of work with them. He rode a horse because of the distance--the farm
+being large--not for pleasure. Without it he could not have visited his
+fields often enough to satisfy himself that the labourers were going on
+with their work. He did not hunt, nor shoot--he had the right, but never
+exercised it; though occasionally he was seen about the newly-sown fields
+with a single-barrel gun, firing at the birds that congregated in crowds.
+Neither would he allow his sons to shoot or hunt.
+
+One worked with the labourers, acting as working bailiff--it was he who
+drove the reaping machine, which, after long argument and much persuasion
+the farmer bought, only to grumble at and abuse every day afterwards. The
+other was apprenticed as a lad to a builder and carpenter of the market
+town, and learned the trade exactly as the rest of the men did there. He
+lodged in the town in the cheapest of houses, ate hard bread and cheese
+with the carpenters and masons and bricklayers, and was glad when the
+pittance he received was raised a shilling a week. Once now and then he
+walked over to the farm on Sundays or holidays--he was not allowed to come
+too often. They did not even send him in a basket of apples from the great
+orchard; all the apples were carefully gathered and sold.
+
+These two sons were now grown men, strong and robust, and better educated
+than would have been imagined--thanks to their own industry and good
+sense, and not to any schooling they received. Two finer specimens of
+physical manhood it would have been difficult to find, yet their wages
+were no more than those of ordinary labourers and workmen. The bailiff,
+the eldest, had a pound a week, out of which he had to purchase every
+necessary, and from which five shillings were deducted for lodgings. It
+may be that he helped himself to various little perquisites, but his
+income from every source was not equal to that of a junior clerk. The
+other nominally received more, being now a skilled workman; but as he had
+to pay for his lodgings and food in town, he was really hardly so well
+off. Neither of these young men had the least chance of marrying till
+their father should die; nothing on earth would induce him to part with
+the money required to set the one in business up or the other in a
+separate farm. He had worked all his time under his father, and it seemed
+to him perfectly natural that his sons should work all their time under
+him.
+
+There was one daughter, and she, too, was out at work. She was housekeeper
+to an infirm old farmer; that is to say, she superintended the dairy and
+the kitchen, and received hardly as much as a cook in a London
+establishment. Like the sons, she was finely developed physically, and had
+more of the manners of a lady than seemed possible under the
+circumstances.
+
+Her father's principles of farming were much the same as his plan of
+housekeeping and family government. It consisted of never spending any
+money. He bought no machines. The reaping machine was the one exception,
+and a bitter point with the old man. He entered on no extensive draining
+works, nor worried his landlord to begin them. He was content with the
+tumble-down sheds till it was possible to shelter cattle in them no
+longer. Sometimes he was compelled to purchase a small quantity of
+artificial manure, but it was with extreme reluctance. He calculated to
+produce sufficient manure in the stalls, for he kept a large head of
+fattening cattle, and sheep to the greatest extent possible. He would
+rather let a field lie fallow, and go without the crop from it, till
+nature had restored the exhausted fertility, than supply that fertility at
+the cost of spending money. The one guiding motto of his life was 'Save,
+not invest.' When once he got hold of a sovereign he parted with it no
+more; not though all the scientific professors in the world came to him
+with their analyses, and statistics, and discoveries. He put it in the
+bank, just as his father would have put it into a strong box under his
+bed. There it remained, and the interest that accrued, small as it was,
+was added to it.
+
+Yet it was his pride to do his land well. He manured it well, because he
+kept cattle and sheep, especially the latter, to the fullest capacity of
+his acreage; and because, as said before, he could and did afford to let
+land lie fallow when necessary. He was in no hurry. He was not anxious for
+so much immediate percentage upon an investment in artificial manure or
+steam-plough. He might have said, with a greater man, 'Time and I are
+two.' It was Time, the slow passage of the years, that gave him his
+profit. He was always providing for the future; he was never out of
+anything, because he was never obliged to force a sale of produce in order
+to get the ready cash to pay the bank its interest upon borrowed money. He
+never borrowed; neither did he ever make a speech, or even so much as
+attend a farmers' club, to listen to a scientific lecture. But his teams of
+horses were the admiration of the country side--no such horses came into
+the market town. His rent was paid punctually, and always with country
+bank-notes--none of your clean, newfangled cheques, or Bank of England
+crisp paper, but soiled, greasy country notes of small denomination.
+
+Farmer M---- never asked for a return or reduction of his rent. The
+neighbours said that he was cheaply rented: that was not true in regard to
+the land itself. But he certainly was cheaply rented if the condition of
+the farm was looked at. In the course of so many long years of careful
+farming he had got his place into such a state of cultivation that it
+could stand two or three bad seasons without much deterioration. The same
+bad seasons quite spoiled the land of such of his neighbours as had relied
+upon a constant application of stimulants to the soil. The stimulating
+substances being no longer applied, as they could not afford to buy them,
+the land fell back and appeared poor.
+
+Farmer M---, of course, grumbled at the weather, but the crops belied his
+lips. He was, in fact, wealthy--not the wealth that is seen in cities, but
+rich for a countryman. He could have started both his sons in business
+with solid capital. Yet he drank small beer which the reapers despised,
+and drove about in a rusty old gig, with thousands to his credit at that
+old country bank. When he got home that afternoon, he carefully put away
+some bags of coin for the wages of the men, which he had been to fetch,
+and at once started out for the rickyard, to see how things were
+progressing. So the Honourable on the tall four-in-hand saluted with
+marked emphasis the humble gig that pulled right out of the road to give
+him the way, and the Lady Blanche waved her hand to the dowdy in the dusty
+black silk with her sweetest smile. The Honourable, when he went over the
+farm with his breechloader, invariably came in and drank a glass of the
+small beer. The Lady Blanche, at least once in the autumn, rode up,
+alighted, and drank one glass of the home-made wine with the dowdy. Her
+papa, the landlord, was an invalid, but he as invariably sent a splendid
+basket of hot-house grapes. But Farmer M---- was behind the age.
+
+Had he looked over the hedge in the evening, he might have seen a row of
+reapers walking down the road at the sudden sound of a jingling bell
+behind them, open their line, and wheel like a squad, part to the right
+and part to the left, to let the bicycle pass. After it had gone by they
+closed their rank, and trudged on toward the village. They had been at
+work all day in the uplands among the corn, cutting away with their hooks
+low down the yellow straw. They began in the early morning, and had first
+to walk two miles or more up to the harvest field. Stooping, as they
+worked, to strike low enough, the hot sun poured his fierce rays upon
+their shoulders and the backs of their necks. The sinews of the right arm
+had continually to drive the steel through straw and tough weeds entangled
+in the wheat. There was no shadow to sit under for luncheon, save that at
+the side of the shocks, where the sheaves radiated heat and interrupted
+the light air, so that the shadow was warmer than the sunshine. Coarse
+cold bacon and bread, cheese, and a jar of small beer, or a tin can of
+weak cold tea, were all they had to supply them with fresh strength for
+further labour.
+
+At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were resumed,
+and the walk home began. After so many hours of wearisome labour it was
+hardly strange that their natural senses were dulled--that they did not
+look about them, nor converse gaily. By mutual, if unexpressed consent,
+they intended to call at the wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on
+the hard bench outside, and take a quart of stronger ale. Thus trudging
+homewards after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent
+approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell. When he had
+passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped away along the
+dry and dusty road. He was a tall young gentleman, whose form was well set
+off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle costume. He rode well and with
+perfect command--the track left in the dust was straight, there was no
+wobbling or uncertainty.
+
+'That be a better job than ourn, you,' said one of the men, as they
+watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.
+
+'Ay,' replied his mate, 'he be a vine varmer, he be.'
+
+Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his utmost speed,
+and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor would ha e cared if he
+had. He was in haste, for he was late, and feared every minute to hear the
+distant dinner bell. It was his vacation, and Master Phillip, having
+temporarily left his studies, was visiting a gentleman who had taken a
+country mansion and shooting for the season. His host had accumulated
+wealth in the 'City,' and naturally considered himself an authority on
+country matters. Master Phillip's 'governor' was likewise in a large way
+of business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing for
+one of his sons to 'go in' for agriculture--a highly genteel occupation,
+if rightly followed, with capital and intelligence. Phillip liked to ride
+his bicycle in the cool of the evening, and was supposed in these
+excursions to be taking a survey of the soil and the crops, and to be
+comparing the style of agriculture in the district to that to which he had
+been trained while pursuing his studies. He slipped past the wayside inn;
+he glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village; and
+then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went by a
+rickyard. Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load of the
+evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working among and
+directing the rest. The bicyclist without a glance rode on, and shortly
+after reached the lodge gates. They were open, in anticipation of his
+arrival.
+
+He rode up the long drive, across the park, under the old elms, and
+alighted at the mansion before the dinner bell rang, much to his relief;
+for his host had more than one daughter, and Phillip liked to arrange his
+toilet to perfection before he joined their society. His twenty-five-guinea
+dressing-case, elaborately fitted up--too completely indeed, for he had no
+use for the razor--soon enabled him to trim and prepare for the
+dining-room. His five-guinea coat, elegant studs, spotless shirt and
+wristbands, valuable seal ring on one finger, patent leather boots,
+keyless watch, eyeglass, gold toothpick in one pocket, were all carefully
+selected, and in the best possible style. Mr. Phillip--he would have
+scorned the boyish 'master'--was a gentleman, from the perfumed locks
+above to the polished patent leather below. There was _ton_ in his very
+air, in the 'ah, ah,' of his treble London tone of voice, the antithesis
+of the broad country bass. He had a firm belief in the fitness of
+things--in the unities, so to speak, of suit, action, and time.
+
+When his team were struggling to force the ball by kick, or other
+permitted means, across the tented field, Phillip was arrayed in accurate
+football costume. When he stood on the close-mown lawn within the
+white-marked square of tennis and faced the net, his jacket was barred or
+striped with scarlet. Then there was the bicycle dress, the morning coat,
+the shooting jacket, and the dinner coat, not to mention the Ulster or
+Connaught overcoat, the dust coat, and minor items innumerable. Whether
+Phillip rolled in the mire at football, or bestrode a bicycle, or sat down
+to snow-white tablecloth and napkin, he conscientiously dressed the part.
+The very completeness of his prescribed studies--the exhaustive character
+of the curriculum-naturally induced a frame of mind not to be satisfied
+with anything short of absolute precision, and perhaps even apt to extend
+itself into dilettanteism.
+
+Like geology, the science of agriculture is so vast, it embraces so wide a
+range, that one really hardly knows where it begins or ends. Phillip's
+knowledge was universal. He understood all about astronomy, and had
+prepared an abstract of figures proving the connection of sun-spots,
+rainfall, and the price of wheat. Algebra was the easiest and at the same
+time the most accurate mode of conducting the intricate calculations
+arising out of the complicated question of food--of flesh formers and heat
+generators--that is to say, how much a sheep increased in weight by
+gnawing a turnip. Nothing could be more useful than botany-those who could
+not distinguish between a dicotyledon and a monocotyledon could certainly
+never rightly grasp the nature of a hedgerow. _Bellis perennis_ and
+_Sinapis arvensis_ were not to be confounded, and _Triticum repens_ was a
+sure sign of a bad farmer. Chemistry proved that too small a quantity of
+silicate made John Barleycorn weak in the knee; ammonia, animal
+phosphates, nitrogen, and so on, were mere names to many ignorant folk.
+The various stages and the different developments of insect life were next
+to be considered.
+
+As to the soil and strata--the very groundwork of a farm--geology was the
+true guide to the proper selection of suitable seed. Crops had been
+garnered by the aid of the electric light, the plough had been driven by
+the Gramme machine; electricity, then, would play a foremost part in
+future farming, and should be studied with enthusiasm. Without mathematics
+nothing could be done; without ornithological study, how know which bird
+revelled on grain and which destroyed injurious insects? Spectrum analysis
+detected the adulteration of valuable compounds; the photographer recorded
+the exact action of the trotting horse; the telephone might convey orders
+from one end of an estate to the other; and thus you might go through the
+whole alphabet, the whole cyclopaedia of science, and apply every single
+branch to agriculture.
+
+It is to be hoped that Phillip's conversational account of his studies has
+been correctly reproduced here. The chemical terms look rather weak, but
+the memory of an ordinary listener can hardly be expected to retain such a
+mass of technicalities. He had piles of strongly-bound books, the reward
+of successful examinations, besides diplomas and certificates of
+proficiency. These subjects could be pursued under cover, but there was
+besides the field work, which had a more practical sound; model farms to
+be visited; steam-engines to be seen at work; lectures to be listened to
+on the spot; deep-drainage operations, a new drill, or a new sheaf-binder
+to be looked at. Then there were the experimental plots--something like
+the little _parterres_ seen at the edge of lawns.
+
+One plot was sown without manure, another was sown with manure, a third
+had a different kind of manure. The dozen mangolds grown in one patch were
+pulled up and carefully weighed. The grains of wheat in an ear standing in
+an adjacent patch were counted and recorded. As these plots were about a
+yard wide, and could be kept clean, no matter what the weather; and as a
+wheelbarrow load of clay, or chalk, or sand thrown down would alter the
+geological formation, the results obtained from them were certainly
+instructive, and would be very useful as a guide to the cultivation of a
+thousand acres. There was also a large, heavy iron roller, which the
+scholars could if they chose drag round and round the gravel path.
+
+Architecture, again, touches the agriculturist nearly. He requires
+buildings for the pigs, cattle, horses, labourers, engine and machinery,
+lastly, for himself. Out of doors almost any farmhouse that could be
+visited might be made by a lecturer an illustrative example of what ought
+to be avoided. Scarcely one could be found that was not full of
+mistakes--utterly wrong, and erected regardless of design and utility.
+Within doors, with ink, tracing paper, compasses, straight-edge and ruler,
+really valuable ground plans, front elevations, and so on, could be laid
+down. Altogether, with this circle of science to study, the future farmer
+had very hard work to face. Such exhaustive mental labour induced a
+certain nervousness that could only be allayed by relaxation. The bicycle
+afforded a grateful change. Mounted upon the slender, swift-revolving
+wheel, Mr. Phillip in the cool of the evening, after the long day of
+study, sometimes proceeded to stretch his limbs. The light cigar soothed
+his weary and overstrained mind.
+
+The bicycle by-and-by, as if drawn by the power of gravitation, approached
+more and more nearly to the distant town. It threaded the streets, and
+finally stopped in the archway of an inn. There, leaned against the wall,
+under the eye of the respectful ostler, the bicycle reposed. The owner
+strolled upstairs, and in the company of choice spirits studied the laws
+of right angles, of motion, and retarding friction, upon the level surface
+of the billiard table. Somewhere in a not much frequented street there
+could be seen a small window in which a coloured plate of fashions was
+always displayed. There were also some bonnets, trimming, and tasteful
+feathers. Nothing could be more attractive than this window. The milliner
+was young and pretty, and seemed to have a cousin equally young and
+pretty. Poor, lonely, friendless creatures, it was not surprising they
+should welcome a little flirtation. The bicycle which so swiftly carries
+the young man of the present day beyond the penetrating vision of his aunt
+or tutor has much to answer for.
+
+But, as pointed out previously, such exhaustive scientific training
+naturally tends to make the mind mathematical. It cannot be satisfied
+unless its surroundings--the substantial realisation of the concrete-are
+perfect. So Mr. Phillip had a suit for every purpose--for football,
+cricket, tennis, bicycle, shooting, dining, and strolling about. In the
+same way he possessed a perfect armoury of athletic and other useful
+implements. There were fine bats by the best makers for cricket, rods for
+trout fishing, splendid modified choke-bores, saddles, jockey caps, and so
+on. A gentleman like this could hardly long remain in the solitary halls
+of learning--society must claim him for parties, balls, dinners, and the
+usual round. It was understood that his 'governor' was a man of
+substantial wealth; that Phillip would certainly be placed in an extensive
+farm, to play the pleasant part of a gentleman farmer. People with
+marriageable daughters looked upon the clever scholar as a desirable
+addition to their drawing-rooms. Phillip, in short, found himself by
+degrees involved in a whirl of festivities, and was never at a loss where
+to go for amusement when he could obtain leave to seek relaxation. If such
+social adulation made him a little vain, if it led to the purchase of a
+twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, and to frequent consultations with the
+tailor, it really was not Phillip's fault. He felt himself popular, and
+accepted the position.
+
+When the vacation came, gathering up a fresh pile of grandly-bound prize
+books, broad sheets of diplomas, and certificates, Phillip departed to his
+friend's mansion for the partridge shooting. Coming down the road on the
+bicycle he overtook the reapers, and sprang his bell to warn them. The
+reapers thought Phillip's job better than theirs.
+
+At dinner, while sipping his claret, Phillip delivered his opinion upon
+the agriculture of the district, which he had surveyed from his bicycle.
+It was incomplete, stationary, or retrograde. The form of the fields alone
+was an index to the character of the farmers who cultivated them. Not one
+had a regular shape. The fields were neither circles, squares,
+parallelograms, nor triangles. One side, perhaps, might be straight; the
+hedgerow on the other had a dozen curves, and came up to a point. With
+such irregular enclosures it was impossible that the farmer could plan out
+his course with the necessary accuracy. The same incompleteness ran
+through everything--one field was well tilled, the next indifferently, the
+third full of weeds. Here was a good modern cattle-shed, well-designed for
+the purpose; yonder was a tumble-down building, with holes in the roof and
+walls.
+
+So, too, with the implements--a farmer never seemed to have a complete
+set. One farmer had, perhaps, a reaping machine, but he had not got an
+elevator; another had an elevator, but no steam-plough. No one had a full
+set of machinery. If they drained, they only drained one field; the entire
+farm was never by any possibility finished straight off. If the farmer had
+two new light carts of approved construction, he was sure to have three
+old rumbling waggons, in drawing which there was a great waste of power.
+Why not have all light carts? There was no uniformity. The farming mind
+lacked breadth of view, and dwelt too much on detail. It was not, of
+course, the fault of the tenants of the present day, but the very houses
+they inhabited were always put in the wrong place. Where the ground was
+low, flat, and liable to be flooded, the farmhouse was always built by a
+brook. When the storms of winter came the brook overflowed, and the place
+was almost inaccessible. In hilly districts, where there was not much
+water, the farmhouse was situate on the slope, or perhaps on the plateau
+above, and in summer very likely every drop of water used had to be drawn
+up there from a distance in tanks.
+
+The whole of rural England, in short, wanted rearranging upon mathematical
+principles. To begin at the smallest divisions, the fields should be
+mapped out like the squares of a chessboard; next, the parishes; and,
+lastly, the counties. You ought to be able to work steam-ploughing tackle
+across a whole parish, if the rope could be made strong enough. If you
+talked with a farmer, you found him somehow or other quite incapable of
+following a logical sequence of argument. He got on very well for a few
+sentences, but, just as one was going to come to the conclusion, his mind
+seized on some little paltry detail, and refused to move any farther. He
+positively could not follow you to a logical conclusion. If you, for
+instance, tried to show him that a certain course of cropping was the
+correct one for certain fields, he would listen for awhile, and then
+suddenly declare that the turnips in one of the said fields last year were
+a failure. That particular crop of turnips had nothing at all to do with
+the system at large, but the farmer could see nothing else.
+
+What had struck him most, however, in that particular district, as he
+traversed it on the bicycle, was the great loss of time that must result
+from the absence of rapid means of communication on large farms. The
+distance across a large farm might, perhaps, be a mile. Some farms were
+not very broad, but extended in a narrow strip for a great way. Hours were
+occupied in riding round such farms, hours which might be saved by simple
+means. Suppose, for example, that a gang of labourers were at work in the
+harvest-field, three-quarters of a mile from the farmhouse. Now, why not
+have a field telegraph, like that employed in military operations? The
+cable or wire was rolled on a drum like those used for watering a lawn.
+All that was needed was to harness a pony, and the drum would unroll and
+lay the wire as it revolved. The farmer could then sit in his office and
+telegraph his instructions without a moment's delay. He could tap the
+barometer, and wire to the bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the
+mercury was falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the
+farmer to go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
+merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to him: why
+should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could drive the
+farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in short, do
+everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any required spot
+with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his office chair, the farmer
+could control the operations of the farm without once soiling his hands.
+Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his remarks, reached his glass of claret, and
+thus incidentally exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+
+A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war drums
+by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at the bramble
+flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower to flower, seeking
+the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as their bee ancestors did
+before the Roman legions marched to Cowey Stakes. Their habits have not
+changed; their 'social' relations are the same; they have not called in
+the aid of machinery to enlarge their liquid, wealth, or to increase the
+facility of collecting it. There is a low murmur rather than a buzz along
+the hedgerow; but over it the hot summer breeze brings the thumping,
+rattling, booming sound of hollow metal striking against the ground or in
+contact with other metal. These ringing noises, which so little accord
+with the sweet-scented hay and green hedgerows, are caused by the careless
+handling of milk tins dragged hither and thither by the men who are
+getting the afternoon milk ready for transit to the railway station miles
+away. Each tin bears a brazen badge engraved with the name of the milkman
+who will retail its contents in distant London. It may be delivered to the
+countess in Belgravia, and reach her dainty lip in the morning chocolate,
+or it may be eagerly swallowed up by the half-starved children of some
+back court in the purlieus of the Seven Dials.
+
+Sturdy milkmaids may still be seen in London, sweeping the crowded
+pavement clear before them as they walk with swinging tread, a yoke on
+their shoulders, from door to door. Some remnant of the traditional dairy
+thus survives in the stony streets that are separated so widely from the
+country. But here, beside the hay, the hedgerows, the bees, the flowers
+that precede the blackberries--here in the heart of the meadows the
+romance has departed. Everything is mechanical or scientific. From the
+refrigerator that cools the milk, the thermometer that tests its
+temperature, the lactometer that proves its quality, all is mechanical
+precision. The tins themselves are metal--wood, the old country material
+for almost every purpose, is eschewed--and they are swung up into a waggon
+specially built for the purpose. It is the very antithesis of the jolting
+and cumbrous waggon used for generations in the hay-fields and among the
+corn. It is light, elegantly proportioned, painted, varnished--the work
+rather of a coachbuilder than a cartwright. The horse harnessed in it is
+equally unlike the cart-horse. A quick, wiry horse, that may be driven in
+a trap or gig, is the style--one that will rattle along and catch the
+train.
+
+The driver takes his seat and handles the reins with the air of a man
+driving a tradesman's van, instead of walking, like the true old carter,
+or sitting on the shaft. The vehicle rattles off to the station, where
+ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty such converge at the same hour, and then
+ensues a scene of bustle, chaff, and rough language. The tins are placed
+in the van specially reserved for them, the whistle sounds, the
+passengers--who have been wondering why on earth there was all this noise
+and delay at a little roadside station without so much as a visible
+steeple--withdraw their heads from the windows; the wheels revolve, and,
+gathering speed, the train disappears round the curve, hastening to the
+metropolis. Then the empty tins returned from town have to be conveyed
+home with more rattling, thumping and booming of hollow tin--there to be
+carefully cleansed, for which purpose vast quantities of hot water must be
+ready, and coal, of course, must be consumed in proportion.
+
+This beautiful afternoon the booming seems to sound more than usual; it
+may perhaps be the wind that carries the noise along. But Mr. George, the
+farmer, who has been working among the haymakers, steps out from the rank,
+and going some way aside pauses awhile to consider. You should not address
+him as Farmer George. Farmer as an affix is not the thing now; farmers are
+'Mr. So-and-so.' Not that there is any false pride about the present
+individual; his memory goes back too far, and he has had too much
+experience of the world. He leans on his prong--the sharp forks worn
+bright as silver from use--stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on
+the top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
+The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and thus
+gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.
+
+He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight into the
+teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and odd summers
+past. Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of the master haymaker
+must be always watching the horizon to windward. He depends on the sky,
+like the mariner, and spreads his canvas and shapes his course by the
+clouds. He must note their varying form and drift; the height and
+thickness and hue; whether there is a dew in the evenings; whether the
+distant hills are clearly defined or misty; and what the sunset portends.
+From the signs of the sunset he learns, like the antique Roman
+husbandman--
+
+     'When the south projects a stormy day,
+      And when the clearing north will puff the clouds away.'
+
+According as the interpretation of the signs be favourable, adverse, or
+doubtful, so he gives his orders.
+
+This afternoon, as he stands leaning on the prong, he marks the soft air
+which seems itself to be heated, and renders the shade, if you seek it for
+coolness, as sultry as the open field. The flies are numerous and
+busy--the horses can barely stand still, and nod their heads to shake them
+off. The hills seem near, and the trees on the summit are distinctly
+visible. Such noises as are heard seem exaggerated and hollow. There is
+but little cloud, mere thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and
+the blue of the sky is hard and opaque. Farmer George recollects that the
+barometer he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does
+not like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze. There is a
+large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for carting,
+indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can, and the rest,
+if left spread about through next day--Sunday--would be fit on Monday.
+
+On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the sun, if it
+shines, works as hard and effectually as ever. It is always a temptation
+to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay spread about for Sunday, so
+that on Monday morning he may find it made. Another reason why he
+hesitates is because he knows he will have trouble with the labourers, who
+will want to be off early as it is Saturday. They are not so ready to work
+an hour or two overtime as when he was a boy. On the other hand, he
+recollects that the weather cablegrams from America foretell the arrival
+of a depression. What would his grandfather have thought of adjusting the
+work in an English meadow to the tenour of news from the other side of the
+Atlantic?
+
+Suddenly, while he ponders, there arises a shout from the labourers. The
+hay in one spot, as if seized by an invisible force, lifts itself up and
+revolves round and round, rising higher every turn. A miniature cyclone is
+whirling it up--a column of hay twisting in a circle and rising above the
+trees. Then the force of the whirlwind spends itself; some of the hay
+falls on the oaks, and some drifts with the breeze across the field before
+it sinks.
+
+This decides him at once. He resolves to have all the hay carted that he
+can, and the remainder put up into haycocks. The men grumble when they
+hear it; perhaps a year ago they would have openly mutinied, and refused
+to work beyond the usual hour. But, though wages are still high, the
+labourers feel that they are not so much the masters as they were--they
+grumble, but obey. The haycocks are put up, and the rick-cloth unfolded
+over the partly made rick. Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth
+does not touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go
+through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and firmly
+belayed. His caution is justified in the night by a violent thunderstorm,
+and in the morning it is raining steadily.
+
+It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Thursday it does not
+rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the grass hung with
+raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting cloud. The hay cannot be
+touched; it must lie a day till sufficiently dry. Friday is more hopeful.
+He walks out into the fields, and kicks a haycock half over. The hay is
+still wet, but he congratulates himself that not much damage is done.
+Saturday Is warm and fine--work goes on again. But Sunday is near. Sunday
+is fiery hot. Monday, the rain pours down with tropical vehemence.
+
+Thus the monotonous, heart-breaking days go by and lengthen into weeks,
+and the weeks extend into months. The wheat is turning colour, and still
+the hay lies about, and the farmer has ceased even to tap the barometer.
+Those fields that are not cut are brown as brown can be--the grass has
+seeded and is over ripe. The labourers come every day, and some trifling
+job is found for them--the garden path is weeded, the nettles cut, and
+such little matters done. Their wages are paid every week in silver and
+gold--harvest wages, for which no stroke of harvest work has been done. He
+must keep them on, because any day the weather may brighten, and then they
+will be wanted. But the weather does not brighten, and the drain of ready
+cash continues. Besides the men, the mowing machine is idle in the shed.
+Even if the rain ceases, the crops are so laid that it is doubtful if it
+can be employed. The horse-rake is idle, the elevator is idle, the
+haymaking machine is idle, and these represent capital, if not to a large
+amount. He notes the price of hay at the market. For months past it has
+been low--so low that it has hardly paid him to sell that portion of old
+hay which he felt he could spare. From October of last year to June of
+this [1879] the price remained about the same. It is now rising, but he
+has no more old hay to part with, and the new is not yet made. He has to
+bear in mind that his herd of cows has to be kept in high feed all the
+winter, to supply an unvarying quantity of milk to the London purchaser.
+
+These wet days, forcing him unwillingly to stay within doors, send him to
+his books and accounts, and they tell a story somewhat at variance with
+the prevalent belief that dairy-farming is the only branch of farming that
+is still profitable. First, as to the milk-selling. Cows naturally yield a
+larger supply in the summer than in winter, but by the provisions of the
+contract between the farmer and the milkman the quantity sent in summer is
+not to exceed, and the quantity in winter not to fall short of, a
+stipulated amount.[Footnote: An improvement upon this system has been
+introduced by the leading metropolitan dairy company. The farmer is asked
+to fix a minimum quantity which he will engage to supply daily, but he can
+send as much more as he likes. This permits of economical and natural
+management in a dairy, which was very difficult under the rigid rule
+mentioned above.] The price received in summer is about fivepence or
+fivepence-halfpenny per imperial gallon, afterwards retailed in London at
+about one shilling and eightpence. When the cost of conveyance to the
+station, of the horses, of the wear and tear, of the men who have to be
+paid for doing nothing else but look after the milk, is deducted, the
+profit to the farmer is but small. He thinks, too, that he notices a
+decided falling-off in the demand for milk even at this price.
+
+Some dairies find a difficulty in disposing of the milk--they cannot find
+a purchaser. He has himself a considerable surplus over and above what the
+contract allows him to send. This must either be wasted entirely or made
+into butter and cheese. In order to make cheese, the plant, the tubs,
+vats, presses, and so on, must be kept in readiness, and there must be an
+experienced person to superintend the work. This person must be paid a
+salary, and lodge and board in the house, representing therefore a
+considerable outlay. The cheese, when made and sent to market, fluctuates
+of course in price: it may be as low as fourpence a pound wholesale; it
+may go as high as sixpence. Fourpence a pound wholesale will not pay for
+the making; sixpence will leave a profit; but of late the price has gone
+rather to the lower than the higher figure. A few years since, when the
+iron industries flourished, this kind of cheese had a good and ready sale,
+and there was a profit belonging to it; but since the iron trade has been
+in so depressed a condition this cheese has sold badly. The surplus milk
+consequently brings no profit, and is only made into cheese because it
+shall not be wasted, and in the hope that possibly a favourable turn of
+the cheese market may happen. Neither the summer cheese nor the summer
+milk is bringing him in a fortune.
+
+Meantime the hay is spoiling in the fields. But a few years ago, when
+agricultural prices were inflated, and men's minds were full of
+confidence, he recollects seeing standing grass crops sold by auction for
+5_l_. the acre, and in some cases even higher prices were realised. This
+year similar auctions of standing grass crops hardly realised 30_s_. an
+acre, and in some instances a purchaser could not be found even at that
+price. The difference in the value of grass represented by these prices is
+very great.
+
+He has no pigs to sell, because, for a long while past, he has had nothing
+upon which to feed them, the milk being sold. The pigsties are full of
+weeds; he can hardly fatten one for his own use, and has scarcely better
+facilities for keeping pigs than an agricultural labourer. The carriage of
+the milk to the station requires at least two quick horses, and perhaps
+more; one cannot do it twice a day, even with a very moderate load. The
+hard highway and the incessant work would soon knock a single horse up.
+The mowing machine and the horse-rake must be drawn by a similar horse, so
+that the dairy farm may be said to require a style of horse like that
+employed by omnibus proprietors. The acreage being limited, he can only
+keep a certain number of horses, and, therefore, has no room for a brood
+mare.
+
+Farmer George is aware that nothing now pays like a brood cart mare with
+fair good luck. The colt born in April is often sold six months
+afterwards, in September, for 20_l_. or 25_l_., and even up to 30_l_.,
+according to excellence. The value of cart-horse colts has risen greatly,
+and those who are fortunately able to maintain a brood mare have reaped
+the profit. But Mr. George, selling the milk, and keeping a whole stud of
+nags for the milk cart, the mowing machine, the horse-rake, and so forth,
+cannot maintain a brood mare as well. In the winter, it is true, the milk
+may sell for as high a price as tenpence per gallon of four quarts, but
+then he has a difficulty in procuring the quantity contracted for, and may
+perhaps have to buy of neighbours to keep up the precise supply.
+
+His herd must also be managed for the purpose, and must be well fed, and
+he will probably have to buy food for them in addition to his hay. The nag
+horses, too, that draw the milk waggon, have to be fed during the winter,
+and are no slight expense. As for fattening a beast in a stall, with a
+view to take the prize at Christmas at the local show, he has abandoned
+that, finding that it costs more to bring the animal up to the condition
+required than he can afterwards sell it for. There is no profit in that.
+America presses upon him hard, too--as hard, or harder, than on the
+wheat-grower. Cases have been known of American cheese being sold in
+manufacturing towns as low as twopence per pound retail--given away by
+despairing competition.
+
+How, then, is the dairyman to succeed when he cannot, positively cannot,
+make cheese to sell at less than fourpence per pound wholesale? Of course
+such instances are exceptional, but American cheese is usually sold a
+penny or more a pound below the English ordinary, and this cuts the ground
+from under the dairyman's feet; and the American cheese too is acquiring a
+reputation for richness, and, price for price, surpasses the English in
+quality. Some people who have long cherished a prejudice against the
+American have found, upon at last being induced to try the two, that the
+Canadian cheddar is actually superior to the English cheddar, the English
+selling at tenpence per pound and the Canadian at sevenpence.
+
+Mr. George finds he pays a very high rent for his grass land--some 50_s_.
+per acre--and upon reckoning up the figures in his account-books heaves a
+sigh. His neighbours perchance may be making fortunes, though they tell
+quite a different tale, but he feels that he is not growing rich. The work
+is hard, or rather it is continuous. No one has to attend to his duties so
+regularly all the year round as the man who looks after cows. They cannot
+be left a single day from the 1st of January to the 31st of December. Nor
+is the social state of things altogether pleasant to reflect on. His sons
+and daughters have all left home; not one would stay and take to the dairy
+work. They have gone into the towns, and found more congenial employment
+there. He is himself growing in years. His wife, having once left off
+making cheese when the milk selling commenced, and having tasted the
+sweets of rest, is unwilling to return to that hard labour. When it is
+done he must pay some one to do it.
+
+In every way ready money is going out of the house. Cash to pay the
+haymakers idling about in the sheds out of the rain; cash to pay the men
+who manage the milk; cash to pay the woman who makes the cheese out of the
+surplus milk; cash to pay the blacksmith for continually re-shoeing the
+milk cart nags and for mending machines; cash to pay the brewer and the
+butcher and the baker, neither of whom took a sovereign here when he was a
+lad, for his father ate his own bacon, brewed his own beer, and baked his
+own bread; cash to pay for the education of the cottagers' children; cash,
+a great deal of cash, to pay the landlord.
+
+Mr. George, having had enough of his accounts, rises and goes to the
+window. A rain cloud sweeping along the distant hills has hidden them from
+sight, and the rack hurries overhead driven before the stormy wind. There
+comes a knock at the door. It is the collector calling the second time for
+the poor rates, which have grown heavier of late.
+
+But, however delayed, the haymaking is finished at last, and by-and-by,
+when the leaves have fallen and the hunting commences, a good run drives
+away for the time at least the memory of so unpropitious a season. Then
+Mr. George some mild morning forms one of a little group of well-mounted
+farmers waiting at a quiet corner while the hounds draw a great wood. Two
+of them are men long past middle age, whose once tawny beards are
+grizzled, but who are still game, perhaps more so than the rising
+generation. The rest have followed them here, aware that these old hands
+know every inch of the country, and are certain to be in the right place.
+The spot is not far from the park wall, where the wood runs up into a
+wedge-shaped point, and ends in a low mound and hedge. Most of the company
+at the meet in the park have naturally cantered across the level sward,
+scattering the sheep as they go, and are now assembled along the side of
+the wood, near where a green 'drive' goes through it, and apparently gives
+direct access to the fields beyond. From thence they can see the huntsman
+in the wood occasionally, and trace the exact course the hounds are taking
+in their search.
+
+A gallant show it is by the wood! Horsemen and horsewomen, late comers
+hastening up, restless horses, a throng for ever in motion, and every now
+and then the blast of a horn rising up from the trees beneath. A gallant
+show indeed, but two old cunning ones and their followers have slipped
+away down to this obscure corner where they can see nothing of it, and are
+themselves hidden. They know that the wood is triangular in shape, and
+that from this, the apex, they have merely to pass the low hedge in front,
+and, turning to the left, ride along the lower side, and so bisect the
+course the fox will probably take. They know that the 'drive,' which
+offers so straight and easy a descent through the wood from the park, is
+pleasant enough till the lower ground is reached. There the soft, oozy
+earth, which can never dry under the trees, is poached into a slough
+through which even timber carriages cannot be drawn. Nor can a horseman
+slip aside, because of the ash poles and thorn thickets. Those who are
+trapped there must return to the park and gallop all round the wood
+outside, unless they like to venture a roll in that liquid mud. Any one
+can go to a meet, but to know all the peculiarities of the covers is only
+given to those who have ridden over the country these forty years. In this
+corner a detached copse of spruce fir keeps off the wind--the direction of
+which they have noted--and in this shelter it is almost warm.
+
+The distant crack of a whip, the solitary cry of a hound, a hollow shout,
+and similar sounds, come frequently, and now and then there is an
+irrepressible stir in the little group as they hear one of the many false
+alarms that always occur in drawing a great wood. To these noises they are
+keenly sensitive, but utterly ignore the signs of other life around them.
+A pheasant, alarmed by the hounds, comes running quietly, thinking to
+escape into the line of isolated copses that commences here; but, suddenly
+confronted by the horsemen just outside, rises with an uproar, and goes
+sailing down over the fields. Two squirrels, happy in the mild weather,
+frisk out of the copse into the dank grass, till a curvet of one of the
+horses frightens them up into the firs again.
+
+Horses and men are becoming impatient. 'That dalled keeper has left an
+earth open,' remarks one of the riders. His companion points with his whip
+at the hedge just where it joins the wood. A long slender muzzle is thrust
+for a moment cautiously over the bare sandy mound under cover of a thorn
+stole. One sniff, and it is withdrawn. The fox thought also to steal away
+along the copses, the worst and most baffling course he could choose. Five
+minutes afterwards, and there is this time no mistake. There comes from
+the park above the low, dull, rushing roar of hundreds of hoofs, that
+strike the sward together, and force by sheer weight the reluctant earth
+to resound. The two old hands lead over the hedge, and the little company,
+slipping along below the wood, find themselves well on the track, far in
+front of the main body. There is a block in the treacherous 'drive,' those
+who where foremost struggling to get back, and those behind struggling to
+come down. The rest at last, learning the truth, are galloping round the
+outside, and taking it out of their horses before they get on the course
+at all.
+
+It is a splendid burst, and the pace is terrible. The farmers' powerful
+horses find it heavy going across the fresh ploughed furrows and the wet
+'squishey' meadows, where the double mounds cannot be shirked. Now a lull,
+and the two old hands, a little at fault, make for the rising ground,
+where are some ricks, and a threshing machine at work, thinking from
+thence to see over the tall hedgerows. Upon the rick the labourers have
+stopped work, and are eagerly watching the chase, for from that height
+they can see the whole field. Yonder the main body have found a succession
+of fields with the gates all open: some carting is in progress, and the
+gates have been left open for the carter's convenience. A hundred horsemen
+and eight or ten ladies are galloping in an extended line along this
+route, riding hardest, as often happens, when the hounds are quiet, that
+they may be ready when the chiding commences.
+
+Suddenly the labourers exclaim and point, the hounds open, and the
+farmers, knowing from the direction they point where to ride, are off. But
+this time the fox has doubled, so that the squadrons hitherto behind are
+now closest up, and the farmers in the rear: thus the fortune of war
+changes, and the race is not to the swift. The labourers on the rick,
+which stands on the side of a hill, are fully as excited as the riders,
+and they can see what the hunter himself rarely views, _i.e._ the fox
+slipping ahead before the hounds. Then they turn to alternately laugh at,
+and shout directions to a disconsolate gentleman, who, ignorant of the
+district, is pounded in a small meadow. He is riding frantically round and
+round, afraid to risk the broad brook which encircles it, because of the
+treacherous bank, and maddened by the receding sound of the chase. A boy
+gets off the rick and runs to earn sixpence by showing a way out. So from
+the rick Hodge has his share of the sport, and at that elevation can see
+over a wide stretch of what he--changing the 'd' into a 'j'--calls 'the
+juke's country.'
+
+It is a famous land. There are spaces, which on the map look large, and
+yet have no distinctive character, no individuality as it were. Such broad
+expanses of plain and vale are usefully employed in the production of
+cattle and corn. Villages, hamlets, even towns are dotted about them, but
+a list of such places would not contain a single name that would catch the
+eye. Though occupying so many square miles, the district, so far as the
+world is concerned, is non-existent. It is socially a blank. But 'the
+juke's country' is a well-known land. There are names connected with it
+which are familiar not only in England, but all the world over, where
+men--and where do they not?--converse of sport. Something beyond mere
+utility, beyond ploughing and sowing, has given it within its bounds a
+species of separate nationality. The personal influence of an acknowledged
+leader has organised society and impressed it with a quiet enthusiasm.
+Even the bitterest Radical forgives the patrician who shoots or rides
+exceptionally well, and hunting is a pursuit which brings the peer and the
+commoner side by side.
+
+The agricultural population speak as one man upon the subject. The old
+farmer will tell you with pride how his advice was sought when disease
+entered the kennels, and how his remedy saved the lives of valuable
+hounds. The farmer's son, a mere lad, whose head barely rises to his
+saddle, talks of 'the duke' as his hero. This boy knows the country, and
+can ride straight, better than many a gentleman with groom and second
+horse behind. Already, like his elders, he looks forward impatiently to
+the fall of the leaf. The tenants' wives and daughters allude with
+pleasure to the annual social gatherings at the mansion, and it is
+apparent that something like a real bond exists between landlord and
+tenant. No false pride separates the one from the other--intercourse is
+easy, for a man of high and ancient lineage can speak freely to the
+humblest labourer without endangering his precedence. It needs none of the
+parvenu's _hauteur_ and pomp to support his dignity. Every tenant is
+treated alike.
+
+On small estates there is sometimes a complaint that the largest tenant is
+petted while the lesser are harshly treated. Nothing of that is known
+here. The tenants are as well content as it is possible for men to be who
+are passing under the universal depression. _Noblesse oblige_--it would be
+impossible for that ancient house to stoop to meanness. The head rides to
+the hunt, as his ancestors rode to battle, with a hundred horsemen behind
+him. His colours are like the cockades of olden times. Once now and then
+even Royalty honours the meet with its presence. Round that ancient house
+the goodwill of the county gathers; and when any family event--as a
+marriage--takes place, the hearty congratulations offered come from far
+beyond the actual property. His pastime is not without its use--all are
+agreed that hunting really does improve the breed of horses. Certainly it
+gives a life, a go, a social movement to the country which nothing else
+imparts.
+
+It is a pleasant land withal--a land of hill and vale, of wood and copse.
+How well remembered are the copses on the hills, and the steeples, those
+time-honoured landmarks to wandering riders! The small meadows with double
+mounds have held captive many a stranger. The river that winds through
+them enters by-and-by a small but ancient town, with its memories of the
+fierce Danes, and its present talk of the hunt. About five o'clock on
+winter afternoons there is a clank of spurs in the courtyard of the old
+inn, and the bar is crowded with men in breeches and top-boots. As they
+refresh themselves there is a ceaseless hum of conversation, how so-and-so
+came a cropper, how another went at the brook in style, or how some poor
+horse got staked and was mercifully shot. A talk, in short, like that in
+camp after a battle, of wounds and glory. Most of these men are tenant
+farmers, and reference is sure to be made to the price of cheese, and the
+forthcoming local agricultural show.
+
+This old market town has been noted for generations as a great cheese
+centre. It is not, perhaps, the most convenient situation for such a
+market, and its population is inconsiderable; but the trade is, somehow or
+other, a tradition of the place, and traditions are hard to shake. Efforts
+have been made to establish rival markets in towns nearer to the modern
+resorts of commerce, but in vain. The attempt has always proved a failure,
+and to this day the prices quoted at this place rule those of the
+adjoining counties, and are watched in distant cities. The depression made
+itself felt here in a very practical manner, for prices fell to such an
+extent that the manufacture of the old style of cheese became almost a
+dead loss. Some farmers abandoned it, and at much trouble and expense
+changed their system, and began to produce Cheddar and Stilton. But when
+the Stilton was at last ready, there was no demand for it. Almost
+suddenly, however, and quite recently, a demand sprang up, and the price
+of that cheese rose. They say here in the bar that this probably saved
+many from difficulties; large stocks that had been lying on hand
+unsaleable for months going off at a good price. They hope that it is an
+omen of returning prosperity, and do not fail to observe the remarkable
+illustration it affords of the close connection between trade and
+agriculture. For no sooner did the iron trade revive than the price of
+cheese responded. The elder men cannot refrain from chuckling over the
+altered tone of the inhabitants of cities towards the farmers. 'Years
+ago,' they say, 'we were held up to scorn, and told that we were quite
+useless; there was nothing so contemptible as the British farmer. Now they
+have discovered that, after all, we are some good, and even Manchester
+sympathises with us.'
+
+It is now hoped that the forthcoming local show--largely patronised and
+promoted by the chief of the hunting field--will be better than was at one
+time anticipated. Those who would like to see the real working of an
+agricultural show such as this should contrive to visit the yard early in
+the morning of the opening day, some few hours before the public are
+admitted. The bustle, the crash of excited exhibitors, the cries of men in
+charge of cattle, the apparently inextricable confusion, as if everything
+had been put off to the last moment--the whole scene is intensely
+agricultural. Every one is calling for the secretary. A drover wants to
+know where to put his fat cattle; a carter wants to ask where a great
+cart-horse is to stand--he and his horse together are hopelessly
+floundering about in the crowd. The agent of a firm of implement
+manufacturers has a telegram that another machine is coming, and is
+anxious for extra space; the representative of an artificial manure
+factory is vainly seeking a parcel that has got mislaid. The seedsman
+requires permission to somewhat shift his stall; wherever is the
+secretary?
+
+When he appears, a clergyman at once pounces on him to apply for tickets
+for the dinner, and is followed by a farmer, who must have a form and an
+explanation how to fill it up. One of his labourers has decided at the
+last minute to enter for a prize--he has had a year to make up his mind
+in. A crowd of members of the Society are pushing round for a private
+view, and watching the judges at their work. They all turn to the
+secretary to ask where such and such an exhibit may be found, and demand
+why on earth the catalogues are not ready? Mr. Secretary, a stout tenant
+farmer, in breeches and top-boots, whose broad face beams with good nature
+(selected, perhaps, for that very quality), pants and wipes his forehead,
+for, despite the cold, the exertion and the universal flurry have made him
+quiet hot. He gives every inquirer a civil answer, and affably begs the
+eager folk that press upon him to come up into the committee-room.
+
+At this a satisfied smile replaces the troubled expression upon their
+faces. They feel that their difficulties are at an end; they have got hold
+of the right man at last--there is something soothing in the very sound of
+the committee-room. When they get up into this important apartment they
+find it quite empty. There is a blazing fire in the grate, and littered on
+the long table is a mass of forms, letters, lists, and proofs of the
+catalogue waiting for the judges' decision to be entered. After half an
+hour or so their hopes begin to fall, and possibly some one goes down to
+try and haul the secretary up into his office. The messenger finds that
+much-desired man in the midst of an excited group; one has him by the arm
+pulling him forward, another by the coat dragging him back, a third is
+bawling at him at the top of a powerful voice.
+
+By-and-by, however, the secretary comes panting up into the committee-room
+with a letter in his hand and a pleased expression on his features. He
+announces that he has just had a note from his Grace, who, with his party,
+will be here early, and who hopes that all is going on well. Then to
+business, and it is surprising how quickly he disposes of it. A farmer
+himself, he knows exactly what is wanted, and gives the right order
+without a moment's hesitation. It is no new experience to him, and despite
+all this apparent confusion, everything presently falls into its place.
+
+After the opening of the show there is a meeting, at which certain prizes
+are distributed, among them rewards to the best ploughman in 'the juke's
+country,' and to those labourers who have remained longest in the service
+of one master. For the graceful duty of presentation a marchioness has
+been selected, who, with other visitors of high social rank, has come over
+from that famous hunting mansion. To meet that brilliant party the whole
+agricultural interest has assembled. The room is crowded with tenant
+farmers, the entire hunting field is present. Every clergyman in the
+district is here, together with the gentry, and many visitors for the
+hunting season. Among them, shoulder to shoulder, are numbers of
+agricultural labourers, their wives, and daughters, dressed in their best
+for the occasion. After some speeches, a name is called, and an aged
+labourer steps forward.
+
+His grandchildren are behind him; two of his sons, quite elderly
+themselves, attend him almost to the front, so that he may have to make
+but a few steps unsupported. The old man is frosted with age, and moves
+stiffly, like a piece of mechanism rather than a living creature, nor is
+there any expression--neither smile nor interest--upon his absolutely
+immobile features. He wears breeches and gaiters, and a blue coat cut in
+the style of two generations since. There is a small clear space in the
+midst of the well-dressed throng. There he stands, and for the moment the
+hum is hushed.
+
+For sixty years that old man laboured upon one farm; sixty years of
+ploughing and sowing, sixty harvests. What excitement, what discoveries
+and inventions--with what giant strides the world has progressed while he
+quietly followed the plough! An acknowledgment has been publicly awarded
+to him for that long and faithful service. He puts forth his arm; his dry,
+horny fingers are crooked, and he can neither straighten nor bend them.
+Not the least sign appears upon his countenance that he is even conscious
+of what is passing. There is a quick flash of jewelled rings ungloved to
+the light, and the reward is placed in that claw-like grasp by the white
+hand of the marchioness.
+
+Not all the gallant cavalry of the land fearlessly charging hedge and
+brook can, however, repel the invasion of a foe mightier than their chief.
+Frost sometimes comes and checks their gaiety. Snow falls, and levels
+every furrow, and then Hodge going to his work in the morning can clearly
+trace the track of one of his most powerful masters, Squire Reynard, who
+has been abroad in the night, and, likely enough, throttled the
+traditional grey goose. The farmer watches for the frozen thatch to drip;
+the gentleman visiting the stable looks up disconsolately at the icicles
+dependent from the slated eave with the same hope. The sight of a stray
+seagull wandering inland is gladly welcomed, as the harbinger of drenching
+clouds sweeping up on soft south-westerly gales from the nearest coast.
+
+
+The hunt is up once more, and so short are the hours of the day in the
+dead of the year, that early night often closes round the chase. From out
+of the gloom and the mist comes the distant note of the horn, with a weird
+and old-world sound. By-and-by the labourer, trudging homeward, is
+overtaken by a hunter whose horse's neck droops with weariness. His boots
+are splashed with mud, his coat torn by the thorns. He is a visitor,
+vainly trying to find his way home, having come some ten or fifteen miles
+across country since the morning. The labourer shows the route--the
+longest way round is the shortest at night--and as they go listens eagerly
+to the hunter's tale of the run. At the cross roads they part with mutual
+goodwill towards each other, and a shilling, easily earned, pays that
+night for the cottager's pipe and glass of ale.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+
+A pair of well-matched bays in silver-plated harness, and driven by a
+coachman in livery, turn an easy curve round a corner of the narrow
+country road, forcing you to step on the sward by the crimson-leaved
+bramble bushes, and sprinkling the dust over the previously glossy surface
+of the newly fallen horse chestnuts. Two ladies, elegantly dressed, lounge
+in the carriage with that graceful idleness--that indifferent
+indolence--only to be acquired in an atmosphere of luxury. Before they
+pass out of sight round another turn of the road it is possible to observe
+that one at least possesses hair of the fashionable hue, and a complexion
+delicately brilliant--whether wholly natural or partly aided by art. The
+other must be pronounced a shade less rich in the colours of youth, but is
+perhaps even more expensively dressed. An experienced observer would at
+once put them down as mother and daughter, as, indeed, they are.
+
+The polished spokes of the wheels glitter in the sun, the hoofs of the
+high-stepping pair beat the firm road in regular cadence, and smoothly the
+carriage rolls on till the brown beech at the corner hides it. But a sense
+of wealth, of social station, and refinement--strange and in strong
+contrast to the rustic scene--lingers behind, like a faint odour of
+perfume. There are the slow teams pulling stolidly at the ploughs--they
+were stopped, of course, for the carters to stare at the equipage; there
+are the wheat ricks; yonder a lone farmstead, and black cattle grazing in
+the pasture. Surely the costly bays, whose hoofs may even now be heard,
+must belong to the lordly owner of these broad acres--this undulating
+landscape of grass and stubble, which is not beautiful but evidently
+fertile!
+
+A very brief inquiry at the adjacent market town disposes of this natural
+conclusion. It is the carriage of a tenant farmer--but what a tenant! The
+shopkeepers here are eloquent, positively gratefully eloquent, in the
+praise of his wife and daughter. Customers!--no such customers had been
+known in the old borough from time immemorial. The tradesman as he speaks
+involuntarily pulls out his till, glances in, and shuts it up with a
+satisfied bang. The old style of farmer, solid and substantial enough,
+fumbling at the bottom of his canvas bag for silver and gold, was a crusty
+curmudgeon where silk and satin, kid gloves, and so forth were concerned.
+His wife had to look sharp after her poultry, geese and turkeys, and such
+similar perquisites, in order to indulge in any innocent vanity,
+notwithstanding that the rent was paid and a heavy balance at the bank.
+
+Then he would have such a length of credit--a year at least--and nowadays
+a shopkeeper, though sure of his money, cannot wait long for it. But to
+ask for the account was to give mortal offence. The bill would be paid
+with the remark, intended to be intensely sarcastic, 'Suppose you thought
+we was a-going to run away--eh?' and the door would never again be
+darkened by those antique breeches and gaiters. As for the common run of
+ordinary farmers, their wives bought a good deal, but wanted it cheap and,
+looking at the low price of corn and the 'paper' there was floating about,
+it did not do to allow a long bill to be run up. But the Grange
+people--ah! the Grange people put some life into the place. 'Money! they
+must have heaps of money' (lowering his voice to a whisper). 'Why, Mrs.
+---- brought him a fortune, sir; why, she's got a larger income than our
+squire' (as if it were, rank treason to say so). 'Mr. ---- has got money
+too, and bless you, they holds their heads as high as their landlord's,
+and good reason they should. They spend as much in a week as the squire do
+in a month, and don't cheapen nothing, and your cheque just whenever you
+like to ask for it. That's what I calls gentlefolks.' For till and counter
+gauge long descent, and heraldic quarterings, and ancestral Crusaders, far
+below the chink of ready money, that synonym for all the virtues.
+
+The Grange people, indeed, are so conspicuous, that there is little
+secrecy about them or their affairs. The house they reside in--it cannot
+be called a farmstead--is a large villa-like mansion of recent erection,
+and fitted with every modern convenience. The real farmstead which it
+supplanted lies in a hollow at some distance, and is occupied by the head
+bailiff, for there are several employed. As the architecture of the villa
+is consonant with modern 'taste,' so too the inferior is furnished in the
+'best style,' of course under the supervision of the mistress. Mrs. ----
+has filled it with rosewood and ormolu, with chairs completely gilt, legs,
+back, seat, and all, with luxurious ottomans, 'occasional' tables inlaid
+with mother-o'-pearl, soft carpets, polished brazen grate-fittings,
+semi-ecclesiastical, semi-mediaeval, and so forth.
+
+Everywhere the glitter of glass, mirrors over the mantelpieces, mirrors
+let into panels, glass chiffoniers, and pendent prisms of glass round the
+ornamental candlesticks. Mixed with this some of the latest productions of
+the new English Renaissance--stiff, straight-back, plain oak chairs, such
+as men in armour may have used--together with Japanese screens. In short,
+just such a medley of artistic styles as may be seen in scores of suburban
+villas where money is of little account, and even in houses of higher
+social pretensions. There is the usual illustrated dining-room literature,
+the usual _bric-à-brac_, the usual cabinet series of poets. There are oil
+paintings on the walls; there is an immense amount of the most expensive
+electroplate on the dinner table; the toilet accessories in the guest
+chambers are 'elegant' and _recherché_. The upholsterer has not been
+grudged.
+
+For Mrs. ---- is the daughter of a commercial man, one of the principals
+of a great firm, and has been accustomed to these things from her youth
+upwards. She has no sympathies with the past, that even yet is loth to
+quit its hold of the soil and of those who are bred upon it. The ancient
+simplicity and plainness of country life are positively repulsive to her;
+she associates them with poverty. Her sympathies are with warm,
+well-lighted rooms, full of comfort, shadowless because of the glare of
+much gas. She is not vulgar, just the reverse--she is a thorough lady, but
+she is not of the country and its traditions. She is the city and the
+suburb transplanted to the midst of corn, and grass, and cattle. She has
+her maid, skilled in the toilet, her carriage and pair and pony carriage,
+grooms, footmen, just exactly as she would have done had she brought her
+magnificent dowry to a villa at Sydenham.
+
+In the season, with her daughter, she goes to town, and drives daily in
+the park, just the same as to-day she has driven through the leaf-strewn
+country-lane to the market town. They go also to the sea-side, and now and
+then to the Continent. They are, of course, invited to the local balls,
+and to many of the best houses on more private occasions. The
+ramifications of finance do not except the proudest descendants of the
+Crusaders, and the 'firm' has its clients even among them. Bonnets come
+down from Madame Louise, boxes of novels from Mudie's; 'Le Follet' is read
+in the original, and many a Parisian romance as well. Visitors are
+continually coming and going--the carriage is perpetually backwards and
+forwards to the distant railway station. Friends come to the shooting, the
+hunting, the fishing; there is never any lack of society.
+
+The house is full of servants, and need be, to wait upon these people.
+Now, in former days, and not such a great while since, the best of
+servants came from the country. Mistresses sought for them, and mourned
+when, having imbibed town ways and town independence, they took their
+departure to 'better' themselves. But that is a thing of the past; it is
+gone with the disappearance of the old style of country life. Servant
+girls in farmhouses when young used to have a terribly hard life: hard
+work, hard fare, up early of a morning, stone flags under foot by day,
+bare boards under foot upstairs, small pay, and hard words too often. But
+they turned out the best of women, the healthiest and strongest, the most
+sought after. Now they learn a great deal about Timbuctoo, and will soon,
+no doubt, about Cyprus; but the 'servant from the country' is no more.
+Nothing less will suit them to begin with than the service of the parish
+clergyman, then they aspire to the Grange, get there, and receive a
+finishing education, and can never afterwards condescend to go where a
+footman is not kept. They become, in short, fine ladies, whose fathers are
+still at the plough--ladies who at home have been glad of bread and bacon,
+and now cannot possibly survive without hot butcher's meat every day, and
+game and fish in their seasons.
+
+But to return. Mrs. ---- and her daughter have also their saddle horses.
+They do not often hunt, but frequently go to the meet. They have, it is
+true, an acceptable excuse for preferring riding to walking--the fashion
+of tying the dress back so tightly makes it extremely difficult for a lady
+to get over a country stile. The rigours of winter only enable them to
+appear even yet more charming in furs and sealskin. In all this the Grange
+people have not laid themselves open to any reproach as to the
+extravagance or pretension of their doings. With them it is genuine, real,
+unaffected: in brief, they have money, and have a right to what it can
+purchase.
+
+Mr. ---- is not a tenant farmer from necessity; personally he is not a
+farmer at all, and knows no more of shorthorns than the veriest 'City'
+man. He has a certain taste for country life, and this is his way of
+enjoying it--and a very acute way, too, when you come to analyse it. The
+major portion of his capital is, with his wife's, in the 'firm'; it is
+administered and employed for him by men whose family interests and his
+are identical, whose knowledge of business is profound, whose own capital
+is there too. It is a fortunate state of things, not brought about in a
+day, but the growth of more than one generation. Now this man, as has been
+remarked, has a taste for country life--that is to say, he is an
+enthusiast over horses--not betting, but horses in their best form. He
+likes to ride and drive about, to shoot, and fish, and hunt. There is
+nothing despicable in this, but, after the manner of men, of course he
+must find an excuse.
+
+He found it in the children when they were young--two boys and one girl.
+It was better for them to have country air, to ride about the country
+lanes, and over the hills. The atmosphere altogether was more healthy,
+more manly than in the suburbs of a city. The excuse is a good one. Now
+come the means; two plans are open to him. He can buy an estate, or he can
+rent a large farm, or rather series of farms. If he purchases a fine
+estate he must withdraw his capital from business. In the first place,
+that would be inconvenient to old friends, and even unjust to them; in the
+second place, it would reduce his income most materially. Suppose we say,
+not for absolute exactness, but for the sake of present contrast, that
+capital well invested in business brings in ten per cent. The same capital
+invested in land brings in, say, three per cent. nominally; but is it as
+much in reality if you deduct those expensive improvements upon which
+tenants insist nowadays, and the five per cents, and ten per cents,
+allowed off the rent in bad years? At all events, it is certain that
+landlords, as a class, are investing more and more every year in business,
+which looks as if they did not consider land itself sufficiently
+remunerative. In addition, when you have bought your estate, should you
+subsequently wish to realise, the difficulties and delays are very trying.
+You cannot go down to your broker and say, 'Sell me a thousand acres this
+morning.' Capital in land is locked up.
+
+Mr. ----, having been trained in traditions of ready money and easy
+transfer, does not like this prospect. But as the tenant of a great farm
+it is quite another matter. The larger part of his capital still remains
+in the 'firm,' and earns him a handsome income. That which is invested in
+stock, cattle, horses, implements, &c., is in a sense readily negotiable
+if ever he should desire to leave. Instead of having to pet and pamper
+discontented tenants, his landlord has to pet and pamper him. He has, in
+fact, got the upper hand. There are plenty of landlords who would be only
+too glad to get the rich Mr. ---- to manure and deep-plough their lands;
+but there are comparatively few Mr. ----'s whose rent-day payments can be
+implicitly relied on. Mr. ----, in point of fact, gets all the sweets of
+the country gentleman's life, and leaves the owner all the sour. He has no
+heir presumptive to check his proceedings; no law of entail to restrain
+him; no old settlements to bind him hand and foot; none of those hundred
+and one family interests to consult which accumulate in the course of
+years around a landed estate, and so seriously curtail the freedom of the
+man in possession, the head of the family. So far as liberty and financial
+considerations go, he is much better off than his landlord, who perhaps
+has a title.
+
+Though he knows nothing of farming, he has the family instinct of accounts
+and figures; he audits the balance-sheets and books of his bailiff
+personally, and is not easily cheated. Small peculations of course go on,
+but nothing serious. The farms pay their way, and contribute a trifle
+towards the household expenses. For the rest, it is taken out in liberty,
+out-of-door life, field sports, and unlimited horses. His wife and
+daughter mix in the best society the county affords, besides their annual
+visits to town and the sea-side: they probably enjoy thrice the liberty
+and pleasure they would elsewhere. Certainly they are in blooming health.
+The eldest son is studying for the law, the younger has the commercial
+instinct more strongly developed, and is already with the 'firm.' Both of
+them get the full benefit of country life whenever they wish; both of them
+feel that there is plenty of capital behind them, and not the slightest
+jealousy exists on account of primogeniture. Of course they have their
+troubles--what family has not its troubles?--but on the whole their
+position is an enviable one.
+
+When Mrs. ---- and her daughter rustle into their pew at church--placed
+next in honour to that of the proprietor of the soil--all eyes are turned
+upon them. The old-fashioned farmer's wife, who until her years pressed
+heavily upon her made the cheese and butter in her husband's dairy, is not
+so old but that her eyes can distinguish the colour of a ribbon. She may
+talk of such things as vanities, and unknown in her day, but for all that
+a pair of keen eyes criticise skirt, and trimmings, and braidings, and so
+forth, as displayed up in the Grange pew. Her daughter, who is quite
+young--for in her mother's time farming people did not marry till late in
+life--brings a still keener pair of eyes to bear in the same direction.
+
+The bonnets from Regent Street are things to think over and talk of. The
+old lady disinters her ancient finery; the girl, by hook or crook, is
+determined to dress in the fashion. If one farmer's wife is a fine lady,
+why not another? Do not even the servant girls at the Grange come out
+twenty times finer than people who have a canvas bag full of sovereigns at
+home, and many such bags at the bank? So that the Grange people, though
+they pay their way handsomely, and plough deep and manure lavishly, and
+lead the van of agriculture, are not, perhaps, an unmixed good. They help
+on that sapping and undermining of the ancient, sturdy simplicity, the
+solid oak of country character, replacing it with veneer. It is not, of
+course, all, or a tenth part, their fault, or in any way traceable to
+them. It is part and parcel of the wide-spread social changes which have
+gradually been proceeding.
+
+But the tenant farmer's wife who made the butter and cheese, and even
+helped to salt bacon, where is she now? Where are the healthy daughters
+that used to assist her? The wife is a fine lady--not, indeed, with
+carriage and pair, but with a dandy dog-cart at least; not with
+three-guinea bonnets, but with a costly sealskin jacket. There are kid
+gloves on her hands; there is a suspicion of perfume about her; there is a
+rustling of silk and satin, and a waving of ostrich feathers. The daughter
+is pale and interesting, and interprets Beethoven, and paints the old
+mill; while a skilled person, hired at a high price, rules in the dairy.
+The son rides a-hunting, and is glib on the odds. The 'offices'--such it
+is the fashion to call the places in which work was formerly done--are
+carefully kept in the background. The violets and snowdrops and crocuses
+are rooted up, all the sweet and tender old flowers ruthlessly eradicated,
+to make way for a blazing parterre after the manner of the suburban
+villa--gay in the summer, in the spring a wilderness of clay, in the
+autumn a howling desert of musty evergreens..
+
+The 'civilisation' of the town has, in fact, gone out and taken root
+afresh in the country. There is no reason why the farmer should not be
+educated; there is no reason why his wife should not wear a sealskin
+jacket, or the daughter interpret Beethoven. But the question arises, Has
+not some of the old stubborn spirit of earnest work and careful prudence
+gone with the advent of the piano and the oil painting? While wearing the
+dress of a lady, the wife cannot tuck up her sleeves and see to the
+butter, or even feed the poultry, which are down at the pen across 'a
+nasty dirty field.' It is easy to say that farming is gone to the dogs,
+that corn is low, and stock uncertain, and rents high, and so forth. All
+that is true, but difficulties are nothing new; nor must too much be
+expected from the land.
+
+A moderate-sized farm, of from 200 to 800 acres, will no more enable the
+mistress and the misses to play the fine lady to-day than it would two
+generations ago. It requires work now the same as then--steady,
+persevering work--and, what is more important, prudence, economy,
+parsimony if you like; nor do these necessarily mean the coarse manners of
+a former age. Manners may be good, education may be good, the intellect
+and even the artistic sense may be cultivated, and yet extravagance
+avoided. The proverb is true still: 'You cannot have your hare and cook
+him too.' Now so many cook their hares in the present day without even
+waiting to catch them first. A euphuism has been invented to cover the
+wrongfulness of this system; it is now called 'discounting.' The fine lady
+farmers discount their husbands' corn and fat cattle, cheese and butter,
+before they reach the market. By-and-by the plough stops in the furrow,
+and the team is put up to auction, and farewell is said to the old
+homestead for evermore.
+
+There was no warmer welcome to be met with in life than used to be
+bestowed upon the fortunate visitor to an old house in the country where
+the people were not exactly farmers in the ordinary sense, because they
+were sufficiently well off to be independent, and yet made no pretence to
+gentility. You dropped in quite unexpectedly and informally after a
+pleasant stroll about the fields with a double-barrel, untrammelled by any
+attendant. The dogs were all over cleavers sticking to their coats, and
+your boots had to be wiped with a wisp of straw; your pocket was heavy
+with a couple of rabbits or a hare, and your hands black enough from
+powder and handling gates and stiles. But they made you feel immediately
+that such trifles were not of the slightest account.
+
+The dogs were allowed to rush in anyhow and set to work to lick their paws
+by the fire as if the house was their own. Your apology about your boots
+and general state of disorder was received with a smile by the mistress,
+who said she had sons of her own, and knew their ways. Forthwith one
+sturdy son seized the double-barrel, and conveyed it to a place of safety;
+a second took the rabbits or the hare, that you might not be incommoded by
+such a lump in your pocket, and sent the game on home to your quarters by
+a labourer; a third relieved you of your hat. As many tall young ladies
+rose to offer you a seat, so that it was really difficult to know which
+way to turn, besides which the old grandfather with silvery hair pressed
+you to take his chair by the fire.
+
+They had just sat down to the old-fashioned tea at half-past four, and in
+a moment there was a cup and plate ready. The tea had a fragrant scent,
+warm and grateful after the moist atmosphere of the meadows, smelling of
+decaying leaves. The mistress suggested that a nip of brandy might improve
+it, thinking that tea was hardly strong enough for a man. But that was,
+declined; for what could be more delicious than the sweet, thick cream
+poured in by a liberal hand? A fine ham had already been put on the table,
+as if by magic--the girls really seemed to anticipate everything you could
+possibly want. As for the butter, it was exquisite, and so, too, the
+home-baked bread, the more so, because only touched in the processes of
+preparing by the whitest and softest of hands. Such simple things become
+luxuries when brought to perfection by loving care. The old dog on the
+hearthrug came thrusting his nose into your hands, making almost too great
+friends, being perfectly well aware (cunning old fellow) that he could
+coax more out of a visitor than one of the family, who knew how he had
+stuffed all day.
+
+Over all there was an atmosphere of welcome, a genial brightness. The
+young men were anxious to tell you where the best sport could be got. The
+young ladies had a merry, genuine, unaffected smile--clearly delighted to
+see you, and not in the least ashamed of it. They showed an evident desire
+to please, without a trace of an _arriére pensée_. Tall, well-developed,
+in the height of good health, the bloom upon the cheek and the brilliant
+eyes formed a picture irresistibly charming. But it was the merry laugh
+that so long dwelt in the memory--nothing so thoroughly enchants one as
+the woman who laughs from her heart in the joyousness of youth. They
+joined freely in the conversation, but did not thrust themselves forward.
+They were, of course, eager for news of the far away world, but not a hint
+was breathed of those social scandals which now form our favourite gossip.
+From little side remarks concerning domestic matters it was evident that
+they were well acquainted with household duties. Indeed, they assisted to
+remove the things from the table without any consciousness that it was a
+menial task.
+
+It was not long after tea before, drawing round the fire, pipes were
+produced, and you were asked to smoke. Of course you declined on account
+of the ladies, but it was none the less pleasant to be asked. There was
+the great secret of it all-the genuine, liberal, open-handed and
+open-hearted proffering of all the house contained to the guest. And it
+was none the less an amusing conversation because each of the girls
+candidly avowed her own opinions upon such topics as were started--blushing
+a little, it is true, if you asked the reason for the opinion, for ladies
+are not always quite ready with the why and wherefore. But the contrast of
+character, the individuality displayed, gave a zest and interest to the
+talk; so that the hour wore late before you were aware of it. Then, if you
+would go, two, at least, of the three boys piloted you by the best and
+cleanest route, and did not wish you farewell till you were in the
+straight road. This was not so many years ago.
+
+Today, if you call at such a country house, how strangely different is the
+reception! None of the family come to the door to meet you. A servant
+shows you into a parlour--drawing-room is the proper word now--well
+carpeted and furnished in the modern style. She then takes your name--what
+a world of change is shown in that trifling piece of etiquette! By-and-by,
+after the proper interval, the ladies enter in morning costume, not a
+stray curl allowed to wander from its stern bands, nature rigidly
+repressed, decorum--'Society'--in every flounce and trimming. You feel
+that you have committed a solecism coming on foot, and so carrying the
+soil on your boots from the fields without into so elegant an apartment
+Visitors are obviously expected to arrive on wheels, and in correct trim
+for company. A remark about the crops falls on barren ground; a question
+concerning the dairy, ignorantly hazarded, is received with so much
+_hauteur_ that at last you see such subjects are considered vulgar. Then a
+touch of the bell, and decanters of port and sherry are produced and our
+wine presented to you on an electro salver together with sweet biscuits.
+It is the correct thing to sip one glass and eat one biscuit.
+
+The conversation is so insipid, so entirely confined to the merest
+platitudes, that it becomes absolutely a relief to escape. You are not
+pressed to stay and dine, as you would have been in the old days--not
+because there is a lack of hospitality, but because they would prefer a
+little time for preparation in order that the dinner might be got up in
+polite style. So you depart--chilled and depressed. No one steps with you
+to open the gate and exchange a second farewell, and express a cordial wish
+to see you again there. You feel that you must walk in measured step and
+place your hat precisely perpendicular, for the eyes of 'Society' are upon
+you. What a comfort when you turn a corner behind the hedge and can thrust
+your hands into your pockets and whistle!
+
+The young ladies, however, still possess one thing which they cannot yet
+destroy--the good constitution and the rosy look derived from ancestors
+whose days were spent in the field under the glorious sunshine and the
+dews of heaven. They worry themselves about it in secret and wish they
+could appear more ladylike--i.e. thin and white. Nor can they feel quite
+so languid and indifferent, and _blasé_ as they desire. Thank Heaven they
+cannot! But they have succeeded in obliterating the faintest trace of
+character, and in suppressing the slightest approach to animation. They
+have all got just the same opinions on the same topics--that is to say,
+they have none at all; the idea of a laugh has departed. There is a dead
+line of uniformity. But if you are sufficiently intimate to enter into the
+inner life of the place it will soon be apparent that they either are or
+wish to appear up to the 'ways of the world.'
+
+They read the so-called social journals, and absorb the gossip,
+tittle-tattle, and personalities--absorb it because they have no means of
+comparison or of checking the impression it produces of the general loose
+tone of society. They know all about it, much more than you do. No turn of
+the latest divorce case or great social exposure has escaped them, and the
+light, careless way in which it is the fashion nowadays to talk openly of
+such things, as if they were got up like a novel--only with living
+characters--for amusement, has penetrated into this distant circle. But
+then they have been to half the leading watering-places--from Brighton to
+Scarborough; as for London, it is an open book to them; the railways have
+long dissipated the pleasing mysteries that once hung over the metropolis.
+Talk of this sort is, of course, only talk; still it is not a satisfactory
+sign of the times. If the country girl is no longer the hoyden that swung
+on the gates and romped in the hay, neither has she the innocent thought
+of the olden days.
+
+At the same time our friends are greatly devoted to the Church--old people
+used to attend on Sundays as a sacred and time honoured duty, but the
+girls leave them far behind, for they drive up in a pony carriage to the
+distant church at least twice a week besides. They talk of matins and
+even-song; they are full of vestments, and have seen 'such lovely things'
+in that line. At Christmas and Easter they are mainly instrumental in
+decorating the interior till it becomes perfectly gaudy with colour, and
+the old folk mutter and shake their heads. Their devotion in getting
+hothouse flowers is quite touching. One is naturally inclined to look with
+a liberal eye upon what is capable of a good construction. But is all this
+quite spontaneous? Has the new curate nothing at all to do with it? Is it
+not considered rather the correct thing to be 'High' in views, and even to
+manifest an Ultramontane tendency? There is a rather too evident
+determination to go to the extreme--the girls are clearly bent upon
+thrusting themselves to the very front of the parish, so that no one shall
+be talked of but the Misses ----. Anything is seized upon, that will
+afford an opening for posing before the world of the parish, whether it be
+an extreme fashion in dress or in ritual.
+
+And the parish is splitting up into social cliques. These girls, the local
+leaders of fashion, hold their heads far above those farmers' sons who
+bear a hand in the field. No one is eligible who takes a share in manual
+work: not even to be invited to the house, or even to be acknowledged if
+met in the road. The Misses ----, whose papa is well-to-do, and simply
+rides round on horseback to speak to the men with his steam-plough, could
+not possibly demean themselves to acknowledge the existence of the young
+men who actually handle a fork in the haymaking time. Nothing less than
+the curate is worthy of their smile. A very great change has come over
+country society in this way. Of course, men (and women) with money were
+always more eligible than those without; but it is not so very long ago
+that one and all--well-to-do and poor--had one bond in common. Whether
+they farmed large or small acres, all worked personally. There was no
+disgrace in the touch of the plough--rather the contrary; now it is
+contamination itself.
+
+The consequence is that the former general goodwill and acquaintanceship
+is no more. There are no friendly meetings; there is a distinct social
+barrier between the man and the woman who labours and the one who does
+not. These fashionable young ladies could not possibly even go into the
+hayfield because the sun would spoil their complexion, they refresh
+themselves with aërated waters instead. They could not possibly enter the
+dairy because it smells so nasty. They would not know their father's teams
+if they met them on the road. As for speaking to the workpeople--the idea
+would be too absurd!
+
+Once on a time a lift in the waggon just across the wet turf to the
+macadamised road--if it chanced to be going that way--would have been
+looked upon as a fortunate thing. The Misses ---- would indeed stare if
+one of their papa's carters touched his hat and suggested that they should
+get up. They have a pony carriage and groom of their own. He drives the
+milk-cart to the railway station in the morning; in the afternoon he dons
+the correct suit and drives the Misses ---- into the town to shopping. Now
+there exists a bitter jealousy between the daughters of the tradesmen in
+the said town and these young ladies. There is a race between them as to
+which shall be first in fashion and social rank. The Misses ---- know very
+well that it galls their rivals to see them driving about so grandly half
+the afternoon up and down the streets, and to see the big local people
+lift their hats, as the banker, with whom, of course, the large farmer has
+intimate dealings. All this is very little; on paper it reads moan and
+contemptible: but in life it is real--in life these littlenesses play a
+great part. The Misses ---- know nothing of those long treasured recipes
+formerly handed down in old country houses, and never enter the kitchen.
+No doubt, if the fashion for teaching cooking presently penetrates into
+the parish, they will take a leading part, and with much show and blowing
+of trumpets instruct the cottager how to boil the pot. Anything, in short,
+that happens to be the rage will attract them, but there is little that is
+genuine about them, except the eagerness for a new excitement.
+
+What manner of men shall accept these ladies as their future helpmates?
+The tenant farmers are few and far between that could support their
+expenditure upon dress, the servants they would require, and last, but not
+least, the waste which always accompanies ignorance in household
+management. Nor, indeed, do they look for tenant farmers, but hope for
+something higher in the scale.
+
+The Misses ---- are fortunate in possessing a 'papa' sufficiently
+well-to-do to enable them to live in this manner. But there are hundreds
+of young ladies whose fathers have not got so much capital in their farms,
+while what they have is perhaps borrowed. Of course these girls help
+cheerfully in the household, in the dairy, and so forth? No. Some are
+forced by necessity to assist in the household with unwilling hands: but
+few, indeed, enter the dairy. All dislike the idea of manual labour,
+though never so slight. Therefore they acquire a smattering of knowledge,
+and go out as governesses. They earn but a small stipend in that
+profession, because they have rarely gone through a sufficiently strict
+course of study themselves. But they would rather live with strangers,
+accepting a position which is often invidious, than lift a hand to work at
+home, so great is the repugnance to manual labour. These, again, have no
+domestic knowledge (beyond that of teaching children), none of cooking, or
+general household management. If they marry a tenant farmer of their own
+class, with but small capital, they are too often a burden financially.
+Whence comes this intense dislike to hand work--this preference for the
+worst paid head work? It is not confined, of course, to the gentler sex.
+No more striking feature of modern country life can be found.
+
+You cannot blame these girls, whether poor or moderately well-to-do, for
+thinking of something higher, more refined and elevating than the
+cheese-tub or the kitchen. It is natural, and it is right, that they
+should wish to rise above that old, dull, dead level in which their
+mothers and grandmothers worked from youth to age. The world has gone on
+since then--it is a world of education, books, and wider sympathies. In
+all this they must and ought to share. The problem is how to enjoy the
+intellectual progress of the century and yet not forfeit the advantages of
+the hand labour and the thrift of our ancestors? How shall we sit up late
+at night, burning the midnight oil of study, and yet rise with the dawn,
+strong from sweet sleep, to guide the plough? One good thing must be
+scored down to the credit of the country girls of the day. They have done
+much to educate the men. They have shamed them out of the old rough,
+boorish ways; compelled them to abandon the former coarseness, to become
+more gentlemanly in manner. By their interest in the greater world of
+society, literature, art, and music (more musical publications probably
+are now sold for the country in a month than used to be in a year), they
+have made the somewhat narrow-sighted farmer glance outside his parish. If
+the rising generation of tenant farmers have lost much of the bigoted
+provincial mode of thought, together with the provincial pronunciation, it
+is undoubtedly due to the influence of the higher ideal of womanhood that
+now occupies their minds. And this is a good work to have accomplished.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+
+A country 'roadside' railway station seemed deserted upon a warm August
+afternoon. It was all but concealed on that level ground by the hedges and
+trees of the fields with which it was surrounded. There was no sound of
+man or wheels, and nothing moving upon the platform. On the low green
+banks of the rail, where the mast-like telegraph poles stood, the broad
+leaves of the coltsfoot almost covered the earth, and were dusty with the
+sand whirled up an hour since behind the rushing express. By the footpath,
+higher up under the close-cropped hedge, the yarrow flourished, lifting
+its white flower beside the trodden soil. The heavy boots of the
+platelayers walking to and fro to their work on the permanent way brushed
+against it, and crushed the venturous fibres of the creeping cinquefoil
+that stretched into the path. From the yellow standing wheat the sparrows
+rose in a bevy, and settled upon the hedge, chirping merrily. Farther
+away, where a meadow had been lately mown, the swallows glided to and fro,
+but just above the short grass, round and round, under the shadow of the
+solitary oaks. Over the green aftermath is the swallows' favourite haunt
+when the day, though passing fair, does not look like settled weather. For
+lack of such weather the reapers have not yet entered the ripening corn.
+
+But, for the hour, the sun shines brightly, and a narrow line along the
+upper surfaces of the metals, burnished by the polishing friction of a
+thousand wheels, glints like silver under the rays. The red brick of the
+booking-office looks redder and more staring under the fierce light. The
+door is locked, and there is no waiting-room in which to take shelter;
+nothing but a projecting roof over a part of the platform. On the lintel
+is the stationmaster's name painted in small white letters, like the name
+of the landlord over the doorway of an inn. Two corded boxes lie on the
+platform, and near them stand half a dozen rusty milk tins, empty. With
+the exception of a tortoiseshell cat basking in the sunshine, there seems
+nothing living in the station, and the long endless rails stretching on
+either side in a straight line are vacant. For hours during the day the
+place slumbers, and a passenger gliding by in the express may well wonder
+why a station was built at all in the midst of trees and hedges without so
+much as a single visible house.
+
+But by night and very early in the morning there is bustle enough. Then
+the white painted cattle pen yonder, from which the animals are forced
+into the cattle trucks, is full of frightened beasts, lowing doubtfully,
+and only goaded in by the resounding blows upon their backs. Then the
+sheep file in in more patient ranks, but also doubtful and bleating as
+they go. An engine snorts to and fro, shunting coal waggons on to the
+siding--coal for the traction engines, and to be consumed in threshing out
+the golden harvest around. Signalmen, with red and green lights, rush
+hither and thither, the bull's-eyes now concealed by the trucks, and now
+flashing out brightly like strange will-o'-the-wisps. At intervals long
+and heavy goods trains go by, causing the solid earth to tremble.
+
+Presently the sun rises over the distant hills, and the red arms of the
+signals stand out clearly defined, and then the noise of wheels, the
+shouts of the drivers, and the quick sound of hoofs betoken the approach
+of the milk carts with their freight for the early morning train. From the
+platform it is out of sight; but a few yards from the gate a small inn is
+hidden under the tall elms of the hedgerow. It has sprung up since the
+railway came, and is called the Railway Hotel. It proffers good stabling,
+and even a fly and posting for the passenger who finds himself set down at
+that lonely place--a mere road--without the certainty of a friendly
+carriage meeting him. The porter may, perhaps, be taking his glass within.
+The inspector or stationmaster (whichever may be technically correct), now
+that the afternoon express has gone safely through, has strolled up the
+line to his garden, to see how his potatoes are getting on. He knows full
+well that the slow, stopping train despatched just after it will not reach
+his station for at least an hour.
+
+Outside the 'Hotel' stands a pony cart--a gaily coloured travelling rug
+lies across the seat, and the pony, a perfect little beauty, is cropping
+the grass by the hedge side. By-and-by a countryman comes up the road,
+evidently a labourer dressed in his best--he hastens to the 'Hotel,'
+instead of to the station, and finds from the porter that he is at least
+twenty minutes too soon. Then a waggon arrives, and stops while the carter
+drinks. Presently the porter and the labourer stroll together over to the
+platform, and after them a young fellow--a farmer's son, not yet a man but
+more than a boy--comes out and re-arranges the travelling rug in the pony
+cart. He then walks on to the platform, whistling defiantly with his hands
+in his pockets, as if he had got an unpleasant duty to perform, but was
+not going to be intimidated. He watches the stationmaster unlock the
+booking-office, and follows him in out of idle curiosity.
+
+It is booking-office, parcel-office, waiting-room and all combined, and
+the telegraph instrument is there too, some of the needles blocked over
+with a scrap of paper. The place is crammed with sacks, bags, boxes,
+parcels and goods mixed together, such as ironwork for agricultural
+machines, and in a corner lies a rick-cloth smelling strongly of tar like
+the rigging of a ship. On the counter, for there is no sliding window as
+usual at large stations, stands the ticket-stamping machine, surrounded
+with piles of forms, invoices, notices, letters, and the endless documents
+inseparable from railway business, all printed on a peculiar paper with a
+faint shade of yellow.
+
+Somebody says 'A' be coming,' and the young farmer walks out to watch the
+white steam now just visible far away over the trees. The train runs round
+the curve on to the straight, and the engine in front grows gradually
+larger and larger as it comes nearer, visibly vibrating till the brake
+draws it up at the platform.
+
+Master Jack has no difficulty in identifying the passenger he has come to
+meet. His sister, a governess, coming home for a holiday, is the only
+person that alights, and the labourer, dressed for the occasion, is the
+only one who gets in. No sooner is he in than he gapes out of the window
+open-mouthed at Miss S----. She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress
+from the dust and dirt of travel. Her fashionable hat has an air of the
+West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as those
+must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots. Up goes her
+parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from the glaring sun.
+Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss her; he looks her up and
+down with a kind of contemptuous admiration, nods, and asks how much
+luggage? He has, you see, been repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions.
+Mademoiselle points to her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already
+taken out. He worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon
+her with cheerful alacrity. She gives him a small coin, but looks the
+other way, without a sign of recognition. The luggage is placed in the
+pony cart.
+
+Mademoiselle gets in without so much as patting the beautiful little
+creature in the shafts. Her ticket is the only first-class ticket that has
+been given up at that lonely station all the week. 'Do make haste,' she
+remarks petulantly as her brother pauses to speak to a passing man who
+looks like a dealer. Master Jack turns the pony cart, and away they go
+rattling down the road. The porter, whilom an agricultural labourer, looks
+after them with a long and steady stare. It is not the first time he has
+seen this, but he can hardly take it in yet.
+
+'She do come the lady grandish, don't her?' the dealer remarks
+meditatively. 'Now her father----'
+
+'Ay,' interrupts the porter, 'he be one of the old sort; but she----' he
+cannot get any further for lack of an appropriate illustration. The
+arrival of mademoiselle periodically takes their breath away at that
+little place.
+
+As the pair rattle along in the pony trap there is for a time a total
+silence. Mademoiselle looks neither to the right nor the left, and asks
+after nobody. She does not note the subtle tint of bronze that has begun
+to steal over the wheat, nor the dark discoloured hay, witness of rough
+weather, still lying in the meadows. Her face--it is a very pretty
+face--does not light up with any enthusiasm as well-remembered spots come
+into sight. A horseman rides round a bend of the road, and meets them--he
+stares hard at her--she takes no heed. It is a young farmer, an old
+acquaintance, anxious for some sign of recognition. After he has passed he
+lifts his hat, like a true countryman, unready at the moment. As for the
+brother, his features express gathering and almost irrepressible disgust.
+He kicks with his heavy boots, he whistles, and once now and then gives a
+species of yell. Mademoiselle turns up her pretty nose, and readjusts her
+chevron gloves.
+
+'Have you not got any cuffs, Jack?' she asks, 'your wrists look so bare
+without them.'
+
+Jack makes no reply. Another silence. Presently he points with an
+expression meant to be sardonic at a distant farmhouse with his whip.
+
+'Jenny's married,' he says, full well aware that this announcement will
+wake her up, for there had been of old a sort of semi-feud or rivalry
+between the two girls, daughters of neighbouring farmers, and both with
+pretensions to good looks.
+
+'Who to?' she asks eagerly.
+
+'To old Billy L----; lots of tin.'
+
+'Pshaw!' replies mademoiselle. 'Why, he's sixty, a nasty, dirty old
+wretch.'
+
+'He has plenty of money,' suggests Jack.
+
+'What you think plenty of money, perhaps. He is nothing but a farmer,' as
+if a farmer was quite beneath her notice.
+
+Just then a farmer rode out into the road from the gateway of a field, and
+Jack pulled up the pony. The farmer was stout, elderly, and florid; he
+appeared fairly well-to-do by his dress, but was none too particular to
+use his razor regularly. Yet there was a tenderness--almost a pathos--in
+the simple words he used:--'Georgie, dear, come home?' 'Yes, papa,' and
+she kissed his scrubby chin as he bent down from his horse. He would not
+go to the station to meet her; but he had been waiting about behind the
+hedge for an hour to see her come along. He rode beside the pony cart, but
+Georgie did not say anything more, or ask after any one else.
+
+As they turned a corner the farmer pointed ahead. 'There's your mother,
+Georgie, looking over the garden wall.' The yearning mother had been there
+these two hours, knowing that her darling could not arrive before a
+certain time, and yet unable in her impatience to stay within. Those old
+eyes were dim with tears under the spectacles as Georgie quietly kissed
+her forehead, and then suddenly, with something like generous feeling, her
+lips.
+
+They went in, an old pointer, whose days in the stubble were nearly over,
+following close at Georgie's heels, but without obtaining a pat for his
+loving memory. The table was spread for tea--a snowy cloth, the whitest of
+bread, the most delicious golden butter, the ham fresh cooked, as Georgie
+might be hungry, the thick cream, the silver teapot, polished for Georgie,
+and the bright flowers in the vase before her plate. The window was open,
+with its view of the old, old hills, and a breath of summer air came in
+from the meadow. The girl glanced round, frowned, and went upstairs to her
+room without a word, passing on the landing the ancient clock in its tall
+case, ticking loud and slow.
+
+And this was 'home.' The whole place jarred upon her, fresh as she was
+from a fine house in Belgravia. The sitting-room beneath, which she had so
+quickly left, looked cheerful and homely, but it was that very homeliness
+that jarred upon her. The teapot was real silver, but it was of
+old-fashioned shape. Solid as the furniture was, and still after so many
+years of service worth money, yet it was chipped by kicks from iron-shod
+boots, which had also worn the dingy carpet bare. There was an absence of
+the nick-nacks that strew the rooms of people in 'Society.' There was not
+even a bell-handle to pull; if you wanted the maid of all work, you must
+open the door and call to her. These little things, trifles as they may
+be, repelled her. It was a bitter cup to her to come 'home.'
+
+Mr. S---- was a farmer of fair means, and, compared with many of his
+neighbours, well-to-do, and well connected. But he was still a yeoman
+only, and personally made pretensions to nothing more. Though he himself
+had received little or no education, he quite saw the value of it, and was
+determined that his children should be abreast of the times. Accordingly,
+so soon as Georgie grew old enough, a governess with high recommendations,
+and who asked what the farmer then thought a high price (he knows more
+about such things now!) was had down from London. Of course the
+rudimentary A B C of learning could just as well have been imparted by an
+ordinary person, but Mr. and Mrs. S---- had a feeling which they could not
+perhaps have expressed in words, that it was not so much the actual
+reading and writing, and French and music, and so on, as a social
+influence that was needed to gradually train the little country girl into
+a young lady fit to move in higher society.
+
+The governess did her work thoroughly. Georgie was not allowed to walk in
+the wet grass, to climb up the ladder on to the half-completed hayrick,
+and romp under the rick-cloth, to paddle with naked feet in the shallow
+brook, or any other of the things that country children have done from
+time immemorial. Such things she was taught were not ladylike, and, above
+all, she was kept away from the cottage people. She was not permitted to
+enter their doors, to converse with the women, or to watch the carter with
+his horses. Such vulgar folk and their vulgar dialect were to be carefully
+avoided. Nor must she get into a hedge after a bird's-nest, lest she
+should tear her frock.
+
+It was not long before the governess really ruled the house. The farmer
+felt himself totally unable to interfere in these matters; they were
+outside his experience altogether. His wife did not like it, but for
+Georgie's sake she gave up her former habits, and endeavoured to order the
+house according to the ideas of the governess from London. The traditions,
+as it were, of the place were upset. It was not a solitary instance, the
+same thing has happened in scores of farmhouses to a more or less degree.
+Mr. S---- all his life had ridden on horseback, or driven a gig, which did
+very well for him and his wife. But the governess thought Georgie ought to
+learn to ride and drive, and gigs were so much out of fashion. So the pony
+cart and pony were purchased for her, and in this she went into the
+distant market town twice or more weekly. Sometimes it was for shopping,
+sometimes to fetch household goods, sometimes to see friends; any excuse
+answered very well. The governess said, and really believed, that it was
+better for Georgie to be away from the farm as much as possible, to see
+town people (if only a country town), and to learn their ways.
+
+The many cheap illustrated papers giving the last details of fashionable
+costumes were, of course, brought home to be carefully read in the
+evenings. These publications have a large circulation now in farmhouses.
+Naturally Georgie soon began to talk about, and take an interest--as girls
+will do--in the young gentlemen of the town, and who was and who was not
+eligible. As for the loud-voiced young farmers, with their slouching walk,
+their ill-fitting clothes, and stupid talk about cows and wheat, they were
+intolerable. A banker's clerk at least--nothing could be thought of under
+a clerk in the local banks; of course, his salary was not high, but then
+his 'position.' The retail grocers and bakers and such people were quite
+beneath one's notice--low, common persons. The 'professional tradesmen'
+(whatever that may be) were decidedly better, and could be tolerated. The
+solicitors, bank managers, one or two brewers (wholesale--nothing retail),
+large corn factors or coal merchants, who kept a carriage of some
+kind--these formed the select society next under, and, as it were,
+surrounding the clergy and gentry. Georgie at twelve years old looked at
+least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be avoided above all
+things.
+
+As she grew older her mind was full of the local assembly ball. The ball
+had been held for forty years or more, and had all that time been in the
+hands of the exclusive upper circles of the market town. They only asked
+their own families, relations (not the poor ones), and visitors. When
+Georgie was invited to this ball it was indeed a triumph. Her poor mother
+cried with pleasure over her ball dress. Poor woman, she was a good, a too
+good, mother, but she had never been to a ball. There were, of course,
+parties, picnics, and so on, to which Georgie, having entered the charmed
+circle, was now asked; and thus her mind from the beginning centred in the
+town. The sheep-fold, the cattle-pen, the cheese-tub, these were thrust
+aside. They did not interest her, she barely understood the meaning when
+her father took the first prize at an important cattle show. What
+So-and-so would wear at the flower show, where all the select would come,
+much more nearly concerned her.
+
+At the high-class academy where her education was finished the same
+process went on. The other girls quickly made her thoroughly understand (a
+bitter knowledge) that the great people in the little market town, the
+very richest of them, were but poor in comparison with their papas. Their
+papas were in the 'City,' or on ''Change,' and had as many thousands a
+year as the largest farmer she knew could reckon hundreds. Georgie felt
+ashamed of her papa, recollecting his crumpled old hat, and his scrubby
+chin. Being really a nice girl, under the veneer that was so industriously
+placed upon her, she made friends among her fellow scholars, and was
+invited to more than one of their grand homes in Kensington and the
+suburbs of London. There she learned all the pomp of villa life, which put
+into the shade the small incomes which displayed their miserable vanities
+in the petty market town. Footmen, butlers, late dinners, wines,
+carriages, the ceaseless gossip of 'Society' were enough to dazzle the
+eyes of a girl born so near the cowshed. The dresses she had to wear to
+mix with these grand friends cost a good deal--her parents sacrificing
+their own comforts for her advantage--and yet, in comparison with the
+beautiful costumes she saw, they seemed shabby.
+
+Georgie was so far fortunate as to make friends of some of the elder
+people, and when she had passed her examinations, and obtained the
+diplomas and certificates which are now all essential, through their
+interest she obtained at starting a very high salary. It was not long
+before she received as much as sixty or seventy pounds a year. It was not
+only that she really was a clever and accomplished girl, but her
+recommendations were influential. She was employed by wealthy people, who
+really did not care what they paid so long as their children were in good
+hands. Now to the old folk at home, and to the neighbours, this seemed an
+immense salary for a girl, especially when the carriage, the footmen, the
+wines, and late dinners, and so on, were taken into consideration. The
+money, however, was of very little use to her. She found it necessary to
+dress equal to her place. She had to have several dresses to wear,
+according to the time of day, and she had to have new ones very often, or
+she might be told petulantly and pointedly by her mistress that 'one gets
+so weary of seeing the same dresses every day.' Instead of the high salary
+leaving a handsome profit, her father had occasionally to pay a stiff bill
+for her. But then the 'position'--look at the 'position' and the society.
+
+Georgie, in process of time, went to Scotland, to Paris, the South of
+France, to Rome, and Naples. Being a discreet girl, and having a winning
+manner, she became as much a companion to her mistress as governess, and
+thus saw and heard more of the world than she would otherwise have done.
+She saw some very grand people indeed occasionally. After this, after the
+Continent, and, above all, London in the season, the annual visit to the
+old farmhouse came to be a bitter time of trial. Georgie had come home now
+for a few days only, to ask for money, and already before she had scarcely
+spoken had rushed upstairs to hide her feeling of repulsion in the privacy
+of her room.
+
+Her welcome had been warm, and she knew that under the rude exterior it
+was more than warm; but the absence of refinement jarred upon her. It all
+seemed so uncouth. She shrank from the homely rooms; the very voice of her
+mother, trembling with emotion, shocked her ear, unaccustomed to country
+pronunciation. She missed the soft accents of the drawing-room. From her
+window she could see nothing but the peaceful fields--the hateful green
+trees and hedges, the wheat, and the hateful old hills. How miserable it
+was not to be born to Grosvenor Square!
+
+Georgie's case was, of course, exceptional in so far as her 'success' was
+concerned. She possessed good natural parts, discretion, and had the
+advantage of high-class recommendations. But apart from her 'success,' her
+case was not exceptional. The same thing is going on in hundreds of
+farmhouses. The daughters from the earliest age are brought up under a
+system of education the practical tendency of which is to train their
+minds out of the associations of farming. When later on they go out to
+teach they are themselves taught by the social surroundings of the
+households into which they enter to still more dislike the old-fashioned
+ways of agriculture. Take twenty farmers' families, where there are girls,
+and out of that twenty fifteen will be found to be preparing for a
+scholastic life. The farmer's daughter does not like the shop-counter,
+and, as she cannot stay at home, there is nothing left to her but the
+profession of governess. Once thoroughly imbued with these 'social' ideas,
+and a return to the farm is almost impossible. The result is a continuous
+drain of women out of agriculture--of the very women best fitted in the
+beginning to be the helpmate of the farmer. In no other calling is the
+assistance of the wife so valuable; it is not too much to say that part at
+least of the decadence of agriculture is owing to the lack of women
+willing to devote themselves as their mothers did before them. It follows
+that by degrees the farming caste is dying out. The sons go to the city,
+the daughters go to the city; in a generation, or little more, a once
+well-known farming family becomes extinct so far as agriculture is
+concerned.
+
+How could such a girl as poor Georgie, looking out of window at the
+hateful fields, and all at discord with the peaceful scene, settle down as
+the mistress of a lonely farmhouse?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+
+An agricultural district, like a little kingdom, has its own capital city.
+The district itself is as well defined as if a frontier line had been
+marked out around it, with sentinels and barriers across the roads, and
+special tolls and duties. Yet an ordinary traveller, upon approaching,
+fails to perceive the difference, and may, perhaps, drive right through
+the territory without knowing it. The fields roll on and rise into the
+hills, the hills sink again into a plain, just the same as elsewhere;
+there are cornfields and meadows; villages and farmsteads, and no visible
+boundary. Nor is it recognised upon the map. It does not fit into any
+political or legal limit; it is neither a county, half a county, a
+hundred, or police division. But to the farmer it is a distinct land. If
+he comes from a distance he will at once notice little peculiarities in
+the fields, the crops, the stock, or customs, and will immediately inquire
+if it be not such and such a place that he has heard of. If he resides
+within thirty miles or so he will ever since boyhood have heard 'the
+uplands' talked of as if it were a separate country, as distinct as
+France. Cattle from the uplands, sheep, horses, labourers, corn or hay, or
+anything and anybody from thence, he has grown up accustomed to regard
+almost as foreign.
+
+There is good reason, from an agricultural point of view, for this. The
+district, with its capital city, Fleeceborough, really is distinct, well
+marked, and defined. The very soil and substrata are characteristic. The
+products are wheat, and cattle, and sheep, the same as elsewhere, but the
+proportions of each, the kind of sheep, the traditionary methods and farm
+customs are separate and marked. The rotation of crops is different, the
+agreements are on a different basis, the very gates to the fields have
+peculiar fastenings, not used in other places. Instead of hedges, the
+fields, perhaps, are often divided by dry stone walls, on which, when they
+have become old, curious plants may sometimes be found. For the flora,
+too, is distinct; you may find herbs here that do not exist a little way
+off, and on the other hand, search how you will, you will not discover one
+single specimen of a simple flower which strews the meadows elsewhere.
+
+Here the very farmhouses are built upon a different plan, and with
+different materials; the barns are covered with old stone slates, instead
+of tiles or thatch. The people are a nation amongst themselves. Their
+accent is peculiar and easily recognised, and they have their own
+folklore, their own household habits, particular dainties, and way of
+life. The tenant farmers, the millers, the innkeepers, and every Hodge
+within 'the uplands' (not by any means all hills)--in short, every one is
+a citizen of Fleeceborough. Hodge may tend his flock on distant pastures,
+may fodder his cattle in far-away meadows, and dwell in little hamlets
+hardly heard of, but all the same he is a Fleeceborough man. It is his
+centre; thither he looks for everything.
+
+The place is a little market town, the total of whose population in the
+census records sounds absurdly small; yet it is a complete world in
+itself; a capital city, with its kingdom and its ruler, for the territory
+is practically the property of a single family. Enter Fleeceborough by
+whichever route you will, the first object that fixes the attention is an
+immensely high and endless wall. If you come by carriage one way, you
+skirt it for a long distance; if you come the other, you see it as you
+pass through the narrow streets every now and then at the end of them,
+closing the prospect and overtopping the lesser houses. By railway it is
+conspicuous from the windows; and if you walk about the place, you
+continually come upon it. It towers up perpendicular and inaccessible,
+like the curtain wall of an old fortification: here and there the upper
+branches of some great cedar or tall pine just show above it. One or more
+streets for a space run conterminous with it--the wall on one side, the
+low cottage-houses on the other, and their chimneys are below the coping.
+It does not really encircle the town, yet it seems everywhere, and is the
+great fact of the place.
+
+If you wander about examining this wall, and wondering where it begins and
+where it ends, and what is inside, you may perchance come upon a gateway
+of noble proportions. It is open, but one hesitates to pass through,
+despite the pleasant vista of trees and green sward beyond. There is a
+watchman's wooden hut, and the aged sentinel is reading his newspaper in
+the shadow, his breast decorated with medal and clasp, that tell of
+honourable service. A scarlet-coated soldier may, too, be strolling
+thereabout, and the castellated top of a barrack-like building near at
+hand is suggestive of military force. You hesitate, but the warden invites
+you to walk at your leisure under the old trees, and along the endless
+glades. If you enter, you pass under the metal scrollwork of the iron
+gates, and, above, the gilded circle of a coronet glistens in the
+sunshine. These are the private demesnes of a prince and ruler of
+Hodge--the very highest and most powerful of his masters in that part of
+the country. The vast wall encloses his pleasure-grounds and mansion; the
+broad iron gates give access to mile after mile of park and wood, and the
+decorated warden or pensioner has but to open them for the free entry of
+all Fleeceborough and her citizens. Of course the position of the barrack
+is a mere accident, yet it gives an air of power and authority--the place
+is really as open, the beautiful park as common and accessible as the
+hill-top under the sky. A peer only at Westminster, here he is a prince,
+whose dominions are almost co-extensive with the horizon; and this, the
+capital city, is for the most part his.
+
+Far away stretches that little kingdom, with its minor towns of villages,
+hamlets, and farms. Broad green meadows, where the cattle graze beside the
+streams and in the plains; rolling uplands, ploughed and sown, where the
+barley nourishes; deep rich wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey
+church towers; new glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient
+farmhouses tenanted for generations by the same families.
+
+Farmers have long since discovered that it is best to rent under a very
+large owner, whether personal as in this case, or impersonal as a college
+or corporation. A very large owner like this can be, and is, more liberal.
+He puts up sheds, and he drains, and improves, and builds good cottages
+for the labourers. Provided, of course, that no serious malpractice comes
+to light, he, as represented by his steward, never interferes, and the
+tenant is personally free. No one watches his goings out and comings in;
+he has no sense of an eye for ever looking over the park wall. There is a
+total absence of the grasping spirit sometimes shown. The farmer does not
+feel that he will be worried to his last shilling. In case of unfavourable
+seasons the landlord makes no difficulty in returning a portion of the
+rent; he anticipates such an application. Such immense possessions can
+support losses which would press most heavily upon comparatively small
+properties. At one side of the estate the soil perchance is light and
+porous, and is all the better for rain; on the other, half across the
+county, or quite, the soil is deep and heavy and naturally well watered
+and flourishes in dry summers. So that there is generally some one
+prospering if another suffers, and thus a balance is maintained.
+
+A reserve of wealth has, too, slowly accumulated in the family coffers,
+which, in exceptional years, tides the owner over with little or no
+appreciable inconvenience. With an income like this, special allowances,
+even generous allowances, can be and are made, and so the tenants cease to
+feel that their landlord is living out of their labour. The agreements are
+just; there is no rapacity. Very likely the original lease or arrangement
+has expired half a century since; but no one troubles to renew it. It is
+well understood that no change will be effected. The tenure is as steady
+as if the tenant had an Act of Parliament at his back.
+
+When men have once settled, they and their descendants remain, generation
+after generation. By degrees their sons and sons' descendants settle too,
+and the same name occurs perhaps in a dozen adjacent places. It is this
+fixed unchangeable character of the district which has enabled the mass of
+the tenants not indeed to become wealthy, but to acquire a solid,
+substantial standing. In farming affairs money can be got together only in
+the slow passage of years; experience has proved that beyond a doubt.
+These people have been stationary for a length of time, and the moss of
+the proverb has grown around them. They walk sturdily, and look all men in
+the face; their fathers put money in the purse. Times are hard here as
+everywhere, but if they cannot, for the present season, put more in that
+purse, its contents are not, at all events, much diminished, and enable
+them to maintain the same straightforward manliness and independence.
+By-and-by, they know there will come the chink of the coin again.
+
+When the tenant is stationary, the labourer is also. He stays in the same
+cottage on the same farm all his life, his descendants remain and work for
+the same tenant family. He can trace his descent in the locality for a
+hundred years. From time immemorial both Hodge and his immediate employers
+have looked towards Fleeceborough as their capital. Hodge goes in to the
+market in charge of his master's sheep, his wife trudges in for household
+necessaries. All the hamlet goes in to the annual fairs. Every cottager in
+the hamlet knows somebody in the town; the girls go there to service, the
+boys to get employment. The little village shops obtain their goods from
+thence. All the produce--wheat, barley, oats, hay, cattle, and sheep--is
+sent into the capital to the various markets held there. The very ideas
+held in the villages by the inhabitants come from Fleeceborough; the local
+papers published there are sold all round, and supply them with news,
+arguments, and the politics of the little kingdom. The farmers look to
+Fleeceborough just as much or more. It is a religious duty to be seen
+there on market days. Not a man misses being there; if he is not visible,
+his circle note it, and guess at various explanations.
+
+Each man has his own particular hostelry, where his father, and his
+grandfather, put up before him, and where he is expected to dine in the
+same old room, with the pictures of famous rams, that have fetched
+fabulous prices, framed against the walls, and ram's horns of exceptional
+size and peculiar curve fixed up above the mantelpiece. Men come in in
+groups of two or three, as dinner time approaches, and chat about sheep
+and wool, and wool and sheep; but no one finally settles himself at the
+table till the chairman arrives. He is a stout, substantial farmer, who
+has dined there every market day for the last thirty or forty years.
+
+Everybody has his own particular seat, which he is certain to find kept
+for him. The dinner itself is simple enough, the waiters perhaps still
+more simple, but the quality of the viands is beyond praise. The mutton is
+juicy and delicious, as it should be where the sheep is the very idol of
+all men's thoughts; the beef is short and tender of grain; the vegetables,
+nothing can equal them, and they are all here, asparagus and all, in
+profusion. The landlord grows his own vegetables--every householder in
+Fleeceborough has an ample garden--and produces the fruit from his own
+orchards for the tarts. Ever and anon a waiter walks round with a can of
+ale and fills the glasses, whether asked or not. Beef and mutton,
+vegetables and fruit tarts, and ale are simple and plain fare, but when
+they are served in the best form, how will you surpass them? The real
+English cheese, the fresh salads, the exquisite butter--everything on the
+table is genuine, juicy, succulent, and rich. Could such a dinner be found
+in London, how the folk would crowd thither! Finally, comes the waiter
+with his two clean plates, the upper one to receive the money, the lower
+to retain what is his. If you are a stranger, and remember what you have
+been charged elsewhere in smoky cities for tough beef, stringy mutton,
+waxy potatoes, and the very bread black with smuts, you select half a
+sovereign and drop it on the upper plate. In the twinkling of an eye eight
+shillings are returned to you; the charge is a florin only.
+
+They live well in Fleeceborough, as every fresh experience of the place
+will prove; they have plentiful food, and of the best quality; poultry
+abounds, for every resident having a great garden (many, too, have
+paddocks) keeps fowls; fresh eggs are common; as for vegetables and fruit,
+the abundance is not to be described. A veritable cornucopia--a horn of
+plenty--seems to forever pour a shower of these good things into their
+houses. And their ale! To the first sight it is not tempting. It is thick,
+dark, a deep wine colour; a slight aroma rises from it like that which
+dwells in bonded warehouses. The first taste is not pleasing; but it
+induces a second, and a third. By-and-by the flavour grows upon the
+palate; and now beware, for if a small quantity be thrown upon the fire it
+will blaze up with a blue flame like pure alcohol. That dark
+vinous-looking ale is full of the strength of malt and hops; it is the
+brandy of the barley. The unwary find their heads curiously queer before
+they have partaken, as it seems to them, of a couple of glasses. The very
+spirit and character of Fleeceborough is embodied in the ale; rich,
+strong, genuine. No one knows what English ale is till he has tried this.
+
+After the market dinner the guests sit still--they do not hurry away to
+counter and desk; they rest awhile, and dwell as it were on the flavour of
+their food. There is a hum of pleasant talk, for each man is a right boon
+companion. The burden of that talk has been the same for generations--sheep
+and wool, wool and sheep. Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to
+'he,' what 'he' will do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support
+such and such a movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view
+will 'he' take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
+special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that favoured
+man is an object of the deepest interest, and is cross-questioned all
+round the table till his small item of authentic intelligence has been
+thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the resident within those vast and endless
+walls, with the metal gates and the gilded coronet above--the prince of
+this kingdom and its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally
+hastening hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.
+
+It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads converging on the
+town are visible. The province lies stretched out beneath. There is the
+gleam of water--the little river, with its ancient mills--that flows
+beside the town; there are the meadows, with their pleasant footpaths.
+Yonder the ploughed fields and woods, and yet more distant the open hills.
+Along every road, and there are many, the folk are hastening to their
+capital city, in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or
+sturdily trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
+hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the chest as
+you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend themselves in
+mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force. For how many years,
+how many centuries, has this little town and this district around it been
+distinct and separate? In the days before the arrival of the Roman legions
+it was the country of a distinct tribe, or nation, of the original
+Britons. But if we speak of history we shall never have done, for the town
+and its antique abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled
+more or less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
+camp yonder on the hills to to-day--down to the last puff of the
+locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs in with
+passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and the latest
+novel from London.
+
+Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous in the
+town here. Men marry in the place, find their children employment in the
+place, and will not move, if they can help it. Their families--well-to-do
+and humble alike--have been there for so many, many years. The very
+carter, or the little tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you
+(and prove to you by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade
+with pike or matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case
+may be, besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
+pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people believe
+in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit--when the young man seeks
+his fortune in New Zealand or America--he writes home the fullest
+information, and his letters published in the local print read curiously
+to an outsider, so full are they of local inquiries, and answers to
+friends who wished to know this or that. In the end he comes back--should
+he succeed in getting the gold which tempted him away--to pass his latter
+days gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
+Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
+narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and they have
+the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes in the world.
+They have a town council held now and then in an ancient wainscoted hall,
+with painted panels and coats of arms, carved oaken seats black with age,
+and narrow windows from which men once looked down into the street,
+wearing trunk hose and rapier.
+
+But they have at least two other councils that meet much more often, and
+that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when his shop is shut,
+after he has strolled round his garden, and taken his supper, the
+tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and there finds his circle
+assembled. They are all there, the rich and the moderately well-to-do, the
+struggling, and the poor. Each delivers his opinion over the social glass,
+or between the deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is
+extremely moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the
+glass nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common hall--the
+informal place of meeting.
+
+It is here that, the real government of the town is planned--the mere
+formal resolutions voted in the ancient council-room are the outcome of
+the open talk, and the quiet whisper here. No matter what subject is to
+the front, the question is always heard--What will 'he' do? What will 'he'
+say to it? The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The
+cottage hospital; the flower show; the cattle show, or agricultural
+exhibition; the new market buildings arose through his subscriptions and
+influence; the artesian well, sunk that the town might have the best of
+water, was bored at his expense; and so on through the whole list of town
+affairs. When 'he' takes the lead all the lesser gentry--many of whom,
+perhaps, live in his manor houses--follow suit, and with such powerful
+support to back it a movement is sure to succeed, yet 'he' is rarely seen;
+his hand rarely felt; everything is done, but without obtrusiveness. At
+these nightly councils at the chief hostelries the farmers of the district
+are almost as numerous as the townsmen. They ride in to hear the news and
+exchange their own small coin of gossip. They want to know what 'he' is
+going to do, and little by little of course it leaks out.
+
+But the town is not all so loyal. There is a section which is all the more
+vehemently rebellious because of the spectacle of its staid and
+comfortable neighbours. This section is very small, but makes a
+considerable noise. It holds meetings and utters treasonable speeches, and
+denounces the 'despot' in fiery language. It protests against a free and
+open park; it abhors artesian wells; it detests the throwing open of nut
+woods that all may go forth a-nutting; it waxes righteously indignant at
+every gift, be it prizes for the flower show or a new market site. It
+scorns those mean-spirited citizens that cheer these kindly deeds. It asks
+why? Why should we wait till the park gates are open? Why stay till the
+nut woods are declared ready? Why be thankful for pure water? Why not take
+our own? This one man has no right to these parks and woods and pleasure
+grounds and vast walls; these square miles of ploughed fields, meadows and
+hills. By right they should all be split up into little plots to grow our
+potatoes. Away with gilded coronet and watchman, batter down these walls,
+burn the ancient deeds and archives, put pick and lever to the tall church
+tower; let us have the rights of man! These violent ebullitions make not
+the least different. All the insults they can devise, all the petty
+obstructions they can set up, the mud they can fling, does not alter the
+calm course of the 'despot' one jot. The artesian well is bored, and they
+can drink pure water or not, as pleases them. The prizes are offered, and
+they can compete or stand aloof. Fleeceborough smiles when it meets at
+night in its council-rooms, with its glass and pipe; Fleeceborough knows
+that the traditional policy of the Hall will continue, and that policy is
+acceptable to it.
+
+What manner of man is this 'despot' and prince behind his vast walls?
+Verily his physique matters nothing; whether he be old or of middle age,
+tall or short, infirm or strong. The policy of the house keeps the actual
+head and owner rather in the background. His presence is never obtruded;
+he is rarely seen; you may stay in his capital for months and never catch
+a glimpse of him. He will not appear at meetings, that every man may be
+free, nor hesitate to say his say, and abuse what he lists to abuse. The
+policy is simply perfect freedom, with support and substantial assistance
+to any and to every movement set on foot by the respectable men of
+Fleeceborough, or by the tenant farmers round about. This has been going
+on for generations; so that the personnel of the actual owner concerns
+little. His predecessors did it, he does it, and the next to come will do
+it. It is the tradition of the house. Nothing is left undone that a true
+princely spirit could do to improve, to beautify, or to preserve.
+
+The antiquities of the old, old town are kept for it, and not permitted to
+decay; the ancient tesselated pavements of Roman villas carefully
+protected from the weather; the remnants of the enclosing walls which the
+legions built for their defence saved from destruction; the coins of the
+emperors and of our own early kings collected; the spurs, swords,
+spearheads, all the fragments of past ages arranged for inspection and
+study by every one who desires to ponder over them. Chipped flints and
+arrowheads, the bones of animals long extinct, and the strange evidences
+of yet more ancient creatures that swam in the seas of the prehistoric
+world, these too are preserved at his cost and expense. Archaeologists,
+geologists, and other men of science come from afar to see these things
+and to carry away their lessons. The memories of the place are cherished.
+There was a famous poet who sang in the woods about the park; his
+hermitage remains, and nothing is lost that was his. Art-treasures there
+are, too, heirlooms to be seen behind those vast walls by any who will be
+at the trouble of asking.
+
+Such is the policy of Hodge's own prince, whose silent influence is felt
+in every household for miles about, and felt, as all must admit, however
+prejudiced against the system, in this case for good. His influence
+reaches far beyond the bounds even of that immense property. The example
+communicates itself to others, and half the county responds to that
+pleasant impulse. It is a responsible position to hold; something,
+perhaps, a little like that of the Medici at Florence in the olden times.
+But here there is no gonfalon, no golden chain of office, no velvet
+doublet, cloak, and rapier, no guards with arquebuss or polished crossbow.
+An entire absence of state and ceremony marks this almost unseen but
+powerful sway. The cycle of the seasons brings round times of trial here
+as over the entire world, but the conditions under which the trial is
+sustained could scarcely in our day, and under our complicated social and
+political system, be much more favourable.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN
+
+
+A cock pheasant flies in frantic haste across the road, beating the air
+with wide-stretched wings, and fast as he goes, puts on yet a faster spurt
+as the shot comes rattling up through the boughs of the oak beneath him.
+The ground is, however, unfavourable to the sportsman, and the bird
+escapes. The fir copse from which the pheasant rose covers a rather sharp
+descent on one side of the highway. On the level above are the ploughed
+fields, but the slope itself is too abrupt for agricultural operations,
+and the soil perhaps thin and worthless. It is therefore occupied by a
+small plantation. On the opposite side of the road there grows a fine row
+of oaks in a hedge, under whose shade the dust takes long to dry when once
+damped by a shower. The sportsman who fired stands in the road; the
+beaters are above, for they desire the game to fly in a certain direction;
+and what with the narrow space between the firs and the oaks, the
+spreading boughs, and the uncertainty of the spot where the pheasant would
+break cover, it is not surprising that he missed.
+
+The shot, after tearing through the boughs, rises to some height in the
+air, and, making a curve, falls of its own weight only, like pattering
+hail--and as harmless--upon an aged woman, just then trudging slowly
+round the corner. She is a cottager, and has been to fetch the weekly dole
+of parish bread that helps to support herself and infirm husband. She
+wears a long cloak that nearly sweeps the ground on account of her
+much-bowed back, and carries a flag basket full of bread in one hand, and
+a bulging umbrella, which answers as a walking stick, in the other. The
+poor old body, much startled, but not in the least injured, scuttles back
+round the corner, exclaiming, 'Lor! it be Filbard a-shooting: spose a'had
+better bide a bit till he ha' done.' She has not long to wait. The young
+gentleman standing in the road gets a shot at another cock; this time the
+bird flies askew, instead of straight across, and so gives him a better
+opportunity. The pheasant falls crash among the nettles and brambles
+beside the road. Then a second and older gentleman emerges from the
+plantation, and after a time a keeper, who picks up the game.
+
+The party then proceed along the road, and coming round the corner the
+great black retriever runs up to the old woman with the most friendly
+intentions, but to her intense confusion, for she is just in the act of
+dropping a lowly curtsey when the dog rubs against her. The young
+gentleman smiles at her alarm and calls the dog; the elder walks on
+utterly indifferent. A little way up the road the party get over the gate
+into the meadows on that side, and make for another outlying plantation.
+Then, and not till then, does the old woman set out again, upon her slow
+and laborious journey. 'Filbard be just like a gatepost,' she mutters; 'a'
+don't take no notice of anybody.' Though she had dropped the squire so
+lowly a curtsey, and in his presence would have behaved with profound
+respect, behind his back and out of hearing she called him by his family
+name without any prefix. The cottagers thereabout almost always did this
+in speaking among themselves of their local magnate. They rarely said
+'Mr.'; it was generally 'Filbard,' or, even more familiarly, 'Jim
+Filbard.' Extremes meet. They hardly dared open their mouths when they saw
+him, and yet spoke of him afterwards as if he sat with them at bacon and
+cabbage time.
+
+Squire Filbard and one of his sons were walking round the outlying copses
+that October day with the object of driving the pheasants in towards the
+great Filbard wood, rather than of making a bag. The birds were inclined
+to wander about, and the squire thought a little judicious shooting round
+the outskirts would do good, and at the same time give his son some sport
+without disturbing the head of game he kept up in the wood itself. The
+squire was large made, tall, and well proportioned, and with a bearded,
+manly countenance. His neck was, perhaps, a little thick and
+apoplectic-looking, but burnt to a healthy brick-dust colour by exposure
+to the sun. The passing years had drawn some crows'-feet round the eyes,
+but his step was firm, his back straight, and he walked his ancestral
+acres every inch the master. The defect of his features was the thinness
+of the lips, and a want of character in a nose which did not accord with a
+good forehead. His hands, too, were very large and puffy; his finger-nails
+(scrupulously clean) were correspondingly large, and cut to a sharp point,
+that seemed to project beyond the tip of the finger, and gave it a
+scratchy appearance.
+
+The chimneys of Filbard Hall showed for some distance above the trees of
+the park, for the house stood on high ground. It was of red brick,
+somewhat square in style, and had little of the true Elizabethan
+character--it was doubtless later in date, though not modern. The
+chimneys, however, had a pleasing appearance over the trees; they were in
+stacks, and rather larger, or broader apparently at the top than where
+they rose from the roof. Such chimneys are not often seen on recent
+buildings. A chimney seems a simple matter, and yet the aspect of a house
+from a distance much depends upon its outline. The mansion was of large
+size, and stood in an extensive park, through which carriage drives swept
+up to the front from different lodge gates. Each of the drives passed
+under avenues of trees--the park seemed to stretch on either hand without
+enclosure or boundary--and the approach was not without a certain
+stateliness. Within the apartments were commodious, and from several there
+were really beautiful views. Some ancient furniture, handed down
+generation after generation, gave a character to the rooms; the oak
+staircase was much admired, and so was the wainscoating of one part.
+
+The usual family portraits hung on the walls, but the present squire had
+rather pushed them aside in favour of his own peculiar hobby. He collected
+antique Italian pictures--many on panels--in the pre-Raphaelite style.
+Some of these he had picked up in London, others he had found and
+purchased on the Continent. There were saints with glories or _nimbi_
+round their heads, Madonnas and kneeling Magi, the manger under a kind of
+penthouse, and similar subjects--subjects the highest that could be
+chosen. The gilding of the _nimbi_ seemed well done certainly, and was
+still bright, but to the ordinary eye the stiffness of the figures, the
+lack of grace, the absence of soul in the composition was distressingly
+apparent. It was, however, the squire's hobby, and it must be admitted
+that he had very high authority upon his side. Some sensitive persons
+rather shrank from seeing him handle these painted panels with those
+peculiar scratchy finger-nails; it set their teeth on edge. He gave
+considerable sums of money for many of these paintings, the only
+liberality he permitted himself, or was capable of.
+
+His own room or study was almost bare, and the solitary window looked on a
+paved passage that led to the stables. There was nothing in it but a large
+table, a bookcase, and two or three of the commonest horsehair chairs; the
+carpet was worn bare. He had selected this room because there was a door
+close by opening on the paved passage. Thus the bailiff of the Home Farm,
+the steward, the gamekeeper, the policeman, or any one who wished to see
+him on business, could come to the side door from the back and be shown in
+to him without passing through the mansion. This certainly was a
+convenient arrangement; yet one would have thought that he would have had
+a second and more private study in which to follow his own natural bent of
+mind. But the squire received the gardener and gave him directions about
+the cucumbers--for he descended even to such minutiae as that--sitting at
+the same table on which he had just written to an Italian art collector
+respecting a picture, or to some great friend begging him to come and
+inspect a fresh acquisition. The bookcase contained a few law books, a
+manual for the direction of justices--the squire was on the commission--a
+copy of Burke, and in one corner of a shelf a few musty papers referring
+to family history. These were of some value, and the squire was proud of
+showing them to those who took an interest in archaeology; yet he kept
+them much as if they had been receipts for the footman's livery, or a
+dozen bottles of stable medicine. He wrote with a quill pen, and as it
+went up and down it scratched the paper as if it had been those sharp
+projecting finger-nails.
+
+In this study he spent many hours when at home--he rose late, and after
+breakfast repaired hither. The steward was usually in attendance. He was a
+commonplace man, but little above the description of a labourer. He
+received wages not much superior to those a labourer takes in summer time,
+but as he lived at the Home Farm (which was in hand) there were of course
+some perquisites. A slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he
+pottered about and looked after things in general. One morning perhaps he
+would come in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going
+to cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been
+paid for. Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the Home Farm,
+or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which was decaying. A
+cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft. One of the tenants wanted a
+new shed put up, but it did not seem necessary; the old one would do very
+well if people were not so fidgety. The wife or daughter of one of the
+cottage people was taking to drink and getting into bad ways. This or that
+farmer had had some sheep die. Another farmer had bought some new
+silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village gossip.
+
+Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in or was sent
+for. The squire kept a large head of pheasants for certain reasons, but he
+was not over-anxious to pay for them. The keeper grumbled about his wages,
+that he had no perquisites, and that the shooting season never brought him
+any fees--unless the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every
+year. This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.
+He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs, and to
+give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted renewing. The
+steward had seen it, and thought it might be repaired; why did the keeper
+think it ought to be renewed altogether? And was there not plenty of larch
+timber lying about, that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a
+very good spar-gate, without purchasing one? Why couldn't old Hooker, the
+hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?
+
+Next came the coachman--the squire did not keep up anything of a stud,
+just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary riding horses and a
+pony for the children. The coachman had to explain why a new lock was
+wanted on the stable door; why the blacksmith's bill was so much for
+shoes; after which there was a long gossip about the horses of a gentleman
+who had come down and rented a place for the season. The gardener
+sometimes had an interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold
+from the orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire
+delighted. As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear with
+patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty bottles.
+
+The squire would have had the cook in and discussed the stock-pot with her
+for a full hour, but the cook set up her back. She wouldn't, no, that she
+wouldn't; and the squire found that the cook was mistress of the
+situation. She was the only personage who did not pass him with deference.
+She tossed her head, and told her fellow-servants audibly that he was a
+poor, mean-spirited man; and as for missis, she was a regular
+Tartar--there! In this they thoroughly agreed. The coachman and footman,
+when out with the carriage, and chancing to get a talk with other coachmen
+and footmen, were full of it. He was the meanest master they had ever
+known; yet they could not say that he paid less wages, or that they were
+ill-fed--it was this meddling, peddling interference they resented. The
+groom, when he rode into town for the letter-bag, always stopped to tell
+Ills friends some fresh instance of it. All the shopkeepers and tradesmen,
+and everybody else, had heard of it. But they were none the less
+obsequious when the squire passed up the street. The servants were never
+so glad as when young master came home with the liberal views imbibed in
+modern centres of learning, and with a free, frank mode of speech. But
+miss, the sole daughter, they simply hated; she seemed to have ten times
+the meanness of her papa, and had been a tell-tale from childhood. The
+kitchen said she saved her curl papers to sell as waste paper.
+
+The 'missis' was as haughty, as unapproachable, and disdainful as the
+master was inquisitive; she never spoke to, looked at, nor acknowledged
+any one--except the three largest tenants and their wives. To these, who
+paid heavily, she was gracious. She dressed in the very extreme and front
+of fashion--the squire himself quite plainly, without the least pretence
+of dandyism. Hateful as the village folk thought her _hauteur_ and open
+contempt for them, they said she was more the lady than the squire was the
+gentleman.
+
+The squire's time, when at home, like everything else, was peddled away.
+He rode into market one day of the week; he went to church on Sundays with
+unfailing regularity, and he generally attended the petty sessional bench
+on a third day. Upon the bench, from the long standing of his family, he
+occupied a prominent position. His mind invariably seized the minutiae of
+the evidence, and never seemed to see the point or the broad bearings of
+the case. He would utterly confuse a truthful witness, for instance, who
+chanced to say that he met the defendant in the road. 'But you said just
+now that you and he were both going the same way; how, then, could you
+meet him?' the squire would ask, frowning sternly. Whether the witness
+overtook or met the defendant mattered nothing to the point at issue; but
+the squire, having got a satisfactory explanation, turned aside, with an
+aggravating air of cleverness. For the rest of the week the squire could
+not account for his time. He sometimes, indeed, in the hunting season,
+rode to the meet; but he rarely followed. He had none of the enthusiasm
+that makes a hunter; besides, it made the horse in such a heat, and would
+work him out too quick for economy.
+
+He went out shooting, but not in regular trim. He would carry his gun
+across to the Home Farm, and knock over a rabbit on the way; then spend
+two hours looking at the Alderney cow, the roof of the pig-sty, and the
+poultry, and presently stroll across a corner of the wood, and shoot a
+pheasant. The head of game was kept up for the purpose of letting the
+mansion from time to time when the squire or his lady thought it desirable
+to go on the Continent, that the daughter might acquire the graces of
+travel. A visit to London in the season, a visit to the seaside, and then
+home in the autumn to peddle about the estate, made up the year when they
+did not go abroad. There was a broad park, noble trees, a great mansion, a
+stately approach; but within it seemed all littleness of spirit.
+
+The squire's own private study--the morning-room of the owner of this fine
+estate--was, as previously observed, next the passage that led to the
+stables, and the one window looked out on a blank wall. It was in this
+room that he conducted his business and pleasure, and his art researches.
+It was here that he received the famous 'Round Robin' from his tenants.
+The estate was not very large--something between 3,000 and 4,000
+acres--but much of it was good and fertile, though heavy land, and highly
+rented. Had the squire received the whole of his rents for his own private
+use he would have been well off as squires go. But there was a flaw or
+hitch somewhere in the right, or title, or succession. No one knew the
+precise circumstances, because, like so many similar family disputes, when
+the lawyers were ready, and the case had come before the tribunal, a
+compromise was arrived at, the terms of which were only known to the
+tribunal and the parties directly concerned.
+
+But everybody knew that the squire had to pay heavy pensions to various
+members of another branch of the family; and it was imagined that he did
+not feel quite fixed in the tenure--that possibly the case might, under
+certain circumstances, be heard of again--since it was noticed that he did
+not plant trees, or make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase
+the permanent attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was
+only lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
+place--without absolute damage--and to invest or spend nothing. After all
+these payments had been made the squire's income was much reduced, and
+thus, with all these broad acres, these extensive woods, and park, and
+mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and so forth, he was really a poor man.
+Not poor in the sense of actual want, but a man in his position had, of
+course, a certain appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages--even
+cooks--are not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to
+those who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with liberal
+ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who insists on
+dressing in the fashion is expensive.
+
+Now, taking all those things into consideration, and remembering, too,
+that the squire as a good father (which he was admittedly) wished to make
+provision for the future of his children, it may perhaps, after all, be
+questioned whether he really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared.
+Under the circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him
+was to be careful in little things. Even his hobby--the pre-Raphaelite
+pictures--was not without its advantage in this sense; the collection was
+certainly worth more than he gave for it, for he got it all by careful
+bargaining, and it could be sold again at a profit. The careful
+superintendence of the Alderney cow, the cucumber frames, and the rabbits,
+might all be carried out for the very best of objects, the good of his
+children.
+
+Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles of
+agriculture, the wetness of the seasons--which played havoc with the
+game--the low prices, and the loud talk that was going on around him. But
+he made no sign. He might have been deaf, dumb, and blind. He walked by
+the wheat, but did not see the deficiency of the crop, nor the
+extraordinary growth of weeds. There were voices in the air like the
+mutterings of a coming storm, but he did not hear them. There were
+paragraphs in the papers--how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
+returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did not understand.
+Rent days came and went, and no sign was made. His solicitor received the
+rents, but nothing could be got out of him by the farmers. The little
+farmers hardly liked to take the lead: some of them did not dare. The
+three largest farmers looked at each other and wondered which would speak
+first. They were awkwardly situated. The squire's wife acknowledged their
+wives and daughters, and once now and then deigned to invite them to the
+mansion. The squire himself presented them with specimens of a valuable
+breed of poultry he was bringing up at the Home Farm. It was difficult to
+begin unpleasant business.
+
+Meantime the solicitor gathered up the cheques, wished them good afternoon
+and departed. Another rent day came round, and still no sign. The squire's
+policy was, in fact, to ignore. He ignored the depression altogether--could
+not see that it existed in that county at all. Recollect, it was the only
+policy open to him. Whether the rents paid to him were large or small, his
+expenses would be the same. There were the members of the other branch of
+the family to be paid in full. There were the carriages, the servants, the
+gamekeepers, and so on. He could reduce nothing; no wonder that he was
+slow to acknowledge that he must be himself reduced. The fatal day--so
+long dreaded--came at last.
+
+A large letter lay on the table in the study one morning, along with the
+other letters. He did not recognise the handwriting, and naturally opened
+it first. It was a 'Round Robin' from the tenants. All had signed a
+memorial, setting forth the depression, and respectfully, even humbly,
+asking that their case be taken into consideration, and that a percentage
+be returned, or the rent reduced. Their heavy land, they pointed out, had
+been peculiarly difficult to work in such seasons. They had suffered
+exceptionally, and they trusted he would take no offence. But there was an
+unmistakable hint that they were in earnest. All signed it--from the
+ungrateful largest tenants, who had had presents of fancy poultry, and
+whose wives had been smiled upon, down to the smallest working farmer, who
+could hardly be distinguished from his own labourers.
+
+The squire read the names over twice, pointing to each with his sharp,
+scratchy finger-nail. There were other letters from the members of the
+other branch of the family whose pensions were just due in full. Suppose
+he returned ten per cent. of the rents to the tenants, that would not be
+like ten per cent. upon the entire rental, but perhaps twenty-five or
+thirty per cent, upon that portion of the rental which actually went into
+his own pocket. A man can hardly be expected to cheerfully tender other
+people a third of his income. But sprawling and ill-written as many of the
+signatures were to the 'Round Robin'--the pen held by heavy hands--yet
+they were genuine, and constituted a very substantial fact, that must be
+yielded to.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+
+Perhaps the magistrate most regular in his attendance at a certain country
+Petty Sessional Court is young Squire Marthorne. Those who have had
+business to transact at such Courts know the difficulty that often arises
+from the absence of a second magistrate, there being a numerous class of
+cases with which one justice of the peace is not permitted to deal. There
+must be two, and it sometimes happens that only one is forthcoming. The
+procedure adopted varies much in different divisions, according to the
+population and the percentage of charges brought up. Usually a particular
+day is appointed when it is understood that a full bench will be present,
+but it not unfrequently happens that another and less formal meeting has
+to be held, at which the attendance is uncertain. The district in which
+Mr. Marthorne resides chances to be somewhat populous, and to include one
+or two turbulent places that furnish a steady supply of offenders. The
+practice therefore is to hold two Courts a week; at one of these, on the
+Saturday, the more important cases are arranged to be heard, when there
+are always plenty of magistrates. At the other, on the Tuesday, remands
+and smaller matters are taken, and there then used to be some delay.
+
+One justice thought his neighbour would go, another thought the same of
+his neighbour, and the result was nobody went. Having tacitly bound
+themselves to attend once a week, the justices, many of whom resided miles
+away, did not care formally to pledge themselves to be invariably present
+on a second day. Sometimes the business on that second day was next to
+nothing, but occasionally serious affairs turned up, when messengers had
+to be despatched to gather a quorum.
+
+But latterly this uncertainty has been put an end to through the regular
+attendance of young Squire Marthorne, of Marthorne House. The Marthornes
+are an old family, and one of the best connected in the county, though by
+no means rich, and, whether it was the lack of great wealth or a want of
+energy, they had until recently rather dropped out of the governing
+circle. When, however, the young squire, soon after his accession to the
+property, in the natural course of events, was nominated to the Commission
+of the Peace, he began to exhibit qualities calculated to bring him to the
+front. He developed an aptitude for business, and at the same time showed
+a personal tact and judgment which seemed to promise a future very
+different from the previous stagnation of his family.
+
+These qualities came first into play at the Petty Sessions, which, apart
+from the criminal business, is practically an informal weekly Parliament
+of local landowners. Marthorne, of course, was well known to the rest long
+before his appearance among them as a colleague. He had gained some
+reputation at college; but that had long since been forgotten in the
+prestige he had attained as a brilliant foxhunter. Even in the days before
+his accession, when his finances were notoriously low, he had somehow
+contrived to ride a first-rate horse. Everybody likes a man who rides a
+good horse. At the same time there was nothing horsey about him; he was
+always the gentleman. Since his succession the young squire, as he was
+familiarly described--most of the others being elderly---had selected his
+horses with such skill that it was well known a very great man had noticed
+them, so that when he came to the Bench, young as he was, Marthorne
+escaped the unpleasant process of finding his level--_i.e._ being
+thoroughly put down.
+
+If not received quite as an equal by that assemblage of elderly gentlemen,
+he was made to feel that at all events they would listen to what he had to
+say. That is a very great point gained. Marthorne used his advantage with
+judgment. He displayed a modesty highly commendable in a young man. He
+listened, and only spoke for the purpose of acquiring information. Nothing
+is so pleasing as to find a man of intelligence willingly constituting
+himself your pupil. They were all anxious to teach him the business of the
+county, and the more he endeavoured to learn from them the cleverer they
+thought him.
+
+Now, the business of the county was not very intricate; the details were
+innumerable, but the general drift was easy to acquire. Much more
+complicated to see through were all the little personal likings,
+dislikings, petty spites, foibles, hobbies, secret understandings, family
+jars, and so forth, which really decide a man's vote, or the scale into
+which he throws his influence. There were scores of squires dotted over
+the county, each of whom possessed local power more or less considerable,
+and each of whom might perchance have private relations with men who held
+high office in the State. Every family had its history and its archives
+containing records of negotiations with other families. People who met
+with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the same party, might have
+grudges half a century old, but not yet forgotten. If you made friends
+with one, you might mortally offend the other. The other would say
+nothing, but another day a whisper to some great authority might destroy
+the hopes of the aspirant. Those who would attain to power must study the
+inner social life, and learn the secret motives that animate men. But to
+get at the secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote,
+would occupy one for years.
+
+Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle, knew the
+main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to work, he quickly
+felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment he might irritate some
+one's hidden prejudice. He looked round for an older man who knew all
+about it, and could inform him. This man he found in the person of the
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions. The nominal Chairman, like many other
+unpaid officials, held the place because of old family greatness, not from
+any personal ability--family greatness which was in reality a mere
+tradition. The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the circle.
+
+A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for its own
+sake, and understood every technicality. With little or no personal
+ambition, he had assisted in every political and social movement in the
+county for half a century, and knew the secret motives of every individual
+landowner. With large wealth, nothing to do, and childless, he took a
+liking to young Marthorne. The old man wished for nothing better than to
+talk; the young squire listened attentively. The old man was delighted to
+find some one who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty
+Sessional business. Thus it was that the people who had to attend the
+Local Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it
+was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their business
+facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates. The Vice-Chairman was
+always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there. It sometimes happened
+that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or Hodge the recent pugilist, was
+stolidly waiting for his sentence, the two justices in the retiring room
+were convulsed with laughter; the one recounting, the other imbibing, some
+curious racy anecdote concerning the family history of a local magnate.
+
+Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for solid
+qualities, for work and application. Not only at the Bench, but at the
+Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice of the peace is
+_ex officio_ a member, he steadily worked at details, sat patiently upon
+committees, audited endless accounts, read interminable reports, and was
+never weary of work. The farmers began to talk about him, and to remark to
+each other what a wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a
+pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was. The applause was well earned,
+for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work than that of
+attending Boards which never declare dividends. He next appeared at the
+farmers' club, at first as a mere spectator, and next, though with evident
+diffidence, as a speaker.
+
+Marthorne was no orator; he felt when he stood up to speak an odd
+sensation in the throat, as if the glottis had contracted. He was, in
+fact, very nervous, and for the first two or three sentences had not the
+least idea what he had said. But he forced himself to say it--his will
+overruled his physical weakness. When said it was not much--only a few
+safe platitudes--but it was a distinct advance. He felt that next time he
+should do better, and that his tongue would obey his mind. His remarks
+appeared in the local print, and he had started as a speaker. He was
+resolved to be a speaker, for it is evident to all that, without frequent
+public speech, no one can now be a representative man. Marthorne, after
+this, never lost an opportunity of speaking--if merely to second a
+resolution, to propose a toast, he made the most of it. One rule he laid
+down for himself, namely, never to say anything original. He was not
+speaking to propound a new theory, a new creed, or view of life. His aim
+was to become the mouthpiece of his party. Most probably the thought that
+seemed to him so clever might, if publicly expressed, offend some
+important people. He, therefore, carefully avoided anything original. High
+authorities are now never silent; when Parliament closes they still
+continue to address the public, and generally upon more or less stirring
+questions of the time.
+
+In those addresses, delivered by the very leaders of his own party,
+Marthorne found the material, and caught from their diligent perusal the
+spirit in which to use it. In this way, without uttering a single original
+idea of his own, and with very little originality of expression, the young
+orator succeeded perfectly in his aim. First, he became recognised as a
+speaker, and, therefore, extremely useful; secondly, he was recognised as
+one of the soundest exponents of politics in the county. Marthorne was not
+only clever, but 'safe.' His repute for the latter quality was of even
+more service to him than for talent; to be 'safe' in such things is a very
+great recommendation. Personal reputation is of slow growth, but it does
+grow. The Vice-Chairman, Marthorne's friend and mentor, had connections
+with very high people indeed. He mentioned Marthorne to the very high
+people. These, in their turn, occasionally cast a glance at what Marthorne
+was doing. Now and then they read a speech of his, and thought it
+extremely good, solid, and well put. It was understood that a certain M.P.
+would retire at the next election; and they asked themselves whom they had
+to take his place?
+
+While this important question was exercising the minds of those in
+authority, Marthorne was energetically at work gaining the social
+suffrage. The young squire's lady--he had married in his minority for
+beauty and intelligence, and not for money--was discovered to be a very
+interesting young person. Her beauty and intelligence, and, let it be
+added, her true devotion to her husband's cause, proved of fifty times
+more value to him than a dowry of many manors. Her tact smoothed the way
+everywhere; she made friends for him in all directions, especially perhaps
+during the London season. Under the whirl and glitter of that fascinating
+time there are latent possibilities of important business. Both Marthorne
+and his lady had by birth and connections the _entrée_ into leading
+circles; but many who have that _entrée_ never attain to more influence in
+society than the furniture of the drawing-room.
+
+These two never for a moment lost sight of the country while they enjoyed
+themselves in town. Everything they said or did was said and done with a
+view to conciliate people who might have direct or indirect influence in
+the country. In these matters, ladies of position still retain
+considerable power in their hands. The young squire and his wife put
+themselves to immense trouble to get the good-will of such persons, and
+being of engaging manners they in time succeeded. This was not effected at
+once, but three or four years are a very short time in which to develop
+personal influence, and their success within so brief a period argues
+considerable skill.
+
+At home again in the autumn the same efforts were diligently continued.
+The mansion itself was but of moderate size and by no means convenient,
+but the squire's lady transformed it from a gaunt, commonplace country
+house into an elegant and charming residence. This she contrived without
+great expense by the exercise of good taste and a gift of discriminating
+between what was and what was not. The exterior she left alone--to alter
+an exterior costs a heavy sum and often fails. But the interior she
+gradually fitted in a novel fettle, almost entirely after her own design.
+The gardens, too, under her supervision, became equally inviting. The
+house got talked about, and was itself a social success.
+
+On his part, the squire paid as much attention to the estate. It was not
+large, far from sufficient of itself, indeed, to support any social or
+political pretensions without the most rigid economy. And the pair were
+rigidly economical. The lady dressed in the height of the fashion, and
+drove the most beautiful horses, and yet she never wasted a shilling upon
+herself. Her own little private whims and fancies she resolutely refused
+to gratify. Every coin was spent where it would produce effect. In like
+manner, the squire literally never had half a sovereign in his pocket. He
+selected the wines in his cellar with the greatest care, and paid for them
+prices which the wine merchant, in these days of cheap wines, was
+unaccustomed to receive from men of thrice his income. The squire paid for
+the very best wine, and in private drank a cheap claret. But his guests,
+many of them elderly gentlemen, when once they had dined with him never
+forgot to come again. His bins became known throughout the county; very
+influential people indeed spoke of them with affection. It was in this way
+that the squire got a high value out of his by no means extensive rents.
+
+He also looked after the estate personally. Hodge, eating his luncheon
+under the hedge in October, as he slowly munched his crust, watched the
+squire strolling about the fields, with his gun under his arm, and
+wondered why he did not try the turnips. The squire never went into the
+turnip field, and seemed quite oblivious that he carried a gun, for when a
+covey rose at his feet he did not fire, but simply marked them down. His
+mind, in fact, was busy with more important matters, and, fond as he was
+of shooting, he wanted the birds for some one else's delectation. After he
+had had the place a little while, there was not a square inch of waste
+ground to be found. When the tenants were callous to hints, the squire
+gave them pretty clearly to understand that he meant his land to be
+improved, and improved it was. He himself of his own free motive and
+initiative ordered new buildings to be erected where he, by personal
+inspection, saw that they would pay. He drained to some extent, but not
+very largely, thinking that capital sunk in drains, except in particular
+soils, did not return for many years.
+
+Anxious as he was to keep plenty of game, he killed off the rabbits, and
+grubbed up many of the small covers at the corners and sides of arable
+fields which the tenants believed injurious to crops. He repaired
+labourers' cottages, and added offices to farmsteads. In short, he did
+everything that could be done without too heavy an expenditure. To kill
+off the rabbits, to grub the smaller coverts, to drain the marshy spots,
+to thatch the cottages, put up cattle sheds, and so on, could be effected
+without burdening the estate with a loan. But, small as these improvements
+were in themselves, yet, taken together, they made an appreciable
+difference.
+
+There was a distinct increase in the revenue of the estate after the first
+two years. The increase arose in part from the diminished expenses, for it
+has been found that a tumble-down place is more costly to maintain than
+one in good repair. The tenants at first were rather alarmed, fearing lest
+the change should end in a general rise of rents. It did not. The squire
+only asked an increase when he had admittedly raised the value of the
+land, and then only to a moderate amount. By degrees he acquired a
+reputation as the most just of landlords. His tenantry were not only
+satisfied, but proud of him; for they began to foresee what was going to
+happen.
+
+Yet all these things had been done for his own interest--so true is it
+that the interest of the landlord and the tenant are identical. The squire
+had simply acted judiciously, and from personal inspection. He studied his
+estate, and attended to it personally. Of course he could not have done
+these things had he not succeeded to a place but little encumbered with
+family settlements. He did them from interested motives, and not from mere
+sentiment. But, nevertheless, credit of a high order was justly accorded
+to him. So young a man might naturally have expended his income on
+pleasure. So young a wife might have spent his rents in frivolity. They
+worked towards an end, but it was a worthy end--for ambition, if not too
+extravagant, is a virtue. Men with votes and influence compared this
+squire in their minds with other squires, whose lives seemed spent in a
+slumberous donothingness.
+
+Thus, by degrees, the young squire's mansion and estate added to his
+reputation. The labour which all this represented was immense. Both the
+squire and his wife worked harder than a merchant in his office. Attending
+Boards and farmers' clubs, making speeches, carrying on correspondence,
+looking after the estate, discharging social duties, filled up every
+moment of his time. Superintending the house, the garden, corresponding,
+and a hundred other labours, filled up every moment of hers. They were
+never idle; to rise socially and politically requires as great or greater
+work than for a poor man to achieve a fortune.
+
+Ultimately the desired result began to be apparent. There grew up a
+general feeling that the squire was the best man for the place in
+Parliament which, in the course of events, must ere long be vacant. There
+was much heartburning and jealousy secretly felt among men twice his age,
+who had waited and hoped for years for such an opening, till at last they
+had rusted and become incapable of effort. But, cynical as they might be
+in private, they were too wise to go openly against the stream. A few
+friendly words spoken in season by a great man whose goodwill had been
+gained decided the matter. At an informal meeting of the party--how much
+more is effected at informal than at formal assemblies!--Marthorne was
+introduced as the successor to the then representative. The young squire's
+estate could not, of course, bear the heavy pecuniary strain which must
+arise; but before those who had the control of these things finally
+selected him they had ascertained that there would be no difficulty with
+respect to money. Marthorne's old friend and mentor, the wealthy
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions, who had inducted him into the county
+business, announced that he should bear the larger part of the expense. He
+was not a little proud of his _protégé_.
+
+The same old friend and mentor, wise with the knowledge and experience
+which long observation of men had given him, advised the young squire what
+to do when the depression first came upon agriculture. The old man said,
+'Meet it; very likely it will not last two years. What is that in the life
+of an estate?' So the young squire met it, and announced at once that he
+should return a percentage of his rents. 'But not too high a percentage,'
+said the old man; 'let us ascertain what the rest of the landowners think,
+else by a too liberal reduction you may seem to cast a reflection upon
+them.' The percentage was returned, and continued, and the young squire
+has tided over the difficulty.
+
+His own tenantry and the farming interest generally are proud of him.
+Hodge, who, slow as he is, likes a real man, says, 'He beant such a bad
+sort of a veller, you; a' beant above speaking to we!' When the time comes
+the young squire will certainly be returned.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+It is pleasant, on a sunny day to walk through a field of wheat when the
+footpath is bordered on either side by the ripening crop, without the
+intervention of hedge or fence. Such a footpath, narrow, but well kept,
+leads from a certain country churchyard to the highway road, and passes on
+the way a wicket gate in a thick evergreen shrubbery which surrounds the
+vicarage lawn and gardens. This afternoon the wheat stands still and
+upright, without a motion, in the burning sunshine, for the sun, though he
+has sloped a little from his highest meridian altitude, pours an even
+fiercer beam than at the exact hour of noon. The shadeless field is
+exposed to the full glare of the brilliant light. There are no trees in
+the field itself, the hedges are cut low and trimmed to the smallest
+proportions, and are devoid of timber; and, as the ground is high and
+close to the hills, all the trees in sight are beneath, and can be
+overlooked. Whether in sunshine or storm there is no shelter--no medium;
+the wind rushes over with its utmost fury, or the heat rests on it
+undisturbed by the faintest current. Yet, sultry as it is, the footpath is
+a pleasant one to follow.
+
+The wheat ears, all but ripe--to the ordinary eye they are ripe, but the
+farmer is not quite satisfied--rise to the waist or higher, and tempt the
+hand to pluck them. Butterflies flutter over the surface, now descending
+to some flower hidden beneath, now resuming their joyous journey. There is
+a rich ripe feeling in the very atmosphere, the earth is yielding her
+wealth, and a delicate aroma rises from her generous gifts. Far as the eye
+can see, the rolling plains and slopes present various tints of
+yellow--wheat in different stages of ripeness, or of different kinds; oats
+and barley--till the hedges and woods of the vale conceal the farther
+landscape on the one hand and the ridge of the hills upon the other.
+
+Nothing conveys so strong an impression of substantial wealth as the view
+of wheat-fields. A diamond ornament in a window may be ticketed as worth
+so many hundreds of pounds; but the glittering gem, and the sum it
+represents, seem rather abstract than real. But the wheat, the golden
+wheat, is a great fact that seizes hold of the mind; the idea comes of
+itself that it represents solid wealth.
+
+The tiles of the vicarage roof--all of the house visible above the
+shrubbery--look so hot and dry in the glaring sunshine that it does not
+seem possible for vegetation to exist upon them; yet they are tinted with
+lichen. The shrubbery has an inviting coolness about it--the thick
+evergreens, the hollies on which the berries are now green, the cedars and
+ornamental trees planted so close together that the passer-by cannot see
+through, must surely afford a grateful shade--a contrast with the heat of
+the wheat-field and the dust of the highway below. Just without the wicket
+gate a goat standing upon his hind legs, his fore legs placed against the
+palings, is industriously nibbling the tenderest leaves of the shrubs and
+trees which he can reach. Thus extended to his full length he can reach
+considerably higher than might be supposed, and is capable of much
+destruction. Doubtless he has got out of bounds.
+
+Inside the enclosure the reverend gentleman himself reclines in an
+arm-chair of cane-work placed under the shade of the verandah, just
+without the glass door or window opening from the drawing-room upon the
+lawn. His head has fallen back and a little to one side, and an open book
+lies on his knee; his soft felt hat is bent and crumpled; he has yielded
+to the heat and is slumbering. The blinds are partly down the window, but
+a glimpse can be obtained of a luxurious carpet, of tables in valuable
+woods and inlaid, of a fine piano, of china, and the thousand and one
+nicknacks of highly civilised life. The reverend gentleman's suit of
+black, however, is not new; it is, on the contrary, decidedly rusty, and
+the sole of one of his boots, which is visible, is much worn. Over his
+head the roses twine round the pillars of the verandah, and there is a
+_parterre_ of brilliant flowers not far from his feet.
+
+His wife sits, a few yards distant, under a weeping ash, whose
+well-trained boughs make a perfect tent, and shield her from the sun. She
+has a small table before her, and writing materials, and is making notes
+with the utmost despatch from some paper or journal. She is no longer
+young, and there are marks of much care and trouble on her forehead; but
+she has still a pleasing expression upon her features, her hands are
+exquisitely white, and her figure, once really good, retains some of the
+outline that rendered it beautiful. Wherever you saw her you would say,
+That is a lady. But her dress, tasteful though it be, is made of the
+cheapest material, and looks, indeed, as if it had been carefully folded
+away last summer, and was now brought out to do duty a second time.
+
+The slow rumble of waggon wheels goes down the road, close to the lawn,
+but concealed by the trees, against whose boughs the sheaves of the load
+rustle as they go past. Wealth rolling by upon the waggon, wealth in the
+well-kept garden, in the smart lawn, in the roses, the bright flowers, the
+substantial well-furnished house, the luxurious carpet, and the china;
+wealth, too, all around in the vast expanse of ripening wheat. He has
+nothing to do but to slumber in the cane chair and receive his tithe of
+the harvest. She has nothing to do but to sit under the shadow of the
+weeping ash and dream dreams, or write verses. Such, at least, might be
+the first impression.
+
+The publication from which she is so earnestly making notes is occupied
+with the management of bees, and she is so busy because the paper is only
+borrowed, and has to be returned. Most of the papers and books that come
+to the vicarage have to be hastily read for the same reason. Mrs. F---- is
+doing her very best and hardest to increase the Rev. F----'s income--she
+has tried to do so for some years, and despite repeated failures is
+bravely, perhaps a little wearily, still trying. There is not much left
+for her to experiment with. The goat surreptitiously nibbling the valuable
+shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that once seemed to
+promise fair. Goats at one time (she was persuaded) were the means of
+ready wealth--they could live anywhere, on anything (the shrubs to wit),
+and yielded such rich milk; it far surpassed that of the shorthorn; there
+was the analysis to prove it! Such milk must of course be worth money,
+beside which there were the kids, and the cheese and butter.
+
+Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse than that of
+the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation, that no one would have
+them on the land. The milk was all the analysis declared it, but in that
+outlying village, which did not contain two houses above the quality of a
+farmstead, there was no one to buy it. There was a prejudice against the
+butter which could not be got over; and the cheese--well, the cheese
+resembled a tablet of dark soap. Hodge would not eat it at a gift; he
+smelt it, picked a morsel off on the tip of his clasp knife, and threw it
+aside in contempt. One by one the goats were got rid of, and now but two
+or three remained; she could not make up her mind to part with all, for
+living creatures, however greatly they have disappointed, always enlist
+the sympathies of women.
+
+Poultry was the next grand discovery--they ate their heads off, refused to
+lay eggs, and, when by frequent purchase they became numerous and promised
+to pay, quietly died by the score, seized with an epidemic. She learnt in
+visiting the cottagers how profitable their allotment gardens were to
+them, and naturally proceeded to argue that a larger piece of ground would
+yield proportionately larger profit if cultivated on the same principle.
+If the cottagers could pay a rent for an acre which, in the aggregate, was
+three times that given by the ordinary farmer, and could even then make a
+good thing of it, surely intelligence and skill might do the same on a
+more extended scale. How very foolish the farmers were! they might raise
+at least four times the produce they did, and they might pay three times
+the rent. As the vicar had some hundred and fifty acres of glebe let at
+the usual agricultural rent, if the tenants could be persuaded or
+instructed to farm on the cottager's system, what an immense increase it
+would be to his income! The tenants, however, did not see it. They
+shrugged their shoulders, and made no movement The energetic lady resolved
+to set an example, and to prove to them that they were wrong.
+
+She rented an acre of arable land (at the side of the field), giving the
+tenant a fair price for it. First it had to be enclosed so as to be parted
+off from the open field. The cost of the palings made the vicar wince; his
+lady set it duly down to debit. She planted one-half potatoes, as they
+paid thirty pounds per acre, and on the rest put in hundreds of currant
+bushes, set a strawberry bed and an asparagus bed, on the principle that
+luxuries of that kind fetch a high price and occupy no more space than
+cabbages. As the acre was cultivated entirely by the spade, the cost of
+the labour expended upon it ran up the figures on the debit side to an
+amount which rather startled her. But the most dispiriting part of the
+commencement was the length of time to wait before a crop came. According
+to her calculations that represented so much idle capital sunk, instead of
+being rapidly turned over. However, she consoled herself with the pig-sty,
+in which were half a dozen animals, whose feeding she often personally
+superintended.
+
+The potatoes failed, and did not pay for the digging; the currant bushes
+were blighted; the strawberries were eaten by snails, and, of course, no
+asparagus could be cut for three years; a little item, this last, quite
+overlooked. The pigs returned exactly the sum spent upon them; there was
+neither profit nor loss, and there did not appear any chance of making a
+fortune out of pork. The lady had to abandon the experiment quite
+disheartened, and found that, after all her care and energy, her books
+showed a loss of fifteen pounds. It was wonderful it was not more; labour
+was so expensive, and no doubt she was cheated right and left.
+
+She next tried to utilise her natural abilities, and to turn her
+accomplishments to account. She painted; she illuminated texts; she
+undertook difficult needlework of various kinds, in answer to
+advertisements which promised ample remuneration for a few hours' labour.
+Fifteen hours' hard work she found was worth just threepence, and the
+materials cost one shilling: consequently she laboriously worked herself
+poorer by ninepence.
+
+Finally, she was studying bees, which really seemed to hold out some
+prospect of success. Yonder were the hills where they could find thyme in
+abundance; the fields around supplied clover; and the meadows below were
+full of flowers. So that hot summer day, under the weeping ash, she was
+deep in the study of the 'Ligurian queen,' the 'super' system, the
+mysteries of 'driving,' and making sketches of patent hives. Looking up
+from her sketch she saw that her husband had fallen asleep, and stayed to
+gaze at him thoughtfully.
+
+He looked worn, and older than he really was; as if rest or change would
+do him good; as if he required luxuries and petting. She sighed, and
+wondered whether the bees would enable her to buy him such things, for
+though the house was well furnished and apparently surrounded with wealth,
+they were extremely poor. Yet she did not care for money for their own
+household use so much as to give him the weight in parish affairs he so
+sadly needed. She felt that he was pushed aside, treated as a cipher, and
+that he had little of the influence that properly belonged to him. Her two
+daughters, their only children, were comfortably, though not grandly,
+married and settled; there was no family anxiety. But the work, the
+parish, the people, all seemed to have slipped out of her husband's hands.
+She could not but acknowledge that he was too quiet and yielding, that he
+lacked the brazen voice, the personal force that imposes upon men. But
+surely his good intentions, his way of life, his gentle kindness should
+carry sway. Instead of which the parish seemed to have quite left the
+Church, and the parson was outside the real modern life of the village. No
+matter what he did, even if popular, it soon seemed to pass out of his
+hands.
+
+There was the school, for instance. He could indeed go across and visit
+it, but he had no control, no more than the veriest stranger that strolled
+along the road. He had always been anxious for a good school, and had done
+the best he could with means so limited before the new Acts came into
+operation. When they were passed he was the first to endeavour to carry
+them out and to save the village the cost and the possible quarrelling of
+a school board. He went through all the preliminary work, and reconciled,
+as far as possible, the jarring interests that came into play. The two
+largest landlords of the place were unfortunately not on good terms.
+Whatever the one did the other was jealous of, so that when one promised
+the necessary land for the school, and it was accepted, the other withdrew
+his patronage, and declined to subscribe. With great efforts the vicar,
+nevertheless, got the school erected, and to all appearance the difficulty
+was surmounted.
+
+But when the Government inspection took place it was found that, though
+not nearly filled with scholars, there was not sufficient cubic space to
+include the children of a distant outlying hamlet, which the vicar had
+hoped to manage by a dame school. These poor children, ill fed and young,
+could hardly stand walking to and from the village school--a matter of
+some five miles daily, and which in winter and wet weather was, in itself,
+a day's work for their weary little limbs. As the vicar could not raise
+money enough to pay a certificated teacher at the proposed branch or dame
+school, the scheme had to be abandoned. Then, according to red tape, it
+was necessary to enlarge the village school to accommodate these few
+children, and this notwithstanding that the building was never full. The
+enlargement necessitated a great additional expenditure The ratepayers
+did, indeed, after much bickering and much persuasion, in the end pay off
+the deficiency; but in the meantime, the village had been brought to the
+verge of a school board.
+
+Religious differences came to the front--there was, in fact, a trial of
+force between the denominations. Till then for many years these
+differences had slumbered and been almost forgotten; they were now brought
+into collision, and the social quiet of the place was upset. A council of
+the chief farmers and some others was ultimately formed, and, as a matter
+of fact, really did represent the inhabitants fairly well. But while it
+represented the parish, it left the vicar quite outside. He had a voice,
+but nothing more. He was not the centre--the controlling spirit.
+
+He bore it meekly enough, so far as he was personally concerned; but he
+grieved about it in connection with his deep religious feelings and his
+Church. The Church was not in the front of all, as it should be. It was
+hard after all his labour; the rebuffs, the bitter remarks, the sneers of
+those who had divergent views, and, perhaps worse than all, the cold
+indifference and apathy of those who wished things to remain in the old
+state, ignoring the fact that the law would not suffer it. There were many
+other things besides the school, but they all went the same way. The
+modern institution was introduced, championed by the Church, worked for by
+the Church, but when at last it was successful, somehow or other it seemed
+to have severed itself from the Church altogether. The vicar walked about
+the village, and felt that, though nominally in it, he was really out of
+it.
+
+His wife saw it too, still more clearly than he did. She saw that he had
+none of the gift of getting money out of people. Some men seem only to
+have to come in contact with others to at once receive the fruits of their
+dormant benevolent feelings. The rich man writes his cheque for 100_l_.,
+the middle-class well-to-do sends his bank notes for 20_l_., the
+comfortable middle-class man his sovereigns. A testimonial is got up, an
+address engrossed on vellum, speeches are made, and a purse handed over
+containing a draft for so many hundreds, 'in recognition, not in reward,
+of your long continued and successful ministrations.' The art of causing
+the purse-strings to open is an art that is not so well understood,
+perhaps, among the orthodox as by the unorthodox. The Rev. F---- either
+could not, or would not, or did not know how to ask, and he did not
+receive.
+
+Just at present his finances were especially low. The tenants who farmed
+the glebe land threatened to quit unless their rents were materially
+reduced, and unless a considerable sum was expended upon improvements. To
+some very rich men the reduction of rents has made a sensible difference;
+to the Rev. F---- it meant serious privations. But he had no choice; he
+had to be satisfied with that or nothing. Then the vicarage house, though
+substantial and pleasant to look at, was not in a good state within. The
+rain came through in more places than one, and the ancient woodwork of the
+roof was rotten. He had already done considerable repairing, and knew that
+he must soon do more. The nominal income of the living was but moderate;
+but when the reductions were all made, nothing but a cheese-paring seemed
+left. From this his subscriptions to certain ecclesiastical institutions
+had to be deducted.
+
+Lastly, he had received a hint that a curate ought to be kept now that his
+increasing age rendered him less active than before. There was less hope
+now than ever of anything being done for him in the parish. The landowners
+complained of rent reductions, of farms idle on their hands, and of
+increasing expenses. The farmers grumbled about the inclement seasons,
+their continual losses, and the falling markets. It was not a time when
+the churlish are almost generous, having such overflowing pockets. There
+was no testimonial, no address on vellum, no purse with banker's draft for
+the enfeebled servant of the Church slumbering in the cane chair in the
+verandah.
+
+Yet the house was exquisitely kept, marvellously kept considering the
+class of servants they were obliged to put up with. The garden was bright
+and beautiful with flowers, the lawn smooth; there was an air of
+refinement everywhere. So the clergyman slept, and the wife turned again
+to her sketch of the patent hive, hoping that the golden honey might at
+last bring some metallic gold. The waggon rumbled down the road, and
+Hodge, lying at full length on the top of the load, could just see over
+the lowest part of the shrubbery, and thought to himself what a jolly life
+that parson led, sleeping the hot hours away in the shade.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+
+A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+
+'He can't stroddle thuck puddle, you: can a'?'
+
+'He be going to try: a' will leave his shoe in it.'
+
+Such were the remarks that passed between two agricultural women who from
+behind the hedge were watching the approach of the curate along a deep
+miry lane. Where they stood the meadow was high above the level of the
+lane, which was enclosed by steep banks thickly overgrown with bramble,
+briar, and thorn. The meadows each side naturally drained into the hollow,
+which during a storm was filled with a rushing torrent, and even after a
+period of dry weather was still moist, for the overhanging trees prevented
+evaporation. A row of sarsen stones at irregular intervals were intended
+to afford firm footing to the wayfarer, but they were nothing more than
+traps for the unwary. Upon placing the foot on the smooth rounded surface
+it immediately slipped, and descended at an angle into a watery hole. The
+thick, stiff, yellow clay held the water like a basin; the ruts, quite two
+feet deep, where waggon wheels had been drawn through by main force, were
+full to the brim. In summer heats they might have dried, but in November,
+though fine, they never would.
+
+Yet if the adventurous passenger, after gamely struggling, paused awhile
+to take breath, and looked up from the mud, the view above was beautiful.
+The sun shone, and lit up the oaks, whose every leaf was brown or buff;
+the gnats played in thousands in the mild air under the branches. Through
+the coloured leaves the blue sky was visible, and far ahead a faintly
+bluish shadow fell athwart the hollow. There were still blackberries on
+the bramble, beside which the brown fern filled the open spaces, and
+behind upon the banks the mosses clothed the ground and the roots of the
+trees with a deep green. Two or more fieldfares were watching in an elm
+some distance down; the flock to which they belonged was feeding, partly
+in the meadow and partly in the hedge. Every now and then the larks flew
+over, uttering their call-note. Behind a bunch of rushes a young rabbit
+crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the hole hard by,
+doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to enter the burrow.
+
+It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not the least
+current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the exertion. His
+boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at every step; they came out
+with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the marks of footsteps, planting his
+step where the weight of some carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down
+firm. Where these failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a
+few inches wide, between two sets of ruts. In a minute he felt the ridge
+giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts. Next he
+crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked in the
+tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting bough quietly
+lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it suspended, instead of
+dropping it in the mud. Still he made progress, though slow; now with a
+giant stride across an exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from
+side to side. The lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance.
+But there was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any
+other obstacle. It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or
+wrong, in these cynical days. He was too young to have acquired much
+worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which arises from
+thorough conviction and the sense of personal consecration conferred by
+the mission on the man. He pushed on steadily till brought to a stop by a
+puddle, broad, deep, and impassable, which extended right across the lane,
+and was some six or eight yards long. He tried to slip past at the side,
+but the banks were thick with thorns, and the brambles overhung the water;
+the outer bushes coated with adhesive mud. Then he sounded the puddle with
+his stick as far as he could reach, and found it deep and the bottom soft,
+so that the foot would sink into it. He considered, and looked up and down
+the lane.
+
+The two women, of whose presence he was unconscious, watched him from the
+high and dry level of the meadow, concealed behind the bushes and the
+oaks. They wore a species of smock frock gathered in round the waist by a
+band over their ordinary dress; these smock frocks had once been white,
+but were now discoloured with dirt and the weather. They were both stout
+and stolid-looking, hardy as the trees under which they stood. They were
+acorn picking, searching for the dropped acorns in the long rank grass by
+the hedge, under the brown leaves, on the banks, and in the furrows. The
+boughs of the oak spread wide--the glory of the tree is its head--and the
+acorns are found in a circle corresponding with the outer circumference of
+the branches. Some are still farther afield, because in falling they
+strike the boughs and glance aside. A long slender pole leaning against
+the hedge was used to thrash the boughs within reach, and so to knock down
+any that remained.
+
+A sack half filled was on the ground close to the trunk of the oak, and by
+it was a heap of dead sticks, to be presently carried home to boil the
+kettle. Two brown urchins assisted them, and went where the women could
+not go, crawling under the thorns into the hedge, and creeping along the
+side of the steep bank, gathering acorns that had fallen into the mouths
+of the rabbit holes, or that were lying under the stoles. Out of sight
+under the bushes they could do much as they liked, looking for fallen nuts
+instead of acorns, or eating a stray blackberry, while their mothers
+rooted about among the grass and leaves of the meadow. Such continual
+stooping would be weary work for any one not accustomed to it. As they
+worked from tree to tree they did not observe the colours of the leaves,
+or the wood-pigeons, or the pheasant looking along the edge of the ditch
+on the opposite side of the field. If they paused it was to gossip or to
+abuse the boys for not bringing more acorns to the sack.
+
+But when the boys, hunting in the hedge, descried the curate in the
+distance and came back with the news, the two women were suddenly
+interested. The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the coloured leaves were
+not worthy of a glance. To see a gentleman up to his ankles in mud was
+quite an attraction. The one stood with her lap half-full of acorns; the
+other with a basket on her arm. The two urchins lay down on the ground,
+and peered from behind a thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely
+distinguishable from the brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes.
+The puddle was too wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was
+there any way round it.
+
+The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go back. He
+tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee--he wore them short always--and
+stepped into the water. At this the urchins could barely suppress a shout
+of delight--they did, however, suppress it--and craned forward to see him
+splash. The curate waded slowly to the middle, getting deeper and deeper,
+and then suddenly found firmer footing, and walked the rest of the way
+with the water barely over his boots. After he was through he cleansed his
+boots on a wisp of grass and set off at a good pace, for the ground past
+the pool began to rise, and the lane was consequently drier. The women
+turned again to their acorns, remarking, in a tone with something like
+respect in it, 'He didn't stop for the mud, you: did a'?'
+
+Presently the curate reached the highway with its hard surface, and again
+increased his pace. The hedges here were cut each side, and as he walked
+rapidly, leaning forward, his shovel-hat and shoulders were visible above
+them, and his coat tails floated in the breeze of his own progress. His
+heavy boots--they were extremely thick and heavy, though without
+nails--tramped, tramped, on the hard road. With a stout walking-stick in
+one hand, and in the other a book, he strode forward, still more swiftly
+as it seemed at every stride. A tall young man, his features seemed thin
+and almost haggard; out of correspondence with a large frame, they looked
+as if asceticism had drawn and sharpened them. There was earnestness and
+eagerness--almost feverish eagerness--in the expression of his face. He
+passed the meadows, the stubble fields, the green root crops, the men at
+plough, who noticed his swift walk, contrasting with their own slow
+motion; and as he went his way now and then consulted a little slip of
+paper, upon which he had jotted memoranda of his engagements. Work, work,
+work--ceaseless work. How came this? What could there be to do in a
+sparely-populated agricultural district with, to appearance, hardly a
+cottage to a mile?
+
+After nearly an hour's walking he entered the outskirts of a little
+country town, slumbering outside the railway system, and, turning aside
+from the street, stopped at the door of the ancient vicarage. The resident
+within is the ecclesiastical head of two separate hamlets lying at some
+miles' distance from his own parish. Each of these hamlets possesses a
+church, though the population is of the very sparsest, and in each he
+maintains a resident curate. A third curate assists him in the duties of
+the home parish, which is a large one, that is, in extent. From one of
+these distant hamlets the curate, who struggled so bravely through the
+mire, has walked in to consult with his superior. He is shown into the
+library, and sinks not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who
+is engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.
+
+This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval times. Some
+have conjectured that the present library and the adjoining rooms (the
+partitions being modern) originally formed the refectory of a monastic
+establishment. Others assign it to another use; but all agree that it is
+monastic and antique. The black oak rafters of the roof, polished as it
+were by age, meet overhead unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one
+place a figure seems at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth
+like a spectre from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
+colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy when
+first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat or two of
+plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was carelessly laid on, the
+tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted woman in a flowing robe, with
+upraised arm, stands ever in the act to bless. Only half one of the
+windows of the original hall is in this apartment--the partition wall
+divides it. There yet remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as
+they are and small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems
+to tone the room.
+
+The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a gaunt
+severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the wide expanse of
+wall. On the table are a few books and some letters, with foreign
+postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed handwriting of Continental
+scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp hangs suspended by a slender chain.
+In a corner are some fragments of stone mouldings and wood carvings like
+the panel of an ancient pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides
+those on the table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet
+or covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
+fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are the works
+of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the fireplace and the
+hearth restored; for in that outlying district there is plenty of wood.
+Though of modern make, the heavy brass fire-irons are of ancient shape.
+The fire has gone out--the logs are white with the ash that forms upon
+decaying embers; it is clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called
+a library, but really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal
+comfort. If examined closely the floor yonder bears the marks of feet that
+have walked monotonously to and fro in hours of thought. When the eye has
+taken in these things, as the rustle of the brown leaves blown against the
+pane without in the silence is plainly audible, the mind seems in an
+instant to slip back four hundred years.
+
+The weary curate has closed his eyes, and starts as a servant enters
+bringing him wine, for the vicar, utterly oblivious of his own comfort, is
+ever on the watch for that of others. His predecessor, a portly man, happy
+in his home alone, and, as report said, loving his ease and his palate,
+before he was preferred to a richer living, called in the advice of
+architects as to converting the ancient refectory to some use. In his time
+it was a mere lumber-room, into which all the odds and ends of the house
+were thrown. Plans were accordingly prepared for turning one part of it
+into a cosy breakfast parlour, and the other into a conservatory. Before
+any steps, however, were taken he received his preferment--good things
+flow to the rich--and departed, leaving behind him a favourable memory. If
+any inhabitant were asked what the old vicar did, or said, and what work
+he accomplished, the reply invariably was, 'Oh! hum! he was a very good
+sort of man: he never interfered with anybody or anything!'
+
+Accustomed to such an even tenour of things, all the _vis inertiae_ of the
+parish revolted when the new vicar immediately evinced a determination to
+do his work thoroughly. The restless energy of the man alone set the
+stolid old folk at once against him. They could not 'a-bear to see he
+a-flying all over the parish: why couldn't he bide at home?' No one is so
+rigidly opposed to the least alteration in the conduct of the service as
+the old farmer or farmer's wife, who for forty years and more has listened
+to the same old hymn, the same sing-song response, the same style of
+sermon. It is vain to say that the change is still no more than what
+was--contemplated by the Book of Common Prayer. They naturally interpret
+that book by what they have been accustomed to from childhood. The vicar's
+innovations were really most inoffensive, and well within even a narrow
+reading of the rubric. The fault lay in the fact that they were
+innovations, so far as the practice of that parish was concerned. So the
+old folk raised their voices in a chorus of horror, and when they met
+gossiped over the awful downfall of the faith. All that the vicar had yet
+done was to intone a part of the service, and at once many announced that
+they should stay away.
+
+Next he introduced a choir. The sweet voices of the white-robed boys
+rising along the vaulted roof of the old church melted the hearts of those
+who, with excuses for their curiosity to their neighbours, ventured to go
+and hear them. The vicar had a natural talent, almost a genius, for music.
+There was a long struggle in his mind whether he might or might not permit
+himself an organ in his library. He decided it against himself, mortifying
+the spirit as well as the flesh, but in the service of the Church he felt
+that he might yield to his inclination. By degrees he gathered round him
+the best voices of the parish; the young of both sexes came gladly after
+awhile to swell the volume of song. How powerful is the influence of holy
+music upon such minds as are at all inclined to serious devotion! The
+church filled more and more every Sunday, and people came from the
+farthest corners of the parish, walking miles to listen. The young people
+grew enthusiastic, and one by one the old folk yielded and followed them.
+
+At the same time the church itself seemed to change. It had been cold and
+gloomy, and gaunt within, for so many generations, that no one noticed it.
+A place of tombs, men hurried away from it as quickly as possible. Now,
+little touches here and there gradually gave it the aspect of habitation.
+The new curtains hung at the door of the vestry, and drawn, too, across
+the main entrance when service began, the _fleur-de-lys_ on the crimson
+ground gave an impression of warmth. The old tarnished brazen fittings of
+the pews were burnished up, a new and larger stove (supplied at the
+vicar's expense) diffused at least some little heat in winter. A curate
+came, one who worked heart and soul with the vicar, and the service became
+very nearly choral, the vicar now wearing the vestment which his degree
+gave him the strict right to assume. There were brazen candlesticks behind
+the altar, and beautiful flowers. Before, the interior was all black and
+white. Now there was a sense of colour, of crimson curtains, of polished
+brass, of flowers, and rich-toned altar cloth. The place was lit up with a
+new light. After the first revolt of the old folk there was little
+opposition, because the vicar, being a man who had studied human nature
+and full of practical wisdom as well as learning, did all things
+gradually. One thing as introduced at a time, and the transition--after
+the first start--was effected imperceptibly. Nor was any extravagant
+ritual thrust upon the congregation; nor any suspicious doctrine broached.
+
+In that outlying country place, where men had no knowledge of cathedrals,
+half the offices of the Church had been forgotten. The vicar brought them
+back again. He began early morning services; he had the church open all
+day for private prayer. He reminded the folk of Lent and Eastertide,
+which, except for the traditional pancakes, had almost passed out of their
+lives. Festivals, saints' days, midnight service, and, above all, the
+Communion, were insisted upon and brought home to them. As in many other
+country districts, the Communion had nearly dropped into disuse. At first
+he was alone, but by-and-by a group of willing lay helpers grew up around
+him. The churchwardens began to work with him; then a few of the larger
+tenant farmers. Of the two great landed proprietors, one was for him from
+the first, the other made no active opposition, but stood aloof. When, in
+the autumn, the family of the one that was for him came home, a fresh
+impetus was given. The ladies of the mansion came forward to join in the
+parish and Church work, and then other ladies, less exalted, but fairly
+well-to-do, who had only been waiting for a leader, crowded after.
+
+For the first time in the memory of man the parish began to be 'visited.'
+Lay sisters accepted the charge of districts; and thus there was not a
+cottage, nor an old woman, but had the change brought home to her.
+Confirmation, which had been almost forgotten, was revived, and it was
+surprising what a number of girls came forward to be prepared. The Bishop,
+who was not at all predisposed to view the 'movement' with favour, when he
+saw the full church, the devotional congregation, and after he had visited
+the vicarage and seen into what was going on personally, expressed openly
+a guarded approval, and went away secretly well pleased. Rightly or
+wrongly, there was a 'movement' in the parish and the outlying hamlets:
+and thus it was that the curate, struggling through the mire, carried in
+his face the expression of hard work. Work, work, work; the vicar, his
+three curates and band of lay helpers, worked incessantly.
+
+Besides his strictly parochial duties, the vicar wrote a manual for use in
+the schools, he attended the Chambers of Agriculture, and supported
+certain social movements among the farmers; he attended meetings, and,
+both socially and politically, by force of character, energy, and the gift
+of speech, became a power in the country side. Still striving onwards, he
+wrote in London periodicals, he published a book, he looked from the
+silence of his gaunt study towards the great world, and sometimes dreamed
+of what he might have done had he not been buried in the country, and of
+what he might even yet accomplish. All who came in contact with him felt
+the influence of his concentrated purpose: one and all, after they had
+worked their hardest, thought they had still not done so much as he would
+have done.
+
+The man's charm of manner was not to be resisted; he believed his office
+far above monarchs, but there was no personal pretension. That gentle,
+pleasing manner, with the sense of intellectual power behind it, quite
+overcame the old folk. They all spoke with complacent pride of 'our
+vicar'; and, what was more, opened their purses. The interior of the
+church was restored, and a noble organ built. When its beautiful notes
+rose and fell, when sweet voices swelled the wave of sound, then even the
+vicar's restless spirit was soothed in the fulfilment of his hope. A large
+proportion of the upper and middle class of the parish was, without a
+doubt, now gathered around him; and there was much sympathy manifested
+from adjacent parishes with his objects, sympathy which often took the
+form of subscriptions from distant people.
+
+But what said Hodge to it all? Hodge said nothing. Some few young cottage
+people who had good voices, and liked to use them, naturally now went to
+church. So did the old women and old men, who had an eye to charity. But
+the strong, sturdy men, the carters and shepherds, stood aloof; the bulk
+and backbone of the agricultural labouring population were not in the
+least affected. They viewed the movement with utter indifference. They
+cleaned their boots on a Sunday morning while the bells were ringing, and
+walked down to their allotments, and came home and ate their cabbage, and
+were as oblivious of the vicar as the wind that blew. They had no present
+quarrel with the Church; no complaint whatever; nor apparently any old
+memory or grudge;  yet there was a something, a blank space as it were,
+between them and the Church. If anything, the 'movement' rather set them
+against going.
+
+Agricultural cottagers have a strong bias towards Dissent in one form or
+another; village chapels are always well filled. Dissent, of course, would
+naturally rather dislike a movement of the kind. But there was no active
+or even passive opposition. The cottage folk just ignored the Church;
+nothing more and nothing less. No efforts were spared to obtain their
+good-will and to draw them into the fold, but there was absolutely no
+response. Not a labourer's family in that wide district was left
+unvisited. The cottages were scattered far apart, dotted here and there,
+one or two down in a narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green
+wall of the hills. Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree
+or hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet
+elevated fields. A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring red
+brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible miles away.
+An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half a mile from the
+highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army might have ravaged the
+country and never found it. How many, many miles of weary walking such
+rounds as these required!
+
+Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it was
+wonderful with what skill the cottage women especially--the men being
+often away at work--adapted themselves to the new _régime_. Each time they
+told a more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and
+exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe. In the art of
+encouraging attentions of this sort no one excels the cottage women; the
+stories they will relate, with the smallest details inserted in the right
+place, are something marvellous. At first you would exclaim with the
+deepest commiseration, such a case of suffering and privation as this
+cannot possibly be equalled by any in the parish; but calling at the next
+cottage, you are presented with a yet more moving relation, till you find
+the whole population are plunged in misery and afflicted with incredible
+troubles. They cannot, surely, be the same folk that work so sturdily at
+harvest. But when the curate has administered words of consolation and
+dropped the small silver dole in the palm, when his shovel-hat and black
+frock-coat tails have disappeared round the corner of the copse, then in a
+single second he drops utterly out of mind. No one comes to church the
+more. If inquiries are made why they did not come, a hundred excuses are
+ready; the rain, a bad foot, illness of the infant, a cow taken ill and
+requiring attention, and so on.
+
+After some months of such experience the curate's spirits gradually
+decline; his belief in human nature is sadly shaken. Men who openly
+oppose, who argue and deny, are comparatively easy to deal with; there is
+the excitement of the battle with evil. But a population that listens, and
+apparently accepts the message, that is so thankful for little charities,
+and always civil, and yet turns away utterly indifferent, what is to be
+done with it? Might not the message nearly as well be taken to the cow at
+her crib, or the horse at his manger? They, too, would receive a wisp of
+sweet hay willingly from the hand.
+
+But the more bitter the experience, the harder the trial, the more
+conscientiously the curate proceeds upon his duty, struggling bravely
+through the mire. He adds another mile to his daily journey: he denies
+himself some further innocent recreation. The cottages in the open fields
+are comparatively pleasant to visit, the sweet fresh air carries away
+effluvia. Those that are so curiously crowded together in the village are
+sinks of foul smell, and may be of worse--places where, if fever come, it
+takes hold and quits not. His superior requests him earnestly to refrain
+awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a holiday--even orders
+him to desist from overmuch labour. The man's mind is in it, and he cannot
+obey. What is the result?
+
+Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance be
+strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people on the one
+side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats are passing to
+and fro. A bath-chair approaches, and a young man clad in black gets out
+of it, where some friendly iron railings afford him a support for his
+hand. There, step by step, leaning heavily on the rails, he essays to walk
+as a child. The sockets of his joints yield beneath him, the limbs are
+loose, the ankle twists aside; each step is an enterprise, and to gain a
+yard a task. Thus day by day the convalescent strives to accustom the
+sinews to their work. It is a painful spectacle; how different, how
+strangely altered, from the upright frame and the swift stride that
+struggled through the miry lane, perhaps even then bearing the seeds of
+disease imbibed in some foul village den, where duty called him!
+
+His wan, white face seems featureless; there is nothing but a pair of
+deep-set eyes. But as you pass, and momentarily catch their glance, they
+are bright and burning still with living faith.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+
+THE SOLICITOR
+
+
+In glancing along the street of a country town, a house may sometimes be
+observed of a different and superior description to the general row of
+buildings. It is larger, rises higher, and altogether occupies more space.
+The façade is stylish, in architectural fashion of half a century since.
+To the modern eye it may not perhaps look so interesting as the true old
+gabled roofs which seem so thoroughly English, nor, on the other hand, so
+bright and cheerful as the modern suburban villa. But it is substantial
+and roomy within. The weather has given the front a sombre hue, and the
+windows are dingy, as if they rarely or never knew the care of a
+housemaid. On the ground floor the windows that would otherwise look on to
+the street are blocked to almost half their height with a wire blind so
+closely woven that no one can see in, and it is not easy to see out. The
+doorway is large, with stone steps and porch--the doorway of a gentleman's
+house. There is business close at hand--shops and inns, and all the usual
+offices of a town--but, though in the midst, this house wears an air of
+separation from the rest of the street.
+
+When it was built--say fifty years ago, or more--it was, in fact, the
+dwelling-house of an independent gentleman. Similar houses may be found in
+other parts of the place, once inhabited by retired and wealthy people.
+Such persons no longer live in towns of this kind--they build villas with
+lawns and pleasure grounds outside in the environs, or, though still
+retaining their pecuniary interest, reside at a distance. Like large
+cities, country towns are now almost given over to offices, shops,
+workshops, and hotels. Those who have made money get away from the streets
+as quickly as possible. Upon approaching nearer to this particular
+building the street door will be found to be wide open to the public, and,
+if you venture still closer, a name may be seen painted in black letters
+upon the side of the passage wall, after the manner of the brokers in the
+courts off Throgmorton Street, or of the lawyers in the Temple. It is, in
+fact, the office of a country solicitor--most emphatically one of Hodge's
+many masters--and is admirably suited for his purpose, on account of its
+roomy interior.
+
+The first door within opens on the clerks' room, and should you modestly
+knock on the panels instead of at once turning the handle, a voice will
+invite you to 'Come in.' Half of the room is partitioned off for the
+clerks, who sit at a long high desk, with a low railing or screen in front
+of them. Before the senior is a brass rail, along which he can, if he
+chooses, draw a red curtain. He is too hard at work and intent upon some
+manuscript to so much as raise his head as you enter. But the two younger
+men, eager for a change, look over the screen, and very civilly offer to
+attend to your business. When you have said that you wish to see the head
+of the firm, you naturally imagine that your name will be at once shouted
+up the tube, and that in a minute or two, at farthest, you will be ushered
+into the presence of the principal. In that small country town there
+cannot surely be much work for a lawyer, and a visitor must be quite an
+event. Instead, however, of using the tube they turn to the elder clerk,
+and a whispered conversation takes place, of which some broken sentences
+may be caught--'He can't be disturbed,' 'It's no use,' 'Must wait.' Then
+the elder clerk looks over his brass rail and says he is very sorry, but
+the principal is engaged, the directors of a company are with him, and it
+is quite impossible to say exactly when they will leave. It may be ten
+minutes, or an hour. But if you like to wait (pointing with his quill to a
+chair) your name shall be sent up directly the directors leave.
+
+You glance at the deck, and elect to wait. The older clerk nods his head,
+and instantly resumes his writing. The chair is old and hard--the stuffing
+compressed by a generation of weary suitors; there are two others at equal
+distances along the wall. The only other furniture is a small but solid
+table, upon which stands a brass copying-press. On the mantelpiece there
+are scales for letter-weighing, paper clips full of papers, a county
+Post-office directory, a railway time-table card nailed to the wall, and a
+box of paper-fasteners. Over it is a map, dusty and dingy, of some estate
+laid out for building purposes, with a winding stream running through it,
+roads passing at right angles, and the points of the compass indicated in
+an upper corner.
+
+On the other side of the room, by the window, a framed advertisement hangs
+against the wall, like a picture, setting forth the capital and reserve
+and the various advantages offered by an insurance company, for which the
+firm are the local agents. Between the chairs are two boards fixed to the
+wall with some kind of hook or nail for the suspension of posters and
+printed bills. These boards are covered with such posters, announcing
+sales by auction, farms to be let, houses to be had on lease, shares in a
+local bank or gasworks for sale, and so on, for all of which properties
+the firm are the legal representatives. Though the room is of fair size
+the ceiling is low, as in often the case in old houses, and it has, in
+consequence, become darkened by smoke and dust, therein, after awhile,
+giving a gloomy, oppressive feeling to any one who has little else to gaze
+at. The blind at the window rises far too high to allow of looking out,
+and the ground glass above it was designed to prevent the clerks from
+wasting their time watching the passers-by in the street. There is,
+however, one place where the glass is worn and transparent, and every now
+and then one of the two younger clerks mounts on his stool and takes a
+peep through to report to his companion.
+
+The restraint arising from the presence of a stranger soon wears off; the
+whisper rises to a buzz of talk; they laugh, and pelt each other with
+pellets of paper. The older clerk takes not the least heed. He writes
+steadily on, and never lifts his head from the paper--long hours of labour
+have dimmed his sight, and he has to stoop close over the folio. He may be
+preparing a brief, he may be copying a deposition, or perhaps making a
+copy of a deed; but whatever it is, his whole mind is absorbed and
+concentrated on his pen. There must be no blot, no erasure, no
+interlineation. The hand of the clock moves slowly, and the half-heard
+talk and jests of the junior clerks--one of whom you suspect of making a
+pen-and-ink sketch of you--mingle with the ceaseless scrape of the
+senior's pen, and the low buzz of two black flies that circle for ever
+round and round just beneath the grimy ceiling. Occasionally noises of the
+street penetrate; the rumble of loaded waggons, the tramp of nailed shoes,
+or the sharp quick sound of a trotting horse's hoofs. Then the junior
+jumps up and gazes through the peephole. The directors are a very long
+time upstairs. What can their business be? Why are there directors at all
+in little country towns?
+
+Presently there are heavy footsteps in the passage, the door slowly opens,
+and an elderly labourer, hat in hand, peers in. No one takes the least
+notice of him. He leans on his stick and blinks his eyes, looking all
+round the room; then taps with the stick and clears his throat--'Be he in
+yet?' he asks, with emphasis on the 'he.' 'No, he be not in,' replies a
+junior, mocking the old man's accent and grammar. The senior looks up,
+'Call at two o'clock, the deed is not ready,' and down goes his head
+again. 'A main bit o' bother about this yer margidge' (mortgage), the
+labourer remarks, as he turns to go out, not without a complacent smile on
+his features for the law's delays seem to him grand, and he feels
+important. He has a little property--a cottage and garden--upon which he
+is raising a small sum for some purpose, and this 'margidge' is one of the
+great events of his life. He talked about it for two or three years before
+he ventured to begin it; he has been weeks making up his mind exactly what
+to do after his first interview with the solicitor--he would have been
+months had not the solicitor at last made it plain that he could waste no
+more time--and when it is finally completed he will talk about it again to
+the end of his days. He will be in and out asking for 'he' all day long at
+intervals, and when the interview takes place it will be only for the
+purpose of having everything already settled explained over to him for the
+fiftieth time. His heavy shoes drag slowly down the passage--he will go to
+the street corner and talk with the carters who come in, and the old
+women, with their baskets, a-shopping, about 'this yer law job.'
+
+There is a swifter step on the lead-covered staircase, and a clerk
+appears, coming from the upper rooms. He has a telegram and a letter in
+one hand, and a bundle of papers in the other. He shows the telegram and
+the letter to his fellow clerks--even the grave senior just glances at the
+contents silently, elevates his eyebrows, and returns to his work. After a
+few minutes' talk and a jest or two the clerk rushes upstairs again.
+
+Another caller comes. It is a stout, florid man, a young farmer or
+farmer's son, riding-whip in hand, who produces a red-bound rate-book from
+a pocket in his coat made on purpose to hold the unwieldy volume. He is a
+rate-collector for his parish, and has called about some technicalities.
+The grave senior clerk examines the book, but cannot solve the
+difficulties pointed out by the collector, and, placing it on one side,
+recommends the inquirer to call in two hours' time. Steps again on the
+stairs, and another clerk comes down leisurely, and after him still
+another. Their only business is to exchange a few words with their
+friends, for pastime, and they go up again.
+
+As the morning draws on, the callers become more numerous, and it is easy
+to tell the positions they occupy by the degree of attention they receive
+from the clerks. A tradesman calls three or four times, with short
+intervals between--he runs over from his shop; the two juniors do not
+trouble to so much as look over the screen, and barely take the trouble to
+answer the anxious inquiry if the principal is yet disengaged. They know,
+perhaps, too much about his bills and the state of his credit. A builder
+looks in--the juniors are tolerably civil and explain to him that it is no
+use calling for yet another hour at least. The builder consults his watch,
+and decides to see the chief clerk (who is himself an attorney, having
+passed the examination), and is forthwith conducted upstairs. A burly
+farmer appears, and the grave senior puts his head up to answer, and
+expresses his sorrow that the principal is so occupied. The burly farmer,
+however, who is evidently a man of substance, thinks that the chief clerk
+can also do what he wants, and he, too, is ushered upstairs. Another
+farmer enters--a rather rougher-looking man--and, without saying a word,
+turns to the advertisement boards on which the posters of farms to be let,
+&c., are displayed. These he examines with the greatest care, pointing
+with his forefinger as he slowly reads, and muttering to himself.
+Presently he moves to go. 'Anything to suit you, sir?' asks the senior
+clerk. 'Aw, no; I knows they be too much money,' he replies, and walks
+out.
+
+A gentleman next enters, and immediately the juniors sink out of sight,
+and scribble away with eager application; the senior puts down his pen and
+comes out from his desk. It is a squire and magistrate. The senior
+respectfully apologises for his employer being so occupied. The gentleman
+seems a little impatient. The clerk rubs his hands together deprecatingly,
+and makes a desperate venture. He goes upstairs, and in a few minutes
+returns; the papers are not ready, but shall be sent over that evening in
+any case. With this even the squire must fain be satisfied and depart. The
+burly farmer and the builder come downstairs together amicably chatting,
+and after them the chief clerk himself. Though young, he has already an
+expression of decision upon his features, an air of business about him; in
+fact, were he not thoroughly up to his work he would not remain in that
+office long. To hold that place is a guarantee of ability. He has a bundle
+of cheques, drafts, &c., in his hand, and after a few words with the grave
+senior at the desk, strolls across to the bank.
+
+No sooner has the door closed behind him than a shoal of clerks come
+tripping down on tip-toe, and others appear from the back of the house.
+They make use of the opportunity for a little gossip. Voices are heard in
+the passage, and an aged and infirm labouring man is helped in by a woman
+and a younger man. The clerks take no notice, and the poor old follow
+props himself against the wall, not daring to take a chair. He is a
+witness. He can neither read nor write, but he can recollect 'thuck ould
+tree,' and can depose to a fact worth perhaps hundreds of pounds. He has
+come in to be examined; he will be driven in a week or two's time from the
+village to the railway station in a fly, and will talk about it and his
+visit to London till the lamp of life dies out.
+
+A footman calls with a note, a groom brings another, the letters are
+carelessly cast aside, till one of the juniors, who has been watching from
+the peephole, reports that the chief clerk is coming, and everybody
+scuttles back to his place. Callers come still more thickly; another
+solicitor, well-to-do, and treated with the utmost deference; more
+tradesmen; farmers; two or three auctioneers, in quick succession; the
+well-brushed editor of a local paper; a second attorney, none too well
+dressed, with scrubby chin and face suspiciously cloudy, with an odour of
+spirits and water and tobacco clinging to his rusty coat. He belongs to a
+disappearing type of country lawyer, and is the wreck, perhaps, of high
+hopes and good opportunities. Yet, wreck as he is, when he gets up at the
+Petty Sessions to defend some labourer, the bench of magistrates listen to
+his maundering argument as deferentially as if he were a Q.C. They pity
+him, and they respect his cloth. The scrubby attorney whistles a tune, and
+utters an oath when he learns the principal is engaged. Then he marches
+out, with his hat on one side of his head, to take another 'refresher.'
+
+Two telegrams arrive, and are thrown aside; then a gentleman appears, whom
+the senior goes out to meet with an air of deference, and whom he actually
+conducts himself upstairs to the principal's room. It is a local banker,
+who is thus admitted to the directors' consultation. The slow hand of the
+clock goes round, and, sitting wearily on the hard chair, you wonder if
+ever it will be possible to see this much-sought man. By-and-by a door
+opens above, there is a great sound of voices and chatting, and half a
+dozen gentlemen--mostly landed proprietors from their appearance--come
+downstairs. They are the directors, and the consultation is over. The
+senior clerk immediately goes to the principal, and shortly afterwards
+reappears and asks you to come up.
+
+As you mount the lead-covered stairs you glance down and observe the
+anxious tradesman, the ancient labourer, and several others who have
+crowded in, all eyeing you with jealous glances. But the senior is holding
+the door open--you enter, and it closes noiselessly behind you. A hand
+with a pen in it points to a chair, with a muttered 'Pardon--half a
+moment' and while the solicitor just jots down his notes you can glance
+round the apartment. Shelves of calf-bound law books; piles of japanned
+deed-boxes, some marked in white letters 'Trustees of,' or 'Executors of'
+and pigeon-holes full of papers seem to quite hide the walls. The floor is
+covered with some material noiseless to walk on (the door, too, is double,
+to exclude noise and draught); the furniture is solid and valuable; the
+arm-chair you occupy capacious and luxurious. On the wall hangs a section
+of the Ordnance map of the district. But the large table, which almost
+fills the centre of the room, quickly draws the attention from everything
+else.
+
+It is on that table that all the business is done; all the energies of the
+place are controlled and directed from thence. At the first glance it
+appears to support a more chaotic mass of papers. They completely conceal
+it, except just at the edge. Bundles of letters tied with thin red tape,
+letters loose, letters unopened; parchment deeds with the seals and
+signature just visible; deeds with the top and the words, 'This
+indenture,' alone glowing out from the confusion; deeds neatly folded;
+broad manuscript briefs; papers fastened with brass fasteners; papers
+hastily pinned together; old newspapers marked and underlined in red ink;
+a large sectional map, half unrolled and hanging over the edge; a small
+deed-box, the lid open, and full of blue paper in oblong strips; a tall
+porcupine-quill pen sticking up like a spire; pocket-books; books open;
+books with half a dozen papers in them for markers; altogether an utter
+chaos. But the confusion is only apparent; the master mind knows the exact
+position of every document, and can lay his hand on it the moment it is
+wanted.
+
+The business is such that even the master mind can barely keep pace with
+it. This great house can hardly contain it; all the clerks we saw rushing
+about cannot get through the work, and much of the mechanical copying or
+engrossing goes to London to be done. The entire round of country life
+comes here. The rolling hills where the shepherd watches his flock, the
+broad plains where the ploughman guides the share, the pleasant meadows
+where the roan cattle chew the cud, the extensive parks, the shady woods,
+sweet streams, and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle, all have their
+written counterpart in those japanned deed-boxes. Solid as is the land
+over which Hodge walks stolid and slow, these mere written words on
+parchment are the masters of it all. The squire comes here about intricate
+concerns of family settlements which in their sphere are as hard to
+arrange as the diplomatic transactions of Governments. He comes about his
+tenants and his rent; he comes to get new tenants.
+
+The tenants resort to the solicitor for farms, for improvements,
+reductions, leases, to negotiate advances, to insure for the various
+affairs of life. The clergyman comes on questions that arise out of his
+benefice, the churchyard, ecclesiastical privileges, the schools, and
+about his own private property. The labourer comes about his cottage and
+garden--an estate as important to him as his three thousand acres to the
+squire--or as a witness. The tradesman, the builder, the banker come for
+financial as well as legal objects. As the town develops, and plots are
+needed for houses and streets, the resort to the solicitor increases
+tenfold. Companies are formed and require his advice. Local government
+needs his assistance. He may sit in an official position in the County
+Court, or at the bench of the Petty Sessions. Law suits--locally great--
+are carried through in the upper Courts of the metropolis; the counsel's
+name appears in the papers, but it is the country solicitor who has
+prepared everything for him, and who has marshalled that regiment of
+witnesses from remote hamlets of the earth. His widening circle of
+landlord clients have each their attendant circles of tenants, who feel
+confidence in their leader's legal adviser. Parochial officers come to
+him; overseer, rate-collector, church warden, tithing-man. The
+all-important work of registering voters fills up the space between one
+election and another. At the election his offices are like the
+head-quarters of an army. He may represent some ancient college, or
+corporation with lands of vast extent. Ladies with a little capital go
+home content when he has invested their money in mortgage of real
+property. Still the work goes on increasing; additional clerks have to be
+employed; a fresh wing has to be built to the old house. He has, too, his
+social duties; he is, perhaps, the head or mainspring of a church
+movement--this is not for profit, but from conviction. His lady is carried
+to and fro in the brougham, making social visits. He promotes athletic
+clubs, reading-rooms, shows, exhibitions. He is eagerly seized upon by
+promoters of all kinds, because he possesses the gift of organisation. It
+becomes a labour merely to catalogue his engagements like this. Let the
+rain rain, or the sun shine, the pen never stays work.
+
+Personally he is the very antithesis is of what might be predicated of the
+slow, comfortable, old-fashioned lawyer. He is in the prime of life,
+physically full of vigour, mentally persevering with untiring
+perseverance, the embodiment of energy, ever anxious to act, to do rather
+than to delay. As you talk with him you find his leading idea seems to be
+to arrange your own half-formed views for you; in short, to show you what
+you really do want, to put your desire into shape. He interprets you. Many
+of the clients who come to him are the most impracticable men in the
+world. A farmer, for instance, with a little money, is in search of a
+farm. Find him twenty farms just the size for his capital, he will visit
+them all and discover a fault in each, and waver and waver till the proper
+season for entering on possession is past. The great problem with country
+people is how to bring them to the point. You may think you have got all
+your witnesses ready for the train for London, and, as the bell rings,
+find that one has slipped away half a mile to talk with the blacksmith
+about the shoeing of his mare. Even the squire is trying when, he talks of
+this or that settlement. Of course, as he is educated, no lengthy and
+oft-repeated explanations are needed; but the squire forgets that time is
+valuable, and lingers merely to chat. He has so much time to spare, he is
+apt to overlook that the solicitor has none. The clergyman will talk,
+talk, talk in rounded periods, and nothing will stop him; very often he
+drives his wife in with him from the village, and the wife must have her
+say. As for Hodge and his mortgage, ten years would not suffice for his
+business, were he allowed to wander on. The problem is to bring these
+impracticable people to the point with perfect courtesy. As you talk with
+him yourself, you feel tempted to prolong the interview--so lucid an
+intellect exercises an indefinable charm.
+
+Keen and shrewd as he is, the solicitor has a kindly reputation. Men say
+that he is slow to press them, that he makes allowances for circumstances;
+that if the tenant is honestly willing to discharge his obligation he need
+fear no arbitrary selling up. But he is equally reputed swift of
+punishment upon those who would take shelter behind more shallow pretence,
+or attempt downright deceit. Let a man only be straightforward, and the
+solicitor will wait rather than put the law in force. Therefore, he is
+popular, and people have faith in him. But the labour, the incessant
+supervision, the jotting down of notes, the ceaseless interviews, the
+arguments, the correspondence, the work that is never finished when night
+comes, tell even upon that physical vigour and mental elasticity. Hodge
+sleeps sound and sees the days go by with calm complacency. The man who
+holds that solid earth, as it were, in the japanned boxes finds a nervous
+feeling growing upon him despite his strength of will. Presently nature
+will have her way; and, weary and hungry for fresh air, he rushes off for
+awhile to distant trout-stream, moor, or stubble.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+
+'COUNTY-COURT DAY'
+
+
+The monthly sitting of the County Court in a country market town is an
+event of much interest in all the villages around, so many of the causes
+concerning agricultural people. 'County-Court Day' is looked upon as a
+date in the calendar by which to recollect when a thing happened, or to
+arrange for the future.
+
+As the visitor enters the doorway of the Court, at a distance the scene
+appears imposing. Brass railings and red curtains partition off about a
+third of the hall, and immediately in the rear of this the Judge sits high
+above the rest on a raised and carpeted dais. The elevation and isolation
+of the central figure adds a solemn dignity to his office. His features
+set, as it were, in the wig, stand out in sharp relief--they are of a
+keenly intellectual cast, and have something of the precise clearness of
+an antique cameo. The expression is that of a mind in continuous
+exercise--of a mind accustomed not to slow but to quick deliberation, and
+to instant decision. The definition of the face gives the eyes the aspect
+of penetration, as if they saw at once beneath the surface of things.
+
+If the visitor looks only at the Judge he will realise the dignity of the
+law; the law which is the outcome and result of so many centuries of
+thought. But if he glances aside from the central figure the impression is
+weakened by the miserable, hollow, and dingy framing. The carpet upon the
+daïs and the red curtains before it ill conceal the paltry substructure.
+It is composed of several large tables, heavy and shapeless as benches,
+placed side by side to form a platform. The curtains are dingy and
+threadbare the walls dingy; the ceiling, though lofty, dingy; the boxes on
+either side for Plaintiff and Defendant are scratched and defaced by the
+innumerable witnesses who have blundered into them, kicking their shoes
+against the woodwork. The entire apparatus is movable, and can be taken to
+pieces in ten minutes, or part of it employed for meetings of any
+description. There is nothing appropriate or convenient; it is a
+makeshift, and altogether unequal to the pretensions of a Court now
+perhaps the most useful and most resorted to of any that sit in the
+country.
+
+Quarter sessions and assizes come only at long intervals, are held only in
+particular time-honoured places, and take cognisance only of very serious
+offences which happily are not numerous. The County Court at the present
+day has had its jurisdiction so enlarged that it is really, in country
+districts, the leading tribunal, and the one best adapted to modern wants,
+because its procedure is to a great extent free from obsolete forms and
+technicalities. The Plaintiff and the Defendant literally face their
+Judge, practically converse with him, and can tell their story in their
+own simple and natural way. It is a fact that the importance and
+usefulness of the country County Court has in most places far outgrown the
+arrangements made for it. The Judges may with reason complain that while
+their duties have been enormously added to, their convenience has not been
+equally studied, nor their salaries correspondingly increased.
+
+In front, and below the Judge's desk, just outside the red curtain, is a
+long and broad table, at which the High Bailiff sits facing the hall. By
+his side the Registrar's clerk from time to time makes notes in a
+ponderous volume which contains a minute and exact record of every claim.
+Opposite, and at each end, the lawyers have their chairs and strew the
+table with their papers.
+
+As a rule a higher class of lawyers appear in the County Court than before
+the Petty Sessional Bench. A local solicitor of ability no sooner gets a
+'conveyancing' practice than he finds his time too valuable to be spent
+arguing in cases of assault or petty larceny. He ceases to attend the
+Petty Sessions, unless his private clients are interested or some
+exceptional circumstances induce him. In the County Court cases often
+arise which concern property, houses and lands, and the fulfilment of
+contracts. Some of the very best lawyers of the district may consequently
+be seen at that table, and frequently a barrister or two of standing
+specially retained is among them.
+
+A low wooden partition, crossing the entire width of the hall, separates
+the 'bar' from the general public, Plaintiff and Defendant being admitted
+through a gangway. As the hall is not carpeted, nor covered with any
+material, a new-comer must walk on tip-toe to avoid raising the echo of
+hollow boards, or run the risk of a reproof from the Judge, anxiously
+endeavouring to catch the accents of a mumbling witness. Groups of people
+stand near the windows whispering, and occasionally forgetting, in the
+eagerness of the argument, that talking is prohibited. The room is already
+full, but will be crowded when the 'horse case' comes on again. Nothing is
+of so much interest as a 'horse case.' The issues raised concern almost
+every countryman, and the parties are generally well known. All the idlers
+of the town are here, and among them many a rascal who has been, through
+the processes, and comes again to listen and possibly learn a dodge by
+which to delay the execution of judgment. Some few of the more favoured
+and respectable persons have obtained entrance to the space allotted to
+the solicitors, and have planted themselves in a solid circle round the
+fire, effectually preventing the heat from benefiting anyone else. Another
+fire, carefully tended by a bailiff, burns in the grate behind the Judge,
+but, as his seat is so far from it, without adding much to his comfort. A
+chilly draught sweeps along the floor, and yet at the same time there is a
+close and somewhat fetid atmosphere at the height at which men breathe.
+The place is ill warmed and worse ventilated; altogether without
+convenience, and comfortless.
+
+To-day the Judge, to suit the convenience of the solicitors engaged in the
+'horse case,' who have requested permission to consult in private, has
+asked for a short defended cause to fill up the interval till they are
+ready to resume. The High Bailiff calls 'Brown _v_. Jones,' claim 8_s_.
+for goods supplied. No one at first answers, but after several calls a
+woman in the body of the Court comes forward. She is partly deaf, and
+until nudged by her neighbours did not hear her husband's name. The
+Plaintiff is a small village dealer in tobacco, snuff, coarse groceries,
+candles, and so on. His wife looks after the little shop and he works with
+horse and cart, hauling and doing odd jobs for the farmers. Instead of
+attending himself he has sent his wife to conduct the case. The Defendant
+is a labourer living in the same village, who, like so many of his class,
+has got into debt. He, too, has sent his wife to represent him. This is
+the usual course of the cottagers, and of agricultural people who are
+better off than cottagers. The men shirk out of difficulties of this kind
+by going off in the morning early to their work with the parting remark,
+'Aw, you'd better see about it; I don't knaw nothing about such jobs.'
+
+The High Bailiff has no easy task to swear the Plaintiff's representative.
+First, she takes the book and kisses it before the formula prescribed has
+been repeated. Then she waits till the sentence is finished and lifts the
+book with the left hand instead of the right. The Registrar's clerk has to
+go across to the box and shout an explanation into her ear. 'Tell the
+truth,' says the old lady, with alacrity; 'why, that's what I be come
+for.' The Judge asks her what it is she claims, and she replies that that
+man, the Registrar's clerk, has got it all written down in his book. She
+then turns to the Defendant's wife, who stands in the box opposite, and
+shouts to her, 'You knows you ain't paid it.'
+
+It is in vain that the Judge endeavours to question her, in vain that the
+High Bailiff tries to calm her, in vain that the clerk lays his hand on
+her arm--she is bent on telling the Defendant a bit of her mind. The Court
+is perforce compelled to wait till it is over, when the Judge, seeing that
+talking is of no avail, goes at once to the root of the matter and asks to
+see her books. A dirty account-book, such as may be purchased for
+threepence, is handed up to him; the binding is broken, and some of the
+leaves are loose. It is neither a day-book, a ledger, nor anything
+else--there is no system whatever, and indeed the Plaintiff admits that
+she only put down about half of it, and trusted to memory for the rest.
+Here is a date, and after it some figures, but no articles mentioned,
+neither tea nor candles. Next come some groceries, and the price, but no
+one's name, so that it is impossible to tell who had the goods. Then there
+are pages with mysterious dots and strokes and half-strokes, which
+ultimately turn out to mean ounces and half-ounces of tobacco. These have
+neither name nor value attached. From end to end nothing is crossed off,
+so that whether an account be paid or not cannot be ascertained.
+
+While the Judge laboriously examines every page, trying by the light of
+former experience to arrive at some idea of the meaning, the Defendant's
+wife takes up her parable. She chatters in return at the Plaintiff, then
+she addresses the High Bailiff, who orders her to remain quiet, and,
+finally, turns round and speaks to the crowd. The Judge, absorbed in the
+attempt to master the account-book, does not for the moment notice this,
+till, as he comes to the conclusion that the book is utterly valueless, he
+looks up and finds the Defendant with her back turned gesticulating and
+describing her wrongs to the audience. Even his command of silence is with
+reluctance obeyed, and she continues to mutter to herself. When order is
+restored the Judge asks for her defence, when the woman immediately
+produces a receipt, purporting to be for this very eight shillings' worth.
+At the sight of this torn and dirty piece of paper the Plaintiff works
+herself into a fury, and speaks so fast and so loud (as deaf people will)
+that no one else can be heard. Till she is made to understand that she
+will be sent out of Court she does not desist. The Judge looks at the
+receipt, and finds it correct; but still the Plaintiff positively declares
+that she has never had the money. Yet she admits that the receipt is in
+her handwriting. The Judge asks the Defendant who paid over the cash, and
+she replies that it was her husband. The account-book contains no
+memorandum of any payment at all. With difficulty the Judge again obtains
+silence, and once more endeavours to understand a page of the account-book
+to which the Plaintiff persists in pointing. His idea is now to identify
+the various articles mentioned in the receipt with the articles put down
+on that particular page.
+
+After at least three-quarters of an hour, during which the book is handed
+to and fro by the clerk from Judge to Plaintiff, that she may explain the
+meaning of the hieroglyphics, some light at last begins to dawn. By dint
+of patiently separating the mixed entries the Judge presently arrives at a
+partial comprehension of what the Plaintiff has been trying to convey. The
+amount of the receipted bill and the amount of the entries in the page of
+the account-book are the same; but the articles entered in the book and
+those admitted to be paid for are not. The receipt mentions candles; the
+account-book has no candles. Clearly they are two different debts, which
+chanced to come to the same figure. The receipt, however, is not dated,
+and whether it is the Defendant who is wilfully misrepresenting, or
+whether the Plaintiff is under a mistaken notion, the Judge for the time
+cannot decide. The Defendant declares that she does not know the date and
+cannot fix it--it was a 'main bit ago,' and that is all she can say.
+
+For the third time the Judge, patient to the last degree, wades through
+the account-book. Meanwhile the hands of the clock have moved on. Instead
+of being a short case, this apparently simple matter has proved a long
+one, and already as the afternoon advances the light of the dull winter's
+day declines. The solicitors engaged in the 'horse case,' who retired to
+consult, hoping to come to a settlement, returned into Court fully an hour
+ago, and have since been sitting at the table waiting to resume. Besides
+these some four or five other lawyers of equal standing are anxiously
+looking for a chance of commencing their business. All their clients are
+waiting, and the witnesses; they have all crowded into the Court, the
+close atmosphere of which is almost intolerable.
+
+But having begun the case the Judge gives it his full and undivided
+attention. Solicitors, clients, witnesses, cases that interest the public,
+causes that concern valuable property, or important contracts must all be
+put aside till this trifling matter is settled. He is as anxious as any,
+or more so, to get on, because delay causes business to accumulate--the
+adjourned causes, of course, having to be heard at next Court, and thus
+swelling the list to an inordinate length. But, impatient as he may be,
+especially as he is convinced that one or other of the parties is keeping
+back a part of the truth, he is determined that the subject shall be
+searched to the bottom. The petty village shopkeeper and the humble
+cottager obtain as full or fuller attention than the well-to-do Plaintiffs
+and Defendants who can bring down barristers from London.
+
+'What have you there?' the Registrar's clerk demands of the Plaintiff
+presently. She has been searching in her pocket for a snuff-box wherewith
+to refresh herself, and, unable to immediately discover it, has emptied
+the contents of the pocket on the ledge of the witness-box. Among the rest
+is another little account-book.
+
+'Let me see that,' demands the Judge, rather sharply, and no wonder. 'Why
+did you not produce it before?'
+
+'Aw, he be last year's un; some of it be two years ago,' is the reply.
+
+Another long pause. The Judge silently examines every page of the
+account-book two years old. Suddenly he looks up. 'This receipt,' he says,
+'was given for an account rendered eighteen months ago. Here in this older
+book are the entries corresponding with it. The present claim is for a
+second series of articles which happened to come to the same amount, and
+the Defendant, finding that the receipt was not dated, has endeavoured to
+make it do duty for the two.'
+
+'I tould you so,' interrupts the Plaintiff. 'I tould you so, but you
+wouldn't listen to I.'
+
+The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit the
+Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws down his pen
+and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask the High Bailiff if
+there are any other judgments out against the Defendant. So many years'
+experience of the drifts, subterfuges, paltry misrepresentations and
+suppressions--all the mean and despicable side of poor humanity--have
+indeed wearied him, but, at the same time, taught forbearance. He
+hesitates to be angry, and delays to punish. The people are poor,
+exceedingly poor. The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they
+are ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in
+better circumstances. There are two other judgments against the Defendant,
+who is earning about 12s. a week, and the verdict is 1s. a month, first
+payment that day three weeks.
+
+Then the solicitor for the Plaintiff in the 'horse case' rises and informs
+the Judge that the parties cannot settle it, and the case must proceed.
+The Plaintiff and Defendant take their places, and some thirty witnesses
+file through the gangway to the witness-room to be out of Court. The
+bailiffs light the gas as the gloom deepens, and the solicitor begins his
+opening speech. The Judge has leant back in his chair, closed his eyes,
+and composed himself to listen. By the time two witnesses have been
+examined the hour has arrived when the Judge can sit no longer. He must
+leave, because on the morrow he has to hold a Court in another part of the
+county. The important 'horse case' and the other causes must wait a
+month.. He sits to the very last moment, then hastily stuffs deeds,
+documents, papers of all descriptions into a portmanteau already
+overflowing, and rushes to his carriage.
+
+He will go through much the same work to-morrow; combating the irritating
+misrepresentations, exposing suppressors, discovering the truth under a
+mountain of crass stupidity and wilful deceit. Next day he will be again
+at work; and the same process will go on the following week. In the month
+there are perhaps about five days--exclusive of Sundays--upon which he
+does not sit. But those days are not holidays. They are spent in patiently
+reading a mass of deeds, indentures, contracts, vouchers, affidavits,
+evidence of every description and of the most voluminous character. These
+have been put in by solicitors, as part of their cases, and require the
+most careful attention. Besides causes that are actually argued out in
+open Court, there are others which, by consent of both parties, are placed
+in his hands as arbitrator. Many involve nice points of law, and require a
+written judgment in well-chosen words.
+
+The work of the County Court Judge at the present day is simply enormous;
+it is ceaseless and never finished, and it demands a patience which
+nothing can ruffle. No matter how much falsehood may annoy him, a Judge
+with arbitrary power entrusted to him must not permit indignation alone to
+govern his decision. He must make allowances for all.
+
+For the County Court in country districts has become a tribunal whose
+decisions enter, as it were, into the very life of the people. It is not
+concerned with a few important cases only; it has to arrange and finally
+settle what are really household affairs. Take any village, and make
+inquiries how many householders there are who have not at one time or
+other come under the jurisdiction of the County Court? Either as
+Plaintiff, or Defendant, or as witness, almost every one has had such
+experience, and those who have not have been threatened with it. Beside
+those defended cases that come before the Judge, there are hundreds upon
+hundreds of petty claims, to which no defence is offered, and which are
+adjudicated upon by the Registrar at the same time that the Judge hears
+the defended causes.
+
+The labourer, like so many farmers in a different way, lives on credit and
+is perpetually in debt. He purchases his weekly goods on the security of
+hoeing, harvest, or piece work, and his wages are continually absorbed in
+payment of instalments, just as the tenant-farmer's income is too often
+absorbed in the payment of interest and instalments of his loans. No one
+seems ever to pay without at least a threat of the County Court, which
+thus occupies a position like a firm appointed to perpetually liquidate a
+vast estate. It is for ever collecting shillings and half-crowns.
+
+
+This is one aspect of the County Court; the other is its position with
+respect to property. It is the great arbitrator of property--of houses and
+land, and deeds and contracts. Of recent years the number of the owners of
+land has immensely increased--that is, of small pieces--and the litigation
+has correspondingly grown. There is enough work for a man of high legal
+ability in settling causes of this character alone, without any 'horse
+case' with thirty witnesses, or any dispute that involves the conflict of
+personal testimony.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+
+THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+
+The most imposing building in a certain country market town is the old
+Bank, so called familiarly to distinguish it from the new one. The
+premises of the old Bank would be quite unapproached in grandeur, locally,
+were it not for the enterprise of the new establishment. Nothing could be
+finer than the façade of the old Bank, which stands out clear and elegant
+in its fresh paint among the somewhat dingy houses and shops of the main
+street. It is rather larger in size, more lofty, and has the advantage of
+being a few yards nearer to the railway station. But the rival institution
+runs it very close. It occupies a corner on the very verge of the
+market-place--its door facing the farmer as he concludes his deal--and it
+is within a minute of the best hotels, where much business is done. It is
+equally white and clean with fresh paint, and equally elegant in design.
+
+A stranger, upon a nice consideration of the circumstances, might find a
+difficulty in deciding on which to bestow his patronage; and perhaps the
+chief recommendation of the old establishment lies in the fact that it is
+the older of the two. The value of antiquity was never better understood
+than in these modern days. Shrewd men of business have observed that the
+quality of being ancient is the foundation of credit. Men believe in that
+which has been long established. Their fathers dealt there, they deal
+themselves, and if a new-comer takes up his residence he is advised to do
+likewise.
+
+A visitor desirous of looking on the outside, at least of country banking,
+would naturally be conducted to the old Bank. If it were an ordinary day,
+_i.e._ not a market or fair, he might stand on the pavement in front
+sunning himself without the least inconvenience from the passenger
+traffic. He would see, on glancing Up and down the street, one or two aged
+cottage women going in or out of the grocer's, a postman strolling round,
+and a distant policeman at the farthest corner. A sprinkling of boys
+playing marbles at the side of the pavement, and two men loading a waggon
+with sacks of flour from a warehouse, complete the scene as far as human
+life is concerned. There are dogs basking on doorsteps, larger dogs
+rambling with idleness in the slow sway of their tails, and overhead black
+swifts (whose nests are in the roofs of the higher houses) dash to and
+fro, uttering their shrill screech.
+
+The outer door of the bank is wide open--fastened back--ostentatiously
+open, and up the passage another mahogany door, closed, bears a polished
+brazen plate with the word 'Manager' engraved upon it. Everything within
+is large and massive. The swing door itself yields with the slow motion of
+solidity, and unless you are agile as it closes in the rear, thrusts you
+forward like a strong gale. The apartment is large and lofty: there is
+room for a crowd, but at present there is no one at the counter. It is
+long enough and broad enough for the business of twenty customers at once;
+so broad that the clerks on the other side are beyond arm's reach. But
+they have shovels with which to push the gold towards you, and in a small
+glass stand is a sponge kept constantly damp, across which the cashier
+draws his finger as he counts the silver, the slight moisture enabling him
+to sort the coin more swiftly.
+
+The fittings are perfect, as perfect as in a London bank, and there is an
+air of extreme precision. Yonder open drawers are full of pass-books; upon
+the desks and on the broad mantelpiece are piles of cheques, not scattered
+in disorder but arranged in exact heaps. The very inkstands are heavy and
+vast, and you just catch a glimpse round the edge of the semi-sentry box
+which guards the desk of the chief cashier, of a ledger so huge that the
+mind can hardly realise the extent of the business which requires such
+ponderous volumes to record it. Then beyond these a glass door, half open,
+apparently leads to the manager's room, for within it is a table strewn
+with papers, and you can see the green-painted iron wall of a safe.
+
+The clerks, like the place, are somewhat imposing; they are in no hurry,
+they allow you time to look round you and imbibe the sense of awe which
+the magnificent mahogany counter and the brazen fittings, all the
+evidences of wealth, are so calculated to inspire. The hollow sound of
+your footstep on the floor does not seem heard; the slight 'Ahem!' you
+utter after you have waited a few moments attracts no attention, nor the
+rustling of your papers. The junior clerks are adding up column after
+column of figures, and are totally absorbed; the chief cashier is
+pondering deeply over a letter and annotating it. By-and-by he puts it
+down, and slowly approaches. But after you have gone through the
+preliminary ceremony of waiting, which is an institution of the place, the
+treatment quite changes. Your business is accomplished with practised
+ease, any information you may require is forthcoming on the instant, and
+deft fingers pass you the coin. In brief, the whole machinery of banking
+is here as complete as in Lombard Street. The complicated ramifications of
+commercial transactions are as well understood and as closely studied as
+in the 'City.' No matter what your wishes, provided, of course, that your
+credentials are unimpeachable, they will be conducted for you
+satisfactorily and without delay.
+
+Yet the green meadows are within an arrow shot, and standing on the
+threshold and looking down a cross street you can see the elms of the
+hedgerows closing in the prospect. It is really wonderful that such
+conveniences should he found in so apparently insignificant a place. The
+intelligence and courtesy of the officials is most marked. It is clear,
+upon reflection, that such intelligence, such manners, and knowledge not
+only of business but of men (for a banker and a banker's agent has often
+to judge at a moment's notice whether a man be a rogue or honest), cannot
+be had for nothing. They must be paid for, and, in so far at least as the
+heads are concerned, paid liberally. It is known that the old Bank has
+often paid twenty and twenty-five per cent, to its shareholders. Where
+does all this money come from? From Hodge, toiling in the field and
+earning his livelihood in the sweat of his brow? One would hardly think so
+at first, and yet there are no great businesses or manufactories here.
+Somehow or other the money that pays for this courtesy and commercial
+knowledge, for these magnificent premises and furniture, that pays the
+shareholders twenty-five per cent., must be drawn from the green meadows,
+the cornfields, and the hills where the sheep feed.
+
+On an ordinary day the customers that come to the bank's counter may be
+reckoned on the fingers. Early in the morning the Post-Office people come
+for their cash and change; next, some of the landlords of the principal
+inns with their takings; afterwards, such of the tradesmen as have cheques
+to pay in. Later on the lawyers' clerks, or the solicitors themselves drop
+in; in the latter case for a chat with the manager. A farmer or two may
+call, especially on a Friday, for the cash to pay the labourers next day,
+and so the morning passes. In the afternoon one or more of the local
+gentry or clergy may drive up or may not--it is a chance either way--and
+as the hour draws near for closing some of the tradesmen come hurrying in
+again. Then the day, so far as the public are concerned, is over.
+To-morrow sees the same event repeated.
+
+On a market-day there is a great bustle; men hustle in and out, with a
+bluff disregard of conventional politeness, but with no intention of
+rudeness. Through the open doors comes the lowing of cattle, and the
+baaing of sheep; the farmers and dealers that crowd in and out bring with
+them an odour of animals that exhales from their garments. The clerks are
+now none too many, the long broad counter none too large; the resources of
+the establishment are taxed to the utmost. The manager is there in person,
+attending to the more important customers.
+
+In the crush are many ladies who would find their business facilitated by
+coming on a different day. But market-day is a tradition with all classes;
+even the gentry appear in greater numbers. If you go forth into the
+Market-place you will find it thronged with farmers. If you go into the
+Corn Hall or Exchange, where the corndealers have their stands, and where
+business in cereals and seeds is transacted; if you walk across to the
+auction yard for cattle, or to the horse depository, where an auction of
+horses is proceeding; everywhere you have to push your way through groups
+of agriculturists. The hotels are full of them (the stable-yards full of
+their various conveyances), and the restaurant, the latest innovation in
+country towns, is equally filled with farmers taking a chop, and the inner
+rooms with ladies discussing coffee and light refreshments.
+
+Now every farmer of all this crowd has his cheque-book in the breast
+pocket of his coat. Let his business be what it may, the purchase of
+cattle, sheep, horses, or implements, seed, or any other necessary, no
+coin passes. The parties, if the transaction be private, adjourn to their
+favourite inn, and out comes the cheque-book. If a purchase be effected at
+either of the auctions proceeding it is paid for by cheque, and, on the
+other hand, should the farmer be the vendor, his money comes to him in the
+shape of a cheque. With the exception of his dinner and the ostler, the
+farmer who comes to market carries on all his transactions with paper. The
+landlord of the hotel takes cash for the dinner, and the ostler takes his
+shilling. For the rest, it is all cheques cheques, cheques; so that the
+whole business of agriculture, from the purchase of the seed to the sale
+of the crop, passes through the bank.
+
+The toll taken by the bank upon such transactions as simple buying and
+selling is practically _nil_; its profit is indirect. But besides the
+indirect profit there is the direct speculation of making advances at high
+interest, discounting bills, and similar business. It might almost be said
+that the crops are really the property of the local banks, so large in the
+aggregate are the advances made upon them. The bank has, in fact, to study
+the seasons, the weather, the probable market prices, the import of grain
+and cattle, and to keep an eye upon the agriculture of the world. The
+harvest and the prices concern it quite as much as the actual farmer who
+tills the soil. In good seasons, with a crop above the average, the
+business of the bank expands in corresponding ratio. The manager and
+directors feel that they can advance with confidence; the farmer has the
+means to pay. In bad seasons and with short crops the farmer is more
+anxious than ever to borrow; but the bank is obliged to contract its
+sphere of operations.
+
+It usually happens that one or more of the directors of a country bank are
+themselves farmers in a large way--gentlemen farmers, but with practical
+knowledge. They are men whose entire lives have been spent in the
+locality, and who have a very wide circle of acquaintances and friends
+among agriculturists. Their forefathers were stationed there before them,
+and thus there has been an accumulation of local knowledge. They not only
+thoroughly understand the soil of the neighbourhood, and can forecast the
+effect of particular seasons with certainty, but they possess an intimate
+knowledge of family history, what farmer is in a bad way, who is doubtful,
+or who has always had a sterling reputation. An old-established country
+bank has almost always one or more such confidential advisers. Their
+assistance is invaluable.
+
+Since agriculture became in this way, through the adoption of banking, so
+intimately connected with commerce, it has responded, like other
+businesses, to the fluctuations of trade. The value of money in
+Threadneedle Street affects the farmer in an obscure hamlet a hundred
+miles away, whose fathers knew nothing of money except as a coin, a token
+of value, and understood nothing of the export or import of gold. The
+farmer's business is conducted through the bank, but, on the other hand,
+the bank cannot restrict its operations to the mere countryside. It is
+bound up in every possible manner with the vast institutions of the
+metropolis. Its private profits depend upon the rate of discount and the
+tone of the money market exactly in the same way as with those vast
+institutions. A difficulty, a crisis there is immediately felt by the
+country bank, whose dealings with its farmer customers are in turn
+affected.
+
+Thus commerce acts upon agriculture. _Per contra_, the tradesmen of the
+town who go to the bank every morning would tell you with doleful faces
+that the condition of agriculture acts upon trade in a most practical
+manner. Neither the farmer, nor the farmer's wife and family expend nearly
+so much as they did at their shops, and consequently the sums they carry
+over to the bank are much diminished in amount. The local country
+tradesman probably feels the depression of agriculture all but as much as
+the farmer himself. The tradesman is perhaps supported by the bank; if he
+cannot meet his liabilities the bank is compelled to withdraw that
+support.
+
+Much of this country banking seems to have grown up in very recent times.
+Any elderly farmer out yonder in the noisy market would tell you that in
+his young days when he first did business he had to carry coin with him,
+especially if at a distance from home. It was then the custom to attend
+markets and fairs a long way off, such markets being centres where the
+dealers and drovers brought cattle. The dealers would accept nothing but
+cash; they would not have looked at a cheque had such a thing been
+proffered them. This old Bank prides itself upon the reputation it
+enjoyed, even in those days. It had the power of issuing notes, and these
+notes were accepted by such men, even at a great distance, the bank having
+so good a name. They were even preferred to the notes of the Bank of
+England, which at one time, in outlying country places, were looked on
+with distrust, a state of things which seems almost incredible to the
+present generation.
+
+In those days men had no confidence. That mutual business understanding,
+the credit which is the basis of all commerce of the present time, did not
+exist. Of course this only applies to the country and to country trading;
+the business men of cities were years in advance of the agriculturists in
+this respect. But so good was the reputation of the old Bank, even in
+those times, that its notes were readily accepted. It is, indeed,
+surprising what a reputation some of the best of the country banks have
+achieved. Their names are scarcely seen in the money articles of the daily
+press. But they do a solid business of great extent, and their names in
+agricultural circles are names of power. So the old Bank here, though
+within an arrow shot of the green meadows, though on ordinary days a
+single clerk might attend to its customers, has really a valuable
+_clientèle._
+
+Of late years shrewd men of business discovered that the ranks of the
+British farmer offered a wonderful opportunity for legitimate banking. The
+farmer, though he may not be rich, must of necessity be the manager, if
+not the actual owner, of considerable capital. A man who farms, if only a
+hundred acres, must have some capital. It may not be his own--it may be
+borrowed; still he has the use of it. Here, then, a wide field opened
+itself to banking enterprise. Certainly there has been a remarkable
+extension of banking institutions in the country. Every market town has
+its bank, and in most cases two--branches of course, but banks to all
+intents and purposes. Branches are started everywhere.
+
+The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new. It is
+simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose original centre
+may perhaps be in another county. It is every whit as respectable as the
+other, and as well conducted. Its branch as yet lacks local antiquity, but
+that is the only difference. The competition for the farmer's business
+between these branches, scattered all over the length and breadth of the
+country, must of necessity be close. When the branch, or new Bank, came
+here, it was started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the
+most convenient situation that could be secured.
+
+Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a small and
+dingy basement. The room was narrow, badly lit, and still worse
+ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the customers
+complained of the stuffy atmosphere. The ancient fittings had become worn
+and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the conveniences in every way
+defective. When it was known that a new branch was to be opened the
+directors of the old Bank resolved that the building, which had so long
+been found inadequate, should be entirely renovated. They pulled it down,
+and the present magnificent structure took its place.
+
+Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose façades could
+hardly be surpassed in a city. There is perhaps a little rivalry between
+the managers of the two institutions, in social as well as in business
+matters. Being so long established there the old Bank numbers among its
+customers some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and
+solicitors. The manager coming into contact with these, and being himself
+a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain position. If any
+public movement is set on foot, the banks strive as to which shall be most
+to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity, the old Bank, perhaps, secures a
+social precedence. Both managers belong to the 'carriage people' of the
+town.
+
+Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or sheep, or
+jolting in on a waggon. His wife comes, too, on foot, through the roughest
+weather, to fetch her household goods. His daughter comes into the hiring
+fair, and stands waiting for employment on the pavement in the same spot
+used for the purpose from time immemorial, within sight of the stately
+façades of the banks. He himself has stood in the market-place with
+reaping hook or hoe looking for a master. Humble as he may be, it is clear
+that the wealth in those cellars--the notes and the gold pushed over the
+counters in shovels--must somehow come from the labour which he and his
+immediate employer--the farmer--go through in the field.
+
+It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or shepherd, who
+desires a new situation, to advertise. Instead of waiting for the chance
+of the hiring fair, he trudges into the market town and calls at the
+office of the oldest established local paper. There his wishes are reduced
+to writing for him, he pays his money, and his advertisement appears. If
+there is an farmer advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the
+same time takes the address, and goes over to offer his services. The
+farmer and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the
+medium between them.
+
+The vitality and influence of the old-fashioned local newspaper is indeed
+a remarkable feature of country life. It would be thought that in these
+days of cheap literature, these papers, charging twopence, threepence, and
+even fourpence per copy, could not possibly continue to exist. But,
+contrary to all expectation, they have taken quite a fresh start, and
+possess a stronger hold than ever upon the agricultural population. They
+enter into the old homesteads, and every member of the farmer's family
+carefully scans them, certain of finding a reference to this or that
+subject or person in whom he takes an interest.
+
+Some such papers practically defy competition. In the outlying towns,
+where no factories have introduced a new element, it is vain for the most
+enterprising to start another. The squire, the clergyman, the lawyer, the
+tenant-farmer, the wayside innkeeper stick to the old weekly paper, and
+nothing can shake it. It is one of the institutions of agriculture.
+
+The office is, perhaps, in a side street of the quiet market-town, and
+there is no display to catch the casual purchaser. No mystery surrounds
+the editor's sanctum; the visitor has but to knock, and is at once
+admitted to his presence. An office could scarcely be more plainly
+furnished. A common table, which has, however, one great virtue--it does
+not shake when written on--occupies the centre. Upon one side is a large
+desk or bureau; the account-books lying open show that the editor, besides
+his literary labour, has to spend much time in double entry. Two chairs
+are so completely hidden under 'exchanges' that no one can sit upon them.
+Several of these 'exchanges' are from the United States or Australia, for
+the colonists are often more interested and concerned about local affairs
+in the old country than they are with the doings in the metropolis.
+Against the wall, too, hangs a picture of a fine steamer careering under
+sail and steam, and near it a coloured sectional map of some new township
+marked out in squares. These are the advertisements of an Atlantic or
+Australian line, or of both; and the editor is their agent. When the young
+ploughman resolves to quit the hamlet for the backwoods of America or the
+sheepwalks of Australia, he comes here to engage his berth. When the young
+farmer wearies of waiting for dead men's shoes--in no other way can he
+hope to occupy an English farm--he calls here and pays his passage-money,
+and his broad shoulders and willing hands are shipped to a land that will
+welcome him. A single shelf supports a few books, all for reference, such
+as the 'Clergy List,' for the Church is studied, and the slightest change
+that concerns the district carefully recorded.
+
+Beneath this, the ponderous volumes that contain the file of the paper for
+the last forty years are piled, their weight too great for a shelf resting
+on the floor. The series constitutes a complete and authentic local
+history. People often come from a distance to consult it, for it is the
+only register that affords more than the simple entry of birth and death.
+
+There is a life in the villages and hamlets around, in the little places
+that are not even hamlets, which to the folk who dwell in them is fully as
+important as that of the greatest city. Farmhouses are not like the villas
+of cities and city suburbs. The villa has hardly any individuality; it is
+but one of many, each resembling the other, and scarcely separated. To-day
+one family occupies it, tomorrow another, next year perhaps a third, and
+neither of these has any real connection with the place. They are
+sojourners, not inhabitants, drawn thither by business or pleasure; they
+come and go, and leave no mark behind. But the farmhouse has a history.
+The same family have lived in it for, perhaps, a hundred years: they have
+married and intermarried, and become identified with the locality. To them
+all the petty events of village life have a meaning and importance: the
+slow changes that take place and are chronicled in the old newspaper have
+a sad significance, for they mark that flux of time which is carrying
+them, too, onwards to their rest.
+
+These columns of the file, therefore, that to a stranger seem a blank, to
+the old folk and their descendants are like a mirror, in which they can
+see the faces of the loved ones who passed away a generation since. They
+are the archives of the hamlets round about: a farmer can find from them
+when his grandfather quitted the old farm, and read an account of the
+sale. Men who left the village in their youth for the distant city or the
+still more distant colonies, as they grow in years often feel an
+irresistible desire to revisit the old, old place. The home they so fondly
+recollect is in other hands, and yet in itself but little changed. A few
+lines in the plainest language found in the file here tell to such a
+greybeard a story that fills his eyes with tears. But even a stranger who
+took the trouble to turn over the folios would now and then find matter to
+interest him: such as curious notes of archaeological discovery, accounts
+of local customs now fallen into disuse, and traditions of the past. Many
+of these are worthy of collection in more accessible form.
+
+There is hardly anything else in the room except the waste basket under
+the table. As the visitor enters, a lad goes out with a roll of manuscript
+in his hand, and the editor looks up from his monotonous task of
+proof-reading, for he has that duty also to perform. Whatever he is doing,
+some one is certain to call and break off the thread of his thought. The
+bailiff or farm-steward of a neighbouring estate comes in to insert an
+advertisement of timber for sale, or of the auction of the ash-poles
+annually felled. A gamekeeper calls with a notice not to sport or trespass
+on certain lands. The editor has to write out the advertisement for these
+people, and for many of the farmers who come, for countrymen have the
+greatest dislike to literary effort of any kind, and can hardly be
+persuaded to write a letter. Even when they have written the letter they
+get the daughter to address the envelope, lest the Post Office should
+smile at their rude penmanship. The business of preparing the
+advertisement is not quickly concluded, for just as it is put down to
+their fancy, they recollect another item which has to be added. Then they
+stand and gossip about the family at the mansion and the affairs of the
+parish generally, totally oblivious of the valuable time they are wasting.
+Farmers look in to advertise a cottage or a house in the village to let,
+and stay to explain the state of the crops, and the why and the wherefore
+of So-and-so leaving his tenancy.
+
+The largest advertisers invariably put off their orders till the morning
+of the paper going to press, from sheer inattention. On that busy morning,
+auctioneers' clerks rush in with columns of auction sales of cattle,
+sheep, horses, hay, or standing crops (according to the season of the
+year), and every species of farm produce. After them come the solicitors'
+clerks, with equally important and lengthy notices of legal matters
+concerning the effects of farmers who have fallen into difficulties, of
+parochial or turnpike affairs, or 'Pursuant to an Act intitled "An Act to
+further amend the Law and to Relieve Trustees."' These notices have been
+lying on their desks for days, but are perversely sent down at the last
+moment, and upset the entire make-up of the paper.
+
+Just as the editor has arranged for these, and is in the act to rush up
+into the press-room, a timid knock announces a poor cottage girl, who has
+walked in from a hamlet six or seven miles away to inquire the address of
+a lady who wants a servant. This advertisement appeared at least three
+weeks since, for country folk could in no wise make up their minds to
+apply under three weeks, and necessitates a search back through the file,
+and a reference to divers papers. He cannot in common courtesy leave the
+poor girl to wait his convenience, and meantime the steam is up and the
+machine waiting. When the address is discovered, the girl thinks she
+cannot remember it, and so he has to write it down on a piece of paper for
+her.
+
+He has no highly organised staff to carry on the routine work; he has to
+look after every department as well as the purely editorial part. Almost
+every one who has a scrap of news or gossip looks in at the office to chat
+about it with him. Farmers, who have driven in to the town from distant
+villages, call to tell him of the trouble they are having over the new
+schools, and the conflict in the parish as to whether they shall or shall
+not have a school board. Clergymen from outlying vicarages come to mention
+that a cottage flower show, a penny reading, a confirmation, or some such
+event, is impending, and to suggest the propriety of a full and special
+account. Occasionally a leading landed proprietor is closeted with him,
+for at least an hour, discussing local politics, and ascertaining from him
+the tone of feeling in the district.
+
+Modern agricultural society insists upon publicity. The smallest village
+event must be chronicled, or some one will feel dissatisfied, and inquire
+why it was not put in the paper. This continual looking towards the paper
+for everything causes it to exercise a very considerable amount of
+influence. Perhaps the clergy and gentry are in some things less powerful
+than the local newspaper, for, from a variety of causes, agricultural
+society has become extremely sensitive to public opinion. The temperate
+and thoughtful arguments put forward by a paper in which they have
+confidence directly affect the tenant-farmers. On the other hand, as
+expressing the views of the tenant-farmers, the paper materially
+influences the course taken by the landed proprietors.
+
+In country districts the mere numerical circulation of a weekly
+publication is no measure of its importance. The position of the
+subscribers is the true test. These old-established papers, in fact,
+represent property. They are the organs of all who possess lands, houses,
+stock, produce; in short, of the middle class. This is evident from the
+advertising columns. The lawyer, the auctioneer, the land agent, the
+farmer, all who have any substance, publish their business in this medium.
+Official county advertisements appear in it. The carter and the shepherd
+look down the column of situations vacant as they call at the village inn
+for a glass of ale, or, if they cannot read, ask some one to read for
+them. But they do not purchase this kind of newspaper. The cottager spells
+over prints advocating the disestablishment of the Church, the division of
+great estates, and the general subversion of the present order of things.
+Yet when the labourer advertises, he goes to the paper subscribed to by
+his master. The disappearance of such an obsolete and expensive paper is
+frequently announced as imminent; but the obsolete and expensive print,
+instead of disappearing, nourishes with renewed vitality. Solid matter,
+temperate argument, and genuine work, in the long ran, pay the best. An
+editor who thus conducts his paper is highly appreciated by the local
+chiefs of his party, and may even help to contribute to the success of an
+Administration.
+
+The personal labour involved in such editing must be great from the
+absence of trained assistance, and because the materials must be furnished
+by incompetent hands. Local news must be forwarded by local people,
+perhaps by a village tailor with literary tastes. Such correspondents
+often indulge in insinuations, or fulsome flattery, which must be
+carefully eliminated. From another village an account of some event comes
+from the schoolmaster--quite an important person nowadays!--who writes in
+a fair, round hand and uses the finest language and the longest words. He
+invariably puts 'hebdomadal' for 'weekly.' A lawyer's clerk writes a
+narrative of some case, on blue foolscap, and, after the manner of legal
+documents, without a single stop from beginning to end.
+
+Once a year comes the labour of preparing the sheet almanac. This useful
+publication is much valued by the tenants of the district, and may be
+found pinned against the wall for ready reference in most farmhouses.
+Besides the calendar it contains a list of county and other officials,
+dates of quarter sessions and assizes, fair days and markets, records of
+the prices obtained at the annual sales of rams or shorthorns on leading
+farms, and similar agricultural information.
+
+The editor has very likely been born in the district, and has thus grown
+up to understand the wants and the spirit of the farming class. He is
+acquainted with the family history of the neighbourhood, a knowledge which
+is of much advantage in enabling him to avoid unnecessarily irritating
+personal susceptibilities. His private library is not without interest. It
+mainly consists of old books picked up at the farmhouse sales of thirty
+years. At such disposals of household effects volumes sometimes come to
+light that have been buried for generations among lumber. Many of these
+books are valuable and all worth examination. A man of simple and retiring
+habits, his garden is perhaps his greatest solace, and next to that a
+drive or stroll through the green meadows around. Incessant mental labour
+has forced him to wear glasses before his time, and it is a relief and
+pleasure to the eyes to dwell on green sward and leaf. Such a man performs
+a worthy part in country life, and possesses the esteem of the country
+side.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+
+In the daytime the centre of a certain village may be said to be the shop
+of the agricultural machinist. The majority of the cottagers are away in
+the fields at work, and the place is elsewhere almost quiet. A column of
+smoke and a distant din guide the visitor to the spot where the hammers
+are clattering on the anvils.
+
+Twisted iron, rusty from exposure, lies in confusion on the blackened
+ground before the shed. Coal-dust and the carbon deposited from volumes of
+thick smoke have darkened the earth, and coated everything with a black
+crust. The windows of the shed are broken, probably by the accidental
+contact of long rods of iron carelessly cast aside, and some of the slates
+of the roof appear gone just above the furnace, as if removed for
+ventilation and the escape of the intense heat. There is a creaking of
+stiff leather as the bellows rise and fall, and the roar of the blast as
+it is forced up through the glowing coals.
+
+A ceaseless hum of wheels in motion comes from the rear, and the peculiar
+crackling sound of a band in rapid revolution round the drum of the engine
+and the shaft. Then the grinding scrape of sharp steel on iron as the edge
+of the tool cuts shavings from the solid metal rotating swiftly in the
+lathe. As blow follows blow the red-hot 'scale,' driven from the surface
+of the iron on the anvil by the heavy sledge, flies rattling against the
+window in a spray of fire. The ring of metal, the clatter, the roaring,
+and hissing of steam, fill the air, and through it rises now and then the
+shrill quick calls of men in command.
+
+Outside, and as it seems but a stone's throw distant, stands the old grey
+church, and about it the still, silent, green-grown mounds over those who
+once followed the quiet plough.
+
+Bound the corner of the village street comes a man with a grimy red flag,
+and over the roofs of the cottages rises a cloud of smoke, and behind it
+yet another. Two steam ploughing engines are returning from their work to
+their place beside the shed to wait fresh orders. The broad wheels of the
+engines block up the entire width of the street, and but just escape
+overthrowing the feeble palings in front of the cottage doors. Within
+those palings the children at play scarcely turn to look; the very infants
+that can hardly toddle are so accustomed to the ponderous wonder that they
+calmly gnaw the crusts that keep them contented. It requires a full hour
+to get the unwieldy engines up the incline and round the sharp turns on to
+the open space by the workshop. The driver has to 'back,' and go-a-head,
+and 'back' again, a dozen times before he can reach the place, for that
+narrow bye-way was not planned out for such traffic. A mere path leading
+to some cottages in the rear, it was rarely used even by carts before the
+machinist came, and it is a feat of skill to get the engines in without,
+like a conqueror, entering by a breach battered in the walls. When, at
+last, they have been piloted into position, the steam is blown off, and
+the rushing hiss sounds all over the village. The white vapour covers the
+ground like a cloud, and the noise re-echoes against the old grey church,
+but the jackdaws do not even rise from the battlements.
+
+These engines and their corresponding tackle are the chief stock-in-trade
+of the village machinist. He lets them out to the farmers of the district,
+which is principally arable; that is, he contracts to do their ploughing
+and scarifying at so much per acre. In the ploughing seasons the engines
+are for ever on the road, and with their tackle dragging behind them take
+up the highway like a train. One day you may hear the hum and noise from a
+distant field on the left; in a day or two it comes from another on the
+right; next week it has shifted again, and is heard farther off
+northwards, and so all round the compass.
+
+The visitor, driving about the neighbourhood, cannot but notice the huge
+and cumbrous-looking plough left awhile on the sward by the roadside.
+One-half of the shares stand up high in the air, the other half touch the
+ground, and it is so nicely balanced that boys sometimes play at see-saw
+on it. He will meet the iron monster which draws this plough by the bridge
+over the brook, pausing while its insatiable thirst is stayed from the
+stream. He will see it patiently waiting, with a slight curl of steam over
+the boiler, by the wayside inn while its attendants take their lunch.
+
+It sometimes happens in wet weather that the engines cannot be moved from
+the field where they have been ploughing. The soil becomes so soft from
+absorbing so much water that it will not bear up the heavy weight. Logs
+and poles are laid down to form a temporary way, but the great wheels sink
+too deeply, and the engines have to be left covered with tarpaulins. They
+have been known to remain till the fresh green leaves of spring on the
+hedges and trees almost hid them from sight.
+
+The machinist has another and lighter traction engine which does not
+plough, but travels from farm to farm with a threshing machine. In autumn
+it is in full work threshing, and in winter drives chaff-cutters for the
+larger farmers. Occasionally it draws a load of coal in waggons or trucks
+built for the purpose. Hodge's forefathers knew no rival at plough time;
+after the harvest they threshed the corn all the winter with the flail.
+Now the iron horse works faster and harder than he.
+
+Some of the great tenant-farmers have sets of ploughing-engines and tackle
+of their own, and these are frequently at the machinist's for repairs. The
+reaping, mowing, threshing, haymaking, hoeing, raking, and other machines
+and implements also often require mending. Once now and then a bicyclist
+calls to have his machine attended to, something having given way while on
+a tour. Thus the village factory is in constant work, but has to encounter
+immense competition.
+
+Country towns of any size usually possess at least one manufactory of
+agricultural implements, and some of these factories have acquired a
+reputation which reaches over sea. The visitor to such a foundry is shown
+medals that have been granted for excellence of work exhibited in Vienna,
+and may see machines in process of construction which will be used upon
+the Continent; so that the village machinist, though apparently isolated,
+with nothing but fields around him, has in reality competitors upon every
+side.
+
+Ploughing engines, again, travel great distances, and there are firms that
+send their tackle across a county or two. Still the village factory, being
+on the spot, has plenty of local work, and the clatter of hammers, the
+roar of the blast, and the hum of wheels never cease at the shed. Busy
+workmen pass to and fro, lithe men, quick of step and motion, who come
+from Leeds, or some similar manufacturing town, and whose very step
+distinguishes them in a moment from the agricultural labourer.
+
+A sturdy ploughboy comes up with a piece of iron on his shoulder; it does
+not look large, but it is as much as he can carry. One edge of it is
+polished by the friction of the earth through which it has been forced; it
+has to be straightened, or repaired, and the ploughboy waits while it is
+done. He sits down outside the shed on a broken and rusty iron wheel,
+choosing a spot where the sun shines and the building keeps off the wind.
+There, among the twisted iron, ruins and fragments of machines, he takes
+out his hunch of bread and cheese, and great clasp knife, and quietly
+enjoys his luncheon. He is utterly indifferent to the noise of the
+revolving wheels, the creak of the bellows, the hiss of steam; he makes no
+inquiry about this or that, and shows no desire to understand the wonders
+of mechanics. Something in his attitude--in the immobility, the almost
+animal repose of limb; something in the expression of his features, the
+self-contained oblivion, so to say, suggests an Oriental absence of
+aspiration. Only by negatives and side-lights, as it were, can any idea be
+conveyed of his contented indifference. He munches his crust; and, when he
+has done, carefully, and with vast deliberation, relaces his heavy shoe.
+The sunshine illumines the old grey church before him, and falls on the
+low green mounds, almost level with the sward, which cover his ancestors.
+
+These modern inventions, this steam, and electric telegraph, and even the
+printing-press have but just skimmed the surface of village life. If they
+were removed--if the pressure from without, from the world around, ceased,
+in how few years the village and the hamlet would revert to their original
+condition!
+
+On summer afternoons, towards five or six o'clock, a four-wheel
+carriage--useful, but not pretentious--comes slowly up the hill leading to
+the village. The single occupant is an elderly man, the somewhat wearied
+expression of whose features is caused by a continuous application to
+business. The horse, too well fed for work, takes his own time up the
+hill, and when at the summit the reins are gently shaken, makes but an
+idle pretence to move faster, for he knows that his master is too
+good-natured and forbearing to use the whip, except to fondly stroke his
+back. The reins are scarcely needed to guide the horse along the familiar
+road to a large farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where at the
+gate two or more children are waiting to welcome 'papa.'
+
+Though a farmhouse, the garden is laid out in the style so often seen
+around detached villas, with a lawn for tennis and croquet, parterres
+bright with summer flowers, and seats under the pleasant shade of the
+trees. Within it is furnished in villa fashion, and is in fact let to a
+well-to-do tradesman of the market town a few miles distant. He has wisely
+sent his family for the summer months to inhale the clear air of the
+hills, as exhilarating as that of the sea. There they can ride the pony
+and donkeys over the open sward, and romp and play at gipsying. Every
+evening he drives out to join them, and every morning returns to his
+office. The house belongs to some large tenant-farmer, who has a little
+freehold property, and thus makes a profit from it.
+
+This practice of hiring a village home for the summer has become common of
+recent years among the leading tradesmen of country towns. Such visitors
+are welcome to the cottage folk. They require the service of a labourer
+now and then; they want fresh eggs, and vegetables from the allotment
+gardens. The women have the family washing to do, and a girl is often
+needed to assist indoors, or a boy to clean the knives and shoes. Many
+perquisites fall to the cottage people--cast aside dresses, and so on;
+besides which there are little gifts and kindnesses from the lady and her
+children.
+
+Towards November, again, the congregation in the old church one Sunday
+morning find subject for speculation concerning a stranger who enters a
+certain well-appointed pew appropriated to The Chestnuts. He is clearly
+the new tenant who has taken it for the hunting season. The Chestnuts is a
+mansion built in modern style for a former landowner. As it is outside the
+great hunting centres it is let at a low rental compared with its
+accommodation. The labourers are glad to see that the place is let again,
+for although the half-pay officer--the new occupant--who has retired,
+wounded and decorated, from the service of a grateful country, has
+probably not a third the income of the tradesman, and five times the
+social appearance to maintain, still there will be profit to be got from
+him.
+
+What chance has such a gentleman in bargaining with the cottagers? How
+should he know the village value of a cabbage? How should he understand
+the farmyard value of a fowl? It may possibly strike him as odd that
+vegetables should be so dear when, as he rides about, he sees whole fields
+green with them. He sees plenty of fowls, and geese, and turkeys, gobbling
+and cackling about the farmyards, and can perhaps after awhile faintly
+perceive that they are the perquisites of the ladies of the tenants'
+households, who drive him a very hard bargain. He, too, has cast aside
+suits, shoes, hats, and so forth, really but little worn, to give away to
+the poor. If married, his family require some help from the cottage women;
+and there are odd jobs, well paid for, on the place for the men. Thus the
+cottagers are glad of the arrival of their new masters, the one in the
+summer, the other in the winter months.
+
+The 'chapel-folk' of the place have so increased in numbers and affluence
+that they have erected a large and commodious building in the village.
+Besides the cottagers, many farmers go to the chapel, driving in from the
+ends of the parish. It is a curious circumstance that many of the largest
+dealers in agricultural produce, such as cheese, bacon, and corn, and the
+owners of the busiest wharves where coal and timber, slate, and similar
+materials are stored, belong to the Dissenting community. There are some
+agricultural districts where this class of business is quite absorbed by
+Dissenters--almost as much as money-changing and banking business is said
+to be the exclusive property of Jews in some Continental countries. Such
+dealers are often substantial and, for the country, even wealthy men. Then
+there are the Dissenting tradesmen of the market town. All these together
+form a species of guild. The large chapel in the village was built by
+their united subscriptions. They support each other in a marked manner in
+times of difficulty, so that it is rare for a tenant-farmer of the
+persuasion to lose his position unless by wilful misconduct. This mutual
+support is so very marked as to be quite a characteristic fact.
+
+The cottagers and their families go to chapel with these masters. But
+sometimes the cottager, as he approaches the chapel door, finds upon it
+(as in the church porch) a small printed notice affixed there by the
+overseers. If the labourer is now recognised as a person whose opinion is
+to be consulted, on the other hand he finds that he is not without
+responsibilities. The rate-collector knocks at the cottage door as well as
+at the farmer's. By gradual degrees village rates are becoming a serious
+burden, and though their chief incidence may be upon the landlord and the
+tenant, indirectly they begin to come home to the labourer. The school
+rate is voluntary, but it is none the less a rate; the cemetery, the
+ancient churchyard being no more available, has had to be paid for, and,
+as usual, probably cost twice what was anticipated. The highways, the
+sanitary authority, not to speak of poor relief, all demand a share. Each
+in itself may be only a straw, but accumulated straws in time fill a
+waggon.
+
+One side of the stable of the village inn, which faces the road, presents
+a broad surface for the country bill-sticker. He comes out from the market
+town, and travels on foot for a whole day together, from hamlet to hamlet.
+posting up the contents of his bag in the most outlying and lonely
+districts. Every villager as he passes by reads the announcements on the
+wall: the circus coming to the market town, some jeweller's marvellous
+watches, the selling off of spring or summer goods by the drapers at an
+immense reduction, once now and then a proclamation headed V.R., and the
+sales of farm stock (the tenants leaving) and of large freehold
+properties.
+
+These latter are much discussed by the callers at the inn. A carter comes
+along perhaps with a loaded waggon from some distance, and as he stays to
+drink his quart talks of the changes that are proceeding or imminent in
+his locality. Thus the fact that changes are contemplated is often widely
+known before the actual advertisement is issued. The labourers who hear
+the carter's story tell it again to their own employer next time they see
+him, and the farmer meeting another farmer gossips over it again.
+
+There has grown up a general feeling in the villages and agricultural
+districts that the landed estates around them are no longer stable and
+enduring. A feeling of uncertainty is abroad, and no one is surprised to
+hear that some other place, or person, is going. It is rumoured that this
+great landlord is about to sell as many farms as the family settlements
+will let him. Another is only waiting for the majority of his son to
+accomplish the same object. Others, it is said, are proceeding abroad to
+retrench. Properties are coming into the market in unexpected directions,
+and others are only kept back because the price of land has fallen, and
+there is a difficulty in selling a large estate. If divided into a number
+of lots, each of small size, land still fetches its value, and can be
+readily sold; but that is not always convenient, and purchasers hesitate
+to invest in extensive estates. But though kept back, efforts are being
+made to retrench, and, it is said, old mansions that have never been let
+before can now be hired for the season. Not only the tenant-farmers, but
+the landowners are pacing through a period of depression, and their tenure
+too is uncertain. Such is the talk of the country side as it comes to the
+village inn.
+
+Once a week the discordant note of a horn or bugle, loudly blown by a man
+who does not understand his instrument, is heard at intervals. It is the
+newspaper vendor, who, like the bill-sticker, starts from the market town
+on foot, and goes through the village with a terrible din. He stops at the
+garden gate in the palings before the thatched cottage, delivers his print
+to the old woman or the child sent out with the copper, and starts again
+with a flourish of his trumpet. His business is chiefly with the
+cottagers, and his print is very likely full of abuse of the landed
+proprietors as a body. He is a product of modern days, almost the latest,
+and as he goes from cottage door to cottage door, the discordant uproar of
+his trumpet is a sign of the times.
+
+In some districts the osier plantations give employment to a considerable
+number of persons. The tall poles are made into posts and rails; the
+trunks of the pollard trees when thrown are cut into small timber that
+serves many minor purposes; the brushwood or tops that are cut every now
+and then make thatching sticks and faggots; sometimes hedges are made of a
+kind of willow wicker-work for enclosing gardens. It is, however, the
+plantations of withy or osier that are most important. The willow grows so
+often in or near to water that in common opinion the association cannot be
+too complete. But in the arrangement of an osier-bed water is utilised,
+indeed, but kept in its place--i.e. at the roots, and not over the stoles.
+The osier should not stand in water, or rise, as it were, out of a
+lake--the water should be in the soil underneath, and the level of the
+ground higher than the surface of the adjacent stream.
+
+Before planting, the land has to be dug or ploughed, and cleared; the
+weeds collected in the same way as on an arable field. The sticks are then
+set in rows eighteen inches apart, each stick (that afterwards becomes a
+stole) a foot from its neighbours of the same row. At first the weeds
+require keeping down, but after awhile the crop itself kills them a good
+deal. Several willows spring from each planted stick, and at the end of
+twelve months the first crop is ready for cutting. Next year the stick or
+stole will send up still more shoots, and give a larger yield.
+
+The sorts generally planted are called Black Spanish and Walnut Leaf. The
+first has a darker bark, and is a tough wood; the other has a light yellow
+bark, and grows smoother and without knots, which is better for working up
+into the manufactured article. Either will grow to nine feet high--the
+average height is six or seven feet. The usual time for cutting is about
+Good Friday--that is, just before the leaf appears. After cutting, the
+rods are stacked upright in water, in long trenches six inches deep
+prepared for the purpose, and there they remain till the leaf comes out.
+The power of growth displayed by the willow is wonderful--a bough has only
+to be stuck in the earth, or the end of a pole placed in the brook, for
+the sap to rise and shoots to push forth.
+
+When the leaf shows the willows are carried to the 'brakes,' and the work
+of stripping off the bark commences. A 'brake' somewhat resembles a pair
+of very blunt scissors permanently fixed open at a certain angle, and
+rigidly supported at a convenient height from the ground. The operator
+stands behind it, and selecting a long wand from the heap beside him
+places it in the 'brake,' and pulls it through, slightly pressing it
+downwards. As he draws it towards him, the edges of the iron tear the bark
+and peel it along the whole length of the stick. There is a knack in the
+operation, of course, but when it is acquired the wand is peeled in a
+moment by a dexterous turn of the wrist, the bark falls to the ground on
+the other side of the brake, and the now white stick is thrown to the
+right, where a pile soon accumulates. The peel is handy for tying up, and
+when dried makes a capital material for lighting fires. This stripping of
+the osiers is a most busy time in the neighbourhood of the large
+plantations--almost like hop-picking--for men, women, and children can all
+help. It does not require so much strength as skill and patience.
+
+After the peeling the sticks have to be dried by exposure to the sun; they
+are then sorted into lengths, and sold in bundles. If it is desired to
+keep them any time they must be thoroughly dried, or they will 'heat' and
+rot and become useless. This willow harvest is looked forward to by the
+cottagers who live along the rivers as an opportunity for earning extra
+money. The quantity of osier thus treated seems immense, and yet the
+demand is said to be steady, and as the year advances the price of the
+willow rises. It is manufactured into all kinds of baskets--on farms,
+especially arable farms, numbers of baskets are used. Clothes baskets,
+market baskets, chaff baskets, bassinettes or cradles, &c., are some few
+of the articles manufactured from it. Large quantities of willow, too, are
+worked up unpeeled into hampers of all kinds. The number of hampers used
+in these days is beyond computation, and as they are constantly wearing
+out, fresh ones have to be made. An advantage of the willow is that it
+enables the farmer to derive a profit from land that would otherwise be
+comparatively valueless. Good land, indeed, is hardly fitted for osier; it
+would grow rank with much pith in the centre, and therefore liable to
+break. On common land, on the contrary, it grows just right, and not too
+coarse. Almost any scrap or corner does for willow, and if properly tended
+it speedily pays for the labour.
+
+The digging and preparation of the ground gives employment, and afterwards
+the weeding and the work required to clean the channels that conduct water
+round and through the beds. Then there is the cutting and the peeling, and
+finally the basket-making; and thus the willow, though so common as to be
+little regarded, finds work for many hands.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+
+HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+
+The labourer working all the year round in the open air cannot but note to
+some degree those changes in tree and plant which coincide with the
+variations of his daily employment. Early in March, as he walks along the
+southern side of the hedge, where the dead oak leaves still cumber the
+trailing ivy, he can scarcely avoid seeing that pointed tongues of green
+are pushing up. Some have widened into black-spotted leaves; some are
+notched like the many-barbed bone harpoons of savage races. The hardy
+docks are showing, and the young nettles have risen up. Slowly the dark
+and grey hues of winter are yielding to the lively tints of spring. The
+blackthorn has white buds on its lesser branches, and the warm rays of the
+sun have drawn forth the buds on one favoured hawthorn in a sheltered
+nook, so that the green of the coming leaf is visible. Bramble bushes
+still retain their forlorn, shrivelled foliage; the hardy all but
+evergreen leaves can stand cold, but when biting winds from the north and
+east blow for weeks together even these curl at the edge and die.
+
+The remarkable power of wind upon leaves is sometimes seen in May, when a
+strong gale, even from the west, will so beat and batter the tender
+horse-chestnut sprays that they bruise and blacken. The slow plough
+traverses the earth, and the white dust rises from the road and drifts
+into the field. In winter the distant copse seemed black; now it appears
+of a dull reddish brown from the innumerable catkins and buds. The
+delicate sprays of the birch are fringed with them, the aspen has a load
+of brown, there are green catkins on the bare hazel boughs, and the
+willows have white 'pussy-cats.' The horse-chestnut buds--the hue of dark
+varnish--have enlarged, and stick to the finger if touched; some are so
+swollen as to nearly burst and let the green appear. Already it is
+becoming more difficult to look right through the copse. In winter the
+light could be seen on the other side; now catkin, bud, and opening leaf
+have thickened and check the view. The same effect was produced not long
+since by the rime on the branches in the frosty mornings; while each
+smallest twig was thus lined with crystal it was not possible to see
+through. Tangled weeds float down the brook, catching against projecting
+branches that dip into the stream, or slowly rotating and carried
+apparently up the current by the eddy and back-water behind the bridge. In
+the pond the frogs have congregated in great numbers; their constant
+'croo-croo' is audible at some distance.
+
+The meadows, so long bound by frost and covered with snow, are slowly
+losing their wan aspect, and assuming a warmer green as the young blades
+of grass come upwards. Where the plough or harrow has passed over the
+clods they quickly change from the rich brown of fresh-turned soil to a
+whiter colour, the dryness of the atmosphere immediately dissipating the
+moisture in the earth. So, examine what you will, from the clod to the
+tiniest branch, the hedge, the mound, the water--everywhere a step forward
+has been taken. The difference in a particular case may be minute; but it
+is there, and together these faint indications show how closely spring is
+approaching.
+
+As the sun rises the chaffinch utters his bold challenge on the tree; the
+notes are so rapid that they seem to come all at once. Welcome, indeed, is
+the song of the first finch. Sparrows are busy in the garden--the hens are
+by far the most numerous now, half a dozen together perch on the bushes.
+One suddenly darts forth and seizes a black insect as it flies in the
+sunshine. The bee, too, is abroad, and once now and then a yellow
+butterfly. From the copse on the warmer days comes occasionally the deep
+hollow bass of the wood pigeon. On the very topmost branch of an elm a
+magpie has perched; now he looks this way, and then turns that, bowing in
+the oddest manner, and jerking his long tail up and down. Then two of them
+flutter across the field--feebly, as if they had barely strength to reach
+the trees in the opposite hedge. Extending their wings they float slowly,
+and every now and then the body undulates along its entire length. Rooks
+are building--they fly and feed now in pairs; the rookery is alive with
+them. To the steeple the jackdaws have returned and fly round and round;
+now one holds his wings rigid and slides down at an angle of sixty degrees
+at a breakneck pace, as if about to dash himself in fragments on the
+garden beneath.
+
+Sometimes there come a few days which are like summer. There is an almost
+cloudless sky, a gentle warm breeze, and a bright sun filling the fields
+with a glow of light. The air, though soft and genial, is dry, and perhaps
+it is this quality which gives so peculiar a definition to hedge, tree,
+and hill. A firm, almost hard, outline brings copse and wood into clear
+relief; the distance across the broadest fields appears sensibly
+diminished. Such freedom from moisture has a deliciously exhilarating
+effect on those who breathe so pure an atmosphere. The winds of March
+differ, indeed, in a remarkable manner from, the gales of the early year,
+which, even when they blow from a mild quarter, compel one to keep in
+constant movement because of the aqueous vapour they carry. But the true
+March wind, though too boisterous to be exactly genial, causes a joyous
+sense of freshness, as if the very blood in the veins were refined and
+quickened upon inhaling it. There is a difference in its roar--the note is
+distinct from the harsh sound of the chilly winter blast. On the lonely
+highway at night, when other noises are silent, the March breeze rushes
+through the tall elms in a wild cadence. The white clouds hasten over,
+illuminated from behind by a moon approaching the full; every now and then
+a break shows a clear blue sky and a star shining. Now a loud roar
+resounds along the hedgerow like the deafening boom of the surge; it
+moderates, dies away, then an elm close by bends and sounds as the blast
+comes again. In another moment the note is caught up and repeated by a
+distant tree, and so one after another joins the song till the chorus
+reaches its highest pitch. Then it sinks again, and so continues with
+pauses and deep inspirations, for March is like a strong man drawing his
+breath full and long as he starts to run a race.
+
+The sky, too, like the earth, whose hedges, trees, and meadows are
+acquiring fresher colours, has now a more lovely aspect. At noon-day, if
+the clouds be absent, it is a rich azure; after sunset a ruddy glow
+appears almost all round the horizon, while the thrushes sing in the wood
+till the twilight declines. At night, when the moon does not rise till
+late, the heavens are brilliant with stars. In the east Arcturus is up;
+the Great Bear, the Lesser Bear, and Cassiopeia are ranged about the Pole.
+Procyon goes before the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches
+broad across the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries
+droops towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the
+Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike,
+nebulous Cancer. Largest of all, great Sirius is flaming in the south,
+quivering with the ebb and flow of his light, sometimes with an emerald
+scintillation like a dewdrop on which a sunbeam glances.
+
+The busy summer, with its haymaking, reaping, and continuous succession of
+harvest work, passes too swiftly for reflection both for masters and men.
+But in the calm of autumn there is time again to look round. Then white
+columns of smoke rise up slowly into the tranquil atmosphere, till they
+overtop the tallest elms, and the odour of the burning couch is carried
+across the meadows from the lately-ploughed stubble, where the weeds have
+been collected in heaps and fired. The stubble itself, short and in
+regular lines, affords less and less cover every year. As the seed is now
+drilled in, and the plants grow in mathematically straight lines, of
+course when the crop is reaped, if you stand at one side of the field you
+can see right across between the short stubbs, so that a mouse could
+hardly find shelter. Then quickly come the noisy steam ploughing engines,
+after them the couch collectors, and finally the heaps are burnt, and the
+strong scent of smoke hangs over the ground. Against these interruptions
+of their haunts and quiet ways what are the partridges to do? Even at
+night the place is scarcely their own, for every now and then as the
+breeze comes along, the smouldering fires are fanned into bright flame,
+enough to alarm the boldest bird.
+
+In another broad arable field, where the teams have been dragging the
+plough, but have only just opened a few furrows and gone home, a flock of
+sheep are feeding, or rather picking up a little, having been, turned in,
+that nothing might be lost. There is a sense of quietness--of repose; the
+trees of the copse close by are still, and the dying leaf as it drops
+falls straight to the ground. A faint haze clings to the distant woods at
+the foot of the hills; it is afternoon, the best part of an autumn day,
+and sufficiently warm to make the stile a pleasant resting-place. A dark
+cloud, whose edges rise curve upon curve, hangs in the sky, fringed with
+bright white light, for the sun is behind it, and long, narrow streamers
+of light radiate from the upper part like the pointed rays of an antique
+crown. Across an interval of blue to the eastward a second massive cloud,
+white and shining as if beaten out of solid silver, fronts the sun, and
+reflects the beams passing horizontally through the upper ether downwards
+on the earth like a mirror.
+
+The sparrows in the stubble rise in a flock and settle down again. Yonder
+a solitary lark is singing. Then the sun emerges, and the yellow autumn
+beams flood the pale stubble and the dark red earth of the furrow. On the
+bushes in the hedge hang the vines of the bryony, bearing thick masses of
+red berries. The hawthorn leaves in places have turned pale, and are
+touched, too, towards the stalk with a deep brown hue. The contrast of the
+two tints causes an accidental colour resembling that of bronze, which
+catches the eye at the first glance, but disappears on looking closer.
+Spots of yellow on the elms seem the more brilliant from the background of
+dull green. The drooping foliage of the birch exhibits a paler yellow; the
+nut-tree bushes shed brown leaves upon the ground. Perhaps the beech
+leaves are the most beautiful; two or three tints are blended on the
+topmost boughs. There is a ruddy orange hue, a tawny brown, and a bright
+green; the sunlight comes and mingles these together. The same leaf will
+sometimes show two at least of these colours--green shading into brown, or
+into a ruddy gold. Later on, the oaks, in a monochrome of buff, will rival
+the beeches. Now and then an acorn drops from the tree overhead, with a
+smart tap on the hard earth, and rebounds some inches high. Some of these
+that fall are already dark--almost black--but if opened they will be found
+bored by a grub. They are not yet ripe as a crop; the rooks are a good
+guide in that respect, and they have not yet set steadily to work upon
+this their favourite autumn food. Others that have fallen and been knocked
+out of the cup are a light yellow at the base and green towards the middle
+and the point; the yellow part is that which has been covered by the cup.
+In the sward there is a small hole from out of which creeps a wasp at
+intervals; it is a nest, and some few of them are still at work. But their
+motions are slow and lack vivacity; before long, numbers must die, and
+already many have succumbed after crawling miserably on the ground which
+they spurned a short while since, when with a brisk buzz they flew from
+apple to plum.
+
+In the quiet woodland lane a covey of partridges are running to and fro on
+the short sward at the side, and near them two or three pheasants are
+searching for food. The geometrical spiders--some of them look almost as
+big as a nut--hang their webs spun to a regular pattern on the bushes. The
+fungi flourish; there is a huge specimen on the elm there, but the flowers
+are nearly gone.
+
+A few steps down the lane, upon looking over a gate into a large arable
+field where the harrow has broken up the clods, a faint bluish tinge may
+be noticed on the dull earth in the more distant parts. A second glance
+shows that it is caused by a great flock of woodpigeons. Some more come
+down out of the elms and join their companions; there must be a hundred
+and fifty or two hundred of them. The woodpigeon on the ground at a
+distance is difficult to distinguish, or rather to define individually--the
+pale blue tint seems to confuse the eye with a kind of haze. Though the
+flock take little notice now--knowing themselves to be far out of
+gunshot--yet they would be quickly on the alert if an attempt were made to
+approach them.
+
+Already some of the elms are becoming bare--there are gaps in the foliage
+where the winds have carried away the leaves. On the bramble bushes the
+blackberries cluster thickly, unseen and ungathered in this wild spot. The
+happy hearts that go a-blackberrying think little of the past: yet there
+is a deep, a mournful significance attached to that joyous time. For how
+many centuries have the blackberries tempted men, women, and children out
+into the fields, laughing at scratched hands and nettles, and clinging
+burrs, all merrily endured for the sake of so simple a treasure-trove.
+Under the relics of the ancient pile-dwellings of Switzerland, disinterred
+from the peat and other deposits, have been found quantities of blackberry
+seeds, together with traces of crabs and sloes; so that by the dwellers in
+those primeval villages in the midst of the lakes the wild fruits of
+autumn were sought for much as we seek them now; the old instincts are
+strong in us still.
+
+The fieldfares will soon be here now, and the redwings, coming as they
+have done for generations about the time of the sowing of the corn.
+Without an almanack they know the dates; so the old sportsmen used to
+declare that their pointers and setters were perfectly aware when
+September was approaching, and showed it by unusual restlessness. By the
+brook the meadows are green and the grass long still; the flags, too, are
+green, though numbers of dead leaves float down on the current. There is
+green again where the root crops are flourishing; but the brown tints are
+striving hard, and must soon gain the mastery of colour. From the barn
+comes the clatter of the winnowing machine, and the floor is covered with
+heaps of grain.
+
+After the sun has gone down and the shadows are deepening, it is lighter
+in the open stubbles than in the enclosed meadows--the short white stubbs
+seem to reflect what little light there is. The partridges call to each
+other, and after each call run a few yards swiftly, till they assemble at
+the well-known spot where they roost. Then comes a hare stealing by
+without a sound. Suddenly he perceives that he is watched, and goes off at
+a rapid pace, lost in the brooding shadow across the field. Yonder a row
+of conical-roofed wheat-ricks stand out boldly against the sky, and above
+them a planet shines.
+
+Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse and heath,
+and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades, bowed by their
+own weight, are white beads of dew. Wherever the eye seeks an object to
+dwell on, there the cloud-like mist seems to thicken as though to hide it.
+The bushes and thickets are swathed in the vapour; yonder, in the hollow,
+it clusters about the oaks and hangs upon the hedge looming in the
+distance. There it no sky--a motionless, colourless something spreads
+above; it is, of course, the same mist, but looking upwards it apparently
+recedes and becomes indefinite. The glance finds no point to rest on--as
+on the edges of clouds--it is a mere opaque expanse. But the air is dry,
+the moisture does not deposit itself, it remains suspended, and waits but
+the wind to rise and depart. The stillness is utter: not a bird calls or
+insect buzzes by. In passing beneath the oaks the very leaves have
+forgotten to fall. Only those already on the sward, touched by the frost,
+crumble under the footstep. When green they would have yielded to the
+weight, but now stiffened they resist it and are crushed, breaking in
+pieces.
+
+A creaking and metallic rattle, as of chains, comes across the arable
+field--a steady gaze reveals the dim outline of a team of horses slowly
+dragging the plough, their shapes indistinctly seen against the hedge. A
+bent figure follows, and by-and-by another distinct creak and rattle, and
+yet a third in another direction, show that there are more teams at work,
+plodding to and fro. Watching their shadowy forms, suddenly the eye
+catches a change in the light somewhere. Over the meadow yonder the mist
+is illuminated; it is not sunshine, but a white light, only visible by
+contrast with the darker mist around. It lasts a few moments, and then
+moves, and appears a second time by the copse. Though hidden here, the
+disk of the sun must be partly visible there, and as the white light does
+not remain long in one place, it is evident that there is motion now in
+the vast mass of vapour. Looking upwards there is the faintest suspicion
+of the palest blue, dull and dimmed by mist, so faint that its position
+cannot be fixed, and the next instant it is gone again.
+
+But the teams at plough are growing momentarily distinct--a breath of air
+touches the cheek, then a leaf breaks away from the bough and starts forth
+as if bent on a journey, but loses the impetus and sinks to the ground.
+Soon afterwards the beams of the sun light up a distant oak that glows in
+the hedge--a rich deep buff--and it stands out, clear, distinct, and
+beautiful, the chosen and selected one, the first to receive the ray.
+Rapidly the mist vanishes--disappearing rather than floating away; a
+circle of blue sky opens overhead, and, finally, travelling slowly, comes
+the sunshine over the furrows. There is a perceptible sense of warmth--the
+colours that start into life add to the feeling. The bare birch has no
+leaf to reflect it, but its white bark shines, and beyond it two great
+elms, the one a pale green and the other a pale yellow, stand side by
+side. The brake fern is dead and withered; the tip of each frond curled
+over downwards by the frost, but it forms a brown background to the dull
+green furze which is alight here and there with scattered blossom, by
+contrast so brilliantly yellow as to seem like flame. Polished holly
+leaves glisten, and a bunch of tawny fungus rears itself above the grass.
+
+On the sheltered sunny bank lie the maple leaves fallen from the bushes,
+which form a bulwark against the north wind; they have simply dropped upon
+the ivy which almost covers the bank. Standing here with the oaks overhead
+and the thick bushes on the northern side it is quite warm and genial; so
+much so that if is hard to realise that winter is at hand. But even in the
+shortest days, could we only get rid of the clouds and wind, we should
+find the sunshine sufficiently powerful to make the noontide pleasant. It
+is not that the sun is weak or low down, nor because of the sharp frosts,
+that winter with us is dreary and chill. The real cause is the prevalence
+of cloud, through which only a dull light can penetrate, and of
+moisture-laden winds.
+
+If our winter sun had fair play we should find the climate very different.
+Even as it is, now and then comes a break in the masses of vapour
+streaming across the sky, and if you are only sheltered from the wind (or
+stand at a southern window), the temperature immediately rises. For this
+reason the temperatures registered by thermometers are often far from
+being a correct record of the real weather we have had. A bitter frost
+early in the morning sends the mercury below zero, but perhaps, by eleven
+o'clock the day is warm, the sky being clear and the wind still. The last
+register instituted--that of the duration of sunshine, if taken in
+connection with the state of the wind--is the best record of the
+temperature that we have actually felt. These thoughts naturally arise
+under the oaks here as the bright sunlight streams down from a sky the
+more deeply blue from contrast with the brown, and buff, and yellow leaves
+of the trees.
+
+Hark! There comes a joyous music over the fields--first one hound's, note,
+then two, then three, and then a chorus; they are opening up a strong
+scent. It rises and falls--now it is coming nearer, in a moment I shall
+see them break through the hedge on the ridge--surely that was a shout!
+Just in the very moment of expectation the loud tongues cease; I wait,
+listening breathlessly, but presently a straggling cry or two shows that
+the pack has turned and are spread wide trying to recover. By degrees the
+sounds die away; and I stroll onwards.
+
+A thick border of dark green firs bounds the copse--the brown leaves that
+have fallen from the oaks have lodged on the foliage of the firs and are
+there supported. In the sheltered corner some of the bracken has partly
+escaped the frost, one frond has two colours. On one side of the rib it is
+green and on the other yellow. The grass is strewn with the leaves of the
+aspen, which have turned quite black. Under the great elms there seems a
+sudden increase of light--it is caused by the leaves which still remain on
+the branches; they are all of the palest yellow, and, as you pass under,
+give the impression of the tree having been lit up--illuminated with its
+own colour. From the bushes hang the red berries of the night shade, and
+the fruit on the briars glistens in the sun. Inside the copse stand
+innumerable thistles shoulder high, dead and gaunt; and a grey border
+running round the field at the bottom of the hedge shows where the tall,
+strong weeds of summer have withered up. A bird flutters round the topmost
+boughs of the elm yonder and disappears with a flash of blue--it is a jay.
+Here the grass of the meadow has an undertone of grey; then an arable
+field succeeds, where six strong horses are drawing the heavy drill, and
+great bags of the precious seed are lying on the furrows.
+
+Another meadow, where note a broken bough of elder, the leaves on which
+have turned black, while still on its living branches they are green, and
+then a clump of beeches. The trunks are full of knot-holes, after a dead
+bough has fallen off and the stump has rotted away, the bark curls over
+the orifice and seemingly heals the wound more smoothly and completely
+than with other trees. But the mischief is proceeding all the same,
+despite that flattering appearance; outwardly the bark looks smooth and
+healthy, but probe the hole and the rottenness is working inwards. A
+sudden gap in the clump attracts the glance, and there--with one great
+beech trunk on this side and another on that--is a view opening down on
+the distant valley far below. The wood beneath looks dwarfed, and the
+uneven tops of the trees, some green, some tinted, are apparently so close
+together as to hide aught else, and the shadows of the clouds move over it
+as over a sea. A haze upon the horizon brings plain and sky together
+there; on one side, in the far distance a huge block, a rude vastness
+stands out dusky and dimly defined--it is a spur of the rolling hills.
+
+Out in the plain, many a mile away, the sharp, needle-like point of a
+steeple rises white above the trees, which there shade and mingle into a
+dark mass--so brilliantly white as to seem hardly real. Sweeping the view
+round, there is a strange and total absence of houses or signs of
+habitation, other than the steeple, and now that, too, is gone. It has
+utterly vanished--where, but a few moments before it glowed with
+whiteness, is absolutely nothing. The disappearance is almost weird in the
+broad daylight, as if solid stone could sink into the earth. Searching for
+it suddenly a village appears some way on the right--the white walls stand
+out bright and clear, one of the houses is evidently of large size, and
+placed on a slight elevation is a prominent object. But as we look it
+fades, grows blurred and indistinct, and in another moment is gone. The
+whole village has vanished--in its place is nothing; so swift is the
+change that the mind scarcely credits the senses.
+
+A deep shadow creeping towards us explains it. Where the sunlight falls,
+there steeple or house glows and shines; when it has passed, the haze that
+is really there, though itself invisible, instantly blots out the picture.
+The thing may be seen over and over again in the course of a few minutes;
+it would be difficult for an artist to catch so fleeting an effect. The
+shadow of the cloud is not black--it lacks several shades of that--there
+is in it a faint and yet decided tint of blue. This tone of blue is not
+the same everywhere--here it is almost distinct, there it fades; it is an
+aerial colour which rather hints itself than shows. Commencing the descent
+the view is at once lost, but we pass a beech whose beauty is not easily
+conveyed. The winds have scarcely rifled it; being in a sheltered spot on
+the slope, the leaves are nearly perfect. All those on the outer boughs
+are a rich brown--some, perhaps, almost orange. But there is an inner mass
+of branches of lesser size which droop downwards, something after the
+manner of a weeping willow; and the leaves on these are still green and
+show through. Upon the whole tree a flood of sunshine pours, and over it
+is the azure sky. The mingling, shading, and contrast of these colours
+give a lovely result--the tree is aglow, its foliage ripe with colour.
+
+Farther down comes the steady sound of deliberate blows, and the upper
+branches of the hedge falls beneath the steel. A sturdy labourer, with a
+bill on a pole, strikes slow and strong and cuts down the hedge to an even
+height. A dreadful weapon that simple tool must have been in the old days
+before the advent of the arquebus. For with the exception of the spike,
+which is not needed for hedge work, it is almost an exact copy of the
+brown bill of ancient warfare; it is brown still, except where sharpened.
+Wielded by a sinewy arm, what, gaping gashes it must have slit through
+helm and mail and severed bone! Watch the man there--he slices off the
+tough thorn as though it were straw. He notes not the beauty of the beech
+above him, nor the sun, nor the sky; but on the other hand, when the sky
+is hidden, the sun gone, and the beautiful beech torn by the raving winds
+neither does he heed that. Rain and tempest affect him not; the glaring
+heat of summer, the bitter frost of winter are alike to him. He is built
+up like an oak. Believe it, the man that from his boyhood has stood
+ankle-deep in the chill water of the ditch, patiently labouring with axe
+and bill; who has trudged across the furrow, hand on plough, facing sleet
+and mist; who has swung the sickle under the summer sun--this is the man
+for the trenches. This is the man whom neither the snows of the North nor
+the sun of the South can vanquish; who will dig and delve, and carry
+traverse and covered way forward in the face of the fortress, who will lie
+on the bare ground in the night. For they who go up to battle must fight
+the hard earth and the tempest, as well as face bayonet and ball. As of
+yore with the brown bill, so now with the rifle--the muscles that have
+been trained about the hedges and fields will not fail England in the hour
+of danger.
+
+Hark!--a distant whoop--another, a blast of a horn, and then a burst of
+chiding that makes the woods ring. Down drops the bill, and together,
+heedless of any social difference in the common joy, we scramble to the
+highest mound, and see the pack sweep in full cry across the furrows.
+Crash--it is the bushes breaking, as the first foam-flecked, wearied horse
+hardly rises to his leap, and yet crushes safely through, opening a way,
+which is quickly widened by the straggling troop behind. Ha! down the lane
+from the hill dashes another squadron that has eroded the chord of the arc
+and comes in fresher. Ay, and a third is entering at the bottom there, one
+by one, over the brook. Woods, field, and paths, but just before an empty
+solitude, are alive with men and horses. Up yonder, along the ridge,
+gallops another troop in single file, well defined against the sky, going
+parallel to the hounds. What a view they must have of the scene below! Two
+ladies who ride up with torn skirts cannot lift their panting horses at
+the double mound. Well, let us defy 'wilful damage' for once. The gate,
+jealously padlocked, is swiftly hoisted off its hinges, and away they go
+with hearty thanks. We slip the gate on again just as some one hails to us
+across the field to wait a minute, but seeing it is only a man we calmly
+replace the timber and let him take his chance. He is excited, but we
+smile stolidly. In another minute the wave of life is gone; it has swept
+over and disappeared as swiftly as it came. The wood, the field, and lane
+seem painfully--positively painfully--empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher
+goes back to his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the
+dew lingers.
+
+So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused November.
+And when the wind rises and the storm is near, if you get under the lee of
+a good thick copse there is a wild pleasure in the frenzy that passes
+over. With a rush the leaves stream outwards, thickening the air, whirling
+round and round; the tree-tops bend and sigh, the blast strikes them, and
+in an instant they are stripped and bare. A spectral rustling, as the
+darkness falls and the black cloud approaches, is the fallen leaves in the
+copse, lifted up from their repose and dashed against the underwood. Then
+a howl of wrath descends and fills the sense of hearing, so that for the
+moment it is hard to tell what is happening. A rushing hiss follows, and
+the rain hurtles through the branches, driving so horizontally as to pass
+overhead. The sheltering thorn-thicket stirs, and a long, deep, moaning
+roar rises from the fir-trees. Another howl that seems to stun--to so fill
+the ears with sound that they cannot hear--the aerial host charges the
+tree-ranks, and the shock makes them tremble to the root. Still another
+and another; twigs and broken boughs fly before it and strew the sward;
+larger branches that have long been dead fall crashing downwards; leaves
+are forced right through the thorn-thicket, and strike against the face.
+Fortunately, so fierce a fury cannot last; presently the billows of wind
+that strike the wood come at longer intervals and with less vigour; then
+the rain increases, and yet a little while and the storm has swept on. The
+very fury--the utter _abandon_--of its rage is its charm; the spirit rises
+to meet it, and revels in the roar and buffeting. By-and-by they who have
+faced it have their reward. The wind sinks, the rain ceases, a pale blue
+sky shows above, and then yonder appears a majesty of cloud--a Himalaya of
+vapour. Crag on crag rises the vast pile--such jagged and pointed rocks as
+never man found on earth, or, if he found, could climb--topped with a peak
+that towers to the heavens, and leans--visibly leans--and threatens to
+fall and overwhelm the weak world at its feet. A gleam as of snow glitters
+on the upper rocks, the passes are gloomy and dark, the faces of the
+precipice are lit up with a golden gleam from the rapidly-sinking sun. So
+the magic structure stands and sees the great round disk go down. The
+night gathers around those giant mounts and dark space receives them.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+
+A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+
+The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the cottage,
+when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's morning.
+Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his thick
+'water-tights'--which are stiff and hard, having been wet over night--by
+no other light than this. If the household is comparatively well managed,
+however, he strikes a match, and his 'dip' shows at the window. But he
+generally prefers to save a candle, and clatters down the narrow steep
+stairs in the semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps
+forth into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered
+with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath is hard
+under foot. In the furrows is a little ice--white because the water has
+shrunk from beneath it, leaving it hollow--and on the stile is a crust of
+rime, cold to the touch, which he brushes off in getting over. Overhead
+the sky is clear--cloudless but pale--and the stars, though not yet fading,
+have lost the brilliant glitter of midnight. Then, in all their glory, the
+idea of their globular shape is easily accepted; but in the morning, just
+as the dawn is breaking, the absence of glitter comes the impression of
+flatness--circular rather than globular. But yonder, over the elms, above
+the cowpens, the great morning star has risen, shining far brighter, in
+proportion, than the moon; an intensely clear metallic light--like
+incandescent silver.
+
+The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the footpath
+winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the blackbird
+roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies across the field.
+There is more rime on the posts and rails around the rickyard, and the
+thatch on the haystack is white with it in places. He draws out the broad
+hay-knife--a vast blade, wide at the handle, the edge gradually curving to
+a point--and then searches for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in
+the side of the rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the
+cattle in the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and there
+is a stir among them. Mounting the ladder he forces the knife with both
+hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends outwards, opening from
+the main mass till it appears on the point of parting and letting him fall
+with it to the ground. But long practice has taught him how to balance
+himself half on the ladder, half on the hay. Presently, with a truss
+unbound and loose on his head, he enters the yard, and passes from crib to
+crib, leaving a little here and a little there, for if he fills one first,
+there will be quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too
+liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot. The
+cattle that are in the sheds fattening for Christmas have cake as well,
+and this must be supplied in just proportion.
+
+The hour of milking, which used to be pretty general everywhere, varies
+now in different places, to suit the necessities of the milk trade. The
+milk has, perhaps, to travel three or four miles to the railway station;
+near great towns, where some of the farmers deliver milk themselves from
+house to house, the cows are milked soon after noonday. What would their
+grandfathers have said to that? But where the old customs have not much
+altered, the milker sits down in the morning to his cow with the stars
+still visible overhead, punching his hat well into her side--a hat well
+battered and thickly coated with grease, for the skin of the cow exudes an
+unctuous substance. This hat he keeps for the purpose. A couple of milking
+pails--they are of large size--form a heavy load when filled. The milker,
+as he walks back to the farmhouse, bends his head under the yoke--whence
+so many men are round-shouldered--and steps slowly with a peculiar swaying
+motion of the body, which slight swing prevents it from spilling.
+
+Another man who has to be up while the moon casts a shadow is the carter,
+who must begin to feed his team very early in order to get them to eat
+sufficient. If the manger be over-filled they spill and waste it, and at
+the same time will not eat so much. This is tedious work. Then the lads
+come and polish up the harness, and so soon as it is well light get out to
+plough. The custom with the horses is to begin to work as early as
+possible, but to strike off in the afternoon some time before the other
+men, the lads riding home astride. The strength of the carthorse has to be
+husbanded carefully, and the labour performed must be adjusted to it and
+to the food, i.e. fuel, consumed. To manage a large team of horses, so as
+to keep them in good condition, with glossy coats and willing step, and
+yet to get the maximum of work out of them, requires long experience and
+constant attention. The carter, therefore, is a man of much importance on
+a farm. If he is up to his duties he is a most valuable servant; if he
+neglects them he is a costly nuisance, not so much from his pay, but
+because of the hindrance and disorganisation of the whole farm-work which
+such neglect entails.
+
+Foggers and milkers, if their cottages are near at hand, having finished
+the first part of the day's work, can often go back home to breakfast,
+and, if they have a good woman in the cottage, find a fire and hot tea
+ready. The carter can rarely leave his horses for that, and, therefore,
+eats his breakfast in the stable; but then he has the advantage that up to
+the time of starting forth he is under cover. The fogger and milker, on
+the other hand, are often exposed to the most violent tempests. A gale of
+wind, accompanied with heavy rain, often readies its climax just about the
+dawn. They find the soil saturated, and the step sinks into it--the
+furrows are full of water; the cow-yard, though drained, is a pool, no
+drain being capable of carrying it off quick enough. The thatch of the
+sheds drips continually; the haystack drips; the thatch of the stack,
+which has to be pulled off before the hay-knife can be used, is wet; the
+old decaying wood of the rails and gates is wet. They sit on the
+three-legged milking-stool (whose rude workmanship has taken a dull polish
+from use) in a puddle; the hair of the cow, against which the head is
+placed, is wet; the wind blows the rain into the nape of the neck behind,
+the position being stooping. Staggering under the heavy yoke homewards,
+the boots sink deep into the slush and mire in the gateways, the weight
+carried sinking them well in. The teams do not usually work in very wet
+weather, and most of the out-door work waits; but the cattle must be
+attended to, Sundays and holidays included. Even in summer it often
+happens that a thunderstorm bursts about that time of the morning. But in
+winter, when the rain is driven by a furious wind, when the lantern is
+blown out, and the fogger stumbles in pitchy darkness through mud and
+water, it would be difficult to imagine a condition of things which
+concentrates more discomfort.
+
+If, as often happens, the man is far from home--perhaps he has walked a
+mile or two to work--of course he cannot change his clothes, or get near a
+fire, unless in the farmer's kitchen. In some places the kitchen is open
+to the men, and on Sundays, at all events, they get a breakfast free. But
+the kindly old habits are dying out before the hard-and-fast money system
+and the abiding effects of Unionism, which, even when not prominently
+displayed, causes a silent, sullen estrangement.
+
+Shepherds, too, sometimes visit the fold very early in the morning, and in
+the lambing season may be said to be about both day and night. They come,
+however, under a different category to the rest of the men, because they
+have no regular hours, but are guided solely by the season and the work. A
+shepherd often takes his ease when other men are busily labouring. On the
+other hand, he is frequently anxiously engaged when they are sleeping. His
+sheep rule his life, and he has little to do with the artificial divisions
+of time.
+
+Hedgers and ditchers often work by the piece, and so take their own time
+for meals; the ash woods, which are cut in the winter, are also usually
+thrown by the piece. Hedging and ditching, if done properly, is hard work,
+especially if there is any grubbing. Though the arms get warm from
+swinging the grub-axe or billhook, or cleaning out the ditch and
+plastering and smoothing the side of the mound with the spade, yet feet
+and ankles are chilled by the water in the ditch. This is often dammed up
+and so kept back partially, but it generally forces its way through. The
+ditcher has a board to stand on; there is a hole through it, and a
+projecting stick attached, with which to drag it into position. But the
+soft soil allows the board to sink, and he often throws it aside as more
+encumbrance than use. He has some small perquisites: he is allowed to
+carry home a bundle of wood or a log every night, and may gather up the
+remnants after the faggoting is finished. On the other hand, he cannot
+work in bad weather.
+
+Other men come to the farm buildings to commence work about the time the
+carter has got his horses fed, groomed, and harnessed, and after the
+fogger and milker have completed their early duties. If it is a frosty
+morning and the ground firm, so as to bear up a cart without poaching the
+soil too much, the manure is carried out into the fields. This is plain,
+straightforward labour, and cannot be looked upon as hard work. If the
+cattle want no further attention, the foggers and milkers turn their hands
+after breakfast to whatever may be going on. Some considerable time is
+taken up in slicing roots with the machine, or chaff-cutting--monotonous
+work of a simple character, and chiefly consisting in turning a handle.
+
+The general hands--those who come on when the carter is ready, and who are
+usually young men, not yet settled down to any particular branch--seem to
+get the best end of the stick. They do not begin so early in the morning
+by some time as the fogger, milker, carter, or shepherd; consequently, if
+the cottage arrangements are tolerable, they can get a comfortable
+breakfast first. They have no anxieties or trouble whatever; the work may
+be hard in itself, but there is no particular hurry (in their estimation)
+and they do not distress themselves. They receive nearly the same wages as
+the others who have the care of valuable flocks, herds, and horses; the
+difference is but a shilling or two, and, to make up for that, they do not
+work on Sundays. Now, the fogger must feed his cows, the carter his horse,
+the shepherd look to his sheep every day; consequently their extra wages
+are thoroughly well earned. The young labourer--who is simply a labourer,
+and professes no special branch--is, therefore, in a certain sense, the
+best off. He is rarely hired by the year--he prefers to be free, so that
+when harvest comes he may go where wages chance to be highest. He is an
+independent person, and full of youth, strength, and with little
+experience of life, is apt to be rough in his manners and not overcivil.
+His wages too often go in liquor, but if such a young man keeps steady
+(and there are a few that do keep steady) he does very well indeed, having
+no family to maintain.
+
+A set of men who work very hard are those who go with the steam-ploughing
+tackle. Their pay is so arranged as to depend in a measure on the number
+of acres they plough. They get the steam up as early as possible in the
+morning, and continue as late as they can at night. Just after the
+harvest, when the days are long, and, indeed, it is still summer, they
+work for extremely long hours. Their great difficulty lies in getting
+water. This must be continually fetched in carts, and, of course, requires
+a horse and man. These are not always forthcoming in the early morning,
+but they begin as soon as they can get water for the boiler, and do not
+stop till the field be finished or it is dark.
+
+The women do not find much work in the fields during the winter. Now and
+then comes a day's employment with the threshing-machine when the farmer
+wants a rick of corn threshed out. In pasture or dairy districts some of
+them go out into the meadows and spread the manure. They wear gaiters, and
+sometimes a kind of hood for the head. If done carefully, it is hard work
+for the arms--knocking the manure into small pieces by striking it with a
+fork swung to and fro smartly.
+
+In the spring, when the great heaps of roots are opened--having been
+protected all the winter by a layer of straw and earth--it is necessary to
+trim them before they are used. This is often done by a woman. She has a
+stool or log of wood to sit on, and arranges a couple of sacks or
+something of the kind, so as to form a screen and keep off the bitter
+winds which are then so common--colder than those of the winter proper.
+With a screen one side, the heap of roots the other, and the hedge on the
+third, she is in some sense sheltered, and, taking her food with her, may
+stay there the whole day long, quite alone in the solitude of the broad,
+open, arable fields.
+
+From a variety of causes, the number of women working in the fields is
+much less than was formerly the case; thus presenting precisely the
+reverse state of things to that complained of in towns, where the clerks,
+&c., say that they are undersold by female labour. The contrast is rather
+curious. The price of women's labour has, too, risen; and there does not
+appear to be any repugnance on their part to field-work. Whether the
+conclusion is to be accepted that there has been a diminution in the
+actual number of women living in rural places, it is impossible to decide
+with any accuracy. But there are signs that female labour has drifted to
+the towns quite as much as male--especially the younger girls. In some
+places it seems rare to see a young girl working in the field (meaning in
+winter)--those that are to be found are generally women well advanced in
+life. Spring and summer work brings forth more, but not nearly so many as
+used to be the case.
+
+Although the work of the farm begins so soon in the morning, it is, on the
+other hand, in the cold months, over early. 'The night cometh when no man
+can work' was, one would think, originally meant in reference to
+agricultural labour. It grows dusk before half-past four on a dull
+winter's day, and by five is almost, if not quite, dark. Lanterns may be
+moving in the cowyards and stables; but elsewhere all is quiet--the
+hedger and ditcher cannot see to strike his blow, the ploughs have ceased
+to move for some time, the labourer's workshop--the field--is not lighted
+by gas as the rooms of cities.
+
+The shortness of the winter day is one of the primary reasons why, in
+accordance with ancient custom, wages are lowered at that time. In summer,
+on the contrary, the hours are long, and the pay high--which more than
+makes up for the winter reduction. A labourer who has any prudence can, in
+fact, do very well by putting by a portion of his extra summer wages for
+the winter; if he does not choose to exercise common sense, he cannot
+expect the farmer (or any manufacturer) to pay the same price for a little
+work and short time as for much work and long hours. Reviewing the work
+the labourer actually does in winter, it seems fair and just to state that
+the foggers, or milkers, i.e. the men who attend on cattle, the carters,
+and the shepherds, work hard, continuously, and often in the face of the
+most inclement weather. The mere labourers, who, as previously remarked,
+are usually younger and single men, do not work so hard, nor so long. And
+when they are at it--whether turning the handle of a winnowing machine in
+a barn, cutting a hedge, spreading manure, or digging--it must be said
+that they do not put the energy into it of which their brawny arms are
+capable.
+
+'The least work and the most money,' however, is a maxim not confined to
+the agricultural labourer. Recently I had occasion to pass through a busy
+London street in the West-end where the macadam of the roadway was being
+picked up by some score of men, and, being full of the subject of labour,
+I watched the process. Using the right hand as a fulcrum and keeping it
+stationary, each navvy slowly lifted his pick with the left half-way up,
+about on a level with his waistcoat, when the point of the pick was barely
+two feet above the ground. He then let it fall--simply by its own
+weight--producing a tiny indentation such as might be caused by the kick
+of one's heel It required about three such strokes, if they could so
+called strokes, to detach one single small stone. After that exhausting
+labor the man stood at ease for a few minutes, so that there were often
+three or four at once staring about them, while several others lounged
+against the wooden railing placed to keep vehicles back.
+
+A more irritating spectacle it would be hard to imagine. Idle as much
+agricultural labour is, it is rarely so lazy as that. How contractors get
+their work done, if that is a sample, it is a puzzle to understand. The
+complaint of the poor character of the work performed by the agricultural
+labourer seems also true of other departments, where labour--pure and
+simple labour of thews and sinews--is concerned. The rich city merchant,
+who goes to his office daily, positively works harder, in spite of all his
+money. So do the shopmen and assistants behind their counters; so do the
+girls in drapers' shops, standing the whole day and far into the evening
+when, as just observed, the fields have been dark for hours; so, indeed,
+do most men and women who earn their bread by any other means than mere
+bodily strength.
+
+But the cattle-men, carters, and shepherds, men with families and settled,
+often seem to take an interest in their charges, in the cows, horses, or
+sheep; some of them are really industrious, deserving men. The worst
+feature of unionism is the lumping of all together, for where one man is
+hardly worth his salt, another is a good workman. It is strange that such
+men as this should choose to throw in their lot with so many who are
+idle--whom they must know to be idle--thus jeopardising their own position
+for the sake of those who are not worth one-fifth the sacrifice the
+agricultural cottager must be called upon to make in a strike. The
+hard-working carter or cattle-man, according to the union theory, is to
+lose his pay, his cottage, his garden, and get into bad odour with his
+employer, who previously trusted him, and was willing to give him
+assistance, in order that the day labourer who has no responsibilities
+either of his own or his master's, and who has already the best end of the
+stick, should enjoy still further opportunities for idleness.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+
+THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN. COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+
+In the coldest weather one or more of the labourer's children are sure to
+be found in the farmyard somewhere. After the mother has dressed her boy
+(who may be about three or four years old) in the morning, he is at once
+turned out of doors to take care of himself, and if, as is often the case,
+the cottage is within a short distance of the farmyard, thither he toddles
+directly. He stands about the stable door, watching the harnessing of the
+great carthorses, which are, from the very first, the object of his
+intense admiration. But he has already learnt to keep out of the way,
+knowing that his presence would not otherwise be tolerated a moment, and
+occupies a position which enables him to dart quickly behind a tree, or a
+rick.
+
+When the horses are gone he visits the outhouse, where the steam-engine is
+driving the chaff-cutter, or peers in at the huge doors of the barn, where
+with wide wooden shovel the grain is being moved. Or he may be met with
+round the hay-ricks, dragging a log of wood by a piece of tar cord, the
+log representing a plough. As you come upon him suddenly he draws up to
+the rick as if the hay was his natural protector, and looks up at you with
+half-frightened, half-curious gaze, and mouth open. His hat is an old one
+of his father's, a mile too big, coming down over his ears to his
+shoulders, well greased from ancient use--a thing not without its
+advantage, since it makes it impervious to rain. He wears what was a white
+jacket, but is now the colour of the prevailing soil of the place; a belt;
+and a pair of stumping boots, the very picture in miniature of his
+father's, heeled and tipped with iron. His naked legs are red with the
+cold, but thick and strong; his cheeks are plump and firm, his round blue
+eyes bright, his hair almost white, like bleached straw.
+
+An hour or two ago his skin was clean enough, for he was sent out well
+washed, but it is now pretty well grimed, for he has been making himself
+happy in the dirt, as a boy should do if he be a boy. For one thing it is
+clean dirt, nothing but pure mother earth, and not the nasty unctuous
+filth of city courts and back lanes. If you speak to him he answers you
+sturdily--if you can catch the meaning of his words, doubly difficult from
+accent and imperfect knowledge of construction. But he means well, and if
+you send him on an errand will run off to find 'measter' as fast as his
+short stature will allow. He will potter about the farmyard the whole
+morning, perhaps turning up at home for a lunch of a slice of bread well
+larded. His little sister, not so old as himself, is there, already
+beginning her education in the cares of maternity, looking after the
+helpless baby that crawls over the wooden threshold of the door with bare
+head, despite the bitter cold. Once during the day he may perhaps steal
+round the farmhouse, and peer wistfully from behind the tubs or buckets
+into the kitchen, when, if the mistress chances to be about, he is pretty
+certain to pick up some trifle in the edible line.
+
+How those prosperous parents who dwell in highly-rented suburban villas,
+and send out their children for a walk with a couple of nurses, and a
+'bow-wow' to run beside the perambulator, would be eaten up with anxiety
+did their well-dressed boys or girls play where this young son of toil
+finds his amusement! Under the very hoofs of the carthorses--he will go
+out to them when they are loose in the field, three or four in a group,
+under a tree, when it looks as if the slightest movement on their part
+must crush him; down to the side of the deep broad brook to swim sticks in
+it for boats, where a slip on the treacherous mud would plunge him in, and
+where the chance of rescue--everybody being half a mile away at
+work--would be absolutely _nil_. The cows come trampling through the yard;
+the bull bellows in the meadow; great, grunting sows, savage when they
+have young, go by, thrusting their noses into and turning up the earth for
+food; steam ploughing engines pant and rumble about; carts are continually
+coming and going; and he is all day in the midst of it without guardian of
+any kind whatsoever. The fog, and frost, and cutting winter winds make him
+snivel and cry with the cold, and yet there he is out in it--in the
+draughts that blow round the ricks, and through the hedge bare of leaves.
+The rain rushes down pitilessly--he creeps inside the barn or shed, and
+with a stick splashes the puddles. The long glaring days of summer see him
+exposed to the scorching heat in the hay, or the still hotter harvest
+field. Through it all he grows stout and strong, and seems happy enough.
+
+He is, perhaps, more fortunate than his sister, who has to take part in
+the household work from very early age. But the village school claims them
+both after awhile; and the greater number of such schools are well filled,
+taking into consideration the long distances the children have to come and
+the frequent bad state of the roads and lanes. Both the employers and the
+children's own parents get them to school as much as possible; the former
+put on a mild compulsion, the latter for the most part are really anxious
+for the schooling, and have even an exaggerated idea of the value of
+education. In some cases it would seem as if the parents actually educated
+themselves in some degree from their own children, questioning them as to
+what they have been told. But, on the other hand, the labourer objects to
+paying for the teaching, and thinks the few coppers he is charged a
+terrible extortion.
+
+The lads, as they grow older and leave school, can almost always find
+immediate employment with their father on the same farm, or on one close
+by. Though they do not now go out to work so soon, yet, on the other hand,
+when they do commence they receive higher weekly wages. The price paid for
+boys' labour now is such that it becomes a very important addition to the
+aggregate income of the cottager. When a man has got a couple of boys out,
+bringing home so much per week, his own money, of course, goes very much
+farther.
+
+The girls go less and less into the field. If at home, they assist their
+parents at harvest time when work is done by the acre, and the more a man
+can cut the better he is off; but their aim is domestic service, and they
+prefer to be engaged in the towns. They shirk the work of a farmhouse,
+especially if it is a dairy, and so it has come to be quite a complaint
+among farmers' wives, in many places, that servants are not to be
+obtained. Those that are available are mere children, whose mothers like
+them to go out anywhere at first, just to obtain an insight into the
+duties of a servant. The farmer's wife has the trouble and annoyance of
+teaching these girls the rudiments of household work, and then, the moment
+they are beginning to be useful, they leave, and almost invariably go to
+the towns. Those that remain are the slow-witted, or those who are tied in
+a measure by family difficulties--as a bedridden mother to attend to; or,
+perhaps, an illegitimate child of her own may fetter the cottage girl.
+Then she goes out in the daytime to work at the farmhouse, and returns to
+sleep at home.
+
+Cottage girls have taken to themselves no small airs of recent years--they
+dress, so far as their means will go, as flashily as servants in cities,
+and stand upon their dignity. This foolishness has, perhaps, one good
+effect--it tends to diminish the illegitimate births. The girls are
+learning more self-respect--if they could only achieve that and eschew the
+other follies it would be a clear gain. It may be questioned whether
+purely agricultural marriages are as common as formerly. The girl who
+leaves her home for service in the towns sees a class of men--grooms,
+footmen, artisans, and workmen generally--not only receiving higher wages
+than the labourers in her native parish, but possessing a certain amount
+of comparative refinement. It is not surprising that she prefers, if
+possible, to marry among these.
+
+On the other hand, the young labourer, who knows that he can get good
+wages wherever he likes to go, has become somewhat of a wanderer. He roams
+about, not only from village to village, but from county to county;
+perhaps works for a time as a navvy on some distant railway, and thus
+associates with a different class of men, and picks up a sort of coarse
+cynicism. He does not care to marry and settle and tie himself down to a
+routine of labour--he despises home pleasures, preferring to spend his
+entire earnings upon himself. The roaming habits of the rising generation
+of labourers is an important consideration, and it has an effect in many
+ways. Statistics are not available; but the impression left on the mind is
+that purely rural marriages are not so frequent, notwithstanding that
+wages at large have risen. When a young man does marry, he and his wife
+not uncommonly live for a length of time with his parents, occupying a
+part of the cottage.
+
+Had any one gone into a cottage some few years back and inquired about the
+family, most probably the head of the house could have pointed out all his
+sons and daughters engaged in or near the parish. Most likely his own
+father was at work almost within hail. Uncles, cousins, various relations,
+were all near by. He could tell where everybody was. To-day if a similar
+inquiry wore made, the answer would often be very different. The old
+people might be about still, but the younger would be found scattered over
+the earth. One, perhaps, went to the United States or Canada in the height
+of the labourers' agitation some years ago, when agents were busy
+enlisting recruits for the Far West. Since then another has departed for
+Australia, taking with him his wife. Others have migrated northwards, or
+to some other point of the compass--they are still in the old country, but
+the exact whereabouts is not known. The girls are in service a hundred
+miles away--some married in the manufacturing districts. To the
+middle-aged, steady, stay-at-home labourer, the place does not seem a bit
+like it used to. Even the young boys are restless, and talking of going
+somewhere. This may not be the case with every single individual cottage
+family, but it is so with a great number. The stolid phalanx of
+agricultural labour is slowly disintegrating.
+
+If there yet remains anything idyllic in the surroundings of rural cottage
+life, it may be found where the unmarried but grown-up sons--supposing
+these, of course, to be steady--remain at home with their parents. The
+father and head of the house, having been employed upon one farm for the
+last thirty years or more, though nominally carter, is really a kind of
+bailiff. The two young men work on at the same place, and lodge at home,
+paying a small weekly sum for board and lodging. Their sister is probably
+away in service; their mother manages the cottage. She occasionally bears
+a hand in indoor work at the farmhouse, and in the harvest time aids a
+little in the field, but otherwise does not labour. What is the result?
+Plenty to eat, good beds, fairly good furniture, sufficient fuel, and some
+provision for contingencies, through the benefit club. As the wages are
+not consumed in drink, they have always a little ready money, and, in
+short, are as independent as it is possible for working men to be,
+especially if, as is often the case, the cottage and garden is their own,
+or is held on a small quit-rent. If either of the sons in time desires to
+marry, he does not start utterly unprovided. His father's influence with
+the farmer is pretty sure to procure him a cottage; he has some small
+savings himself, and his parents in the course of years have accumulated
+some extra furniture, which is given to him.
+
+If a cottage, where the occupants are steady like this, be visited in the
+evening, say towards seven o'clock, when dinner is on the table (labourers
+dining or supping after the conclusion of the day's work), the fare will
+often be found of a substantial character. There may be a piece of
+mutton--not, of course, the prime cut, but wholesome meat--cabbages,
+parsnips, carrots (labourers like a profusion of vegetables), all laid out
+in a decent manner. The food is plain, but solid and plentiful. If the
+sister out in service wishes to change her situation, she has a home to go
+to meanwhile. Should any dispute occur with the employer the cottage is
+still there, and affords a shelter till the difficulty is settled or other
+work obtained. In towns the workman who has been earning six or even ten
+shillings a day, and paying a high rent (carefully collected every week),
+no sooner gets his discharge than he receives notice to quit his lodgings,
+because the owner knows he will not be paid. But when the agricultural
+labourer has a quit-rent cottage, or one of his own, he has a permanent
+resource, and can look round for another engagement.
+
+The cooking in the best cottages would not commend itself to the student
+of that art: in those where the woman is shiftless it would be deemed
+simply intolerable. Evidence of this is only too apparent on approaching
+cottages, especially towards the evening. Coming from the fresh air of the
+fields, perhaps from the sweet scent of clover or of new-mown grass, the
+odour which arises from the cottages is peculiarly offensive. It is not
+that they are dirty inside--the floor may be scrubbed, the walls brushed,
+the chairs clean, and the beds tidy; it is from outside that all the
+noisome exhalations taint the breeze. The refuse vegetables, the washings,
+the liquid and solid rubbish generally is cast out into the ditch, often
+open to the highway road, and there festers till the first storm sweeps it
+away. The cleanest woman indoors thinks nothing disgusting out of doors,
+and hardly goes a step from her threshold to cast away indescribable
+filth. Now, a good deal of this refuse is the remains of imperfect
+cooking--masses of soddened cabbage, part of which only is eaten, and the
+rest stored for the pig or thrown into the ditch. The place smells of
+soaking, saturated cabbage for yards and yards round about.
+
+But it is much easier to condemn the cottage cook than to show her how to
+do better. It is even doubtful whether professed scientific cooks could
+tell her what to do. The difficulty arises from the rough, coarse taste of
+the labourer, and the fact, which it is useless to ignore, that he must
+have something solid, and indeed, bulky. Thin clear soups--though proved
+to abound with nourishment and of delicious flavour--are utterly beside
+his wants. Give him the finest soup; give him _pâtés_, or even more meaty
+_entrées_, and his remark will be that it is very nice, but he wants
+'summat to eat.' His teeth are large, his jaws strong, his digestive
+powers such as would astonish a city man; he likes solid food, bacon,
+butcher's meat, cheese, or something that gives him a sense of fulness,
+like a mass of vegetables. This is the natural result of his training and
+work in the fields. The materials used by the cottage cook are often quite
+capable of being made into agreeable dishes, but then those dishes would
+not suit the man. All the soups and kickshaws--though excellent in
+themselves--in the world are not, for his purpose, equal to a round of
+beef or a side of bacon. Let any one go and labour daily in the field, and
+they will come quickly to the same opinion. Yet something might certainly
+be done in the way of preventing waste. The real secret lies in the
+education of the women when young--that is, for the future. But, taking
+the present day, looking at things as they actually exist, it is no use
+abusing or lecturing the cottage cook. She might, perhaps, be persuaded to
+adopt a systematic plan of disposing of the refuse.
+
+The Saturday half-holiday is scarcely so closely observed in rural labour
+as in urban. The work closes earlier, that is, so far as the day labourer
+is concerned, for he gets the best of this as of other things. But,
+half-holiday or not, cows have to be fed and milked, sheep must be looked
+after, and the stable attended to, so that the regular men do not get off
+much sooner. In winter, the days being short, they get little advantage
+from the short time; in summer they do. Compensation is, however, as much
+as possible afforded to the settled men who have gardens, by giving them a
+half-day now and then when work is slack to attend to them.
+
+On Sunday morning the labourer cleans and polishes his boots (after
+digging the potatoes for dinner), puts on a black or dark coat, put his
+hands in his pockets--a marked feature this--and rambles down to his
+garden or the allotment. There, if it be spring or summer, he is sure to
+find some acquaintances likewise 'looking round.' This seems to be one of
+the greatest pleasures of the labourer, noting the growth of a cabbage
+here, and the promise of potatoes yonder; he does not work, but strolls to
+and fro, discussing the vegetable prospect. Then back home in time for
+dinner--the great event of Sunday, being often the only day in the week
+that he can get a hot dinner in the middle of the day. It is his day at
+home, and though he may ramble out he never goes far.
+
+Ladies residing in the country are accustomed to receive periodical
+appeals from friends in town asking their assistance in procuring
+servants. So frequent are such appeals that there would seem to be a
+popular belief that the supply is inexhaustible. The villages are supposed
+to be full of girls, all ready to enter service, and, though a little
+uncouth in manner, possessed nevertheless of sterling good qualities. The
+letter is usually couched in something like the following terms:--'Do you
+happen to know of a really good girl that would suit us? You are aware of
+the scale on which our household is conducted, and how very modest our
+requirements are. All we want is a strong, healthy, honest girl, ready and
+willing to work and to learn, and who will take an interest in the place,
+and who will not ask too extravagant a price. She can have a good home
+with us as long as ever she likes to stay. My dear, you really cannot tell
+what a difficulty we experience in getting servants who are not "uppish,"
+and who are trustworthy and do not mind working, and if you can find us
+one in those pretty villages round you, we shall be so much obliged,' &c.
+
+The fact that a servant from the country is supposed, in the nature of
+things, to be honest and willing, hardworking, strong, and healthy, and
+almost everything else, speaks well for the general character of the girls
+brought up in agricultural cottages. It is, however, quite a mistake to
+suppose the supply to be limitless; it is just the reverse; the really
+good servants from any particular district are quickly exhausted, and
+then, if the friends in town will insist upon a girl from the country,
+they cannot complain if they do not get precisely what they want. The
+migration, indeed, of servants from the villages to the towns has, for the
+time being, rather overdone itself. The best of those who responded to the
+first demand were picked out some time since; many of those now to be had
+are not of the first class, and the young are not yet grown up. After
+awhile, as education progresses--bringing with it better manners--there
+may be a fresh supply; meantime, really good country girls are difficult
+to obtain. But the demand is as great as ever. From the squire's lady down
+to the wife of the small tenant-farmer, one and all receive the same
+requests from friends in town. The character of the true country servant
+stands as high as ever.
+
+Let us hope that the polish of progress may not too much overlay the solid
+if humble virtues which procured that character for her class. Some
+efforts are being made here and there to direct the course of young girls
+after leaving the village schools--to put them in the right way and give
+them the benefit of example. As yet such efforts are confined to
+individuals. The object is certainly worth the formation of local
+organisations, for, too often, on quitting the school, the young village
+girl comes in contact with anything but elevating influences, and,
+unfortunately, her own mother is not always the best guide. The position
+of a servant in town is well known, the antecedents of a girl before she
+reaches town perhaps not so thoroughly, while the lives of those who
+remain in the villages drop out of sight of the great world.
+
+As a child, the cottage girl 'roughs' it in the road and in the fields. In
+winter she learns to slide, and to endure the cold and rain, till she
+often becomes what, to any one accustomed to a more delicate life, seems
+positively impervious to weather. The servants in old-fashioned farmhouses
+really did not seem to know what it was to feel cold. Even nowadays, a
+servant fresh from an outlying hamlet, where her parents probably could
+procure but little fuel beyond what was necessary for cooking, at first
+cares not an atom whether there be a fire in the kitchen or not. Such
+girls are as hardy as the men of their native place. After a time, hot
+rooms and a profusion of meat and good living generally saps and
+undermines this natural strength. Then they shiver like town-bred people.
+
+The cottage child is often locked out by her parents, who go to work and
+leave her in charge of her still smaller brothers and sisters. They play
+about the hedges and ditches, and very rarely come to any harm. In autumn
+their little fingers are employed picking up the acorns fallen from the
+oaks, for which the formers pay so much per bushel. In spring is their
+happiest time. The joy of life--the warm sunshine and pleasant breeze of
+spring--is not wholly lost upon them, despite their hard fare, and the not
+very affectionate treatment they receive at home. Such a girl may then be
+seen sitting under a willow beside the brook, with her charges around
+her--the little brother that can just toddle, the baby that can but crawl
+and crow in the green fresh grass. Between them lies a whole pile of
+flowers--dandelion stems made into rings, and the rings joined together so
+as to form a chain, rushes plaited, blue-bells, cowslips tied up in balls,
+and cowslips loose, their yellow petals scattered over the sward.
+
+The brook flows murmuring by, with an occasional splash, as a water-rat
+dives from the bank or a fish rises to an insect. The children weave their
+flowers and chant some old doggrel rhymes with little or no meaning. Long
+afterwards that girl will retain an unconscious memory of the scene, when,
+wheeling her employer's children out on some suburban road, she seeks a
+green meadow and makes a cowslip ball for the delighted infants. In summer
+they go down to the hay-field, but dare not meddle with the hay, which the
+bailiff does not like to see disturbed; they remain under the shadow of
+the hedge. In autumn they search for the berries, like the birds, nibbling
+the hips and haws, tasting crabs and sloes, or feasting on the fruit of a
+hazel-bush.
+
+Be it spring or summer, autumn or winter, wherever the child may be, her
+eyes are ever on the watch to find a dead stick or a broken branch, too
+heavy to lift, but which may be dragged behind, in order to feed the
+cottage fire at night. That is her first duty as a child; if she remains
+in the hamlet that will be her duty through life, and to the last, as an
+aged woman. So in London, round the purlieus of buildings in the course of
+erection--even in the central thoroughfares, in busy Fleet
+Street--children hang about the temporary hoardings, and pick up the chips
+and splinters of deal. But the latter have not the pleasure of the
+blue-bells and cowslips, nor even of the hips and haws, nor does the fresh
+pure breeze play upon their foreheads.
+
+Rough though it be, the childhood of the cottage girl is not without its
+recompenses, the most valuable of which is sturdy health. Now that good
+schools are open to every village, so soon as the children are old enough
+to walk the distance, often considerable, they are sent off every morning.
+At all events, if it does nothing else, it causes the mothers to give them
+a daily tidying up, which is in itself an advantage. They travel under the
+charge of the girl; often two or three such small parties join company,
+coming from as many cottages. In the warmer months, the lanes and fields
+they cross form a long playground for them, and picking flowers and
+searching for birds'-nests pass away the time. In winter they have to face
+the mire and rain.
+
+When the girl leaves school she is hardly old enough to enter service, and
+too often in the year or so that elapses before she 'goes out' much
+mischief is done. She is then at an age when the mind is peculiarly
+receptive, and the ways of the young labourers with whom she is thrown
+into contact are not very refined. Her first essay at 'service' is often
+as day-nursemaid at some adjacent farmhouse, taking care of the younger
+children in the day, and returning home to sleep. She then wanders with
+the children about the same fields she visited long before. This system
+used to be common enough, but latterly it has not worked well, because the
+parents expect the girl to progress so rapidly. She must be a woman and
+receive a woman's wages almost before she has ceased to be a girl. If she
+does not disdain to enter a farmhouse as kitchen-maid her wages will
+probably be about six pounds a year at first. Of course the exact sum
+varies very much in different localities and in different cases. It is but
+a small sum of money, yet it is often all she is worth.
+
+The cottage is a poor preparation even for the humblest middle-class home.
+Those ladies in towns who have engaged country servants are well aware of
+the amount of teaching they require before they can go through the
+simplest duties in a satisfactory manner. But most of these girls have
+already been out several times before reaching town. What a difficulty,
+then, the first farmer's wife must have had in drilling the rudiments of
+civilised life into them! Indeed, the vexations and annoyances connected
+with servants are no light weight upon the patience of the tenant-farmer.
+His wife is perpetually preparing servant girls for the service of other
+people.
+
+She is a kind of unpaid teacher, for ever shaping the rough material
+which, so soon as it is worth higher wages than a tenant-farmer can
+usually pay, is off, and the business has to be begun over again. No one
+who had not seen it would believe how clumsy and unthinking such girls are
+on first 'going out.' It is, too, the flightiest and giddiest period of
+their existence--before the girl sobers down into the woman. In the houses
+of the majority of tenant-farmers the mistress herself has to be a good
+deal in the kitchen, and therefore comes into close personal contact with
+the servants, and feels these things acutely. Except in the case of
+gentleman-farmers it may, perhaps, be said that almost all the wives of
+farmers have had experience of this kind.
+
+The girls are not nearly so tractable as formerly--they are fully aware of
+their own value and put it extremely high; a word is sufficient, and if
+not pleased they leave immediately. Wages rise yearly to about the limit
+of twelve pounds. In mentioning that sum it is not set down as an exact
+figure, for circumstances of course vary in every case. But it is seldom
+that servants in farmhouses of the middle class receive more than that.
+Until recently few obtained so much. Most of them that are worth anything
+never rest till they reach the towns, and take service in the villas of
+the wealthy suburban residents. Some few, however, remain in the country
+from preference, feeling a strong affection for their native place, for
+their parents and friends. Notwithstanding the general tendency to roam,
+this love of home is by no means extinct, but shows itself very decidedly
+in some of the village girls.
+
+The fogger, or milker, who comes to the farmhouse door in the morning may
+not present a very attractive appearance in the eyes of those accustomed
+to see well-dressed people; but it may be quite different with the young
+girl whose early associations have made her oblivious of dirt. She does
+not notice the bits of hay clinging to the smockfrock, the greasy hat and
+begrimed face, or the clumsy boots thickly coated with mud. A kiss may be
+quite as sweet, despite these mere outside accidents. In her way she is
+full of imagination and fancy--what her mistress would call 'giddy.'
+Within doors an eye may be on her, so she slips out to the wood-stack in
+the yard, ostensibly to fetch a log for the fire, and indulges in a few
+moments of flirtation behind the shelter of the faggots. In the summer she
+works doubly hard in the morning, and gets everything forward, so that she
+may go out to the field haymaking in the afternoon, when she may meet her
+particular friend, and also, perhaps, his rival.
+
+On Sundays she gladly walks two or more miles across the fields to church,
+knowing full well that some one will be lounging about a certain stile, or
+lying on the sward by a gate waiting for her. The practice of coquetry is
+as delightful in the country lane as in the saloons of wealth, though the
+ways in which it exhibits itself may be rude in comparison. So that love
+is sometimes the detaining force which keeps the girl in the country. Some
+of the young labourers are almost heirs to property in their eyes. One is
+perhaps the son of the carrier, who owns a couple of cottages let out to
+tenants; or the son of the blacksmith, at whom several caps are set, and
+about whom no little jealousy rages. On the whole, servants in the
+country, at least at farmhouses, have much more liberty than they could
+possibly get in town.
+
+The work is hard in the morning, but generally much less for the rest of
+the day; in the evening there is often scarcely anything to do. So that
+the farmhouse servant has much time to herself, and is not too strictly
+confined indoors when not at work. There is a good deal of 'company,' too;
+men coming to the door, men in the rick-yards and cattle-yards, men in the
+barn, labourers passing to their work, and so on. It is not so dull a life
+as might appear. Indeed, a farmhouse servant probably sees twice as many
+of her own class in the course of a week as a servant in town.
+
+Vanity, of course, is not to be shut out even from so simple an existence:
+the girl must have a 'fashionable' bonnet, and a pair of thin tight boots,
+let the lanes be never so dirty or the fields never so wet. In point of
+education they have much improved of late, and most can now read and
+write. But when they write home the letter is often read to the mother by
+some friend; the girl's parents being nearly or quite illiterate.
+Tenant-farmers' wives are often asked to act as notaries in such cases by
+cottage women on the receipt of letters from their children.
+
+When such a girl marries in the village she usually finds the work of the
+cottage harder than that of the farmhouse. It is more continuous, and when
+children arrive the trouble of nursing has to be added to the other
+duties, and to occasional work in the fields. The agricultural labourer's
+wife, indeed, has a harder lot than her husband. His toil is for the most
+part over when he leaves the field, but the woman's is never finished.
+When the man reaches home he does not care, or will not turn his hand to
+anything, except, perhaps, to fetch a pail of water, and he is not well
+pleased if asked to do that. The want of conveniences like an accessible
+water supply is severely felt by the women in many villages and hamlets;
+whilst in others there is a quantity running to waste. Many of the men
+obtain a more than liberal amount of beer, while the women scarcely get
+any at all. While working in the field they are allowed a small quantity
+by some farmers; at home they have none.
+
+Very few cottage women are inclined to drink, and they are seldom seen at
+'public' or intoxicated. On Saturdays most of them walk into the nearest
+town, perhaps five or more miles distant, in order to buy household stuff.
+Often a whole bevy of neighbours then meet and return home together, and
+that is about the only time when they call at the roadside inn. Laden with
+heavy parcels, with a long walk yet before them, and after a hard week's
+work, it is not surprising that they should want some refreshment, but the
+quantity of ale then purchased is very small. When there are a number of
+young children, and the parents endeavour to keep them decent, the woman
+works very hard indeed. Many farmers' wives take much interest in such
+families, where there is an evident endeavour to go straight, and assist
+the women in various ways, as with cast-off clothing for the children. A
+basketful of apples even from the farmer's orchard is a treat to the
+children, for, though better fed than formerly, their diet is necessarily
+monotonous, and such fruit as may be grown in the cottage garden is, of
+course, sold.
+
+With the exception of vegetables the cottager now buys almost everything
+and produces nothing for home use; no home-spun clothing--not even a
+home-baked loaf. Instances have been observed where cottagers have gone to
+much expense (for them) to build ovens, and after baking a few batches
+abandoned the project. Besides the cheap outfitters in the towns, the
+pack-drapers come round visiting every cottage. Such drapers have no
+shop-window, and make no display, but employ several men carrying packs,
+who work through the villages on foot and range over a wide stretch of
+country.
+
+Agricultural women, other than those belonging to the families of
+tenant-farmers, may be summed up as employed in the following manner.
+Bailiff's wives and daughters: these are not supposed, on extensive farms,
+to work in the field. The wife frequently has charge of the small home
+dairy, and the daughter assists at the house. Sometimes they also attend
+to the poultry, now occasionally kept in large numbers. A bailiff's
+daughter sometimes becomes housekeeper to a farmer. Dairymaids of the
+ordinary class--not competent to make special cheese--are becoming rarer,
+on account of the demand for their services decreasing--the milk trade and
+cheap foreign cheese having rendered common sorts of cheese unprofitable.
+They are usually cottagers. Of the married labouring women and the indoor
+servants something has already been said. In most villages a seamstress or
+two may be found, and has plenty of work to do for the farmers' families.
+The better class of housekeepers, and those professional dairymaids who
+superintend the making of superior cheese, are generally more or less
+nearly related to the families of tenant-farmers.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+
+THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+
+The wise old saw that good wine needs no bush does not hold true in the
+case of the labourer; it would require a very large bush indeed to attract
+him to the best of beer offered for sale under legitimate conditions. In
+fact, he cares not a rap about good beer--that is, intrinsically good, a
+genuine product of malt and hops. He would rather grumble at it, unless,
+perchance, it was a gift; and even then would criticise it behind the
+donor's back, holding the quart cup aslant so as to see the bottom in one
+place, and get a better view of the liquor. The great breweries whose
+names are household words in cities, and whose interest it is to maintain
+a high standard of quality for the delectation of their million consumers,
+do not exalt their garish painted advertisements in gilded letters as tall
+as Tom Thumb over the doors of village alehouses. You might call for Bass
+at Cairo, Bombay, Sydney, or San Francisco, and Bass would be forthcoming.
+But if you knocked the trestle-table with the bottom of a tankard (the
+correct way) in a rural public, as a signal to the cellar you might call
+for Bass in vain.
+
+When the agricultural labourer drops in on his way home from his work of a
+winter evening--heralding his approach by casting down a couple of logs or
+bundle of wood which he has been carrying with a thud outside the door--he
+does not demand liquor of that character. When in harvest time, after
+sundown--when the shadows forbid farther cutting with the fagging hook at
+the tall wheat--he sits on the form without, under the elm tree, and feels
+a whole pocketful of silver, flush of money like a gold-digger at a
+fortunate rush, he does not indulge in Allsopp or Guinness. He hoarsely
+orders a 'pot' of some local brewer's manufacture--a man who knows exactly
+what he likes, and arranges to meet the hardy digestion of the mower and
+the reaper. He prefers a rather dark beer with a certain twang faintly
+suggestive of liquorice and tobacco, with a sense of 'body,' a thickness
+in it, and which is no sooner swallowed than a clammy palate demands a
+second gulp to wash away the relics of the first. Ugh! The second requires
+a third swig, and still a fourth, and appetite increasing with that it
+feeds on, the stream rushes down the brazen throat that burns for more.
+
+Like the Northern demi-god who drank unwittingly at the ocean from a horn
+and could not empty it, but nevertheless caused the ebb of the sea, so our
+toper, if he cannot contain the cask, will bring it down to the third hoop
+if time and credit will but serve. It would require a ganger's staff to
+measure his capacity--in fact, the limit of the labourer's liquor-power,
+especially in summer, has never yet been reached. A man will lie on his
+back in the harvest field, under a hedge sweet with the June roses that
+smile upon the hay, and never move or take his lips away till a gallon has
+entered into his being, for it can hardly be said to be swallowed. Two
+gallons a day is not an uncommon consumption with men who swing the scythe
+or reaping-hook.
+
+This of course is small beer; but the stuff called for at the low public
+in the village, or by the road just outside, though indescribably nauseous
+to a non-vitiated palate, is not 'small.' It is a heady liquid, which if
+anyone drinks, not being accustomed to it, will leave its effects upon him
+for hours afterwards. But this is what the labourer likes. He prefers
+something that he can feel; something that, if sufficiently indulged in,
+will make even his thick head spin and his temples ache next morning. Then
+he has had the value of his money. So that really good ale would require a
+very large bush indeed before it attracted his custom.
+
+It is a marked feature of labouring life that the respectable inn of the
+village at which the travelling farmer, or even persons higher in rank,
+occasionally call, which has a decent stable, and whose liquors are of a
+genuine character, is almost deserted by the men who seek the reeking tap
+of the ill-favoured public which forms the clubhouse of all the vice of
+the village. While the farmer or passing stranger, calling at the decent
+house really for refreshment, drinks but a glass or two and departs, the
+frequenters of the low place never quit their seats till the law compels
+them, so that for sixpence spent in the one by men with cheque-books in
+their pockets, five shillings are spent in the other by men who have not
+got a loaf of bread at home for their half-starving children and pinched
+wife. To an unprincipled landlord clearly this sort of custom is decidedly
+preferable, and thus it is that these places are a real hardship to the
+licensed victualler whose effort it is to keep an orderly house.
+
+The influence of the low public upon the agricultural labourer's life is
+incalculable--it is his club, almost his home. There he becomes
+brutalised; there he spends his all; and if he awakes to the wretched
+state of his own family at last, instead of remembering that it is his own
+act, he turns round, accuses the farmer of starvation wages, shouts for
+what is really Communism, and perhaps even in his sullen rage descends to
+crime. Let us go with him into such a rural den.
+
+Beware that you do not knock your head against the smoke-blackened beams
+of the low ceiling, and do not put your elbow carelessly on the deal
+table, stained with spilled ale, left uncleaned from last night, together
+with little heaps of ashes, tapped out from pipes, and spots of grease
+from the tallow candles. The old-fashioned settles which gave so cosy an
+air in the olden time to the inn room, and which still linger in some of
+the houses, are not here--merely forms and cheap chairs. A great pot hangs
+over the fire, for the family cooking is done in the public apartment; but
+do not ask to join in the meal, for though the food may be more savoury
+than is dreamed of in your philosophy, the two-grained forks have not been
+cleaned these many a day. Neither is the butcher's wooden skewer, just
+extracted from the meat, an elegant toothpick if you are fastidious.
+
+But these things are trifles when the dish is a plump pheasant, jugged
+hare, brown partridges, or trout--perhaps not exactly in season--as the
+chance may be; or a couple of boiled fowls, or a turkey, or some similar
+toothsome morsel. Perhaps it is the gamey taste thus induced that enables
+them to enjoy joints from the butcher which are downright tainted, for it
+is characteristic of the place and people on the one hand to dine on the
+very best, as above, and yet to higgle over a halfpenny a pound at the
+shop. Nowhere else in all the parish, from the polished mahogany at the
+squire's mansion to the ancient solid oaken table at the substantial
+old-fashioned farmer's, can there be found such a constant supply of food
+usually considered as almost the privilege of the rich. Bacon, it is true,
+they eat of the coarsest kind; but with it eggs new laid and delicious. In
+brief, it is the strangest hodge-podge of pheasant and bread and cheese,
+asparagus and cabbage. But somehow, whatever is good, whatever is held in
+estimation, makes its appearance in that grimy little back room on that
+ragged, dirty table-cloth.
+
+Who pays for these things? Are they paid for at all? There is no licensed
+dealer in game in the village nor within many miles, and it seems passing
+strange. But there are other things almost as curious. The wood pile in
+the back yard is ever high and bulky; let the fire burn never so clear in
+the frosty days there is always a regular supply of firewood. It is the
+same with coal. Yet there is no copse attached to the place, nor is the
+landlord ever seen chopping for himself, nor are the farmers in the habit
+of receiving large orders for logs and faggots. By the power of some magic
+spell all things drift hitherward. A magnet which will draw logs of timber
+and faggots half across the parish, which will pull pheasants off their
+perch, extract trout from the deep, and stay the swift hare in midst of
+her career, is a power indeed to be envied. Had any enchanter of mediaeval
+days so potent a charm?
+
+Perhaps it is the engaging and attractive character of the landlord
+himself. He is a tall, lanky man, usually seen in slippers, and trousers
+too short for his limbs; he 'sloppets' about in his waistcoat and
+shirt-sleeves, hands in pockets, and shoulders forward almost in a hump.
+He hangs about the place, now bringing in a log, now carrying a bucket,
+now spinning a mop, now slouching down the garden to feed the numerous
+fowls that scratch around the stumps of cabbages. Anything, in short, but
+work. Sometimes, however, he takes the trap and horse, and is supposed to
+be gone on a dealing expedition. Sometimes it is only to carry a jar of
+beer up to the men in the field, and to mouch a good armful of fresh-cut
+clover for provender from the swathe. He sips gin the live-long day--weak
+gin always--every hour from morn till a cruel Legislature compels the
+closing of the shutters. He is never intoxicated--it is simply a habit, a
+sort of fuel to feed the low cunning in which his soul delights. So far
+from intoxication is he, that there is a fable of some hard knocks and ill
+usage, and even of a thick head being beaten against the harder stones of
+the courtyard behind, when the said thick head was helpless from much ale.
+Such matters are hushed up in the dark places of the earth. So far from
+intoxication is he, that he has the keenest eye to business.
+
+There is a lone rick-yard up in the fields yonder to which the carters
+come from the farm far away to fetch hay, and straw, and so forth. They
+halt at the public, and are noticed to enjoy good living there, nor are
+they asked for their score. A few trusses of hay, or bundles of straw, a
+bushel of corn, or some such trifle is left behind merely out of
+good-fellowship. Waggons come up laden with tons of coal for the farms
+miles above, far from a railway station; three or four teams, perhaps, one
+after the other. Just a knob or two can scarcely be missed, and a little
+of the small in a sack-bag. The bundles of wood thrown down at the door by
+the labourers as they enter are rarely picked up again; they disappear,
+and the hearth at home is cold. The foxes are blamed for the geese and the
+chickens, and the hunt execrated for not killing enough cubs, but Reynard
+is not always guilty. Eggs and poultry vanish. The shepherds have ample
+opportunities for disposing of a few spare lambs to a general dealer whose
+trap is handy. Certainly, continuous gin does not chill the faculties.
+
+If a can of ale is left in the outhouse at the back and happens to be
+found by a few choice spirits at the hour when the vicar is just
+commencing his sermon in church on Sunday, it is by the purest accident.
+The turnip and swede greens left at the door, picked wholesale from the
+farmers' fields; the potatoes produced from coat pockets by fingers which
+have been sorting heaps at the farmstead; the apples which would have been
+crushed under foot if the labourers had not considerately picked them
+up--all these and scores of other matters scarce worth naming find their
+way over that threshold. Perhaps the man is genial, his manners enticing,
+his stories amusing, his jokes witty? Not at all. He is a silent fellow,
+scarce opening his mouth except to curse the poor scrub of a maid servant,
+or to abuse a man who has not paid his score. He slinks in and lights his
+pipe, smokes it silently, and slinks out again. He is the octopus of the
+hamlet, fastening on the cottage homes and sucking the life-blood from
+them. He misses nothing, and nothing comes amiss to him.
+
+His wife, perhaps, then, may be the centre of attraction? She is a short,
+stout woman, whose cheeks as she walks wobble with fat, whose face is ever
+dirty, and dress (at home) slatternly. But mayhap her heart is in the
+right place, and when Hodge is missed from his accustomed seat by the fire
+of an evening, when it is bruited abroad that he is down with illness,
+hurriedly slips on her bonnet, and saying nothing, carries a basket of
+good things to cheer the inner man? Or, when his wife is confined, perhaps
+she brings some little delicacies, a breast of pheasant, a bottle of port
+wine, and strengthens her with motherly counsel in the hour of her
+travail. Is this so? Hodge's wife could tell you that the cottage door has
+never been darkened by her presence: that she indeed would not acknowledge
+her if passed by chance on the road. For the landlady sails forth to the
+adjacent town in all the glory of those fine feathers that proverbially
+make the fine bird.
+
+It is a goodly spectacle to see her in rustling ample silk, in costly
+sealskin, in a bonnet 'loud' but rich, shading a countenance that glows
+ruddy red as a furnace. A gold chain encircles her portly neck, with a
+gold watch thereto attached; gold rings upon her fingers, in one of which
+sparkles a brilliant diamond; gold earrings, gold brooch, kid gloves
+bursting from the fatness of the fingers they encase. The dingy trap and
+limping rawboned hack which carry her to the outskirts of the town
+scarcely harmonise with so much glory. But at the outskirts she alights,
+and enters the street in full dignity. By some potent alchemy the sweat of
+Hodge's brow has become condensed into that sparkling diamond, which is
+disclosed when the glove is drawn off in the shops, to the admiration of
+all beholders.
+
+Or, if not the wife, perhaps it may be the daughter who is the magnet that
+draws the very timber across the parish? She is not ill-looking, and might
+pass muster in her best dress were it not for a squareness of build, like
+the set of a man rather than the full curves associated with woman. She is
+rarely seen in the house at all, and neither talks to the men nor the
+women who enter. She sallies forth at night, and her friends are the
+scampish among the sons of the lower class of tenant-farmers.
+
+This is the family. How strange and yet how undeniable is it that such a
+house should attract the men whose self-interest, one would imagine, would
+lead them to shun it, and if they must spend their hard-won earnings, at
+least to get a good article for their money! It proves that an appeal to
+reason is not always the way to manage the working man. Such a low house
+is always a nest of agitation: there the idle, drunken, and
+ill-conditioned have their rendezvous, there evil is hatched, and from
+there men take their first step on the road that leads to the gaol. The
+place is often crowded at night--there is scarcely room to sit or stand,
+the atmosphere is thick with smoke, and a hoarse roar of jarring voices
+fills it, above which rises the stave of a song shouted in one unvarying
+key from some corner. Money pours in apace--the draughts are deep, and
+long, and frequent, the mugs are large, the thirst insatiate. The takings,
+compared with the size and situation of the house, must be high, and yet,
+with all this custom and profit, the landlord and his family still grovel.
+And grovel they will in dirt, vice, low cunning, and iniquity--as the
+serpent went on his belly in the dust--to the end of their days.
+
+Why do these places exist? Because in England justice is ever tempered
+with mercy; sometimes with too much mercy. The resident squire and
+magistrate knows the extent of the evil only too well. He sees it with his
+own eyes in the village; he sees it brought before him on the bench; the
+clergyman tells him of it, so do the gamekeeper and the policeman. His
+tenants complain of it. He is perpetually reminded of it, and of what it
+may ultimately mean as these places become the centres of communistic
+propagandas. But though perfectly aware of the evil, to suppress it is
+quite another matter.
+
+First, you must find the power, and then, having the power, the question
+arises, is it wise to exercise it? Though the men who frequent such dens
+are often of the lowest type, or on their way to that condition, they are
+not all of that character. Men of a hard-working and honest stamp go there
+as well. All have their rights alike--rights and liberties which must be
+held sacred even at some disadvantage. In short, the reprobate nature of
+the place may be established, but while it is the chosen resort of the
+people, or of a section of them, unless some great and manifest harm
+arises it cannot be touched. The magistrate will willingly control it as
+far as lies in his province, but unless directly instructed by the
+Legislature he cannot go farther. The truth is, it lies with the labourer
+himself. He is not obliged to visit there. A respectable inn may be found
+in every village if he desires that wholesome conviviality which, when it
+does not overstep certain bounds, forms a bond between man and man. Were
+such low houses suddenly put down, what an outcry would be raised of
+favouritism, tyranny, and so on! When the labourer turns against them
+himself, he will speedily find powerful friends to assist in attaining the
+object.
+
+If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the agricultural
+labourer upon the conclusion of his day's work, exposed as he is to the
+wear and tear of the elements. After following the slow plough along the
+furrows through the mist; after tending the sheep on the hills where the
+rain beats with furious energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of
+trees, and splitting them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may
+naturally ask for refreshment. And it is equally natural that he should
+desire to take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can
+associate freely and speak his mind unchecked. The glass of ale would not
+hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain quarters to
+do evil for an extra quart. Nothing forms so strong a temptation as the
+knowledge that a safe receiver is near at hand.
+
+He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he can take,
+for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass of wine to the
+'City' gentleman who lives delicately. He is to be pitied rather than
+condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather than chastised. Punishment,
+indeed, waits upon him only too doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in
+the shape of sorrows and privations at home. The evil lies not in the ale,
+but in the character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the
+same time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper. No one,
+indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, 'Save me from my
+friends!' To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice it must be stated
+that there is a certain bluff honesty and frankness among them, a rude
+candour, which entitles them to considerable respect as a body. There are
+also men here and there whose strength of character would certainty have
+obtained favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher
+rank of life. But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so
+innocent and free from guile--so lamblike as it suits the purpose of some
+to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may secure sympathy. There
+are very queer black sheep in the flock, and it rather unfortunately
+happens that these, in more ways than one, force themselves, sometimes
+most unpleasantly, upon the notice of the tenant-farmer and the landlord.
+
+A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of choice
+manhood whose head-quarters are at the low 'public.' A tall, well-built
+man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger might take him for
+a favourable example. He holds himself more upright than most of his
+class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked air of deference towards those
+who address him conveys rather a pleasing impression. He can read fairly
+well and sign his name. This man, who is still young, began life as
+carter's lad, in which occupation he had not been long engaged before the
+horse-hair carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared. Whipcord and
+similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new whip.
+This last, not being so easily disposed of, was traced to his possession
+and procured him a sound thrashing. Some short time afterwards a carthorse
+was found in the fields stabbed in several places, though, fortunately,
+not severely. Having already the bad name that hangs the dog, he was
+strongly suspected of this dastardly act in revenge for the thrashing from
+the carter, and threat of dismissal from the employer. No evidence,
+however, could be procured, and though he was sent about his business he
+escaped punishment. As he grew older he fell in with a tribe of
+semi-gipsies, and wandered in their company for a year or two, learning
+their petty pilfering tricks. He then returned to agriculture labour, and,
+notwithstanding the ill-flavour that clung about his doings, found no
+difficulty in obtaining employment.
+
+It is rare in agriculture for a man to be asked much about his character,
+unless he is to be put into a position of some trust. In trades and
+factories--on railways, too--an applicant for employment is not only
+questioned, but has to produce evidence as to his immediate antecedents at
+least. But the custom in farming prescribes no such checks; if the farmer
+requires a man, the applicant is put on to work at once, if he looks at
+all likely. This is especially the case in times of pressure, as when
+there is a great deal of hoeing to be done, in harvest, and when extra
+hands are wanted to assist in feeding the threshing machine. Then the
+first that comes along the road is received, and scarcely a question
+asked. The custom operates well enough in one way, since a man is nearly
+sure of procuring employment, and encounters no obstacles; on the other
+hand, there is less encouragement to preserve a good character. So the
+fellow mentioned quickly got work when he applied for it, and went on
+pretty steadily for a period. He then married, and speedily discovered the
+true use of women--i.e. to work for idle men. The moment he learnt that he
+could subsist upon her labour he ceased to make any effort, and passed his
+time lounging about.
+
+The wife, though neither handsome nor clever, was a hard-working person,
+and supported herself and idle husband by taking in washing. Indignation
+has often been expressed at the moral code of savages, which permits the
+man to lie in his hammock while the woman cultivates the maize; but,
+excepting the difference in the colour of the skin, the substitution of
+dirty white for coppery redness, there is really no distinction. Probably
+washing is of the two harder work than hoeing maize. The fellow 'hung
+about,' and doubtless occasionally put in practice the tricks he had
+acquired from his nomad friends.
+
+The only time he worked was in the height of the harvest, when high wages
+are paid. But then his money went in drink, and drink often caused him to
+neglect the labour he had undertaken, at an important juncture when time
+was of consequence. On one such occasion the employer lost his temper and
+gave him a piece of his mind, ending by a threat of proceedings for breach
+of contract. A night or two afterwards the farmer's rick-yard was ablaze,
+and a few months later the incendiary found himself commencing a term of
+penal servitude. There he was obliged to work, began to walk upright, and
+acquired that peculiarly marked air of deference which at first contrasts
+rather pleasantly with the somewhat gruff address of most labourers.
+During his absence the wife almost prospered, having plenty of employment
+and many kind friends. He signalised his return by administering a
+thrashing--just to re-assert his authority--which, however, the poor woman
+received with equanimity, remarking that it was only his way. He
+recommenced his lounging life, working occasionally when money was to be
+easily earned--for the convict stain does not prevent a man getting
+agricultural employment--and spending the money in liquor. When tolerably
+sober he is, in a sense, harmless; if intoxicated, his companions give him
+the road to himself.
+
+Now there is nothing exceptionally characteristic of the agricultural
+labourer in the career of such a man. Members of other classes of the
+working community are often sent to penal servitude, and sometimes men of
+education and social position. But it is characteristic of agricultural
+life that a man with the stigma of penal servitude can return and
+encounter no overpowering prejudice against him. There are work and wages,
+for him if he likes to take them. No one throws his former guilt in his
+face. He may not be offered a place of confidence, nor be trusted with
+money, as the upper labourers--carters for instance--sometimes are. But
+the means of subsistence are open to him, and he will not be driven by the
+memory of one crime to commit another.
+
+There is no school of crime in the country. Children are not brought up
+from the earliest age to beg and steal, to utter loquacious falsehood, or
+entrap the benevolent with sham suffering. Hoary thieves do not keep
+academies for the instruction of little fingers in the art of theft. The
+science of burglary is unstudied. Though farmhouses are often situate in
+the most lonely places a case of burglary rarely occurs, and if it does,
+is still more rarely traced to a local resident. In such houses there is
+sometimes a good deal of old silver plate, accumulated in the course of
+generations--a fact that must be perfectly well known to the labouring
+class, through the women indoor-servants. Yet such attempts are quite
+exceptional. So, too, are robberies from the person with violence. Serious
+crime is, indeed, comparatively scarce. The cases that come before the
+Petty Sessions are, for the most part, drunkenness, quarreling, neglect or
+absenteeism from work, affiliation, petty theft, and so on.
+
+The fact speaks well for the rural population; it speaks very badly for
+such characters as the one that has been described. If he will not turn
+into the path of honest labour, that is his own fault. The injury he does
+is this, that he encourages others to be idle. Labouring men quit the
+field under the influence of temporary thirst, or that desire for a few
+minutes' change which is not in itself blameworthy. They enter the low
+'public,' call for their quart, and intend to leave again immediately. But
+the lazy fellow in the corner opens conversation, is asked to drink, more
+is called for, there is a toss-up to decide who shall pay, in which the
+idle adept, of course, escapes, and so the thing goes on. Such a man
+becomes a cause of idleness, and a nuisance to the farmers.
+
+Another individual is a huge, raw-boned, double-jointed giant of a man,
+whose muscular strength must be enormous, but whose weakness is beer. He
+is a good workman, and of a civil, obliging disposition. He will commence,
+for instance, making drains for a farmer with the greatest energy, and in
+the best of tempers. A drain requires some little skill. The farmer visits
+the work day by day, and notes with approval that it is being done well.
+But about the third or fourth day the clever workman, whose immense
+strength makes the employment mere child's play to him, civilly asks for a
+small advance of money. Now the farmer has no objection to that, but hands
+it to him with some misgiving. Next morning no labourer is to be seen. The
+day passes, and the next. Then a lad brings the intelligence that his
+parent is just recovering from a heavy drinking bout and will be back
+soon. There is the history of forty years!
+
+The same incident is repeated once or twice a month all the year round.
+Now it is a drain, now hedge-cutting, now hoeing, now haymaking, and now
+reaping. Three or four days' work excellently performed; then a bed in a
+ditch and empty pockets. The man's really vast strength carries him
+through the prostration, and the knocks and bangs and tumbles received in
+a helpless state. But what a life! The worst of it is the man is not a
+reprobate--not a hang-dog, lounging rascal, but perfectly honest, willing
+to oblige, harmless and inoffensive even when intoxicated, and skilful at
+his labour. What is to be done with him? What is the farmer to do who has
+only such men to rely on--perhaps in many cases--without this fellow's
+honesty and good temper--qualities which constantly give him a lift? It is
+simply an epitome of the difficulties too commonly met with in the
+field--bright sunshine, good weather, ripe crops, and men half
+unconscious, or quite, snoring under a hedge! There is no encouragement to
+the tenant to pay high wages in experiences like this.
+
+A third example is a rakish-looking lad just rising into manhood. Such
+young men are very much in demand and he would not have the slightest
+difficulty in obtaining employment, yet he is constantly out of work. When
+a boy he began by summoning the carter where he was engaged for cuffing
+him, charging the man with an assault. It turned out to be a trumpery
+case, and the Bench advised his parents to make him return and fulfil his
+contract. His parents thought differently of it. They had become imbued
+with an inordinate sense of their own importance. They had a high idea of
+the rights of labour; Jack, in short, was a good deal better than his
+master, and must be treated with distinguished respect. The doctrines of
+the Union countenanced the deduction; so the boy did not return. Another
+place was found for him.
+
+In the course of a few months he came again before the Bench. The
+complaint was now one of wrongful dismissal, and a claim for a one pound
+bonus, which by the agreement was to have been paid at the end of the year
+if his conduct proved satisfactory. It was shown that his conduct had been
+the reverse of satisfactory; that he refused to obey orders, that he
+'cheeked' the carters, that he ran away home for a day or two, and was
+encouraged in these goings on by the father. The magistrates, always on
+the side of peace, endeavoured to procure a reconciliation, the farmer
+even paid down the bonus, but it was of no use. The lad did not return.
+
+With little variations the same game has continued ever since. Now it is
+he that complains, now it is his new master; but any way there is always a
+summons, and his face is as familiar in the court as that of the chairman.
+His case is typical. What is a farmer to do who has to deal with a rising
+generation full of this spirit?
+
+Then there are the regular workhouse families, who are perpetually
+applying for parochial relief. From the eldest down to the youngest member
+they seem to have no stamina; they fall ill when all others are well, as
+if afflicted with a species of paralysis that affects body, mind, and
+moral sense at once. If the phrase may be used without irreverence, there
+is no health in them. The slightest difficulty is sufficient to send an
+apparently strong, hale man whining to the workhouse. He localises his
+complaint in his foot, or his arm, or his shoulder; but, in truth, he does
+not know himself what is the matter with him. The real illness is weakness
+of calibre--a looseness of fibre. Many a labourer has an aching limb from
+rheumatism, and goes to plough all the same; many a poor cottage woman
+suffers from that prevalent agony, and bravely gets through her task, and
+keeps her cottage tidy. But these people cannot do it--they positively
+cannot. The summer brings them pain, the winter brings pain, their whole
+life is one long appeal _ad misericordiam_.
+
+The disease seems to spread with the multiplication of the family: the
+sons have it, and the sons' sons after them, so much so that even to bear
+the name is sufficient to stamp the owner as a miserable helpless being.
+All human wretchedness is, of course, to be deeply commiserated, and yet
+it is exasperating to see one man still doing his best under real trouble,
+and another eating contentedly the bread of idleness when there seems
+nothing wrong except a total lack of energy. The old men go to the
+workhouse, the young men go, the women and the children; if they are out
+one month the next sees their return. These again are but broken reeds to
+rely upon. The golden harvest might rot upon the ground for all their
+gathering, the grass wither and die as it stands, without the touch of the
+scythe, the very waggons and carts fall to pieces in the sheds. There is
+no work to be got out of them.
+
+The village, too, has its rookery, though not quite in the same sense as
+the city. Traced to its beginning, it is generally found to have
+originated upon a waste piece of ground, where some squatters settled and
+built their cabins. These, by the growth of better houses around, and the
+rise of property, have now become of some value, not so much for the
+materials as the site. To the original hovels additions have been made by
+degrees, and fresh huts squeezed in till every inch of space is as closely
+occupied as in a back court of the metropolis. Within the cottages are low
+pitched, dirty, narrow, and contracted, without proper conveniences, or
+even a yard or court.
+
+The social condition of the inhabitants is unpleasant to contemplate. The
+young men, as they grow up, arrive at an exaggerated idea of the value of
+their parents' property--the cottage of three rooms--and bitter
+animosities arise between them. One is accused of having had his share out
+in money; another has got into trouble and had his fine paid for him; the
+eldest was probably born before wedlock; so there are plenty of materials
+for recrimination. Then one, or even two of them bring home a wife, or at
+least a woman, and three families live beneath a single roof--with results
+it is easy to imagine, both as regards bickering and immorality. They have
+no wish to quit the place and enter cottages with better accommodation:
+they might rent others of the farmers, but they prefer to be independent,
+and, besides, will not move lest they should lose their rights. Very
+likely a few lodgers are taken in to add to the confusion. As regularly as
+clockwork cross summonses are taken out before the Bench, and then the
+women on either side reveal an unequalled power of abuse and loquacity,
+leaving a decided impression that it is six to one and half a dozen to the
+other.
+
+These rookeries do not furnish forth burglars and accomplished
+pickpockets, like those of cities, but they do send out a gang of lazy,
+scamping fellows and coarse women, who are almost useless. If their
+employer does not please them--if he points out that a waste of time has
+taken place, or that something has been neglected--off they go, for,
+having a hole to creep into, they do not care an atom whether they lose a
+job or not. The available hands, therefore, upon whom the farmers can
+count are always very much below the sum total of the able-bodied
+population. There must be deducted the idle men and women, the drunkards,
+the never satisfied, as the lad who sued every master; the workhouse
+families, the rookery families, and those who every harvest leave the
+place, and wander a great distance in search of exceptionally high wages.
+When all these are subtracted, the residue remaining is often insufficient
+to do the work of the farms in a proper manner. It is got through somehow
+by scratch-packs, so to say--men picked up from the roads, aged men who
+cannot do much, but whose energy puts the younger fellows to shame, lads
+paid far beyond the value of the work they actually accomplish.
+
+Work done in this way is, of course, incomplete and unsatisfactory, and
+the fact supplies one of the reasons why farmers seem disinclined to pay
+high wages. It is not because they object to pay well for hard work, but
+because they cannot get the hard work. There is consequently a growing
+reliance upon floating labour--upon the men and women who tramp round
+every season--rather than on the resident population. Even in the absence
+of any outward agitation--of a strike or open movement in that
+direction--the farmer has considerable difficulties to contend with in
+procuring labour. He has still further difficulties in managing it when he
+has got it. Most labourers have their own peculiar way of finishing a job;
+and however much that style of doing it may run counter to the farmer's
+idea of the matter in hand, he has to let the man proceed after his own
+fashion. If he corrected, or showed the man what he wanted, he would run
+the risk of not getting it done at all. There is no one so thoroughly
+obstinate as an ignorant labourer full of his own consequence. Giving,
+then, full credit to those men whose honest endeavours to fulfil their
+duty have already been acknowledged, it is a complete delusion to suppose
+that all are equally manly.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+
+THE COTTAGE CHARTER. FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+
+The songs sung by the labourer at the alehouse or the harvest home are not
+of his own composing. The tunes whistled by the ploughboy as he goes down
+the road to his work in the dawn were not written for him. Green meads and
+rolling lands of wheat--true fields of the cloth of gold--have never yet
+inspired those who dwell upon them with songs uprising from the soil. The
+solitude of the hills over whose tops the summer sun seems to linger so
+long has not filled the shepherd's heart with a wistful yearning that must
+be expressed in verse or music. Neither he nor the ploughman in the vale
+have heard or seen aught that stirs them in Nature. The shepherd has never
+surprised an Immortal reclining on the thyme under the shade of a hawthorn
+bush at sunny noontide; nor has the ploughman seen the shadowy outline of
+a divine huntress through the mist that clings to the wood across the
+field.
+
+These people have no myths; no heroes. They look back on no Heroic Age, no
+Achilles, no Agamemnon, and no Homer. The past is vacant. The have not
+even a 'Wacht am Rhein' or 'Marseillaise' to chaunt in chorus with
+quickened step and flashing eye. No; nor even a ballad of the hearth,
+handed down from father to son, to be sung at home festivals, as a
+treasured silver tankard is brought out to drink the health of a honoured
+guest. Ballads there are in old books--ballads of days when the yew bow
+was in every man's hands, and war and the chase gave life a colour; but
+they are dead. A cart comes slowly down the road, and the labourer with it
+sings as he jogs along; but, if you listen, it tells you nothing of wheat,
+or hay, or flocks and herds, nothing of the old gods and heroes. It is a
+street ditty such as you may hear the gutter arabs yelling in London, and
+coming from a music hall.
+
+So, too, in material things--in the affairs of life, in politics, and
+social hopes--the labourer has no well-defined creed of race. He has no
+genuine programme of the future; that which is put forward in his name is
+not from him. Some years ago, talking with an aged labourer in a district
+where at that time no 'agitation' had taken place, I endeavoured to get
+from him something like a definition of the wants of his class. He had
+lived many years, and worked all the while in the field; what was his
+experience of their secret wishes? what was the Cottage Charter? It took
+some time to get him to understand what was required; he had been ready
+enough previously to grumble about this or that detail, but when it came
+to principles he was vague. The grumbles, the complaints, and so forth,
+had never been codified. However, by degrees I got at it, and very simple
+it was:--Point 1, Better wages; (2) more cottages; (3) good-sized gardens;
+(4) 'larning' for the children. That was the sum of the cottager's
+creed--his own genuine aspirations.
+
+Since then every one of these points has been obtained, or substantial
+progress made towards it. Though wages are perhaps slightly lower or
+rather stationary at the present moment, yet they are much higher than
+used to be the case. At the same time vast importations of foreign food
+keep the necessaries of life at a lower figure. The number of cottages
+available has been greatly increased--hardly a landlord but could produce
+accounts of sums of money spent in this direction. To almost all of these
+large gardens are now attached. Learning for the children is provided by
+the schools erected in every single parish, for the most part by the
+exertions of the owners and occupiers of land.
+
+Practically, therefore, the four points of the real Cottage Charter have
+been attained, or as nearly as is possible. Why, then, is it that
+dissatisfaction is still expressed? The reply is, because a new programme
+has been introduced to the labourer from without. It originated in no
+labourer's mind, it is not the outcome of a genuine feeling widespread
+among the masses, nor is it the heartbroken call for deliverance issuing
+from the lips of the poet-leader of a downtrodden people. It is totally
+foreign to the cottage proper--something new, strange, and as yet scarcely
+understood in its full meaning by those who nominally support it.
+
+The points of the new Cottage Charter are--(1) The confiscation of large
+estates; (2) the subdivision of land; (3) the abolition of the laws of
+settlement of land; (4) the administration of the land by the authorities
+of State; (5) the confiscation of glebe lands for division and
+distribution; (6) the abolition of Church tithes; (7) extension of the
+county franchise; (8) education gratis, free of fees, or payment of any
+kind; (9) high wages, winter and summer alike, irrespective of season,
+prosperity, or adversity. No. 6 is thrown in chiefly for the purpose of an
+appearance of identity of interest between the labourer and the tenant
+against the Church. Of late it has rather been the cue of the leaders of
+the agitation to promote, or seem to promote, a coalition between the
+labourer and the dissatisfied tenant, thereby giving the movement a more
+colourable pretence in the eyes of the public. Few tenants, however
+dissatisfied, have been deceived by the shallow device.
+
+This programme emanated from no carter or shepherd, ploughman or fogger.
+It was not thought out under the hedge when the June roses decked the
+bushes; nor painfully written down on the deal table in the cottage while
+the winter rain pattered against the window, and, coming down the wide
+chimney, hissed upon the embers. It was brought to the cottage door from a
+distance; it has been iterated and reiterated till at last some begin to
+think they really do want all these things. But with the majority even now
+the propaganda falls flat. They do not enter into the spirit of it. No. 9
+they do understand; that appeals direct, and men may be excused if, with a
+view which as yet extends so short a space around, they have not grasped
+the fact that wages cannot by any artificial combination whatever be kept
+at a high level. The idea of high wages brings a mass of labourers
+together; they vote for what they are instructed to vote, and are thus
+nominally pledged to the other eight points of the new charter Such a
+conception as the confiscation and subdivision of estates never occurred
+to the genuine labourers.
+
+An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new state of
+things would be like. There would be no squire, no parson, no woods or
+preserves--all grubbed for cabbage gardens--no parks, no farmers. 'No
+farmers,' said the old fellow, 'then who's to pay I my wages?' There he
+hit the blot, no doubt. If the first four points of the new charter were
+carried into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist. But if such
+a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a long
+time coming. The idea did not originate with him--he cares nothing for
+it--and can only be got to support it under the guise of an agitation for
+wages. Except by persistent stirring from without he cannot be got to move
+even then. The labourer, in fact, is not by any means such a fool as his
+own leaders endeavour to make him out. He is perfectly well aware that the
+farmer, or any person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay
+the same money in winter as in summer.
+
+Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in the corner
+of an arable field, abutting on the highway. As left by the builders a
+more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined. The cottages themselves
+were well designed and well built, but the surroundings were like a
+wilderness. Heaps of rubbish here, broken bricks there, the ground
+trampled hard as the road itself. No partition from the ploughed field
+behind beyond a mere shallow trench enclosing what was supposed to be the
+garden. Everything bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant. Two families
+went into these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm. The
+aspect of the place immediately began to change. The rubbish was removed,
+the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a quick-set
+hedge was planted round the enclosure. Evening after evening, be the
+weather what it might, these two men were in that garden at work--after a
+long day in the fields. In the dinner hour even they sometimes snatched a
+few minutes to trim something. Their spades turned over the whole of the
+soil, and planting commenced. Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for
+potatoes, onions, parsnips.
+
+Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they set about
+preparing for extras. Fruit trees--apple, plum, and damson--were planted;
+also some roses. Next beehives appeared and were elevated on stands and
+duly protected from the rain. The last work was the building of
+pigsties--rude indeed and made of a few slabs--but sufficient to answer
+the purpose. Flowers in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared
+beside the garden paths. The change was so complete and so quickly
+effected I could hardly realise that so short a time since there had been
+nothing there but a blank open space. Persons travelling along the road
+could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.
+
+I had often been struck with the flourishing appearance of cottage
+gardens, but then those gardens were of old date and had reached that
+perfection in course of years. But here the thing seemed to grow up under
+one's eyes. All was effected by sheer energy. Instead of spending their
+evenings wastefully at 'public,' these men went out into their gardens and
+made what was a desert literally bloom. Nor did they seem conscious of
+doing anything extraordinary, but worked away in the most matter-of-fact
+manner, calling no one's attention to their progress. It would be hard to
+say which garden of the two showed the better result. Their wives are
+tidy, their children clean, their cottages grow more cosy and homelike day
+by day; yet they work in the fields that come up to their very doors, and
+receive nothing but the ordinary agricultural wages of the district.
+
+This proves what can be done when the agricultural labourer really wants
+to do it. And in a very large number of cases it must further be admitted
+that he does want to do it, and succeeds. If any one when passing through
+a rural district will look closely at the cottages and gardens he will
+frequently find evidence of similar energy, and not unfrequently of
+something approaching very nearly to taste. For why does the labourer
+train honeysuckle up his porch, and the out-of-door grape up the southern
+end of his house? Why does he let the houseleek remain on the roof; why
+trim and encourage the thick growth of ivy that clothes the chimney?
+Certainly not for utility, nor pecuniary profit. It is because he has some
+amount of appreciation of the beauty of flowers, of vine leaf, and green
+ivy. Men like these are the real backbone of our peasantry. They are not
+the agitators; it is the idle hang-dogs who form the disturbing element in
+the village.
+
+The settled agricultural labourer, of all others, has the least inducement
+to strike or leave his work. The longer he can stay in one place the
+better for him in many ways. His fruit-trees, which he planted years ago,
+are coming to perfection, and bear sufficient fruit in favourable years
+not only to give him some variety of diet, but to bring in a sum in hard
+cash with which to purchase extras. The soil of the garden, long manured
+and dug, is twice as fertile as when he first disturbed the earth. The
+hedges have grown high, and keep off the bitter winds. In short, the place
+is home, and he sits under his own vine and fig-tree. It is not to his
+advantage to leave this and go miles away. It is different with the
+mechanic who lives in a back court devoid of sunshine, hardly visited by
+the fresh breeze, without a tree, without a yard of earth to which to
+become attached. The factory closes, the bell is silent, the hands are
+discharged; provided he can get fresh employment it matters little. He
+leaves the back court without regret, and enters another in a distant
+town. But an agricultural labourer who has planted his own place feels an
+affection for it. The young men wander and are restless; the middle-aged
+men who have once anchored do not like to quit. They have got the four
+points of their own genuine charter; those who would infuse further vague
+hopes are not doing them any other service than to divert them from the
+substance to the shadow.
+
+Past those two new cottages which have been mentioned there runs a road
+which is a main thoroughfare. Along this road during the year this change
+was worked there walked a mournful procession--men and women on tramp.
+Some of these were doubtless rogues and vagabonds by nature and choice;
+but many, very many, were poor fellows who had really lost employment, and
+were gradually becoming degraded to the company of the professional
+beggar. The closing of collieries, mines, workshops, iron furnaces, &c.,
+had thrown hundreds on the mercy of chance charity, and compelled them to
+wander to and fro. How men like these on tramp must have envied the
+comfortable cottages, the well-stocked gardens, the pigsties, the
+beehives, and the roses of the labourers!
+
+If the labourer has never gone up on the floodtide of prosperity to the
+champagne wages of the miner, neither has he descended to the woe which
+fell on South Wales when children searched the dust-heaps for food, nor to
+that suffering which forces those whose instinct is independence to the
+soup-kitchen. He has had, and still has, steady employment at a rate of
+wages sufficient, as is shown by the appearance of his cottage itself, to
+maintain him in comparative comfort. The furnace may be blown out, and
+strong men may ask themselves, What shall we do next? But still the plough
+turns up the earth morning after morning. The colliery may close, but
+still the corn ripens, and extra wages are paid to the harvest men.
+
+This continuous employment without even a fear of cessation is an
+advantage, the value of which it is difficult to estimate. His wages are
+not only sufficient to maintain him, he can even save a little. The
+benefit clubs in so many villages are a proof of it--each member
+subscribes so much. Whether conducted on a 'sound financial basis' or not,
+the fact of the subscriptions cannot be denied, nor that assistance is
+derived from them. The Union itself is supported in the same way; proving
+that the wages, however complained of, are sufficient, at any rate, to
+permit of subscriptions.
+
+It is held out to the labourer, as an inducement to agitate briskly, that,
+in time, a state of things will be brought about when every man will have
+a small farm of four or five acres upon which to live comfortably,
+independent of a master. Occasional instances, however, of labourers
+endeavouring to exist upon a few acres have already been observed, and
+illustrate the practical working of the scheme. In one case a labourer
+occupied a piece of ground, about three acres in extent, at a low rental
+paid to the lord of the manor, the spot having originally been waste,
+though the soil was fairly good. He started under favourable conditions,
+because he possessed a cottage and garden and a pair of horses with which
+he did a considerable amount of hauling.
+
+He now set up as a farmer, ploughed and sowed, dug and weeded, kept his
+own hours, and went into the market and walked about as independent as any
+one. After a while the three acres began to absorb nearly all his time, so
+that the hauling, which was the really profitable part of the business,
+had to be neglected. Then, the ready money not coming in so fast, the
+horses had to go without corn, and pick up what they could along the
+roadside, on the sward, and out of the hedges. They had, of course, to be
+looked after while thus feeding, which occupied two of the children, so
+that these could neither go to school nor earn anything by working on the
+adjacent farms. The horses meantime grew poor in condition; the winter
+tried them greatly from want of proper fodder; and when called upon to do
+hauling they were not equal to the task. In the country, at a distance
+from towns, there is not always a good market for vegetables, even when
+grown. The residents mostly supply themselves, and what is raised for
+export has to be sold at wholesale prices.
+
+The produce of the three acres consequently did not come up to the
+tenant's expectation, particularly as potatoes, on account of the disease,
+could not be relied on. Meantime he had no weekly money coming in
+regularly, and his wife and family had often to assist him, diminishing
+their own earnings at the same time; while he was in the dilemma that if
+he did hauling he must employ and pay a man to work on the 'farm,' and if
+he worked himself he could not go out with his team. In harvest time, when
+the smaller farmers would have hired his horses, waggon, and himself and
+family to assist them, he had to get in his own harvest, and so lost the
+hard cash.
+
+He now discovered that there was one thing he had omitted, and which was
+doubtless the cause why he did not flourish as he should have done
+according to his calculations. All the agriculturists around kept live
+stock--he had none. Here was the grand secret--it was stock that paid: he
+must have a cow. So he set to work industriously enough, and put up a
+shed. Then, partly by his own small savings, partly by the assistance of
+the members of the sect to which he belonged, he purchased the desired
+animal and sold her milk. In summer this really answered fairly well while
+there was green food for nothing in plenty by the side of little-frequented
+roads, whither the cow was daily led. But so soon as the winter approached
+the same difficulty as with the horses arose, i.e., scarcity of fodder.
+The cow soon got miserably poor, while the horses fell off yet further, if
+that were possible. The calf that arrived died; next, one of the horses.
+The 'hat' was sent round again, and a fresh horse bought; the spring came
+on, and there seemed another chance. What with milking and attending to
+the cow, and working on the 'farm,' scarcely an hour remained in which to
+earn money with the horses. No provision could be laid by for the winter.
+The live stock--the cow and horses--devoured part of the produce of the
+three acres, so that there was less to sell.
+
+Another winter finished it. The cow had to be sold, but a third time the
+'hat' was sent round and saved the horses. Grown wiser now, the 'farmer'
+stuck to his hauling, and only worked his plot at odd times. In this way,
+by hauling and letting out his team in harvest, and working himself and
+family at the same time for wages, he earned a good deal of money, and
+kept afloat very comfortably. He made no further attempt to live out of
+the 'farm,' which was now sown with one or two crops only in the same
+rotation as a field, and no longer cultivated on the garden system. Had it
+not been for the subscriptions he must have given it up entirely long
+before. Bitter experience demonstrated how false the calculations had been
+which seemed to show--on the basis of the produce of a small
+allotment--that a man might live on three or four acres.
+
+He is not the only example of an extravagant estimate being put upon the
+possible product of land: it is a fallacy that has been fondly believed in
+by more logical minds than the poor cottager. That more may be got out of
+the soil than is the case at present is perfectly true; the mistake lies
+in the proposed method of doing it.
+
+There was a piece of land between thirty and forty acres in extent,
+chiefly arable, which chanced to come into the possession of a gentleman,
+who made no pretence to a knowledge of agriculture, but was naturally
+desirous of receiving the highest rental. Up to that time it had been
+occupied by a farmer at thirty shillings per acre, which was thought the
+full value. He did not particularly want it, as it lay separated from the
+farm proper, and gave it up with the greatest alacrity when asked to do so
+in favour of a new tenant. This man turned out to be a villager--a
+blustering, ignorant fellow--who had, however, saved a small sum by
+hauling, which had been increased by the receipt of a little legacy. He
+was confident that he could show the farmers how to do it--he had worked
+at plough, had reaped, and tended cattle, and had horses of his own, and
+was quite sure that farming was a profitable business, and that the
+tenants had their land dirt cheap. He 'knowed' all about it.
+
+He offered three pounds an acre for the piece at once, which was accepted,
+notwithstanding a warning conveyed to the owner that his new tenant had
+scarcely sufficient money to pay a year's rent at that rate. But so rapid
+a rise in the value of his land quite dazzled the proprietor, and the
+labourer--for he was really nothing better, though fortunate enough to
+have a little money--entered on his farm. When this was known, it was
+triumphantly remarked that if a man could actually pay double the former
+rent, what an enormous profit the tenant-farmers must have been making!
+Yet they wanted to reduce the poor man's wages. On the other hand, there
+were not wanting hints that the man's secret idea was to exhaust the land
+and then leave it. But this was not the case--he was honestly in earnest,
+only he had got an exaggerated notion of the profits of farming. It is
+scarcely necessary to say that the rent for the third half year was not
+forthcoming, and the poor fellow lost his all. The land then went begging
+at the old price, for it had become so dirty--full of weeds from want of
+proper cleaning--that it was some time before any one would take it.
+
+In a third case the attempt of a labouring man to live upon a small plot
+of land was successful--at least for some time. But it happened in this
+way. The land he occupied, about six acres, was situated on the outskirts
+of a populous town. It was moderately rented and of fairly good quality.
+His method of procedure was to cultivate a small portion--as much as he
+could conveniently manage without having to pay too much for
+assistance--as a market garden. Being close to his customers, and with a
+steady demand at good prices all the season, this paid very well indeed.
+The remainder was ploughed and cropped precisely the same as the fields of
+larger farms. For these crops he could always get a decent price. The
+wealthy owners of the villas scattered about, some keeping as many horses
+as a gentleman with a country seat, were glad to obtain fresh fodder for
+their stables, and often bought the crops standing, which to him was
+especially profitable, because he could not well afford the cost of the
+labour he must employ to harvest them.
+
+In addition, he kept several pigs, which were also profitable, because the
+larger part of their food cost him nothing but the trouble of fetching it.
+The occupants of the houses in the town were glad to get rid of the refuse
+vegetables, &c.; of these he had a constant supply. The pigs, too, helped
+him with manure. Next he emptied ash-pits in the town, and sifted the
+cinders; the better part went on his own fire, the other on his land. As
+he understood gardening, he undertook the care of several small gardens,
+which brought in a little money. All the rubbish, leaves, trimmings, &c.,
+which he swept from the gardens he burnt, and spread the ashes abroad to
+fertilise his miniature farm.
+
+In spring he beat carpets, and so made more shillings; he had also a small
+shed, or workshop, and did rough carpentering. His horse did his own work,
+and occasionally that of others; so that in half a dozen different ways he
+made money independent of the produce of his land. That produce, too, paid
+well, because of the adjacent town, and he was able to engage assistance
+now and then. Yet, even with all these things, it was hard work, and
+required economical management to eke it out. Still it was done, and under
+the same conditions doubtless might be done by others. But then everything
+lies in those conditions. The town at hand, the knowledge of gardening,
+carpentering, and so on, made just all the difference.
+
+If the land were subdivided in the manner the labourer is instructed would
+be so advantageous, comparatively few of the plots would be near towns.
+Some of the new 'farmers' would find themselves in the centre of Salisbury
+Plain, with the stern trilithons of Stonehenge looking down upon their
+efforts. The occupier of a plot of four acres in such a position--many
+miles from the nearest town--would experience a hard lot indeed if he
+attempted to live by it. If he grew vegetables for sale, the cost of
+carriage would diminish their value; if for food, he could scarcely
+subsist upon cabbage and onions all the year round. To thoroughly work
+four acres would occupy his whole time, nor would the farmers care for the
+assistance of a man who could only come now and then in an irregular
+manner. There would be no villa gardens to attend to, no ash-pits to
+empty, no tubs of refuse for the pig, no carpets to beat, no one who
+wanted rough carpentering done. He could not pay any one to assist him in
+the cultivation of the plot.
+
+And then, how about his clothes, boots and shoes, and so forth? Suppose
+him with a family, where would their boots and shoes come from? Without
+any wages--that is, hard cash received weekly--it would be next to
+impossible to purchase these things. A man could hardly be condemned to a
+more miserable existence. In the case of the tenant of a few acres who
+made a fair living near a large town, it must be remembered that he
+understood two trades, gardening and carpentering, and found constant
+employment at these, which in all probability would indeed have maintained
+him without any land at all. But it is not every man who possesses
+technical knowledge of this kind, or who can turn his hand to several
+things. Imagine a town surrounded by two or three thousand such small
+occupiers, let them be never so clever; where would the extra employment
+come from; where would be the ashpits to empty? Where one could do well, a
+dozen could do nothing. If the argument be carried still further, and we
+imagine the whole country so cut up and settled, the difficulty only
+increases, because every man living (or starving) on his own plot would be
+totally unable to pay another to help him, or to get employment himself.
+No better method could be contrived to cause a fall in the value of
+labour.
+
+The examples of France and China are continually quoted in support of
+subdivision. In the case of France, let us ask whether any of our stalwart
+labourers would for a single week consent to live as the French peasant
+does? Would they forego their white, wheaten bread, and eat rye bread in
+its place? Would they take kindly to bread which contained a large
+proportion of meal ground from the edible chestnut? Would they feel merry
+over vegetable soups? Verily the nature of the man must change first; and
+we have read something about the leopard and his spots. You cannot raise
+beef and mutton upon four acres and feed yourself at the same time; if you
+raise bacon you must sell it in order to buy clothes.
+
+The French peasant saves by stinting, and puts aside a franc by pinching
+both belly and back. He works extremely hard, and for long hours. Our
+labourers can work as hard as he, but it must be in a different way; they
+must have plenty to eat and drink, and they do not understand little
+economies.
+
+China, we are told, however, supports the largest population in the world
+in this manner. Not a particle is wasted, not a square foot of land but
+bears something edible. The sewage of towns is utilised, and causes crops
+to spring forth; every scrap of refuse manures a garden. The Chinese have
+attained that ideal agriculture which puts the greatest amount into the
+soil, takes the greatest amount out of it, and absolutely wastes nothing.
+The picture is certainly charming.
+
+There are, however, a few considerations on the other side. The question
+arises whether our labourers would enjoy a plump rat for supper? The
+question also arises why the Six Companies are engaged in transhipping
+Chinese labour from China to America? In California the Chinese work at a
+rate of wages absolutely impossible to the white man--hence the Chinese
+difficulty there. In Queensland a similar thing is going on. Crowds of
+Chinese enter, or have entered, the country eager for work. If the
+agriculture of China is so perfect; if the sewage is utilised; if every
+man has his plot; if the population cannot possibly become too great, why
+on earth are the Chinese labourers so anxious to get to America or
+Australia, and to take the white man's wages? And is that system of
+agriculture so perfect? It is not long since the Chinese Ambassador
+formally conveyed the thanks of his countrymen for the generous assistance
+forwarded from England during the late fearful famine in China. The
+starvation of multitudes of wretched human beings is a ghastly comment
+upon this ideal agriculture. The Chinese yellow spectre has even
+threatened England; hints have been heard of importing Chinese into this
+country to take that silver and gold which our own men disdained. Those
+who desire to destroy our land system should look round them for a more
+palatable illustration than is afforded by the great Chinese problem.
+
+The truth in the matter seems to be this. A labourer does very well with a
+garden; he can do very well, too, if he has an allotment in addition,
+provided it be not too far from home. Up to a quarter of an acre--in some
+cases half an acre--it answers, because he can cultivate it at odd times,
+and so receive his weekly wages without interruption. But when the plot
+exceeds what he can cultivate in this way--when he has to give whole weeks
+to it--then, of course, he forfeits the cash every Saturday night, and
+soon begins to lose ground. The original garden of moderate size yielded
+very highly in proportion to its extent, because of the amount of labour
+expended on it, and because it was well manured. But three or four acres,
+to yield in like degree, require an amount of manure which it is quite out
+of a labourer's power to purchase; and he cannot keep live stock to
+produce it. Neither can he pay men to work for him consequently, instead
+of being more highly cultivated than the large farms, such plots would not
+be kept so clean and free from weeds, or be so well manured and deeply
+ploughed as the fields of the regular agriculturist.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+
+LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES. THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+
+The altered tone of the labouring population has caused the position of
+the landlord, especially if resident, to be one of considerable
+difficulty. Something like diplomatic tact is necessary in dealing with
+the social and political problems which now press themselves upon the
+country gentleman. Forces are at work which are constantly endeavouring to
+upset the village equilibrium, and it is quite in vain to ignore their
+existence. However honestly he may desire peace and goodwill to reign, it
+is impossible for a man to escape the influence of his own wealth and
+property. These compel him to be a sort of centre around which everything
+revolves. His duties extend far beyond the set, formal lines--the easy
+groove of old times--and are concerned with matters which were once
+thought the exclusive domain of the statesman or the philosopher.
+
+The growth of a public opinion among the rural population is a great fact
+which cannot be overlooked. Some analogy may be traced between the awaking
+of a large class, hitherto almost silent, and the strange new developments
+which occur in the freshly-settled territories of the United States.
+There, all kinds of social experiments are pushed to the extreme
+characteristic of American energy. A Salt Lake City and civilised
+polygamy, and a variety of small communities endeavouring to work out new
+theories of property and government, attest a frame of mind escaped from
+the control of tradition, and groping its way to the future. Nothing so
+extravagant, of course, distinguishes the movement among the agricultural
+labourers of this country. There have been strikes; indignation meetings
+held expressly for the purpose of exciting public opinion; an attempt to
+experimentalise by a kind of joint-stock farming, labourers holding
+shares; and a preaching of doctrines which savour much of Communism. There
+have been marches to London, and annual gatherings on hill tops. These are
+all within the pale of law, and outrage no social customs. But they
+proclaim a state of mind restless and unsatisfied, striving for something
+new, and not exactly knowing what.
+
+Without a vote for the most part, without an all-embracing
+organisation--for the Union is somewhat limited in extent--with few
+newspapers expressing their views, with still fewer champions in the upper
+ranks, the agricultural labourers have become in a sense a power in the
+land. It is a power that is felt rather individually than collectively--it
+affects isolated places, but these in the aggregate reach importance. This
+power presses on the landlord--the resident country gentleman--upon one
+side; upon the other, the dissatisfied tenant-farmers present a rugged
+front.
+
+As a body the tenant-farmers are loyal to their landlords--in some cases
+enthusiastically loyal. It cannot, however, be denied that this is not
+universal. There are men who, though unable to put forth a substantial
+grievance, are ceaselessly agitating. The landlord, in view of
+unfavourable seasons, remits a percentage of rent. He relaxes certain
+clauses in leases, he reduces the ground game, he shows a disposition
+to meet reasonable, and even unreasonable, demands. It is useless.
+There exists a class of tenant-farmers who are not to be satisfied
+with the removal of grievances in detail. They are animated by a
+principle--something far beyond such trifles. Unconsciously, no doubt,
+in many cases that principle approximates very nearly to the doctrine
+proclaimed in so many words by the communistic circles of cities. It
+amounts to a total abolition of the present system of land tenure. The
+dissatisfied tenant does not go so far as minute subdivisions of land
+into plots of a few acres. He pauses at the moderate and middle way which
+would make the tenant of three or four hundred acres the owner of the soil.
+In short, he would step into the landlord's place.
+
+Of course, many do not go so far as this; still there is a class of
+farmers who are for ever writing to the papers, making speeches,
+protesting, and so on, till the landlord feels that, do what he may, he
+will be severely criticised. Even if personally insulted he must betray no
+irritation, or desire to part with the tenant, lest he be accused of
+stifling opinion. Probably no man in England is so systematically
+browbeaten all round as the country gentleman. Here are two main
+divisions--one on each side--ever pressing upon him, and, besides these,
+there are other forces at work. A village, in fact, at the present day, is
+often a perfect battle-ground of struggling parties.
+
+When the smouldering labour difficulty comes to a point in any particular
+district the representatives of the labourers lose no time in illustrating
+the cottager's case by contrast with the landlord's position. He owns so
+many thousand acres, producing an income of so many thousand pounds.
+Hodge, who has just received notice of a reduction of a shilling per week,
+survives on bacon and cabbage. Most mansions have a small home farm
+attached, where, of course, some few men are employed in the direct
+service of the landlord. This home farm becomes the bone of contention.
+Here, they say, is a man with many thousands a year, who, in the midst of
+bitter wintry weather, has struck a shilling a week off the wages of his
+poor labourers. But the fact is that the landlord's representative--his
+steward--has been forced to this step by the action and opinion of the
+tenant-farmers.
+
+The argument is very cogent and clear. They say, 'We pay a rent which is
+almost as much as the land will bear; we suffer by foreign competition,
+bad seasons and so on, the market is falling, and we are compelled to
+reduce our labour expenditure. But then our workmen say that at the home
+farm the wages paid are a shilling or two higher, and therefore they will
+not accept a reduction. Now you must reduce your wages or your tenants
+must suffer.' It is like a tradesman with a large independent income
+giving his workmen high wages out of that independent income, whilst other
+tradesmen, who have only their business to rely on, are compelled by this
+example to pay more than they can afford. This is obviously an unjust and
+even cruel thing. Consequently though a landlord may possess an income of
+many thousands, he cannot, without downright injustice to his tenants, pay
+his immediate _employés_ more than those tenants find it possible to pay.
+
+Such is the simple explanation of what has been described as a piece of
+terrible tyranny. The very reduction of rent made by the landlord to the
+tenant is seized as a proof by the labourer that the farmer, having less
+now to pay, can afford to give him more money. Thus the last move of the
+labour party has been to urge the tenant-farmer to endeavour to become his
+own landlord. On the one hand, certain dissatisfied tenants have made use
+of the labour agitation to bring pressure upon the landlord to reduce
+rent, and grant this and that privilege. They have done their best, and in
+great part succeeded, in getting up a cry that rent must come down, that
+the landlord's position must be altered, and so forth. On the other hand,
+the labour party try to use the dissatisfied tenant as a fulcrum by means
+of which to bring their lever to bear upon the landlord. Both together, by
+every possible method, endeavour to enlist popular sympathy against him.
+
+There exists a party in cities who are animated by the most extraordinary
+rancour against landlords without exception--good, bad, and
+indifferent--just because they are landlords. This party welcomes the
+agitating labourer and the discontented tenant with open arms, and the
+chorus swells still louder. Now the landlords, as a body, are quite aware
+of the difficulties under which farming has been conducted of late, and
+exhibit a decided inclination to meet and assist the tenant. But it by no
+means suits the agitator to admit this; he would of the two rather the
+landlord showed an impracticable disposition, in order that there might be
+grounds for violent declamation.
+
+Fortunately there is a solid substratum of tenants whose sound common
+sense prevents them from listening to the rather enchanting cry, 'Every
+man his own landlord.' They may desire and obtain a reduction of rent, but
+they treat it as a purely business transaction, and there lies all the
+difference. They do not make the shilling an acre less the groundwork of a
+revolution; because ten per cent, is remitted at the audit they do not cry
+for confiscation. But it is characteristic of common sense to remain
+silent, as it is of extravagance to make a noise. Thus the opinion of the
+majority of tenants is not heard; but the restless minority write and
+speak; the agitating labourer, through his agent, writes and speaks, and
+the anti-landlord party in cities write and speak. A pleasant position for
+the landlord this! Anxious to meet reasonable wishes he is confronted with
+unreasonable demands, and abused all round.
+
+Besides the labour difficulty, which has been so blazed abroad as to
+obscure the rest, there are really many other questions agitating the
+village. The school erected under the Education Act, whilst it is doing
+good work, is at the same time in many cases a scene of conflict. The
+landlord can hardly remain aloof, try how he will, because his larger
+tenants are so closely interested. He has probably given the land and
+subscribed heavily--a school board has been avoided; but, of course, there
+is a committee of management, which is composed of members of every party
+and religious denomination. That is fair enough, and the actual work
+accomplished is really very good. But, if outwardly peace, it is inwardly
+contention. First, the agitating labourer is strongly of opinion that,
+besides giving the land and subscribing, and paying a large voluntary
+rate, the landlord ought to defray the annual expenses and save him the
+weekly pence. The sectarian bodies, though neutralised by their own
+divisions, are ill-affected behind their mask, and would throw it off if
+they got the opportunity. The one thing, and the one thing only, that
+keeps them quiet is the question of expense. Suppose by a united
+effort--and probably on a poll of the parish the chapel-goers in mere
+numbers would exceed the church people--they shake off the landlord and
+his party, and proceed to a school board as provided by the Act? Well,
+then they must find the annual expenses, and these must be raised by a
+rate.
+
+Now at present the cottager loudly grumbles because he is asked to
+contribute a few coppers; but suppose he were called upon to pay a heavy
+rate? Possibly he might in such a case turn round against his present
+leaders, and throw them overboard in disgust. Seeing this possibility all
+too clearly, the sectarian bodies remain quiescent. They have no real
+grievance, because their prejudices are carefully respected; but it is not
+the nature of men to prefer being governed, even to their good, to
+governing. Consequently, though no battle royal takes place, it is a
+mistake to suppose that because 'education' is now tolerably quiet there
+is universal satisfaction. Just the reverse is true, and under the surface
+there is a constant undermining process proceeding. Without any downright
+collision there is a distinct division into opposing ranks.
+
+Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of the
+gradual--in some cases the rapid--filling up of the village churchyards.
+It is melancholy to think that so solemn a subject should threaten to
+become a ground for bitter controversy; but that much animosity of feeling
+has already appeared is well known. Already many village graveyards are
+overcrowded, and it is becoming difficult to arrange for the future. From
+a practical point of view there is really but little difficulty, because
+the landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the necessary
+ground. The contention arises in another form, which it would be out of
+place to enter upon here. It will be sufficient to recall the fact that
+such a question is approaching.
+
+Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day. The prevention of
+overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the supply of
+water--these and similar matters press upon the attention of the
+authorities. Out of consideration for the pockets of the ratepayers--many
+of whom are of the poorest class--these things are perhaps rather shelved
+than pushed forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether. Every
+now and then something has to be done. Whatever takes place, of course the
+landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share of the
+burden. If the rates increase, on the one hand, the labourers complain
+that their wages are not sufficient to pay them; and, on the other, the
+tenants state that the pressure on the agriculturist is already as much as
+he can sustain. The labourer expects the landlord to relieve him; the
+tenant grumbles if he also is not relieved. Outside and beyond the
+landlord's power as the owner of the soil, as magistrate and _ex-officio_
+guardian, and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal--a
+family--influence, which at once gives him a leading position, and causes
+everything to be expected of him. He must arbitrate here, persuade there,
+compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and subscribe all round.
+
+This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very different
+matter. No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance parties, and
+preserve at least an outward peace in the parish. He has to note the
+variations of public opinion, and avoid giving offence. In his official
+capacity as magistrate the same difficulty arises. One of the most
+delicate tasks that the magistracy have had set them of recent years has
+been arbitrating between tenant and man--between, in effect, capital and
+labour. That is not, of course, the legal, but it is the true, definition.
+It is a most invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous
+justice with which the law has been administered that a watchful and
+jealous--a bitterly inimical party--ever ready, above all things, to
+attempt a sensation--have not been able to detect a magistrate giving a
+partial decision.
+
+In cases which involve a question of wages or non-fulfilment of contract
+it has often happened that a purely personal element has been introduced.
+The labourer asserts that he has been unfairly treated, that implied
+promises have been broken, perquisites withheld, and abuse lavished upon
+him. On the opposite side, the master alleges that he has been made a
+convenience--the man staying with him in winter, when his services were of
+little use, and leaving in summer; that his neglect has caused injury to
+accrue to cattle; that he has used bad language. Here is a conflict of
+class against class--feeling against feeling. The point in dispute has, of
+course, to be decided by evidence, but whichever way evidence leads the
+magistrates to pronounce their verdict, it is distasteful. If the labourer
+is victorious, he and his friends 'crow' over the farmers; and the farmer
+himself grumbles that the landlords are afraid of the men, and will never
+pronounce against them. If the reverse, the labourers cry out upon the
+partiality of the magistrates, who favour each other's tenants. In both
+cases the decision has been given according to law. But the knowledge that
+this kind of feeling exists--that he is in reality arbitrating between
+capital and labour--renders the resident landlord doubly careful what
+steps he takes at home in his private capacity. He hardly knows which way
+to turn when a question crops up, desiring, above all things, to preserve
+peace.
+
+It has been said that of late there has come into existence in the
+political world 'a power behind Parliament.' Somewhat in the same sense it
+may be said that the labourer has become a power behind the apparent
+authorities of the rural community. Whether directly, or through the
+discontented tenant, or by aid of the circles in cities who hold advanced
+views, the labourer brings a pressure to bear upon almost every aspect of
+country life. That pressure is not sufficient to break in pieces the
+existing order of things; but it is sufficient to cause an unpleasant
+tension. Should it increase, much of the peculiar attraction of country
+life will be destroyed. Even hunting, which it would have been thought
+every individual son of the soil would stand up for, is not allowed to
+continue unchallenged. Displays of a most disagreeable spirit must be
+fresh in the memories of all; and such instances have shown a disposition
+to multiply. Besides the more public difficulties, there are also social
+ones which beset the landowner. It is true that all of these do not
+originate with the labourer, or even concern him, but he it dragged into
+them to suit the convenience of others. 'Coquetting with a vote' is an art
+tolerably well understood in these days; the labourer has not got a
+nominal vote, yet he is the 'power behind,' and may be utilised.
+
+There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be ignored,
+and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy. This energy is
+exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon ecclesiastical
+questions, and concerns an inquiry into the position, of the labourer,
+because for the most part it is directed towards practical objects. It
+shows itself in matters that have no direct bearing upon the Church, but
+are connected with the everyday life of the people. It finds work to do
+outside the precincts of the Church--beyond the walls of the building.
+This work is of a nature that continually increases, and as it extends
+becomes more laborious.
+
+The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and repose.
+Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant shade, and in winter
+the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the noisy winds. Upon the one
+side the green meadows go down to the brook, upon the other the cornfields
+stretch away to the hills. Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside
+the hedge, where the wild flowers bloom--flowers to be lovingly studied,
+food for many a day-dream. The village is out of sight in the hollow--all
+is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark that drops from the sky.
+The house is old, very old; the tiles dull coloured, the walls grey, the
+calm dignity of age clings to it.
+
+A place surely this for reverie--the abode of thought. But the man within
+is busy--full of action. The edge of the great questions of the day has
+reached the village, and he must be up and doing. He does not, indeed,
+lift the latch of the cottage or the farmhouse door indiscreetly--not
+unless aware that his presence will not be resented. He is anxious to
+avoid irritating individual susceptibilities. But wherever people are
+gathered together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may
+go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand makes
+it felt that he is there. He does not remain a passive spectator in the
+background, but comes as prominently to the front as is compatible with
+due courtesy.
+
+When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town, and the
+farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber, he appears in
+the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from the chair. If the
+discussion be purely technical he says nothing; if it touch, as it
+frequently does, upon social topics, such as those that arise out of
+education, of the labour question, of the position of the farmer apart
+from the mere ploughing and sowing, then he delivers his opinion. When the
+local agricultural exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held
+he sits at the social board, and presently makes his speech. The village
+benefit club holds its fête--he is there too, perhaps presiding at the
+dinner, and addresses the assembled men. He takes part in the organisation
+of the cottage flower show; exerts himself earnestly about the allotments
+and the winter coal club, and endeavours to provide the younger people
+with amusements that do not lead to evil--supporting cricket and such
+games as may be played apart from gambling and liquor.
+
+This is but the barest catalogue of his work; there is nothing that
+arises, no part of the life of the village and the country side, to which
+he does not set his hand. All this is apart from abstract theology.
+Religion, of course, is in his heart; but he does not carry a list of
+dogmas in his hand, rather keeping his own peculiar office in the
+background, knowing that many of those with whom he mingles are members of
+various sects. He is simply preaching the practical Christianity of
+brotherhood and goodwill. It is a work that can never be finished, and
+that is ever extending. His leading idea is not to check the inevitable
+motion of the age, but to lone it.
+
+He is not permitted to pursue this course unmolested; there are parties in
+the village that silently oppose his every footstep. If the battle were
+open it would be easier to win it, but it is concealed. The Church is not
+often denounced from the housetop, but it is certainly denounced under the
+roof. The poor and ignorant are instructed that the Church is their
+greatest enemy, the upholder of tyranny, the instrument of their
+subjection, synonymous with lowered wages and privation, more iniquitous
+than the landowner. The clergyman is a Protestant Jesuit--a man of deepest
+guile. The coal club, the cricket, the flower show, the allotments, the
+village _fête_, everything in which he has a hand is simply an effort to
+win the good will of the populace, to keep them quiet, lest they arise and
+overthrow the property of the Church. The poor man has but a few shillings
+a week, and the clergyman is the friend of the farmer, who reduces his
+wages--the Church owns millions and millions sterling. How self-evident,
+therefore, that the Church is the cottager's enemy!
+
+See, too, how he is beautifying that church, restoring it, making it light
+and pleasant to those who resort to it; see how he causes sweeter music
+and singing, and puts new life into the service. This a lesson learnt from
+the City of the Seven Hills--this is the mark of the Beast. But the
+ultimate aim may be traced to the same base motive--the preservation of
+that enormous property.
+
+Another party is for pure secularism. This is not so numerously
+represented, but has increased of recent years. From political motives
+both of these silently oppose him. Nor are the poor and ignorant alone
+among the ranks of his foes. There are some tenant-farmers among them, but
+their attitude is not so coarsely antagonistic. They take no action
+against, but they do not assist, him. So that, although, as he goes about
+the parish, he is not greeted with hisses, the clergyman is full well
+aware that his activity is a thorn in the side of many. They once
+reproached him with a too prolonged reverie in the seclusion of the
+parsonage; now they would gladly thrust him back again.
+
+It may be urged, too, that all his efforts have not produced much visible
+effect. The pews are no more crowded than formerly; in some cases the
+absence of visible effect is said to be extremely disheartening. But the
+fact is that it is yet early to expect much; neither must it be expected
+in that direction. It is almost the first principle of science that
+reaction is equal to action; it may be safely assumed, then, that after
+awhile these labours will bear fruit. The tone of the rising generation
+must perforce be softened and modified by them.
+
+There exists at the present day a class that is morally apathetic. In
+every village, in every hamlet, every detached group of cottages, there
+are numbers of labouring men who are simply indifferent to church and to
+chapel alike. They neither deny nor affirm the primary truths taught in
+all places of worship; they are simply indifferent. Sunday comes and sees
+them lounging about the cottage door. They do not drink to excess, they
+are not more given to swearing than others, they are equally honest, and
+are not of ill-repute. But the moral sense seems extinct--the very idea of
+anything beyond gross earthly advantages never occurs to them. The days go
+past, the wages are paid, the food is eaten, and there is all.
+
+Looking at it from the purely philosophic point of view there is something
+sad in this dull apathy. The most pronounced materialist has a faith in
+some form of beauty--matter itself is capable of ideal shapes in his
+conception. These people know no ideal. It seems impossible to reach them,
+because there is no chord that will respond to the most skilful touch.
+This class is very numerous now--a disheartening fact. Yet perhaps the
+activity and energy of the clergyman may be ultimately destined to find
+its reaction, to produce its effect among these very people. They may
+slowly learn to appreciate tangible, practical work, though utterly
+insensible to direct moral teaching and the finest eloquence of the
+pulpit. Finding by degrees that he is really endeavouring to improve their
+material existence, they may in time awake to a sense of something higher.
+
+What is wanted is a perception of the truth that progress and civilisation
+ought not to end with mere material--mechanical--comfort or wealth. A
+cottager ought to learn that when the highest wages of the best paid
+artisan are readied it is _not_ the greatest privilege of the man to throw
+mutton chops to dogs and make piles of empty champagne bottles. It might
+almost be said that one cause of the former extravagance and the recent
+distress and turbulence of the working classes is the absence of an ideal
+from their minds.
+
+Besides this moral apathy, the cottager too often assumes an attitude
+distinctly antagonistic to every species of authority, and particularly to
+that _prestige_ hitherto attached to property. Each man is a law to
+himself, and does that which seems good in his own eyes. He does not pause
+to ask himself, What will my neighbour think of this? He simply thinks of
+no one but himself, takes counsel of no one, and cares not what the result
+may be. It is the same in little things as great. Respect for authority is
+extinct. The modern progressive cottager is perfectly certain that he
+knows as much as his immediate employer, the squire, and the parson put
+together with the experience of the world at their back. He is now the
+judge--the infallible authority himself. He is wiser far than all the
+learned and the thoughtful, wiser than the prophets themselves. Priest,
+politician, and philosopher must bow their heads and listen to the dictum
+of the ploughman.
+
+This feeling shows itself most strikingly in the disregard of property.
+There used to be a certain tacit agreement among all men that those who
+possessed capital, rank, or reputation should be treated with courtesy.
+That courtesy did not imply that the landowner, the capitalist, or the
+minister of religion, was necessarily in himself superior. But it did
+imply that those who administered property really represented the general
+order in which all were interested. So in a court of justice, all who
+enter remove their hats, not out of servile adulation of the person in
+authority, but from respect for the majesty of the law, which it is every
+individual's interest to uphold. But now, metaphorically speaking, the
+labourer removes his hat for no man. Whether in the case of a manufacturer
+or of a tenant of a thousand-acre farm the thing is the same. The cottager
+can scarcely nod his employer a common greeting in the morning. Courtesy
+is no longer practised. The idea in the man's mind appears to be to
+express contempt for big employer's property. It is an unpleasant symptom.
+
+At present it is not, however, an active, but a passive force; a moral
+_vis inertiae_. Here again the clergyman meets with a cold rebuff. No
+eloquence, persuasion, personal influence even, can produce more than a
+passing impression. But here again, perhaps, his practical activity may
+bring about its reaction. In time the cottager will be compelled to admit
+that, at least, coal club, benefit society, cricket, allotment, &c., have
+done him no harm. In time he may even see that property and authority are
+not always entirely selfish--that they may do good, and be worthy, at all
+events, of courteous acknowledgment.
+
+These two characteristics, moral apathy and contempt of property--i.e., of
+social order--are probably exercising considerable influence in shaping
+the labourer's future. Free of mental restraint, his own will must work
+its way for good or evil. It is true that the rise or fall of wages may
+check or hasten the development of that future. In either case it is not,
+however, probable that he will return to the old grooves; indeed, the
+grooves themselves are gone, and the logic of events must force him to
+move onwards. That motion, in its turn, must affect the rest of the
+community. Let the mind's eye glance for a moment over the country at
+large. The villages among the hills, the villages on the plains, in the
+valleys, and beside the streams represent in the aggregate an enormous
+power. Separately such hamlets seem small and feeble--unable to impress
+their will upon the world. But together they contain a vast crowd, which,
+united, may shoulder itself an irresistible course, pushing aside all
+obstacles by mere physical weight.
+
+The effect of education has been, and seems likely to be, to supply a
+certain unity of thought, if not of action, among these people. The solid
+common sense--the law-abiding character of the majority--is sufficient
+security against any violent movement. But how important it becomes that
+that common sense should be strengthened against the assaults of an
+insidious Socialism! A man's education does not come to an end when he
+leaves school. He then just begins to form his opinions, and in nine cases
+out of ten thinks what he hears and what he reads. Here, in the
+agricultural labourer class, are many hundred thousand young men exactly
+in this stage, educating themselves in moral, social, and political
+opinion.
+
+In short, the future literature of the labourer becomes a serious
+question. He will think what he reads; and what he reads at the present
+moment is of anything but an elevating character. He will think, too, what
+he hears; and he hears much of an enticing but subversive political creed,
+and little of any other. There are busy tongues earnestly teaching him to
+despise property and social order, to suggest the overthrow of existing
+institutions; there is scarcely any one to instruct him in the true lesson
+of history. Who calls together an audience of agricultural labourers to
+explain to and interest them in the story of their own country? There are
+many who are only too anxious to use the agricultural labourer as the
+means to effect ends which he scarcely understands. But there are few,
+indeed, who are anxious to instruct him in science or literature for his
+own sake.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+
+A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+
+The aspect of a corn-growing district in the colder months is perhaps more
+dreary than that of any other country scene. It is winter made visible.
+The very houses at the edge of the village stand out harsh and angular,
+especially if modern and slated, for the old thatched cottages are not
+without a curve in the line of the eaves. No trees or bushes shelter them
+from the bitter wind that rushes across the plain, and, because of the
+absence of trees round the outskirts, the village may be seen from a great
+distance.
+
+The wayfarer, as he approaches along the interminable road, that now rises
+over a hill and now descends into a valley, observes it from afar, his
+view uninterrupted by wood, but the vastness of the plain seems to shorten
+his step, so that he barely gains on the receding roofs. The hedges by the
+road are cropped--cut down mercilessly--and do not afford the slightest
+protection against wind, or rain, or sleet. If he would pause awhile to
+rest his weary limbs no friendly bush keeps off the chilling blast.
+Yonder, half a mile in front, a waggon creeps up the hill, always just so
+much ahead, never overtaken, or seeming to alter its position, whether he
+walks slow or fast. The only apparent inhabitants of the solitude are the
+larks that every now and then cross the road in small flocks. Above, the
+sky is dull and gloomy; beneath, the earth, except, where some snow
+lingers, is of a still darker tint. On the northern side the low mounds
+are white with snow here and there. Mile after mile the open level fields
+extend on either hand; now brown from the late passage of the plough, now
+a pale yellow where the short stubble yet remains, divided by black lines;
+the low-cropped hedges bare of leaves. A few small fir copses are
+scattered about, the only relief to the eye; all else is level, dull,
+monotonous.
+
+When the village is reached at last, it is found to be of considerable
+size. The population is much greater than might have been anticipated from
+the desert-like solitude surrounding the place. In actual numbers, of
+course, it will not bear comparison with manufacturing districts, but for
+its situation, it is quite a little town. Compared with the villages
+situate in the midst of great pastures--where grass is the all-important
+crop--it is really populous. Almost all the inhabitants find employment in
+the fields around, helping to produce wheat and barley, oats and roots. It
+is a little city of the staff of life--a metropolis of the plough.
+
+Every single house, from that of the landowner, through the rent; that of
+the clergyman, through the tithe--down to the humblest cottage, is
+directly interested in the crop of corn. The very children playing about
+the gaps in the hedges are interested in it, for can they not go gleaning?
+If the heralds had given the place a coat of arms it should bear a sheaf
+of wheat. And the reason of its comparative populousness is to be found in
+the wheat also. For the stubborn earth will not yield its riches without
+severe and sustained labour. Instead of tickling it with a hoe, and
+watching the golden harvest leap forth, scarifier and plough, harrow and
+drill in almost ceaseless succession, compel the clods by sheer force of
+iron to deliver up their treasure. In another form it is almost like the
+quartz-crushing at the gold mines--the ore ground out from the solid rock.
+And here, in addition, the ore has to be put into the rock first in the
+shape of manure.
+
+All this labour requires hands to do it, and so--the supply for some time,
+at all events, answering the demand--the village teemed with men. In the
+autumn comes the ploughing, the couch-picking and burning, often second
+ploughing, the sowing by drill or hand, the threshing, &c. In the spring
+will come more ploughing, sowing, harrowing, hoeing. Modern agriculture
+has increased the labour done in the fields. Crops are arranged to succeed
+crops, and each of these necessitates labour, and labour a second and a
+third time. The work on arable land is never finished. A slackness there
+is in the dead of winter; but even then there is still something
+doing--some draining, some trimming of hedges, carting manure for open
+field work. But beyond this there are the sheep in the pens to be attended
+to as the important time of lambing approaches, and there are the horned
+cattle in the stalls still fattening, and leaving, as they reach maturity,
+for the butcher.
+
+The arable agriculturist, indeed, has a double weight upon his mind. He
+has money invested in the soil itself, seed lying awaiting the genial warm
+rain that shall cause it to germinate, capital in every furrow traced by
+the plough. He has money, on the other hand, in his stock, sheep, and
+cattle. A double anxiety is his; first that his crops may prosper, next
+that his stock may flourish. He requires men to labour in the field, men
+to attend to the sheep, men to feed the bullocks; a crowd of labourers are
+supported by him, with their wives and families. In addition to these he
+needs other labour--the inanimate assistance of the steam-engine, and the
+semi-intelligent co-operation of the horse. These, again, must be directed
+by men. Thus it is that the corn village has become populous.
+
+The original idea was that the introduction of machinery would reduce all
+this labour. In point of fact, it has, if anything, increased it. The
+steam-plough will not work itself; each of the two engines requires two
+men to attend to it; one, and often two, ride on the plough itself;
+another goes with the water-cart to feed the boiler: others with the
+waggon for coal. The drill must have men--and experienced men--with it,
+besides horses to draw it, and these again want men The threshing-machine
+employs quite a little troop to feed it; and, turning to the stock in the
+stalls, roots will not pulp or slice themselves, nor will water pump
+itself up into the troughs, nor chaff cut itself. The chaff-cutter and
+pump, and so on, all depend on human hands to keep them going. Such is but
+a very brief outline of the innumerable ways in which arable agriculture
+gives employment. So the labourer and the labourer's family flourish
+exceedingly in the corn tillage. Wages rise; he waxes fat and strong and
+masterful, thinking that he holds the farmer and the golden grain in the
+hollow of his hand.
+
+But now a cloud arises and casts its shadow over the cottage. If the
+farmer depends upon his men, so do the men in equal degree depend upon the
+farmer. This they overlooked, but are now learning again. The farmer, too,
+is not independent and self-sustained, but is at the mercy of many
+masters. The weather and the seasons are one master; the foreign producer
+is another; the markets, which are further influenced by the condition of
+trade at large, form a third master. He is, indeed, very much more in the
+position of a servant than his labourer. Of late almost all these masters
+have combined against the corn-growing farmer. Wheat is not only low but
+seems likely to remain so. Foreign meat also competes with the dearly-made
+meat of the stalls. The markets are dull and trade depressed everywhere.
+Finally a fresh master starts up in the shape of the labourer himself, and
+demands higher wages.
+
+For some length of time the corn-grower puts a courageous face on the
+difficulties which beset him, and struggles on, hoping for better days.
+After awhile, however, seeing that his capital is diminishing, because he
+has been, as it were, eating it, seeing that there is no prospect of
+immediate relief, whatever may happen in the future, he is driven to one
+of two courses. He must quit the occupation or he must reduce his
+expenditure. He must not only ask the labourer to accept a reduction, but
+he must, wherever practicable, avoid employing labour at all.
+
+Now comes the pressure on the corn village. Much but not all of that
+pressure the inhabitants have brought upon themselves through endeavouring
+to squeeze the farmer too closely. If there had been no labour
+organisation whatever when the arable agriculturist began to suffer, as he
+undoubtedly has been suffering, the labourer must have felt it in his
+turn. He has himself to blame if he has made the pain more acute. He finds
+it in this way. Throughout the corn-producing district there has been
+proceeding a gradual shrinkage, as it were, of speculative investment.
+Where an agriculturist would have ploughed deeper, and placed extra
+quantities of manure in the soil, with a view to an extra crop, he has,
+instead, only just ploughed and cleaned and manured enough to keep things
+going. Where he would have enlarged his flock of sheep, or added to the
+cattle in the stalls, and carried as much stock as he possibly could, he
+has barely filled the stalls, and bought but just enough cake and foods.
+Just enough, indeed, of late has been his watchword all through--just
+enough labour and no more.
+
+This cutting down, stinting, and economy everywhere has told upon the
+population of the village. The difference in the expenditure upon a
+solitary farm may be but a trifle--a few pounds; but when some score or
+more farms are taken, in the aggregate the decrease in the cash
+transferred from the pocket of the agriculturist to that of the labourer
+becomes something considerable. The same percentage on a hundred farms
+would amount to a large sum. In this manner the fact of the corn-producing
+farmer being out of spirits with his profession reacts upon the corn
+village. There is no positive distress, but there is just a sense that
+there are more hands about than necessary. Yet at the same moment there
+are not hands enough; a paradox which may be explained in a measure by the
+introduction of machinery.
+
+As already stated, machinery in the field does not reduce the number of
+men employed. But they are employed in a different way. The work all comes
+now in rushes. By the aid of the reaping machine acres are levelled in a
+day, and the cut corn demands the services of a crowd of men and women all
+at once, to tie it up in sheaves. Should the self-binders come into
+general use, and tie the wheat with wire or string at the moment of
+cutting it, the matter of labour will be left much in the same stage. A
+crowd of workpeople will be required all at once to pick up the sheaves,
+or to cart them to the rick; and the difference will lie in this, that
+while now the crowd are employed, say twelve hours, then they will be
+employed only nine. Just the same number--perhaps more--but for less time.
+Under the old system, a dozen men worked all the winter through, hammering
+away with their flails in the barns. Now the threshing-machine arrives,
+and the ricks are threshed in a few days. As many men are wanted (and at
+double the wages) to feed the machine, to tend the 'elevator' carrying up
+the straw to make the straw rick, to fetch water and coal for the engine,
+to drive it, &c. But instead of working for so many months, this rush
+lasts as many days.
+
+Much the same thing happens all throughout arable agriculture--from the
+hoeing to the threshing--a troop are wanted one day, scarcely anybody the
+next. There is, of course, a steady undercurrent of continuous work for a
+certain fixed number of hands; but over and above this are the periodical
+calls for extra labour, which of recent years, from the high wages paid,
+have been so profitable to the labourers. But when the agriculturist draws
+in his investments, when he retrenches his expenditure, and endeavours, as
+far as practicable, to confine it to his regular men, then the
+intermittent character of the extra work puts a strain upon the rest. They
+do not find so much to do, the pay is insensibly decreasing, and they
+obtain, less casual employment meantime.
+
+In the olden times a succession of bad harvests caused sufferings
+throughout the whole of England. Somewhat in like manner, though in a
+greatly modified degree, the difficulties of the arable agriculturist at
+the present day press upon the corn villages. In a time when the
+inhabitants saw the farmers, as they believed, flourishing and even
+treading on the heels of the squire, the corn villagers, thinking that the
+farmer was absolutely dependent upon them, led the van of the agitation
+for high wages. Now, when the force of circumstances has compressed wages
+again, they are both to submit. But discovering by slow degrees that no
+organisation can compel, or create a demand for labour at any price, there
+are now signs on the one hand of acquiescence, and on the other of partial
+emigration.
+
+Thus the comparative density of the population in arable districts is at
+once a blessing and a trouble. It is not the 'pranks' of the farmers that
+have caused emigration, or threats of it. The farmer is unable to pay high
+wages, the men will not accept a moderate reduction, and the idle crowd,
+in effect, tread on each other's heels. Pressure of that kind, and to that
+extent, is limited to a few localities only. The majority have sufficient
+common sense to see their error. But it is in arable districts that
+agitation takes its extreme form. The very number of the population gives
+any movement a vigour and emphasis that is wanting where there may be as
+much discontent but fewer to exhibit it. That populousness has been in the
+past of the greatest assistance to the agriculturist, and there is no
+reason why it should not be so in the future, for it does not by any means
+follow that because agriculture is at present depressed it will always be
+so.
+
+Let the months roll by and then approach the same village along the same
+road under the summer sun. The hedges, though low, are green, and bear the
+beautiful flowers of the wild convolvulus. Trees that were scarcely
+observed before, because bare of leaves, now appear, and crowds of birds,
+finches and sparrows, fly up from the corn. The black swifts wheel
+overhead, and the white-breasted swallows float in the azure. Over the
+broad plain extends a still broader roof of the purest blue--the landscape
+is so open that the sky seems as broad again as in the enclosed
+countries--wide, limitless, very much as it does at sea. On the rising
+ground pause a moment and look round. Wheat and barley and oats stretch
+mile after mile on either hand. Here the red wheat tinges the view, there
+the whiter barley; but the prevailing hue is a light gold. Yonder green is
+the swede, or turnip, or mangold; but frequent as are the fields of roots,
+the golden tint overpowers the green. A golden sun looks down upon the
+golden wheat--the winds are still and the heat broods over the corn. It is
+pleasant to get under the scanty shadow of the stunted ash. Think what
+wealth all that glorious beauty represents. Wealth to the rich man, wealth
+to the poor.
+
+Come again in a few weeks' time and look down upon it. The swarthy reapers
+are at work. They bend to their labour till the tall corn overtops their
+heads. Every now and then they rise up, and stand breast high among the
+wheat. Every field is full of them, men and women, young lads and girls,
+busy as they may be. Yonder the reaping-machine, with its strange-looking
+arms revolving like the vast claws of an unearthly monster beating down
+the grain, goes rapidly round and round in an ever-narrowing circle till
+the last ears fall. A crowd has pounced upon the cut corn. Behind
+them--behind the reapers--everywhere abroad on the great plain rises an
+army, regiment behind regiment, the sheaves stacked in regular ranks down
+the fields. Yet a little while, and over that immense expanse not one
+single, solitary straw will be left standing. Then the green roots show
+more strongly, and tint the landscape. Next come the waggons, and after
+that the children searching for stray ears of wheat, for not one must be
+left behind. After that, in the ploughing time, while yet the sun shines
+warm, it is a sight to watch the teams from under the same ash tree,
+returning from their labour in the afternoon. Six horses here, eight
+horses there, twelve yonder, four far away; all in single file, slowly
+walking home, and needing no order or touch of whip to direct their steps
+to the well-known stables.
+
+If any wish to see the work of farming in its full flush and vigour, let
+them visit a corn district at the harvest time. Down in the village there
+scarcely any one is left at home; every man, woman, and child is out in
+the field. It is the day of prosperity, of continuous work for all, of
+high wages. It is, then, easy to understand why corn villages are
+populous. One cannot but feel the strongest sympathy with these men. The
+scene altogether seems so thoroughly, so intensely English. The spirit of
+it enters into the spectator, and he feels that he, too, must try his hand
+at the reaping, and then slake his thirst from the same cup with these
+bronzed sons of toil.
+
+Yet what a difficult problem lies underneath all this! While the reaper
+yonder slashes at the straw, huge ships are on the ocean rushing through
+the foam to bring grain to the great cities to whom--and to all--cheap
+bread is so inestimable a blessing. Very likely, when he pauses in his
+work, and takes his luncheon, the crust he eats is made of flour ground
+out of grain that grew in far distant Minnesota, or some vast Western
+State. Perhaps at the same moment the farmer himself sits at his desk and
+adds up figure after figure, calculating the cost of production, the
+expenditure on labour, the price of manure put into the soil, the capital
+invested in the steam-plough, and the cost of feeding the bullocks that
+are already intended for the next Christmas. Against these he places the
+market price of that wheat he can see being reaped from his window, and
+the price he receives for his fattened bullock. Then a vision rises before
+him of green meads and broad pastures slowly supplanting the corn; the
+plough put away, and the scythe brought out and sharpened. If so, where
+then will be the crowd of men and women yonder working in the wheat? Is
+not this a great problem, one to be pondered over and not hastily
+dismissed?
+
+Logical conclusions do not always come to pass in practice; even yet there
+is plenty of time for a change which shall retain these stalwart reapers
+amongst us, the strength and pride of the land. But if so, it is certain
+that it must be preceded by some earnest on their part of a desire to
+remove that last straw from the farmer's back--the last straw of
+extravagant labour demands--which have slowly been dragging him down. They
+have been doing their very best to bring about the substitution of grass
+for corn. And the farmer, too, perhaps, must look at home, and be content
+to live in simpler fashion. To do so will certainly require no little
+moral courage, for a prevalent social custom, like that of living fully up
+to the income (not solely characteristic of farmers), is with difficulty
+faced and overcome.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+
+GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+
+On the ground beside the bramble bushes that project into the field the
+grass is white with hoar frost at noon-day, when the rest of the meadow
+has resumed its dull green winter tint. Behind the copse, too, there is a
+broad belt of white--every place, indeed, that would be in the shadow were
+the sun to shine forth is of that colour.
+
+The eager hunter frowns with impatience, knowing that though the eaves of
+the house may drip in the middle of the day, yet, while those white
+patches show in the shelter of the bramble bushes the earth will be hard
+and unyielding. His horse may clear the hedge, but how about the landing
+on that iron-like surface? Every old hoof-mark in the sward, cut out sharp
+and clear as if with a steel die, is so firm that the heaviest roller
+would not produce the smallest effect upon it. At the gateways where the
+passage of cattle has trodden away the turf, the mud, once almost
+impassable, is now hardened, and every cloven hoof that pressed it has
+left its mark as if cast in metal. Along the furrows the ice has fallen
+in, and lies on the slope white and broken, the shallow water having dried
+away beneath it. Dark hedges, dark trees--in the distance they look almost
+black--nearer at hand the smallest branches devoid of leaves are clearly
+defined against the sky.
+
+As the northerly wind drifts the clouds before it the sun shines down, and
+the dead, dry grass and the innumerable tufts of the 'leaze' which the
+cattle have not eaten, take a dull grey hue. Sheltered from the blast
+behind the thick, high hawthorn hedge and double mound, which is like a
+rampart reared against Boreas, it is pleasant even now to stroll to and
+fro in the sunshine. The longtailed titmice come along in parties of six
+or eight, calling to each other as in turn they visit every tree. Turning
+from watching these--see, a redbreast has perched on a branch barely two
+yards distant, for, wherever you may be, there the robin comes and watches
+you. Whether looking in summer at the roses in the garden, or waiting in
+winter for the pheasant to break cover or the fox to steal forth, go where
+you will, in a minute or two, a redbreast appears intent on your
+proceedings.
+
+Now comes a discordant squeaking of iron axles that have not been greased,
+and the jolting sound of wheels passing over ruts whose edges are hard and
+frost-bound. From the lane two manure carts enter the meadow in slow
+procession, and, stopping at regular intervals, the men in charge take
+long poles with hooks at the end and drag down a certain quantity of the
+fertilising material. The sharp frost is so far an advantage to the tenant
+of meadow land that he can cart manure without cutting and poaching the
+turf, and even without changing the ordinary for the extra set of
+broad-wheels on the cart. In the next meadow the hedge-cutters are busy,
+their hands fenced with thick gloves to turn aside the thorns.
+
+Near by are the hay-ricks and cow-pen where a metallic rattling sound
+rises every now and then--the bull in the shed moving his neck and
+dragging his chain through the ring. More than one of the hay-ricks have
+been already half cut away, for the severe winter makes the cows hungry,
+and if their yield of milk is to be kept up they must be well fed, so that
+the foggers have plenty to do. If the dairy, as is most probably the case,
+sends the milk to London, they have still more, because then a regular
+supply has to be maintained, and for that a certain proportion of other
+food has to be prepared in addition to the old-fashioned hay. The new
+system, indeed, has led to the employment of more labour out-of-doors, if
+less within. An extra fogger has to be put on, not only because of the
+food, but because the milking has to be done in less time--with a
+despatch, indeed, that would have seemed unnatural to the old folk.
+Besides which the milk carts to and fro the railway station require
+drivers, whose time--as they have to go some miles twice a day--is pretty
+nearly occupied with their horses and milk tins. So much is this the case
+that even in summer they can scarcely be spared to do a few hours
+haymaking.
+
+The new system, therefore, of selling the milk instead of making butter
+and cheese is advantageous to the labourer by affording more employment in
+grass districts. It is steady work, too, lasting the entire year round,
+and well paid. The stock of cows in such cases is kept up to the very
+highest that the land will carry, which, again, gives more work. Although
+the closing of the cheese lofts and the superannuation of the churn has
+reduced the number of female servants in the house, yet that is more than
+balanced by the extra work without. The cottage families, it is true, lose
+the buttermilk which some farmers used to allow them; but wages are
+certainly better.
+
+There has been, in fact, a general stir and movement in dairy districts
+since the milk selling commenced, which has been favourable to labour. A
+renewed life and energy has been visible on farms where for generations
+things had gone on in the same sleepy manner. Efforts have been made to
+extend the area available for feeding by grubbing hedges and cultivating
+pieces of ground hitherto given over to thistles, rushes, and rough
+grasses. Drains have been put in so that the stagnant water in the soil
+might not cause the growth of those grasses which cattle will not touch.
+Fresh seed has been sown, and 'rattles' and similar plants destructive to
+the hay crop have been carefully eradicated. New gales, new carts, and
+traps, all exhibit the same movement.
+
+The cowyards in many districts were formerly in a very dilapidated
+condition. The thatch of the sheds was all worn away, mossgrown, and bored
+by the sparrows. Those in which the cows were placed at calving time were
+mere dark holes. The floor of the yard was often soft, so that the hoofs
+of the cattle trod deep into it--a perfect slough in wet weather. The cows
+themselves were of a poor character, and in truth as poorly treated, for
+the hay was made badly--carelessly harvested, and the grass itself not of
+good quality--nor were the men always very humane, thinking little of
+knocking the animals about.
+
+Quite a change has come over all this. The cows now kept are much too
+valuable to be treated roughly, being selected from shorthorn strains that
+yield large quantities of milk. No farmer now would allow any such
+knocking about. The hay itself is better, because the grass has been
+improved, and it is also harvested carefully. Rickcloths prevent rain from
+spoiling the rising rick, mowing machines, haymaking machines, and horse
+rakes enable a spell of good weather to be taken advantage of, and the hay
+got in quickly, instead of lying about till the rain returns. As for the
+manure, it is recognised to be gold in another shape, and instead of being
+trodden under foot by the cattle and washed away by the rain, it is
+utilised. The yard is drained and stoned so as to be dry--a change that
+effects a saving in litter, the value of which has greatly risen. Sheds
+have been new thatched, and generally renovated, and even new roads laid
+down across the farms, and properly macadamised, in order that the milk
+carts might reach the highway without the straining and difficulty
+consequent upon wheels sinking half up to the axles in winter.
+
+In short, dairy farms have been swept and garnished, and even something
+like science introduced upon them. The thermometer in summer is in
+constant use to determine if the milk is sufficiently cooled to proceed
+upon its journey. That cooling of the milk alone is a process that
+requires more labour to carry it out. Artificial manures are spread abroad
+on the pastures. The dairy farmer has to a considerable extent awakened to
+the times, and, like the arable agriculturist, is endeavouring to bring
+modern appliances to bear upon his business. To those who recollect the
+old style of dairy farmer the change seems marvellous indeed. Nowhere was
+the farmer more backward, more rude and primitive, than on the small dairy
+farms. He was barely to be distinguished from the labourers, amongst whom
+he worked shoulder to shoulder; he spoke with their broad accent, and his
+ideas and theirs were nearly identical.
+
+In ten years' time--just a short ten years only--what an alteration has
+taken place! It is needless to say that this could not go on without the
+spending of money, and the spending of money means the benefit of the
+labouring class. New cottages have been erected, of course on modern
+plans, so that many of the men are much better lodged than they were, and
+live nearer to their work--a great consideration where cows are the main
+object of attention. The men have to be on the farm very early in the
+morning, and if they have a long walk it is a heavy drag upon them.
+Perhaps the constant intercourse with the towns and stations resulting
+from the double daily visit of the milk carts has quickened the minds of
+the labourers thus employed. Whatever may be the cause, it is certain that
+they do exhibit an improvement, and are much 'smarter' than they used to
+be. It would be untrue to say that no troubles with the labourers have
+arisen in meadow districts. There has been some friction about wages, but
+not nearly approaching the agitation elsewhere. And when a recent
+reduction of wages commenced, many of the men themselves admitted that it
+was inevitable. But the average earnings throughout the year still
+continue, and are likely to continue far above the old rate of payment.
+Where special kinds of cheese are made the position of the labourer has
+also improved.
+
+Coming to the same district in summer time, the meadows have a beauty all
+their own. The hedges are populous with birds, the trees lovely, the brook
+green with flags, the luxuriantly-growing grass decked with flowers. Nor
+has haymaking lost all its ancient charm. Though the old-fashioned sound
+of the mower sharpening his scythe is less often heard, being superseded
+by the continuous rattle of the mowing machine, yet the hay smells as
+sweetly as ever. While the mowing machine, the haymaking machine, and
+horse rake give the farmer the power of using the sunshine, when it comes,
+to the best purpose, they are not without an effect upon the labouring
+population.
+
+Just as in corn districts, machinery has not reduced the actual number of
+hands employed, but has made the work come in spells or rushes; so in the
+meadows the haymaking is shortened. The farmer waits till good weather is
+assured for a few days. Then on goes his mowing machine and levels the
+crop of an entire field in no time. Immediately a whole crowd of labourers
+are required for making the hay and getting it when ready on the waggons.
+Under the old system the mowers usually got drunk about the third day of
+sunshine, and the work came to a standstill. When it began to rain they
+recovered themselves, and slashed away vigorously--when it was not wanted.
+The effect of machinery has been much the same as on corn lands, with the
+addition that fewer women are now employed in haymaking. Those that are
+employed are much better paid.
+
+The hamlets of grass districts are not, as a rule, at all populous. There
+really are fewer people, and at the same time the impression is increased
+by the scattered position of the dwellings. Instead of a great central
+village there are three or four small hamlets a mile or two apart, and
+solitary groups of cottages near farmhouses. One result of this is, that
+allotment gardens are not so common, for the sufficient reason that, if a
+field were set apart for the purpose, the tenants of the plots would have
+to walk so far to the place that it would scarcely pay them. Gardens are
+consequently attached to most cottages, and answer the same purpose; some
+have small orchards as well.
+
+The cottagers have also more firewood than is the case in some arable
+districts on account of the immense quantity of wood annually cut in
+copses and double-mound hedges. The rougher part becomes the labourers'
+perquisite, and they can also purchase wood at a nominal rate from their
+employers. This more than compensates for the absence of gleaning. In
+addition, quantities of wood are collected from hedges and ditches and
+under the trees--dead boughs that have fallen or been broken off by a
+gale.
+
+The aspect of a grazing district presents a general resemblance to that of
+a dairy one, with the difference that in the grazing everything seems on a
+larger scale. Instead of small meadows shut in with hedges and trees, the
+grazing farms often comprise fields of immense extent; sometimes a single
+pasture is as large as a small dairy farm. The herds of cattle are also
+more numerous; of course they are of a different class, but, in mere
+numbers, a grazier often has three times as many bullocks as a dairy
+farmer has cows. The mounds are quite as thickly timbered as in dairy
+districts, but as they are much farther apart, the landscape appears more
+open.
+
+To a spectator looking down upon mile after mile of such pasture land in
+summer from an elevation it resembles a park of illimitable extent. Great
+fields after great fields roll away to the horizon--groups of trees and
+small copses dot the slopes--roan and black cattle stand in the sheltering
+shadows. A dreamy haze hangs over the distant woods--all is large, open,
+noble. It suggests a life of freedom--the gun and the saddle--and, indeed,
+it is here that hunting is enjoyed in its full perfection. The labourer
+falls almost out of sight in these vast pastures. The population is sparse
+and scattered, the hamlets are few and far apart; even many of the
+farmhouses being only occupied by bailiffs. In comparison with a dairy
+farm there is little work to do. Cows have to be milked as well as
+foddered, and the milk when obtained gives employment to many hands in the
+various processes it goes through. Here the bullocks have simply to be fed
+and watched, the sheep in like manner have to be tended. Except in the
+haymaking season, therefore, there is scarcely ever a press for labour.
+Those who are employed have steady, continuous work the year through, and
+are for the most part men of experience in attending upon cattle, as
+indeed they need be, seeing the value of the herds under their charge.
+
+Although little direct agitation has taken place in pasture countries, yet
+wages have equally risen. Pasture districts almost drop out of the labour
+dispute. On the one hand the men are few, on the other the rise of a
+shilling or so scarcely affects the farmer (so far as his grass land is
+concerned, if he has much corn as well it is different), because of the
+small number of labourers he wants.
+
+The great utility of pasture is, of course, the comparatively cheap
+production of meat, which goes to feed the population in cities. Numbers
+of bullocks are fattened on corn land in stalls, but of late it has been
+stated that the cost of feeding under such conditions is so high that
+scarcely any profit can be obtained. The pasture farmer has by no means
+escaped without encountering difficulties; but still, with tolerably
+favourable seasons, he can produce meat much more cheaply than the arable
+agriculturist. Yet it is one of the avowed objects of the labour
+organisation to prevent the increase of pasture land, to stop the laying
+down of grass, and even to plough up some of the old pastures. The reason
+given is that corn land supports so many more agricultural labourers,
+which is so far true; but if corn farming cannot be carried on profitably
+without great reduction of the labour expenses the argument is not worth
+much, while the narrowness of the view is at once evident. The proportion
+of pasture to arable land must settle itself, and be governed entirely by
+the same conditions that affect other trades--i.e.. profit and loss.
+
+It has already been pointed out that the labourer finds it possible to
+support the Union with small payments, and also to subscribe to
+benefit-clubs. The fact suggests the idea that, if facilities were
+afforded, the labourer would become a considerable depositor of pennies.
+The Post-office Savings Banks have done much good, the drawback is that
+the offices are often too distant from the labourer. There is an office in
+the village, but not half the population live in the village. There are
+far-away hamlets and things, besides lonely groups of three or four
+farmhouses, to which a collective name can hardly be given, but which
+employ a number of men. A rural parish is 'all abroad'--the people are
+scattered. To go into the Post-office in the village may involve a walk of
+several miles, and it is closed, too, on Saturday night when the men are
+flush of money.
+
+The great difficulty with penny banks on the other hand is the
+receiver--who is to be responsible for the money? The clergyman would be
+only too glad, but many will have nothing to do with anything under his
+influence simply because he is the clergyman. The estrangement that has
+been promoted between the labourer and the tenant farmer effectually shuts
+the latter out. The landlord's agent cannot reside in fifty places at
+once. The sums are too small to pay for a bank agent to reside in the
+village and go round. There remain the men themselves; and why should not
+they be trusted with the money? Men of their own class collect the Union
+subscriptions, and faithfully pay them in.
+
+Take the case of a little hamlet two, three, perhaps more miles from a
+Post-office Savings Bank, where some thirty labourers  work on the farms.
+Why should not these thirty elect one of their own number to receive their
+savings over Saturday--to be paid in by him at the Post-office? There are
+men among them who might be safely trusted with ten times the money, and
+if the Post-office cannot be opened on Saturday evenings for him to
+deposit it, it is quite certain that his employer would permit of his
+absence, on one day, sufficiently long to go to the office and back. If
+the men wish to be absolutely independent in the matter, all they have to
+do is to work an extra hour for their agent's employer, and so compensate
+for his temporary absence. If the men had it in their own hands like this
+they would enter into it with far greater interest, and it would take root
+among them. All that is required is the consent of the Post-office to
+receive moneys so deposited, and some one to broach the idea to the men in
+the various localities. The great recommendation of the Post-office is
+that the labouring classes everywhere have come to feel implicit faith in
+the safety of deposits made in it. They have a confidence in it that can
+never be attained by a private enterprise, however benevolent, and it
+should therefore be utilised to the utmost.
+
+To gentlemen accustomed to receive a regular income, a small lump sum like
+ten or twenty pounds appears a totally inadequate provision against old
+age. They institute elaborate calculations by professed accountants, to
+discover whether by any mode of investment a small subscription
+proportionate to the labourer's wages can be made to provide him with an
+annuity. The result is scarcely satisfactory. But, in fact, though an
+annuity would be, of course, preferable, even so small a sum as ten or
+twenty pounds is of the very highest value to an aged agricultural
+labourer, especially when he has a cottage, if not his own property, yet
+in which he has a right to reside. The neighbouring farmers, who have
+known him from their own boyhood, are always ready to give him light jobs
+whenever practicable. So that in tolerable weather he still earns
+something. His own children do a little for him. In the dead of the winter
+come a few weeks when he can do nothing, and feels the lack of small
+comforts. It is just then that a couple of sovereigns out of a hoard of
+twenty pounds will tide him over the interval.
+
+It is difficult to convey an idea of the value of these two extra
+sovereigns to a man of such frugal habits and in that position. None but
+those who have mixed with the agricultural poor can understand it. Now the
+wages that will hardly, by the most careful management, allow of the
+gradual purchase of an annuity, will readily permit such savings as these.
+It is simply a question of the money-box. When the child's money-box is at
+hand the penny is dropped in, and the amount accumulates; if there is no
+box handy it is spent in sweets. The same holds true of young and old
+alike. If, then, the annuity cannot be arranged, let the money-box, at all
+events, be brought nearer. And the money-box in which the poor man all
+over the country has the most faith is the Post-office.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+
+HODGE'S LAST MASTERS. CONCLUSION
+
+
+After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest, comes
+the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set and capable of
+immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength must wear away. The limbs
+totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed sight can no longer guide the plough
+in a straight furrow, nor the weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge,
+who, Atlas-like, supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world,
+comes in his old age under the dominion of his last masters at the
+workhouse. There, indeed, he finds almost the whole array of his rulers
+assembled. Tenant farmers sit as the guardians of the poor for their
+respective parishes; the clergyman and the squire by virtue of their
+office as magistrates; and the tradesman as guardian for the market town.
+Here are representatives of almost all his masters, and it may seem to him
+a little strange that it should require so many to govern such feeble
+folk.
+
+The board-room at the workhouse is a large and apparently comfortable
+apartment. The fire is piled with glowing coals, the red light from which
+gleams on the polished fender. A vast table occupies the centre, and
+around it are arranged seats, for each of the guardians. The chairman is,
+perhaps, a clergyman (and magistrate), who for years has maintained
+something like peace between discordant elements. For the board-room is
+often a battle-field where political or sectarian animosities exhibit
+themselves in a rugged way. The clergyman, by force of character, has at
+all events succeeded in moderating the personal asperity of the contending
+parties. Many of the stout, elderly farmers who sit round the table have
+been elected year after year, no one disputing with them that tedious and
+thankless office. The clerk, always a solicitor, is also present, and his
+opinion is continually required. Knotty points of law are for ever arising
+over what seems so simple a matter as the grant of a dole of bread.
+
+The business, indeed, of relieving the agricultural poor is no light
+one--a dozen or fifteen gentlemen often sit here the whole day. The
+routine of examining the relieving officers' books and receiving their
+reports takes up at least two hours. Agricultural unions often include a
+wide space of country, and getting from one village to another consumes as
+much time as would be needed for the actual relief of a much denser
+population. As a consequence, more relieving officers are employed than
+would seem at first glance necessary. Each of these has his records to
+present, and his accounts to be practically audited, a process naturally
+interspersed with inquiries respecting cottagers known to the guardians
+present.
+
+Personal applications for out-door relief are then heard. A group of
+intending applicants has been waiting in the porch for admission for some
+time. Women come for their daughters; daughters for their mothers; some
+want assistance during an approaching confinement, others ask for a small
+loan, to be repaid by instalments, with which to tide over their
+difficulties. One cottage woman is occasionally deputed by several of her
+neighbours as their representative. The labourer or his wife stands before
+the Board and makes a statement, supplemented by explanation from the
+relieving officer of the district. Another hour thus passes. Incidentally
+there arise cases of 'settlement' in distant parishes, when persons have
+become chargeable whose place of residence was recently, perhaps, half
+across the country. They have no parochial rights here and must be
+returned thither, after due inquiries made by the clerk and the exchange
+of considerable correspondence.
+
+The master of the workhouse is now called in and delivers his weekly
+report of the conduct of the inmates, and any events that have happened.
+One inmate, an ancient labourer, died that morning in the infirmary, not
+many hours before the meeting of the Board. The announcement is received
+with regretful exclamations, and there is a cessation of business for a
+few minutes. Some of the old farmers who knew the deceased recount their
+connection with him, how he worked for them, and how his family has lived
+in the parish as cottagers from time immemorial. A reminiscence of a grim
+joke that fell out forty years before, and of which the deceased was the
+butt, causes a grave smile, and then to business again. The master
+possibly asks permission to punish a refractory inmate; punishment is now
+very sparingly given in the house. A good many cases, however, come up
+from the Board to the magisterial Bench--charges of tearing up clothing,
+fighting, damaging property, or of neglecting to maintain, or to repay
+relief advanced on loan. These cases are, of course, conducted by the
+clerk.
+
+There is sometimes a report, to be read by one of the doctors who receive
+salaries from the Board and attend to the various districts, and
+occasionally some nuisance to be considered and order taken for its
+compulsory removal on sanitary grounds. The question of sanitation is
+becoming rather a difficult one in agricultural unions.
+
+After this the various committees of the Board have to give in the result
+of their deliberations, and the representative of the ladies' boarding-out
+committee presents a record of the work accomplished. These various
+committees at times are burdened with the most onerous labours, for upon
+them falls the duty of verifying all the petty details of management.
+Every pound of soap, or candles, scrubbing-brushes, and similar domestic
+items, pass under their inspection, not only the payments for them, but
+the actual articles, or samples of them, being examined. Tenders for
+grocery, bread, wines and spirits for cases of illness, meat, coals, and
+so forth are opened and compared, vouchers, bills, receipts, invoices, and
+so forth checked and audited.
+
+The amount of detail thus attended to is something immense, and the
+accuracy required occupies hour after hour. There are whole libraries of
+account-books, ledgers, red-bound relief-books, stowed away, pile upon
+pile, in the house; archives going back to the opening of the
+establishment, and from which any trifling relief given or expenditure
+inclined years ago can be extracted. Such another carefully-administered
+institution it would be hard to find; nor is any proposed innovation or
+change adopted without the fullest discussion--it may be the suggested
+erection of additional premises, or the introduction of some fresh feature
+of the system, or some novel instructions sent down by the Local
+Government Board.
+
+When such matters or principles are to be discussed there is certain to be
+a full gathering of the guardians and a trial of strength between the
+parties. Those who habitually neglect to attend, leaving the hard labour
+of administration to be borne by their colleagues, now appear in numbers,
+and the board-room is crowded, many squires otherwise seldom seen coming
+in to give their votes. It is as much as the chairman can do to assuage
+the storm and to maintain an approach to personal politeness. Quiet as the
+country appears to the casual observer, there are, nevertheless, strong
+feelings under the surface, and at such gatherings the long-cherished
+animosities burst forth.
+
+Nothing at all events is done in a corner; everything is openly discussed
+and investigated. Every week the visiting committee go round the house,
+and enter every ward and store-room. They taste and test the provisions,
+and the least shortcoming is certain to be severely brought home to those
+who are fulfilling the contracts. They pass through the dormitories, and
+see that everything is clean; woe betide those responsible if a spot of
+dirt be visible! There is the further check of casual and unexpected
+visits from the guardians or magistrates. It is probable that not one
+crumb of bread consumed is otherwise than good, and that not one single
+crumb is wasted. The waste is in the system--and a gigantic waste it is,
+whether inevitable as some contend, or capable of being superseded by a
+different plan.
+
+Of every hundred pounds paid by the ratepayers how much is absorbed in the
+maintenance of the institution and its ramifications, and how very little
+reaches poor deserving Hodge! The undeserving and mean-spirited, of whom
+there are plenty in every village, who endeavour to live upon the parish,
+receive relief thrice as long and to thrice the amount as the
+hard-working, honest labourer, who keeps out to the very last moment. It
+is not the fault of the guardians, but of the rigidity of the law. Surely
+a larger amount of discretionary power might be vested in them with
+advantage! Some exceptional consideration is the just due of men who have
+worked from the morn to the very eve of life.
+
+The labourer whose decease was reported to the Board upon their assembling
+was born some seventy-eight or seventy-nine years ago. The exact date is
+uncertain; many of the old men can only fix their age by events that
+happened when they were growing from boys into manhood. That it must have
+been nearer eighty than seventy years since is known, however, to the
+elderly farmers, who recollect him as a man with a family when they were
+young. The thatched cottage stood beside the road at one end of a long,
+narrow garden, enclosed from the highway by a hedge of elder. At the back
+there was a ditch and mound with elm-trees, and green meadows beyond. A
+few poles used to lean against the thatch, their tops rising above the
+ridge, and close by was a stack of thorn faggots. In the garden three or
+four aged and mossgrown apple-trees stood among the little plots of
+potatoes, and as many plum-trees in the elder hedge. One tall pear-tree
+with scored bark grew near the end of the cottage; it bore a large crop of
+pears, which were often admired by the people who came along the road, but
+were really hard and woody. As a child he played in the ditch and hedge,
+or crept through into the meadow and searched in the spring for violets to
+offer to the passers-by; or he swung on the gate in the lane and held it
+open for the farmers in their gigs, in hope of a halfpenny.
+
+As a lad he went forth with his father to work in the fields, and came
+home to the cabbage boiled for the evening meal. It was not a very roomy
+or commodious home to return to after so many hours in the field, exposed
+to rain and wind, to snow, or summer sun. The stones of the floor were
+uneven, and did not fit at the edges. There was a beam across the low
+ceiling, to avoid which, as he grew older, he had to bow his head when
+crossing the apartment. A wooden ladder, or steps, not a staircase proper,
+behind the whitewashed partition, led to the bedroom. The steps were
+worm-eaten and worn. In the sitting-room the narrow panes of the small
+window were so overgrown with woodbine as to admit but little light. But
+in summer the door was wide open, and the light and the soft air came in.
+The thick walls and thatch kept it warm and cosy in winter, when they
+gathered round the fire. Every day in his manhood he went out to the
+field; every item, as it were, of life centred in that little cottage. In
+time he came to occupy it with his own wife, and his children in their
+turn crept through the hedge, or swung upon the gate. They grew up, and
+one by one went away, till at last he was left alone.
+
+He had not taken much conscious note of the changing aspect of the scene
+around him. The violets flowered year after year; still he went to plough.
+The May bloomed and scented the hedges; still he went to his work. The
+green summer foliage became brown and the acorns fell from the oaks; still
+he laboured on, and saw the ice and snow, and heard the wind roar in the
+old familiar trees without much thought of it. But those old familiar
+trees, the particular hedges he had worked among so many years, the very
+turf of the meadows over which he had walked so many times, the view down
+the road from the garden gate, the distant sign-post and the red-bricked
+farmhouse--all these things had become part of his life. There was no hope
+nor joy left to him, but he wanted to stay on among them to the end. He
+liked to ridge up his little plot of potatoes; he liked to creep up his
+ladder and mend the thatch of his cottage; he liked to cut himself a
+cabbage, and to gather the one small basketful of apples. There was a kind
+of dull pleasure in cropping the elder hedge, and even in collecting the
+dead branches scattered under the trees. To be about the hedges, in the
+meadows, and along the brooks was necessary to him, and he liked to be at
+work.
+
+Three score and ten did not seem the limit of his working days; he still
+could and would hoe--a bowed back is no impediment, but perhaps rather an
+advantage, at that occupation. He could use a prong in the haymaking; he
+could reap a little, and do good service tying up the cut corn. There were
+many little jobs on the farm that required experience, combined with the
+plodding patience of age, and these he could do better than a stronger
+man. The years went round again, and yet he worked. Indeed, the farther
+back a man's birth dates in the beginning of the present century the more
+he seems determined to labour. He worked on till every member of his
+family had gone, most to their last home, and still went out at times when
+the weather was not too severe. He worked on, and pottered round the
+garden, and watched the young green plums swelling on his trees, and did a
+bit of gleaning, and thought the wheat would weigh bad when it was
+threshed out.
+
+Presently people began to bestir themselves, and to ask whether there was
+no one to take care of the old man, who might die from age and none near.
+Where were his own friends and relations? One strong son had enlisted and
+gone to India, and though his time had expired long ago, nothing had ever
+been heard of him. Another son had emigrated to Australia, and once sent
+back a present of money, and a message, written for him by a friend, that
+he was doing well. But of late, he, too, had dropped out of sight. Of
+three daughters who grew up, two were known to be dead, and the third was
+believed to be in New Zealand. The old man was quite alone. He had no hope
+and no joy, yet he was almost happy in a slow unfeeling way wandering
+about the garden and the cottage. But in the winter his half-frozen blood
+refused to circulate, his sinews would not move his willing limbs, and he
+could not work.
+
+His case came before the Board of Guardians. Those who knew all about him
+wished to give him substantial relief in his own cottage, and to appoint
+some aged woman as nurse--a thing that is occasionally done, and most
+humanely. But there were technical difficulties in the way; the cottage
+was either his own or partly his own, and relief could not be given to any
+one possessed of 'property' Just then, too, there was a great movement
+against, out-door relief; official circulars came round warning Boards to
+curtail it, and much fuss was made. In the result the old man was driven
+into the workhouse; muttering and grumbling, he had to be bodily carried
+to the trap, and thus by physical force was dragged from his home. In the
+workhouse there is of necessity a dead level of monotony--there are many
+persons but no individuals. The dining-hall is crossed with forms and
+narrow tables, somewhat resembling those formerly used in schools. On
+these at dinner-time are placed a tin mug and a tin soup-plate for each
+person; every mug and every plate exactly alike. When the unfortunates
+have taken their places, the master pronounces grace from an elevated desk
+at the end of the hall.
+
+Plain as is the fare, it was better than the old man had existed on for
+years; but though better it was not his dinner. He was not sitting in his
+old chair, at his own old table, round which his children had once
+gathered. He had not planted the cabbage, and tended it while it grew, and
+cut it himself. So it was, all through the workhouse life. The dormitories
+were clean, but the ward was not his old bedroom up the worm-eaten steps,
+with the slanting ceiling, where as he woke in the morning he could hear
+the sparrows chirping, the chaffinch calling, and the lark singing aloft.
+There was a garden attached to the workhouse, where he could do a little
+if he liked, but it was not his garden. He missed his plum-trees and
+apples, and the tall pear, and the lowly elder hedge. He looked round
+raising his head with difficulty, and he could not see the sign-post, nor
+the familiar red-bricked farmhouse. He knew all the rain that had fallen
+must have come through the thatch of the old cottage in at least one
+place, and he would have liked to have gone and rethatched it with
+trembling hand. At home he could lift the latch of the garden gate and go
+down the road when he wished. Here he could not go outside the
+boundary--it was against the regulations. Everything to appearance had
+been monotonous in the cottage--but there he did not feel it monotonous.
+
+At the workhouse the monotony weighed upon him. He used to think as he lay
+awake in bed that when the spring came nothing should keep him in this
+place. He would take his discharge and go out, and borrow a hoe from
+somebody, and go and do a bit of work again, and be about in the fields.
+That was his one hope all through his first winter. Nothing else enlivened
+it, except an occasional little present of tobacco from the guardians who
+knew him. The spring came, but the rain was ceaseless. No work of the kind
+he could do was possible in such weather. Still there was the summer, but
+the summer was no improvement; in the autumn he felt weak, and was not
+able to walk far. The chance for which he had waited had gone. Again the
+winter came, and he now rapidly grew more feeble.
+
+When once an aged man gives up, it seems strange at first that he should
+be so utterly helpless. In the infirmary the real benefit of the workhouse
+reached him. The food, the little luxuries, the attention were far
+superior to anything he could possibly have had at home. But still it was
+not home. The windows did not permit him from his bed to see the leafless
+trees or the dark woods and distant hills. Left to himself, it is certain
+that of choice he would have crawled under a rick, or into a hedge, if he
+could not have reached his cottage.
+
+The end came very slowly; he ceased to exist by imperceptible degrees,
+like an oak-tree. He remained for days in a semi-unconscious state,
+neither moving nor speaking. It happened at last. In the grey of the
+winter dawn, as the stars paled and the whitened grass was stiff with hoar
+frost, and the rime coated every branch of the tall elms, as the milker
+came from the pen and the young ploughboy whistled down the road to his
+work, the spirit of the aged man departed.
+
+What amount of production did that old man's life of labour represent?
+What value must be put upon the service of the son that fought in India;
+of the son that worked in Australia; of the daughter in New Zealand, whose
+children will help to build up a new nation? These things surely have
+their value. Hodge died, and the very grave-digger grumbled as he delved
+through the earth hard-bound in the iron frost, for it jarred his hand and
+might break his spade. The low mound will soon be level, and the place of
+his burial shall not be known.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11874 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11874 ***</div>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hodge and His Masters, by Richard Jefferies</h1>
+</pre>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr size="5" noshade>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center>
+<h2>HODGE AND HIS MASTERS</h2>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>RICHARD JEFFERIES</h2>
+<h4>AUTHOR OF<br>
+'THE GAMEKEEPER AT HOME' 'WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY' 'THE
+AMATEUR POACHER' 'ROUND ABOUT A GREAT ESTATE' ETC.</h4>
+</center>
+<br>
+<hr>
+<h3>PREFACE</h3>
+The papers of which this volume is composed originally appeared in
+the <i>Standard</i>, and are now republished by permission of the
+Editor.
+<p>In manners, mode of thought, and way of life, there is perhaps
+no class of the community less uniform than the agricultural. The
+diversities are so great as to amount to contradictions.
+Individuality of character is most marked, and, varying an old saw,
+it might be said, so many farmers so many minds.</p>
+<p>Next to the tenants the landowners have felt the depression, to
+such a degree, in fact, that they should perhaps take the first
+place, having no one to allow them in turn a 20 per cent, reduction
+of their liabilities. It must be remembered that the landowner will
+not receive the fruits of returning prosperity when it comes for
+some time after they have reached the farmer. Two good seasons will
+be needed before the landowner begins to recoup.</p>
+<p>Country towns are now so closely connected with agriculture that
+a description of the one would be incomplete without some mention
+of the other. The aggregate capital employed by the business men of
+these small towns must amount to an immense sum, and the
+depreciation of their investments is of more than local
+concern.</p>
+<p>Although the labourer at the present moment is a little in the
+background, and has the best of the bargain, since wages have not
+much fallen, if at all; yet he will doubtless come to the front
+again. For as agriculture revives, and the sun shines, the
+organisations by which he is represented will naturally display
+fresh vigour.</p>
+<p>But the rapid progress of education in the villages and outlying
+districts is the element which is most worthy of thoughtful
+consideration. On the one hand, it may perhaps cause a powerful
+demand for corresponding privileges; and on the other, counteract
+the tendency to unreasonable expectations. In any case, it is a
+fact that cannot be ignored. Meantime, all I claim for the
+following sketches is that they are written in a fair and impartial
+spirit.</p>
+<p>RICHARD JEFFERIES.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+CHAPTER
+<p>
+I. <a href="#chap1">THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT</a><br>
+II. <a href="#chap2">LEAVING HIS FARM</a><br>
+III. <a href="#chap3">A MAN OF PROGRESS</a><br>
+IV. <a href="#chap4">GOING DOWNHILL</a><br>
+V. <a href="#chap5">THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER</a><br>
+VI. <a href="#chap6">AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS&mdash;OLD STYLE</a><br>
+VII. <a href="#chap7">THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE
+FARMER</a><br>
+VIII. <a href="#chap8">HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'</a><br>
+IX. <a href="#chap9">THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS</a><br>
+X. <a href="#chap10">MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS</a><br>
+XI. <a href="#chap11">FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'</a><br>
+XII. <a href="#chap12">THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'</a><br>
+XIII. <a href="#chap13">AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE</a><br>
+XIV. <a href="#chap14">THE PARSON'S WIFE</a><br>
+XV. <a href="#chap15">A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE</a><br>
+XVI.<a href="#chap16">THE SOLICITOR</a><br>
+XVII. <a href="#chap17">'COUNTY COURT DAY'</a><br>
+XVIII.<a href="#chap18">THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER</a><br>
+XIX. <a href="#chap19">THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS.
+WILLOW-WORK</a><br>
+XX. <a href="#chap20">HODGE'S FIELDS</a><br>
+XXI. <a href="#chap21">A WINTER'S MORNING</a><br>
+XXII. <a href="#chap22">THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN, COTTAGE GIRLS</a><br>
+XXIII. <a href="#chap23">THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS</a><br>
+XXIV. <a href="#chap24">THE COTTAGE CHARTER, FOUR-ACRE FARMERS</a><br>
+XXV. <a href="#chap25">LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES, THE LABOURER AS A
+POWER. MODERN CLERGY</a><br>
+XXVI. <a href="#chap26">A WHEAT COUNTRY</a><br>
+XXVII. <a href="#chap27">GRASS COUNTRIES</a><br>
+XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">HODGE'S LAST MASTERS, CONCLUSION</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br></p>
+<h2>HODGE AND HIS MASTERS</h2>
+<br>
+<h3><a name="chap1" id="chap1">CHAPTER I</a></h3>
+<h3>THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT</h3>
+The doorway of the Jason Inn at Woolbury had nothing particular to
+distinguish it from the other doorways of the same extremely narrow
+street. There was no porch, nor could there possibly be one, for an
+ordinary porch would reach half across the roadway. There were no
+steps to go up, there was no entrance hall, no space specially
+provided for crowds of visitors; simply nothing but an ordinary
+street-door opening directly on the street, and very little, if
+any, broader or higher than those of the private houses adjacent.
+There was not even the usual covered way or archway leading into
+the courtyard behind, so often found at old country inns; the
+approach to the stables and coach-houses was through a separate and
+even more narrow and winding street, necessitating a detour of some
+quarter of a mile. The dead, dull wall was worn smooth in places by
+the involuntary rubbings it had received from the shoulders of
+foot-passengers thrust rudely against it as the market-people came
+pouring in or out, or both together.
+<p>Had the spot been in the most crowded district of the busiest
+part of the metropolis, where every inch of ground is worth an
+enormous sum, the buildings could not have been more jammed
+together, nor the inconvenience greater. Yet the little town was in
+the very midst of one of the most purely agricultural counties,
+where land, to all appearance, was plentiful, and where there was
+ample room and 'verge enough' to build fifty such places. The
+pavement in front of the inn was barely eighteen inches wide; two
+persons could not pass each other on it, nor walk abreast. If a
+cart came along the roadway, and a trap had to go by it, the
+foot-passengers had to squeeze up against the wall, lest the box of
+the wheel projecting over the kerb should push them down. If a
+great waggon came loaded with wool, the chances were whether a
+carriage could pass it or not; as for a waggon-load of straw that
+projected from the sides, nothing could get by, but all must
+wait&mdash;coroneted panel or plain four-wheel&mdash;till the huge
+mass had rumbled and jolted into the more open market-place.</p>
+<p>But hard, indeed, must have been the flag-stones to withstand
+the wear and tear of the endless iron-shod shoes that tramped to
+and fro these mere ribbons of pavements. For, besides the through
+traffic out from the market-place to the broad macadamised road
+that had taken the place and the route of an ancient Roman road,
+there were the customers to the shops that lined each side of the
+street. Into some of these you stepped from the pavement down, as
+it were, into a cave, the level of the shop being eight or ten
+inches below the street, while the first floor projected over the
+pavement quite to the edge of the kerb. To enter these shops it was
+necessary to stoop, and when you were inside there was barely room
+to turn round. Other shops were, indeed, level with the street; but
+you had to be careful, because the threshold was not flush with the
+pavement, but rose a couple of inches and then fell again, a very
+trap to the toe of the unwary. Many had no glass at all, but were
+open, like a butcher's or fishmonger's. Those that had glass were
+so restricted for space that, rich as they might be within in the
+good things of the earth, they could make no 'display.' All the
+genius of a West-end shopman could not have made an artistic
+arrangement in that narrow space and in that bad light; for, though
+so small below, the houses rose high, and the street being so
+narrow the sunshine rarely penetrated into it.</p>
+<p>But mean as a metropolitan shopman might have thought the spot,
+the business done there was large, and, more than that, it was
+genuine. The trade of a country market-town, especially when that
+market-town, like Woolbury, dates from the earliest days of English
+history, is hereditary. It flows to the same store and to the same
+shop year after year, generation after generation, century after
+century. The farmer who walks into the saddler's here goes in
+because his father went there before him. His father went in
+because his father dealt there, and so on farther back than memory
+can trace. It might almost be said that whole villages go to
+particular shops. You may see the agricultural labourers' wives,
+for instance, on a Saturday leave the village in a bevy of ten or a
+dozen, and all march in to the same tradesman. Of course in these
+latter days speculative men and 'co-operative' prices,
+industriously placarded, have sapped and undermined this
+old-fashioned system. Yet even now it retains sufficient hold to be
+a marked feature of country life. To the through traffic,
+therefore, had to be added the steady flow of customers to the
+shops.</p>
+<p>On a market-day like this there is, of course, the incessant
+entry and exit of carts, waggons, traps, gigs, four-wheels, and a
+large number of private carriages. The number of private carriages
+is, indeed, very remarkable, as also the succession of gentlemen on
+thoroughbred horses&mdash;a proof of the number of resident gentry
+in the neighbourhood, and of its general prosperity. Cart-horses
+furbished up for sale, with straw-bound tails and glistening skins;
+'baaing' flocks of sheep; squeaking pigs; bullocks with their heads
+held ominously low, some going, some returning, from the auction
+yard; shouting drovers; lads rushing hither and thither; dogs
+barking; everything and everybody crushing, jostling, pushing
+through the narrow street. An old shepherd, who has done his
+master's business, comes along the pavement, trudging thoughtful
+and slow, with ashen staff. One hand is in his pocket, the elbow of
+the arm projecting; he is feeling a fourpenny-piece, and
+deliberating at which 'tap' he shall spend it. He fills up the
+entire pavement, and stolidly plods on, turning ladies and all into
+the roadway; not from intentional rudeness, but from sheer
+inability to perceive that he is causing inconvenience.</p>
+<p>Unless you know the exact spot it is difficult in all this crowd
+and pushing, with a nervous dread of being gored from behind by a
+bull, or thrown off your feet by a sudden charge of sheep, to
+discover the door of the Jason Inn. That door has been open every
+legitimate and lawful hour this hundred years; but you will very
+likely be carried past it and have to struggle back. Then it is not
+easy to enter, for half a dozen stalwart farmers and farmers' sons
+are coming out; while two young fellows stand just inside, close to
+the sliding bar-window, blocking up the passage, to exchange
+occasional nods and smiles with the barmaid.</p>
+<p>However, by degrees you shuffle along the sanded passage, and
+past the door of the bar, which is full of farmers as thick as they
+can stand, or sit. The rattle of glasses, the chink of spoons, the
+hum of voices, the stamping of feet, the calls and orders, and
+sounds of laughter, mingle in confusion. Cigar-smoke and the steam
+from the glasses fill the room&mdash;all too small&mdash;with a
+thick white mist, through which rubicund faces dimly shine like the
+red sun through a fog.</p>
+<p>Some at the tables are struggling to write cheques, with
+continual jogs at the elbow, with ink that will not flow, pens that
+scratch and splutter, blotting-paper that smudges and blots. Some
+are examining cards of an auction, and discussing the prices which
+they have marked in the margin in pencil. The good-humoured uproar
+is beyond description, and is increased by more farmers forcing
+their way in from the rear, where are their horses or
+traps&mdash;by farmers eagerly inquiring for dealers or friends,
+and by messengers from the shops loaded with parcels to place in
+the customer's vehicle.</p>
+<p>At last you get beyond the bar-room door and reach the end of
+the passage, where is a wide staircase, and at the foot a tall
+eight-day clock. A maid-servant comes tripping down, and in answer
+to inquiry replies that that is the way up, and the room is ready,
+but she adds with a smile that there is no one there yet. It is
+three-quarters of an hour after the time fixed for the reading of a
+most important paper before a meeting specially convened, before
+the assembled Parliament of Hodge's masters, and you thought you
+would be too late. A glance at the staircase proves the truth of
+the maid's story. It has no carpet, but it is white as
+well-scrubbed wood could well be. There is no stain, no dust, no
+foot-mark on it; no heavy shoe that has been tramping about in the
+mud has been up there. But it is necessary to go on or go back, and
+of the two the first is the lesser evil.</p>
+<p>The staircase is guarded by carved banisters, and after going up
+two flights you enter a large and vacant apartment prepared for the
+meeting of the farmers' club. At the farther end is a small
+mahogany table, with an armchair for the president, paper, pens,
+ink, blotting-paper, and a wax candle and matches, in case he
+should want a light. Two less dignified chairs are for the
+secretary (whose box, containing the club records, books of
+reference, &amp;c., is on the table), and for the secretary's
+clerk. Rows of plain chairs stretch across the room, rank after
+rank; these are for the audience. And last of all are two long
+forms, as if for Hodge, if Hodge chooses to come.</p>
+<p>A gleam of the afternoon sun&mdash;as the clouds part
+awhile&mdash;attracts one naturally to the window. The thickness of
+the wall in which it is placed must be some two or three feet, so
+that there is a recess on which to put your arms, if you do not
+mind the dust, and look out. The window is half open, and the
+sounds of the street come up, 'baaing' and bellowing and squeaking,
+the roll of wheels, the tramp of feet, and, more distant, the
+shouting of an auctioneer in the market-place, whose stentorian
+tones come round the corner as he puts up rickcloths for sale.
+Noise of man and animal below; above, here in the chamber of
+science, vacancy and silence. Looking upwards, a narrow streak of
+blue sky can be seen above the ancient house across the way.</p>
+<p>After awhile there comes the mellow sound of bells from the
+church which is near by, though out of sight; bells with a soft,
+old-world tone; bells that chime slowly and succeed each other
+without haste, ringing forth a holy melody composed centuries ago.
+It is as well to pause a minute and listen to their voice, even in
+this railroad age of hurry. Over the busy market-place the notes go
+forth, and presently the hum comes back and dwells in the recess of
+the window. It is a full hour after the time fixed, and now at
+last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of heavy boots
+upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the landing;
+they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk comes,
+and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have company,
+boldly enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary
+arrives; finally the president appears, and with him the lecturer.
+There is a hum of greeting; the minutes are read; the president
+introduces the professor, and the latter stands forth to read his
+paper&mdash;'Science, the Remedy for Agricultural Depression.'</p>
+<p>Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the
+present period of distress. For many years past science had been
+like the voice crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only,
+had listened. Men had, indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone
+away home again, and, as the swine of the proverb, returned to
+their wallowing in the mire. One blade of grass still grew where
+two or even three might be grown; he questioned whether farmers had
+any real desire to grow the extra blades. If they did, they had
+merely to employ the means provided for them. Everything had been
+literally put into their hands; but what was the result? Why,
+nothing&mdash;in point of fact, nothing. The country at large was
+still undrained. The very A B C of progress had been neglected. He
+should be afraid to say what proportion of the land was yet
+undrained, for he should be contradicted, called ill names, and
+cried down. But if they would look around them they could see for
+themselves. They would see meadows full of rank, coarse grass in
+the furrows, which neither horse nor cattle would touch. They would
+see in the wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble,
+and altogether poor; that was where the water had stood and
+destroyed the natural power of the seed. The same cause gave origin
+to that mass of weeds which was the standing disgrace of arable
+districts.</p>
+<p>But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried
+out that the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain&mdash;it was
+their own intense dislike of making any improvement. The <i>vis
+inerti&aelig;</i> of the agricultural class was beyond the limit of
+language to describe. Why, if the land had been drained the rain
+would have done comparatively little damage, and thus they would
+have been independent of the seasons. Look, again, at the hay crop;
+how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted because men would not
+believe that anything would answer which had not been done by their
+forefathers! The hay might have been saved by three distinct
+methods. The grass might have been piled against hurdles or light
+frame-work and so dried by the wind; it might have been pitted in
+the earth and preserved still green; or it might have been dried by
+machinery and the hot blast. A gentleman had invented a machine,
+the utility of which had been demonstrated beyond all doubt. But
+no; farmers folded their hands and watched their hay rotting.</p>
+<p>As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They
+had not cleaned the soil&mdash;there were horse-hoes, and every
+species of contrivances for the purpose; but they would not use
+them. They had not ploughed deeply: they had merely scratched the
+surface as if with a pin. How could the thin upper crust of the
+earth&mdash;the mere rind three inches thick&mdash;be expected to
+yield crop after crop for a hundred years? Deep ploughing could
+only be done by steam: now how many farmers possessed or used
+steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts where such a thing
+was unknown. They had neglected to manure the soil; to restore to
+it the chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak upon
+artificial manure was enough to drive any man who had the power of
+thought into temporary insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to
+see men positively turning away from the means of obtaining good
+crops, and then crying out that they were ruined. With drains,
+steam-ploughs, and artificial manure, a farmer might defy the
+weather.</p>
+<p>Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the
+farmer had good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The
+first he could get if he chose; and without the second, without
+capital, he had no business to be farming at all. He was simply
+stopping the road of a better man, and the sooner he was driven out
+of the way the better. The neglect of machinery was most
+disheartening. A farmer bought one machine, perhaps a
+reaping-machine, and then because that solitary article did not
+immediately make his fortune he declared that machinery was
+useless. Could the force of folly farther go? With machinery they
+could do just as they liked. They could compel the earth to yield,
+and smile at the most tropical rain, or the most continuous
+drought. If only the voice of science had been listened to, there
+would have been no depression at all. Even now it was not too
+late.</p>
+<p>Those who were wise would at once set to work to drain, to
+purchase artificial manure, and set up steam power, and thereby to
+provide themselves with the means of stemming the tide of
+depression. By these means they could maintain a head of stock that
+would be more than double what was now kept upon equal acreage. He
+knew full well one of the objections that would be made against
+these statements. It would be said that certain individuals had
+done all this, had deep ploughed, had manured, had kept a great
+head of valuable stock, had used every resource, and yet had
+suffered. This was true. He deeply regretted to say it was
+true.</p>
+<p>But why had they suffered? Not because of the steam, the
+machinery, the artificial manure, the improvements they had set on
+foot; but because of the folly of their neighbours, of the
+agricultural class generally. The great mass of farmers had made no
+improvements; and, when the time of distress came, they were beaten
+down at every point. It was through these men and their failures
+that the price of stock and of produce fell, and that so much
+stress was put upon the said individuals through no fault of their
+own. He would go further, and he would say that had it not been for
+the noble efforts of such individuals&mdash;the pioneers of
+agriculture and its main props and stays&mdash;the condition of
+farming would have been simply fifty times worse than it was. They,
+and they alone, had enabled it to bear up so long against calamity.
+They had resources; the agricultural class, as a rule, had none.
+Those resources were the manure they had put into the soil, the
+deep ploughing they had accomplished, the great head of stock they
+had got together, and so on. These enabled them to weather the
+storm.</p>
+<p>The cry for a reduction of rent was an irresistible proof of
+what he had put forth&mdash;that it was the farmers themselves who
+were to blame. This cry was a confession of their own incompetency.
+If you analysed it&mdash;if you traced the general cry home to
+particular people&mdash;you always found that those people were
+incapables. The fact was, farming, as a rule, was conducted on the
+hand-to-mouth principle, and the least stress or strain caused an
+outcry. He must be forgiven if he seemed to speak with unusual
+acerbity. He intended no offence. But it was his duty. In such a
+condition of things it would be folly to mince matters, to speak
+softly while everything was going to pieces. He repeated, once for
+all, it was their own fault. Science could supply the remedy, and
+science alone; if they would not call in the aid of science they
+must suffer, and their privations must be upon their own heads.
+Science said, Drain, use artificial manure, plough deeply, keep the
+best breed of stock, put capital into the soil. Call science to
+their aid, and they might defy the seasons.</p>
+<p>The professor sat down and thrust his hand through his hair. The
+president invited discussion. For some few minutes no one rose;
+presently, after a whispered conversation with his friend, an
+elderly farmer stood up from the forms at the very back of the
+room. He made no pretence to rounded periods, but spoke much better
+than might have been expected; he had a small piece of paper in his
+hand, on which he had made notes as the lecture proceeded.</p>
+<p>He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case. He had
+proved to demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers
+were fools. Well, no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for
+everybody thought he could teach the farmer. The chemist, the
+grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine merchant, the lawyer, the
+doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant, the editor, the
+printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the ironmaster, the
+clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and railway
+porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers&mdash;to use
+an expressive Americanism, all the whole "jing-bang"&mdash;could
+teach the ignorant jackass of a farmer.</p>
+<p>Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a
+parcel for his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with
+the draper himself. The draper said he was just going to sell off
+the business and go into dairy farming, which was the most paying
+thing out. That was just when there came over from America a patent
+machine for milking cows. The draper's idea was to milk all his
+cows by one of these articles, and so dispense with labour. He saw
+no more of him for a long time, but had heard that morning that he
+went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and was now
+tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back. Everybody
+thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself,
+and then he found his mistake.</p>
+<p>One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so,
+seemed to him, a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not
+only uncalled-for and priggish, but downright brutal. It was that
+the man with little capital ought to be driven out of farming, and
+the sooner he went to the wall the better. Now, how would all the
+grocers and other tradesmen whom he had just enumerated like to be
+told that if they had not got 10,000<i>l</i>. each they ought to go
+at once to the workhouse! That would be a fine remedy for the
+depression of trade.</p>
+<p>He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man
+with small capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial,
+managed to raise himself and get up in the world. But, oh no;
+nothing of the kind; the small man was the greatest sinner, and
+must be eradicated. Well, he did not hesitate to say that he had
+been a small man himself, and began in a very small way. Perhaps
+the lecturer would think him a small man still, as he was not a
+millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for something in
+the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound or two
+over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there
+was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would
+not prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should like to ask
+the lecturer if he could give the name of one single scientific
+farmer who had prospered?</p>
+<p>Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and
+busted out of the room, and several others followed him, for the
+rain was already splashing against the window-panes. Others looked
+at their watches, and, seeing it was late, rose one by one and
+slipped off. The president asked if any one would continue the
+discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the professor to
+reply.</p>
+<p>The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came
+a heavy rolling sound&mdash;the unmistakable boom of distant
+thunder. He said that the gentleman who had left so abruptly had
+quite misconstrued the tenour of his paper. So far from intending
+to describe farmers as lacking in intelligence, all he wished to
+show was that they did not use their natural abilities, from a
+certain traditionary bowing to custom. They did not like their
+neighbours to think that they were doing anything novel. No one
+respected the feelings that had grown up and strengthened from
+childhood, no one respected the habits of our ancestors, more than
+he did; no one knew better the solid virtues that adorned the homes
+of agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say
+aught&mdash;[Boom! and the rattling of rain against the
+window]&mdash;aught that could&mdash;but he saw that gentlemen were
+anxious to get home, and would conclude.</p>
+<p>A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke
+up and hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so
+blocked with farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that
+movement was impossible. The place was darkened by the overhanging
+clouds, the atmosphere thick and close with the smoke and the
+crush. Flashes of brilliant lightning seemed to sweep down the
+narrow street, which ran like a brook with the storm-water; the
+thunder seemed to descend and shake the solid walls. 'It's rather
+hard on the professor,' said one farmer to another. 'What would
+science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly spoken when the hail
+suddenly came down, and the round white globules, rebounding from
+the pavement, rolled in at the open door. Each paused as he lifted
+his glass and thought of the harvest. As for Hodge, who was
+reaping, he had to take shelter how he might in the open fields.
+Boom! flash! boom!&mdash;splash and hiss, as the hail rushed along
+the narrow street.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap2" id="chap2">CHAPTER II</a></h3>
+<h3>LEAVING HIS FARM</h3>
+A large white poster, fresh and glaring, is pasted on the wall of a
+barn that stands beside a narrow country lane. So plain an
+advertisement, without any colour or attempt at 'display,' would be
+passed unnoticed among the endless devices on a town hoarding.
+There nothing can be hoped to be looked at unless novel and
+strange, or even incomprehensible. But here the oblong piece of
+black and white contrasts sufficiently in itself with red brick and
+dull brown wooden framing, with tall shadowy elms, and the glint of
+sunshine on the streamlet that flows with a ceaseless murmur across
+the hollow of the lane. Every man that comes along stays to read
+it.
+<p>The dealer in his trap&mdash;his name painted in white letters
+on the shaft&mdash;pulls up his quick pony, and sits askew on his
+seat to read. He has probably seen it before in the bar of the
+wayside inn, roughly hung on a nail, and swaying to and fro with
+the draught along the passage. He may have seen it, too, on the
+handing-post at the lonely cross-roads, stuck on in such a manner
+that, in order to peruse it, it is necessary to walk round the
+post. The same formal announcement appears also in the local weekly
+papers&mdash;there are at least two now in the smallest
+place&mdash;and he has read it there. Yet he pauses to glance at it
+again, for the country mind requires reiteration before it can
+thoroughly grasp and realise the simplest fact. The poster must be
+read and re-read, and the printer's name observed and commented on,
+or, if handled, the thickness of the paper felt between thumb and
+finger. After a month or two of this process people at last begin
+to accept it as a reality, like cattle or trees&mdash;something
+substantial, and not mere words.</p>
+<p>The carter, with his waggon, if he be an elderly man, cries
+'Whoa!' and, standing close to the wall, points to each letter with
+the top of his whip&mdash;where it bends&mdash;and so spells out
+'Sale by Auction.' If he be a young man he looks up at it as the
+heavy waggon rumbles by, turns his back, and goes on with utter
+indifference.</p>
+<p>The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose
+minds were formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in
+half a century, have so identified themselves with the order of
+things in the parish that it seems to personally affect them when a
+farmer leaves his place. But young Hodge cares nothing about his
+master, or his fellow's master. Whether they go or stay, prosperous
+or decaying, it matters nothing to him. He takes good wages, and
+can jingle some small silver in his pocket when he comes to the
+tavern a mile or so ahead; so 'gee-up' and let us get there as
+rapidly as possible.</p>
+<p>An hour later a farmer passes on horseback; his horse all too
+broad for his short legs that stick out at the side and show some
+inches of stocking between the bottom of his trousers and his
+boots. A sturdy, thick-set man, with a wide face, brickdust colour,
+fringed with close-cut red whiskers, and a chest so broad he seems
+compelled to wear his coat unbuttoned. He pulls off his hat and
+wipes his partly bald head with a coloured handkerchief, stares at
+the poster a few minutes, and walks his horse away, evidently in
+deep thought. Two boys&mdash;cottagers' children&mdash;come home
+from school; they look round to see that no one observes, and then
+throw flints at the paper till the sound of footsteps alarms
+them.</p>
+<p>Towards the evening a gentleman and lady, the first middle-aged,
+the latter very young&mdash;father and daughter&mdash;approach,
+their horses seeming to linger as they walk through the shallow
+stream, and the cool water splashes above their fetlocks. The
+shooting season is near at hand, Parliament has risen, and the
+landlords have returned home. Instead of the Row, papa must take
+his darling a ride through the lanes, a little dusty as the autumn
+comes on, and pauses to read the notice on the wall. It is his
+neighbour's tenant, not his, but it comes home to him here. It is
+the real thing&mdash;the fact&mdash;not the mere seeing it in the
+papers, or the warning hints in the letters of his own steward.
+'Papa,' is rather quiet for the rest of the ride. Ever since he was
+a lad&mdash;how many years ago is that?&mdash;he has shot with his
+neighbour's party over this farm, and recollects the tenant well,
+and with that friendly feeling that grows up towards what we see
+year after year. In a day or two the clergyman drives by with his
+low four-wheel and fat pony, notes the poster as the pony slackens
+at the descent to the water, and tells himself to remember and get
+the tithe. Some few Sundays, and Farmer Smith will appear in church
+no more.</p>
+<p>Farmer Smith this beautiful morning is looking at the wheat,
+which is, and is not, his. It would have been cut in an ordinary
+season, but the rains have delayed the ripening. He wonders how the
+crop ever came up at all through the mass of weeds that choked it,
+the spurrey that filled the spaces between the stalks below, the
+bindweed that climbed up them, the wild camomile flowering and
+flourishing at the edge, the tall thistles lifting their heads
+above it in bunches, and the great docks whose red seeds showed at
+a distance. He sent in some men, as much to give them something to
+do as for any real good, one day, who in a few hours pulled up
+enough docks to fill a cart. They came across a number of snakes,
+and decapitated the reptiles with their hoes, and afterwards hung
+them all up&mdash;tied together by the tail&mdash;to a bough. The
+bunch of headless snakes hangs there still, swinging to and fro as
+the wind plays through the oak. Vermin, too, revel in weeds, which
+encourage the mice and rats, and are, perhaps, quite as much a
+cause of their increase as any acts of the gamekeeper.</p>
+<p>Farmer Smith a few years since was very anxious for the renewal
+of his lease, just as those about to enter on tenancies desired
+leases above everything. All the agricultural world agreed that a
+lease was the best thing possible&mdash;the clubs discussed it, the
+papers preached it. It was a safeguard; it allowed the tenant to
+develop his energies, and to put his capital into the soil without
+fear. He had no dread of being turned out before he could get it
+back. Nothing like a lease&mdash;the certain preventative of all
+agricultural ills. There was, to appearance, a great deal of truth
+in these arguments, which in their day made much impression, and
+caused a movement in that direction. Who could foresee that in a
+few short years men would be eager to get rid of their leases on
+any terms? Yet such was the fact. The very men who had longed so
+eagerly for the blessing of security of tenure found it the worst
+thing possible for their interest.</p>
+<p>Mr. Smith got his lease, and paid for it tolerably stiffly, for
+at that period all agricultural prices were inflated&mdash;from the
+price of a lease to that of a calf. He covenanted to pay a certain
+fixed rental for so many acres of arable and a small proportion of
+grass for a fixed time. He covenanted to cultivate the soil by a
+fixed rotation; not to sow this nor that, nor to be guided by the
+change of the markets, or the character of the seasons, or the
+appearance of powerful foreign competitors. There was the parchment
+prepared with all the niceties of wording that so many generations
+of lawyers had polished to the highest pitch; not a loophole, not
+so much as a <i>t</i> left uncrossed, or a doubtful interlineation.
+But although the parchment did not alter a jot, the times and
+seasons did. Wheat fell in price, vast shipments came even from
+India, cattle and sheep from America, wool from Australia, horses
+from France; tinned provisions and meats poured in by the ton, and
+cheese, and butter, and bacon by the thousand tons. Labour at the
+same time rose. His expenditure increased, his income decreased;
+his rent remained the same, and rent audit came round with the
+utmost regularity.</p>
+<p>Mr. Smith began to think about his lease, and question whether
+it was such an unmixed blessing. There was no getting out of it,
+that was certain. The seasons grew worse and worse. Smith asked for
+a reduction of rent. He got, like others, ten per cent, returned,
+which, he said looked very liberal to those who knew nothing of
+farming, and was in reality about as useful as a dry biscuit flung
+at a man who has eaten nothing for a week. Besides which, it was
+only a gracious condescension, and might not be repeated next year,
+unless he kept on his good behaviour, and paid court to the
+clergyman and the steward. Unable to get at what he wanted in a
+direct way, Smith tried an indirect one. He went at game, and
+insisted on its being reduced in number. This he could do according
+to the usual terms of agreement; but when it came to the point he
+found that the person called in to assess the damage put it at a
+much lower figure than he had himself; and who was to decide what
+was or was not a reasonable head of game? This attack of his on the
+game did him no good whatever, and was not unnaturally borne in
+mind&mdash;let us not say resented.</p>
+<p>He next tried to get permission to sell straw&mdash;a permission
+that he saw granted to others in moderation. But he was then
+reminded of a speech he had made at a club, when, in a moment of
+temper (and sherry), he had let out a piece of his mind, which
+piece of his mind was duly published in the local papers, and
+caused a sensation. Somebody called the landlord's attention to it,
+and he did not like it. Nor can he be blamed; we none of us like to
+be abused in public, the more especially when, looking at
+precedents, we do not deserve it. Smith next went to the assessment
+committee to get his taxes reduced, on the ground of a loss of
+revenue. The committee sympathised with him, but found that they
+must assess him according to his rent. At least so they were then
+advised, and only did their duty.</p>
+<p>By this time the local bankers had scented a time of trouble
+approaching in the commercial and agricultural world; they began to
+draw in their more doubtful advances, or to refuse to renew them.
+As a matter of fact, Smith was a perfectly sound man, but he had so
+persistently complained that people began to suspect there really
+was something wrong with his finances. He endeavoured to explain,
+but was met with the tale that he had himself started. He then
+honestly produced his books, and laid his position bare to the last
+penny.</p>
+<p>The banker believed him, and renewed part of the advance for a
+short period; but he began, to cogitate in this wise: 'Here is a
+farmer of long experience, born of a farming family, and a
+hardworking fellow, and, more than that, honest. If this man, who
+has hitherto had the command of a fair amount of capital, cannot
+make his books balance better than this, what must be the case with
+some of our customers? There are many who ride about on hunters,
+and have a bin of decent wine. How much of all this is genuine? We
+must be careful; these are hard times.' In short, Smith, without
+meaning it, did his neighbours an immense deal of harm. His very
+honesty injured them. By slow degrees the bank got 'tighter' with
+its customers. It leaked out&mdash;all things leak out&mdash;that
+Smith had said too much, and he became unpopular, which did not
+increase his contentment.</p>
+<p>Finally he gave notice that unless the rent was reduced he
+should not apply to renew the lease, which would soon expire. He
+had not the least intention in his secret mind of leaving the farm;
+he never dreamed that his notice would be accepted. He and his had
+dwelt there for a hundred years, and were as much part and parcel
+of the place as the elm-trees in the hedges. So many farms were in
+the market going a-begging for tenants, it was not probable a
+landlord would let a good man go for the sake of a few shillings an
+acre. But the months went by and the landlord's agents gave no
+sign, and at last Smith realised that he was really going to
+leave.</p>
+<p>Though he had so long talked of going, it came upon him like a
+thunderbolt. It was like an attack of some violent fever that
+shakes a strong man and leaves him as weak as a child. The farmer,
+whose meals had been so hearty, could not relish his food. His
+breakfast dwindled to a pretence; his lunch fell off; his dinner
+grew less; his supper faded; his spirits and water, the old
+familiar 'nightcap,' did him no good. His jolly ringing laugh was
+heard no more; from a thorough gossip he became taciturn, and
+barely opened his lips. His clothes began to hang about him,
+instead of fitting him all too tight; his complexion lost the red
+colour and became sallow; his eyes had a furtive look in them, so
+different to the old straightforward glance.</p>
+<p>Some said he would take to his bed and die; some said he would
+jump into the pond one night, to be known no more in this world.
+But he neither jumped into the pond nor took to his bed. He went
+round his fields just the same as before&mdash;perhaps a little
+more mechanically; but still the old routine of daily work was gone
+through. Leases, though for a short period, do not expire in a day;
+after awhile time began to produce its usual effect. The sharpness
+of the pain wore off, and he set to work to make the best of
+matters. He understood the capacity of each field as well as others
+understand the yielding power of a little garden. His former study
+had been to preserve something like a balance between what he put
+in and what he took out of the soil. Now it became the subject of
+consideration how to get the most out without putting anything in.
+Artificial manures were reduced to the lowest quantity and of the
+cheapest quality, such as was used being, in fact, nothing but to
+throw dust, literally, in the eyes of other people. Times were so
+bad that he could not be expected, under the most favourable
+circumstances, to consume much cake in the stalls or make much
+manure in that way.</p>
+<p>One by one extra expenditures were cut off. Gates, instead of
+being repaired, were propped up by running a pole across. Labour
+was eschewed in every possible way. Hedges were left uncut; ditches
+were left uncleaned. The team of horses was reduced, and the
+ploughing done next to nothing. Cleaning and weeding were gradually
+abandoned. Several fields were allowed to become overrun with
+grass, not the least attention being paid to them; the weeds sprang
+up, and the grass ran over from the hedges. The wheat crop was kept
+to the smallest area. Wheat requires more previous labour and care
+as to soil than any other crop. Labour and preparation cost money,
+and he was determined not to spend a shilling more than he was
+absolutely compelled. He contrived to escape the sowing, of wheat
+altogether on some part of the farm, leaving it out of the
+rotation. That was a direct infringement of the letter of the
+agreement; but who was to prove that he had evaded it? The steward
+could not recollect the crops on several hundred acres; the
+neighbouring tenants, of course, knew very well; but although Smith
+had become unpopular, they were not going to tell tales of him. He
+sold everything he dared off the farm, and many things that he did
+not dare. He took everything out of the soil that it was possible
+to take out. The last Michaelmas was approaching, and he walked
+round in the warm August sunshine to look at the wheat.</p>
+<p>He sat down on an old roller that lay in the corner of the
+field, and thought over the position of things. He calculated that
+it would cost the incoming tenant an expenditure of from one
+thousand two hundred pounds to one thousand five hundred pounds to
+put the farm, which was a large one, into proper condition. It
+could not be got into such condition under three years of labour.
+The new tenant must therefore be prepared to lay out a heavy sum of
+money, to wait while the improvement went on, must live how he
+could meanwhile, and look forward some three years for the
+commencement of his profit. To such a state had the farm been
+brought in a brief time. And how would the landlord come off? The
+new tenant would certainly make his bargain in accordance with the
+state of the land. For the first year the rent paid would be
+nominal; for the second, perhaps a third or half the usual sum; not
+till the third year could the landlord hope to get his full rental.
+That full rental, too, would be lower than previously, because the
+general depression had sent down arable rents everywhere, and no
+one would pay on the old scale.</p>
+<p>Smith thought very hard things of the landlord, and felt that he
+should have his revenge. On the other hand, the landlord thought
+very hard things of Smith, and not wilhout reason. That an old
+tenant, the descendant of one of the oldest tenant-farmer families,
+should exhaust the soil in this way seemed the blackest return for
+the good feeling that had existed for several generations. There
+was great irritation on both sides.</p>
+<p>Smith had, however, to face one difficulty. He must either take
+another farm at once, or live on his capital. The interest of his
+capital&mdash;if invested temporarily in Government
+securities&mdash;would hardly suffice to maintain the comfortable
+style of living he and his rather large family of grown-up sons and
+daughters had been accustomed to. He sometimes heard a faint, far
+off 'still small voice,' that seemed to say it would have been
+wiser to stay on, and wait till the reaction took place and farming
+recovered. The loss he would have sustained by staying on would,
+perhaps, not have been larger than the loss he must now sustain by
+living on capital till such time as he saw something to suit him.
+And had he been altogether wise in omitting all endeavours to gain
+his end by conciliatory means? Might not gentle persuasion and
+courteous language have ultimately produced an impression? Might
+not terms have been arranged had he not been so vehement? The new
+tenant, notwithstanding that he would have to contend with the
+shocking state of the farm, had such favourable terms that if he
+only stayed long enough to let the soil recover, Smith knew he must
+make a good thing of it.</p>
+<p>But as he sat on the wooden roller under the shade of a tree and
+thought these things, listening to the rustle of the golden wheat
+as it moved in the breeze, he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket,
+and glanced down a long, long list of farms to let. Then he
+remembered that his pass-book at the bank showed a very respectable
+row of figures, buttoned up his coat, and strolled homeward with a
+smile on his features. The date fixed for the sale, as announced by
+the poster on the barn, came round, and a crowd gathered to see the
+last of the old tenant. Old Hodge viewed the scene from a distance,
+resting against a gate, with his chin on his hand. He was thinking
+of the days when he first went to plough, years ago, under Smith's
+father. If Smith had been about to enter on another farm old Hodge
+would have girded up his loins, packed his worldly goods in a
+waggon, and followed his master's fortunes thither. But Smith was
+going to live on his capital awhile; and old Hodge had already had
+notice to quit his cottage. In his latter days he must work for a
+new master. Down at the sale young Hodge was lounging round, hands
+in pocket, whistling&mdash;for there was some beer going about. The
+excitement of the day was a pleasurable sensation, and as for his
+master he might go to Kansas or Hong-Kong.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap3" id="chap3">CHAPTER III</a></h3>
+<h3>A MAN OF PROGRESS</h3>
+The sweet sound of rustling leaves, as soothing as the rush of
+falling water, made a gentle music over a group of three persons
+sitting at the extremity of a lawn. Upon their right was a
+plantation or belt of trees, which sheltered them from the noonday
+sun; on the left the green sward reached to the house; from the
+open window came the rippling notes of a piano, and now and again
+the soft accents of the Italian tongue. The walls of the garden
+shut out the world and the wind&mdash;the blue sky stretched above
+from one tree-top to another, and in those tree-tops the cool
+breeze, grateful to the reapers in the fields, played with bough
+and leaf. In the centre of the group was a small table, and on it
+some tall glasses of antique make, and a flask of wine. By the lady
+lay a Japanese parasol, carelessly dropped on the grass. She was
+handsome, and elegantly dressed; her long drooping eyelashes
+fringed eyes that were almost closed in luxurious enjoyment; her
+slender hand beat time to the distant song. Of the two gentlemen
+one was her brother&mdash;the other, a farmer, her husband. The
+brother wore a pith helmet, and his bronzed cheek told of service
+under tropical suns. The husband was scarcely less brown; still
+young, and very active-looking, you might guess his age at forty;
+but his bare forehead (he had thrown his hat on the ground) was
+marked with the line caused by involuntary contraction of the
+muscles when thinking. There was an air of anxiety, of restless
+feverish energy, about him. But just for the moment he was calm and
+happy, turning over the pages of a book. Suddenly he looked up, and
+began to declaim, in a clear, sweet voice:
+<blockquote>'He's speaking now,<br>
+Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"<br>
+For so he calls me. Now I feed myself<br>
+With most delicious poison!'<br></blockquote>
+Just then there came the sharp rattle of machinery borne on the
+wind; he recollected himself, shut the volume, and rose from his
+seat. 'The men have finished luncheon,' he said; 'I must go and see
+how things are getting on.' The Indian officer, after one glance
+back at the house, went with him. There was a private footpath
+through the plantation of trees, and down this the two disappeared.
+Soon afterwards the piano ceased, and a lady came slowly across the
+lawn, still humming the air she had been playing. She was the
+farmer's sister, and was engaged to the officer. The wife looked up
+from the book which she had taken from the table, with a smile of
+welcome. But the smile faded as she said&mdash;'They have gone out
+to the reapers. Oh, this farm will worry him out of his life! How I
+wish he had never bought it! Don't let Alick have anything to do
+with farms or land, dear, when you are married.'
+<p>The girl laughed, sat down, took her hand, and asked if matters
+were really so serious.</p>
+<p>'It is not so much the money I trouble about,' said the wife.
+'It is Cecil himself. His nature is too fine for these dull clods.
+You know him, dear; his mind is full of art&mdash;look at these
+glasses&mdash;of music and pictures. Why, he has just been reading
+"Antony and Cleopatra," and now he's gone to look after reapers.
+Then, he is so fiery and quick, and wants everything done in a
+minute, like the men of business in the "City." He keeps his watch
+timed to a second, and expects the men to be there. They are so
+slow. Everything agricultural is so slow. They say we shall have
+fine seasons in two or three years; only think, <i>years</i>. This
+is what weighs on Cecil.'</p>
+<p>By this time the two men had walked through the plantation, and
+paused at a small gate that opened on the fields. The ground fell
+rapidly away, sloping down for half a mile, so that every portion
+of the fields below was visible at once. The house and gardens were
+situate on the hill; the farmer had only to stand on the edge to
+overlook half his place.</p>
+<p>'What a splendid view!' said the officer. The entire slope was
+yellow with wheat&mdash;on either hand, and in front the surface of
+the crop extended unbroken by hedge, tree, or apparent division.
+Two reaping-machines were being driven rapidly round and round,
+cutting as they went; one was a self-binder and threw the sheaves
+off already bound; the other only laid the corn low, and it had
+afterwards to be gathered up and bound by hand-labour. There was
+really a small army of labourers in the field; but it was so large
+they made but little show.</p>
+<p>'You have a first-rate crop,' said the visitor; 'I see no weeds,
+or not more than usual; it is a capital crop.'</p>
+<p>'Yes,' replied the farmer, 'it is a fine crop; but just think
+what it cost me to produce it, and bear in mind, too, the price I
+shall get for it.' He took out his pocket-book, and began to
+explain.</p>
+<p>While thus occupied he looked anything but a farmer. His dress
+was indeed light and careless, but it was the carelessness of
+breeding, not slovenliness. His hands were brown, but there were
+clean white cuffs on his wrist and gold studs; his neck was brown,
+but his linen spotless. The face was too delicate, too refined with
+all its bronze; the frame was well developed, but too active; it
+lacked the heavy thickness and the lumbering gait of the farmer
+bred to the plough. He might have conducted a great financial
+operation; he might have been the head of a great mercantile house;
+he might have been on 'Change; but that stiff clay there, stubborn
+and unimpressionable, was not in his style.</p>
+<p>Cecil had gone into farming, in fact, as a 'commercial
+speculation,' with the view of realising cent. per cent. He began
+at the time when it was daily announced that old-fashioned farming
+was a thing of the past. Business maxims and business practice were
+to be the rule of the future. Farming was not to be farming; it was
+to be emphatically 'business,' the same as iron, coal, or cotton.
+Thus managed, with steam as the motive power, a fortune might be
+made out of the land, in the same way as out of a colliery or a
+mine. But it must be done in a commercial manner; there must be no
+restrictions upon the employment of capital, no fixed rotation of
+crops, no clauses forbidding the sale of any products. Cecil found,
+however, that the possessors of large estates would not let him a
+farm on these conditions. These ignorant people (as he thought
+them) insisted upon keeping up the traditionary customs; they would
+not contract themselves out of the ancient form of lease.</p>
+<p>But Cecil was a man of capital. He really had a large sum of
+money, and this short-sighted policy (as he termed it) of the
+landlords only made him the more eager to convince them how
+mistaken they were to refuse anything to a man who could put
+capital into the soil. He resolved to be his own landlord, and
+ordered his agents to find him a small estate and to purchase it
+outright. There was not much difficulty in finding an estate, and
+Cecil bought it. But he was even then annoyed and disgusted with
+the formalities, the investigation of title, the completion of
+deeds, and astounded at the length of a lawyer's bill.</p>
+<p>Being at last established in possession Cecil set to work, and
+at the same time set every agricultural tongue wagging within a
+radius of twenty miles. He grubbed up all the hedges, and threw the
+whole of his arable land into one vast field, and had it levelled
+with the theodolite. He drained it six feet deep at an enormous
+cost. He built an engine-shed with a centrifugal pump, which forced
+water from the stream that ran through the lower ground over the
+entire property, and even to the topmost storey of his house. He
+laid a light tramway across the widest part of his estate, and sent
+the labourers to and fro their work in trucks. The chaff-cutters,
+root-pulpers, the winnowing-machine&mdash;everything was driven by
+steam. Teams of horses and waggons seemed to be always going to the
+canal wharf for coal, which he ordered from the pit wholesale.</p>
+<p>A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and,
+having once commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to
+cease. They were for ever at work tearing up the subsoil and
+bringing it to the surface. If he could have done it, he would have
+ploughed ten feet deep. Tons of artificial manure came by canal
+boat&mdash;positively boat loads&mdash;and were stored in the
+warehouse. For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage of
+materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter
+above, hoisted up by a small crane. There was, too, an office,
+where the 'engineer' attended every morning to take his orders, as
+the bailiff might at the back-door of an old farmhouse. Substantial
+buildings were erected for the shorthorn cattle.</p>
+<p>The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all
+thrown together, such divisions as were necessary being made by
+iron railings. Machines of every class and character were
+provided&mdash;reaping-machines, mowing-machines, horse-hoes,
+horse-rakes, elevators&mdash;everything was to be done by
+machinery. That nothing might be incomplete, some new and
+well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled
+artisans&mdash;they could scarcely be called labourers&mdash;who
+were engaged to work these engines. The estate had previously
+consisted of several small farms: these were now thrown all into
+one, otherwise there would not have been room for this great
+enterprise.</p>
+<p>A complete system of booking was organised. From the sale of a
+bullock to the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper.
+All these entries, made in books specially prepared and
+conveniently ruled for the purpose, came under Cecil's eye weekly,
+and were by him re-entered in his ledgers. This writing took up a
+large part of his time, and the labour was sometimes so severe that
+he could barely get through it; yet he would not allow himself a
+clerk, being economical in that one thing only. It was a saying in
+the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the estate
+by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in
+the master's books.</p>
+<p>Cecil's idea was to excel in all things. Some had been famous
+for shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for
+wheat. He would be celebrated for all. His shorthorns should fetch
+fabulous prices; his sheep should be known all over the world; his
+wheat should be the crop of the season. In this way he invested his
+capital in the soil with a thoroughness unsurpassed. As if to prove
+that he was right, the success of his enterprise seemed from the
+first assured. His crops of wheat, in which he especially put
+faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same land,
+totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the
+neighbourhood. Men came from far and near to see them. Such was the
+effect of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing,
+and the consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and
+of liberal manure, that here stood such crops of wheat as had never
+previously been seen. These he sold, as they stood, by auction; and
+no sooner had the purchasers cleared the ground than the engines
+went to work again, tearing up the earth. His meadow lands were
+irrigated by the centrifugal pump, and yielded three crops instead
+of one. His shorthorns began to get known&mdash;for he spared no
+expense upon them&mdash;and already one or two profitable sales had
+been held. His sheep prospered; there was not so much noise made
+about them, but, perhaps, they really paid better than
+anything.</p>
+<p>Meantime, Cecil kept open house, with wine and refreshments, and
+even beds for everybody who chose to come and inspect his place.
+Nothing gave him such delight as to conduct visitors over the
+estate and to enter into minute details of his system. As for the
+neighbouring farmers they were only too welcome. These things
+became noised abroad, and people arrived from strange and far-off
+places, and were shown over this Pioneer's Farm, as Cecil loved to
+call it. His example was triumphantly quoted by every one who spoke
+on agricultural progress. Cecil himself was the life and soul of
+the farmers' club in the adjacent market town. It was not so much
+the speeches he made as his manner. His enthusiasm was contagious.
+If a scheme was started, if an experiment was suggested, Cecil's
+cheque-book came out directly, and the thing was set on foot
+without delay. His easy, elastic step, his bright eye, his warm,
+hearty handshake, seemed to electrify people&mdash;to put some of
+his own spirit into them. The circle of his influence was ever
+increasing&mdash;the very oldest fogeys, who had prophesied every
+kind of failure, were being gradually won over.</p>
+<p>Cecil himself was transcendently happy in his work; his mind was
+in it; no exertion, no care or trouble, was too much. He worked
+harder than any navvy, and never felt fatigue. People said of
+him&mdash;'What a wonderful man!' He was so genuine, so earnest, so
+thorough, men could not choose but believe in him. The sun shone
+brightly, the crops ripened, the hum of the threshing-machine
+droned on the wind&mdash;all was life and happiness. In the summer
+evenings pleasant groups met upon the lawn; the song, the jest went
+round; now and then an informal dance, arranged with much laughter,
+whiled away the merry hours till the stars appeared above the trees
+and the dew descended.</p>
+<p>Yet to-day, as the two leaned over the little gate in the
+plantation and looked down upon the reapers, the deep groove which
+continual thought causes was all too visible on Cecil's forehead.
+He explained to the officer how his difficulties had come about.
+His first years upon the farm or estate&mdash;it was really rather
+an estate than a farm&mdash;had been fairly prosperous,
+notwithstanding the immense outlay of capital. A good percentage,
+in some cases a high-rate of percentage, had been returned upon the
+money put into the soil. The seasons were good, the crops large and
+superabundant. Men's minds were full of confidence, they bought
+freely, and were launching out in all directions.</p>
+<p>They wanted good shorthorn cattle&mdash;he sold them cattle;
+they wanted sheep&mdash;he sold them sheep. They wanted wheat, and
+he sold them the standing crops, took the money, and so cleared his
+profit and saved himself trouble. It was, in fact, a period of
+inflation. Like stocks and shares, everything was going up;
+everybody hastening to get rich. Shorthorns with a strain of blue
+blood fetched fancy prices; corn crops ruled high; every single
+thing sold well. The dry seasons suited the soil of the estate, and
+the machinery he had purchased was rapidly repaying its first cost
+in the saving of labour. His whole system was succeeding, and he
+saw his way to realise his cent. per cent.</p>
+<p>But by degrees the dream faded. He attributed it in the first
+place to the stagnation, the almost extinction, of the iron trade,
+the blowing out of furnaces, and the consequent cessation of the
+demand for the best class of food on the part of thousands of
+operatives and mechanics, who had hitherto been the farmers' best
+customers. They would have the best of everything when their wages
+were high; as their wages declined their purchases declined. In a
+brief period, far briefer than would be imagined, this shrinking of
+demand reacted upon agriculture. The English farmer made his profit
+upon superior articles&mdash;the cheaper class came from abroad so
+copiously that he could not compete against so vast a supply.</p>
+<p>When the demand for high-class products fell, the English farmer
+felt it directly. Cecil considered that it was the dire distress in
+the manufacturing districts, the stagnation of trade and commerce
+and the great failures in business centres, that were the chief
+causes of low prices and falling agricultural markets. The rise of
+labour was but a trifling item. He had always paid good wages to
+good men, and always meant to. The succession of wet seasons was
+more serious, of course; it lowered the actual yield, and increased
+the cost of procuring the yield; but as his lands were well
+drained, and had been kept clean he believed he could have
+withstood the seasons for awhile.</p>
+<p>The one heavy cloud that overhung agriculture, in his opinion
+was the extraordinary and almost world-spread depression of trade,
+and his argument was very simple. When men prospered they bought
+freely, indulged in luxurious living, kept horses, servants, gave
+parties, and consumed indirectly large quantities of food. As they
+made fortunes they bought estates and lived half the year like
+country gentlemen&mdash;that competition sent up the price of land.
+The converse was equally true. In times of pressure households were
+reduced, servants dismissed, horses sold, carriages suppressed.
+Rich and poor acted alike in different degrees but as the working
+population was so much more numerous it was through the low wages
+of the working population in cities and manufacturing districts
+that the farmers suffered most.</p>
+<p>It was a period of depression&mdash;there was no confidence, no
+speculation. For instance a year or two since the crop of standing
+wheat then growing on the very field before their eyes was sold by
+auction, and several lots brought from 16<i>l</i>. to 18<i>l</i>.
+per acre. This year the same wheat would not fetch 8<i>l</i>. per
+acre; and, not satisfied with that price, he had determined to reap
+and thresh it himself. It was the same with the shorthorns, with
+the hay, and indeed with everything except sheep, which had been a
+mainstay and support to him.</p>
+<p>'Yet even now,' concluded Cecil, shutting his pocket-book, 'I
+feel convinced that my plan and my system will be a success. I can
+see that I committed one great mistake&mdash;I made all my
+improvements at once, laid out all my capital, and crippled my
+self. I should have done one thing at a time. I should, as it were,
+have grown my improvements&mdash;one this year, one next. As it
+was, I denuded myself of capital. Had the times continued
+favourable it would not have mattered, as my income would have been
+large. But the times became adverse before I was firmly settled,
+and, to be plain, I can but just keep things going without a
+loan&mdash;dear Bella will not be able to go to the sea this year;
+but we are both determined not to borrow.'</p>
+<p>'In a year or two I am convinced we shall flourish again; but
+the waiting, Alick, the waiting, is the trial. You know I am
+impatient. Of course, the old-fashioned people, the farmers, all
+expect me to go through the Bankruptcy Court. They always said
+these new-fangled plans would not answer, and now they are sure
+they were right. Well, I forgive them their croaking, though most
+of them have dined at my table and drank my wine. I forgive them
+their croaking, for so they were bred up from childhood. Were I
+ill-natured, I might even smile at them, for they are failing and
+leaving their farms by the dozen, which seems a pretty good proof
+that their antiquated system is at best no better than mine. But I
+can see what they cannot see&mdash;signs of improvement. The steel
+industry is giving men work; the iron industry is reviving; the
+mines are slowly coming into work again; America is purchasing of
+us largely; and when other nations purchase of us, part, at least,
+of the money always finds its way to the farmer. Next season, too,
+the weather may be more propitious.</p>
+<p>'I shall hold on, Alick&mdash;a depression is certain to be
+followed by a rise. That has been the history of trade and
+agriculture for generations. Nothing will ever convince me that it
+was intended for English agriculturists to go on using wooden
+ploughs, to wear smock-frocks, and plod round and round in the same
+old track for ever. In no other way but by science, by steam, by
+machinery, by artificial manure, and, in one word, by the exercise
+of intelligence, can we compete with the world. It is ridiculous to
+suppose we can do so by returning to the ignorance and prejudice of
+our ancestors. No; we must beat the world by superior intelligence
+and superior energy. But intelligence, mind, has ever had every
+obstacle to contend against. Look at M. Lesseps and his wonderful
+Suez Canal. I tell you that to introduce scientific farming into
+England, in the face of tradition, custom, and prejudice, is a far
+harder task than overcoming the desert sand.'</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap4" id="chap4">CHAPTER IV</a></h3>
+<h3>GOING DOWNHILL</h3>
+An aged man, coming out of an arable field into the lane, pauses to
+look back. He is shabbily clad, and there is more than one rent in
+his coat; yet it is a coat that has once been a good one, and of a
+superior cut to what a labourer would purchase. In the field the
+ploughman to whom he has been speaking has started his team again.
+A lad walks beside the horses, the iron creaks, and the ploughman
+holding the handles seems now to press upon them with his weight,
+and now to be himself bodily pulled along. A dull November cloud
+overspreads the sky, and misty skits of small rain sweep across the
+landscape. As the old man looks back from the gate, the chill
+breeze whistles through the boughs of the oak above him, tearing
+off the brown dry leaves, and shaking out the acorns to fall at his
+feet. It lifts his grey hair, and penetrates the threadbare coat.
+As he turns to go, something catches his eye on the ground, and
+from the mud in the gateway he picks up a cast horse-shoe. With the
+rusty iron in his hand he passes slowly down the lane, and, as he
+goes, the bitter wind drives the fallen leaves that have been lying
+beside the way rustling and dancing after him.
+<p>From a farmer occupying a good-sized farm he had descended to be
+a farmer's bailiff in the same locality. But a few months since he
+was himself a tenant, and now he is a bailiff at 15<i>s</i>. a week
+and a cottage. There is nothing dramatic, nothing sensational, in
+the history of his descent; but it is, perhaps, all the more full
+of bitter human experiences. As a man going down a steep hill,
+after a long while finds himself on the edge of a precipitous chalk
+pit, and topples in one fall to the bottom, so, though the process
+of going downhill occupied so long, the actual finish came almost
+suddenly. Thus it was that from being a master he found himself a
+servant. He does not complain, nor appeal for pity. His back is a
+little more bowed, he feels the cold a little more, his step is yet
+more spiritless. But all he says about it is that 'Hard work never
+made any money yet.'</p>
+<p>He has worked exceedingly hard all his lifetime. In his youth,
+though the family were then well-to-do, he was not permitted to
+lounge about in idleness, but had to work with the rest in the
+fields. He dragged his heavy nailed shoes over the furrows with the
+plough; he reaped and loaded in harvest time; in winter he trimmed
+the hedgerows, split logs, and looked after the cattle. He enjoyed
+no luxurious education&mdash;luxurious in the sense of
+scientifically arranged dormitories, ample meals, and vacations to
+be spent on horseback, or with the breechloader. Trudging to and
+fro the neighbouring country town, in wind, and wet, and snow, to
+school, his letters were thrashed into him. In holiday time he went
+to work&mdash;his holidays, in fact, were so arranged as to fall at
+the time when the lad could be of most use in the field. If an
+occasion arose when a lad was wanted, his lessons had to wait while
+he lent a hand. He had his play, of course, as boys in all ages
+have had; but it was play of a rude character with the plough lads,
+and the almost equally rough sons of farmers, who worked like
+ploughmen.</p>
+<p>In those days the strong made no pretence to protect the weak,
+or to abnegate their natural power. The biggest lad used his thews
+and sinews to knock over the lesser without mercy, till the lesser
+by degrees grew strong enough to retaliate. To be thrashed, beaten,
+and kicked was so universal an experience that no one ever imagined
+it was not correct, or thought of complaining. They accepted it as
+a matter of course. As he grew older his work simply grew harder,
+and in no respect differed from that of the labourers, except that
+he directed what should be done next, but none the less assisted to
+do it.</p>
+<p>Thus the days went on, the weeks, and months, and years. He was
+close upon forty years old before he had his own will for a single
+day. Up to almost that age he worked on his father's farm as a
+labourer among the labourers, as much under parental authority as
+when he was a boy of ten. When the old man died it was not
+surprising that the son, so long held down in bondage&mdash;bondage
+from which he had not the spirit to escape&mdash;gave way for a
+short period to riotous living. There was hard drinking,
+horse-racing, and card-playing, and waste of substance
+generally.</p>
+<p>But it was not for long, for several reasons. In the first
+place, the lad of forty years, suddenly broken forth as it were
+from school, had gone past the age when youth plunges beyond
+recall. He was a grown man, neither wise nor clever; but with a
+man's sedateness of spirit and a man's hopes. There was no innate
+evil in his nature to lead him into unrighteous courses. Perhaps
+his fault rather lay in his inoffensive disposition&mdash;he
+submitted too easily. Then, in the second place, there was not much
+money, and what there was had to meet many calls.</p>
+<p>The son found that the father, though reputed a substantial man,
+and a man among farmers of high esteem and good family, had been
+anything but rich. First there were secret debts that had run on
+for fully thirty years&mdash;sums of from fifty to one hundred
+pounds&mdash;borrowed in the days of his youth, when he, too, had
+at last been released in a similar manner from similar bondage, to
+meet the riotous living in which he also had indulged. In those
+earlier days there had been more substance in cattle and corn, and
+he had had no difficulty in borrowing ready money from adjoining
+farmers, who afterwards helped him to drink it away. These boon
+companions had now grown old. They had never pressed their ancient
+comrade for the principal, the interest being paid regularly. But
+now their ancient comrade was dead they wanted their money,
+especially when they saw the son indulging himself, and did not
+know how far he might go. Their money was paid, and reduced the
+balance in hand materially.</p>
+<p>Now came a still more serious matter. The old man, years ago,
+when corn farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the
+prospect of profit to take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all
+arable. To do this he was obliged, in farming phrase, to 'take
+up'&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> to borrow&mdash;a thousand pounds, which was
+advanced to him by the bank. Being a man of substance, well
+reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds
+was forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms. The enterprise,
+however, did not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so
+profitable. In the end he had the wisdom to accept his losses and
+relinquish the second farm before it ate him up. Had he only
+carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid the whole of the
+bank's advance, all might yet have been well. But he only repaid
+five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing. The
+bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old
+gentleman upright&mdash;as he was&mdash;was not at all anxious to
+have the money back, as it was earning fair interest. So the five
+hundred remained on loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite
+purpose.</p>
+<p>Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much
+money at command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or
+whether he thought he could increase the produce of his farm by
+putting it in the soil, it is not possible to say. He certainly put
+the five hundred out of sight somewhere, for when his son succeeded
+him it was nowhere to be found. After repaying the small loans to
+his father's old friends, upon looking round the son saw cattle,
+corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred pounds in ready
+money. The ready money had been muddled away&mdash;simply muddled
+away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all
+extravagant.</p>
+<p>The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing
+manner, for the belief still existed that there was money in the
+family. That belief was still further fostered because the old
+friends whose loans had been repaid talked about that repayment,
+and so gave a colour to the idea. The heir, in his slow way,
+thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan. He could
+only repay it by instalments&mdash;a mode which, to a farmer
+brought up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he
+might meet one he would be sure to put off the next&mdash;or by
+selling stock (equivalent to giving up his place), or by borrowing
+afresh. So he asked and obtained a continuation of the loan of the
+five hundred, and was accommodated, on condition that some one
+'backed' him. Some one in the family did back him, and the fatal
+mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden. A loan never
+remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced. In
+itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm
+to carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens
+piled themselves up. By a species of gravitation such a burden
+attracts others, till the last straw breaks the camel's back. This,
+however, was not all.</p>
+<p>The heir discovered another secret which likewise contributed to
+sober him. It appeared that the farm, or rather the stock and so
+on, was really not all his father's. His father's brother had a
+share in it&mdash;a share of which even the most inquisitive
+gossips of the place were ignorant. The brother being the eldest
+(himself in business as a farmer at some distance) had the most
+money, and had advanced a certain sum to the younger to enable him
+to start his farm, more than a generation since. From that day to
+this not one shilling of the principal had been repaid, and the
+interest only partially and at long intervals. If the interest were
+all claimed it would now amount to nearly as much as the principal.
+The brother&mdash;or, rather, the uncle&mdash;did not make himself
+at all unpleasant in the matter. He only asked for about half the
+interest due to him, and at the same time gave the heir a severe
+caution not to continue the aforesaid riotous living. The heir, now
+quite brought down to earth after his momentary exaltation, saw the
+absolute necessity of acquiescence. With a little management he
+paid the interest&mdash;leaving himself with barely enough to work
+the farm. The uncle, on his part, did not act unkindly; it was he
+who 'backed' the heir up at the bank in the matter of the
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred pounds. This five
+hundred pounds the heir had never seen and never would see: so far
+as he was concerned it did not exist; it was a mere figure, but a
+figure for which he must pay. In all these circumstances there was
+nothing at all exceptional.</p>
+<p>At this hour throughout the width and breadth of the country
+there are doubtless many farmers' heirs stepping into their
+fathers' shoes, and at this very moment looking into their affairs.
+It may be safely said that few indeed are those fortunate
+individuals who find themselves clear of similar embarrassments. In
+this particular case detailed above, if the heir's circumstances
+had been rigidly reduced to figures&mdash;if a professional
+accountant had examined them&mdash;it would have been found that,
+although in possession of a large farm, he had not got one scrap of
+capital.</p>
+<p>But he was in possession of the farm, and upon that simple fact
+of possession he henceforth lived, like so many, many more of his
+class. He returned to the routine of labour, which was a part of
+his life. After awhile he married, as a man of forty might
+naturally wish to, and without any imputation of imprudence so far
+as his own age was concerned. The wife he chose was one from his
+own class, a good woman, but, as is said to be often the case, she
+reflected the weakness of her husband's character. He now worked
+harder than ever&mdash;a labourer with the labourers. He thus saved
+himself the weekly expense of the wages of a
+labourer&mdash;perhaps, as labourers do not greatly exert
+themselves, of a man and a boy. But while thus slaving with his
+hands and saving this small sum in wages, he could not walk round
+and have an eye upon the other men. They could therefore waste a
+large amount of time, and thus he lost twice what he saved. Still,
+his intention was commendable, and his persistent, unvarying labour
+really wonderful. Had he but been sharper with his men he might
+still have got a fair day's work out of them while working himself.
+From the habit of associating with them from boyhood he had fallen
+somewhat into their own loose, indefinite manner, and had lost the
+prestige which attaches to a master. To them he seemed like one of
+themselves, and they were as much inclined to argue with him as to
+obey. When he met them in the morning he would say, 'Perhaps we had
+better do so and so,' or 'Suppose we go and do this or that.' They
+often thought otherwise; and it usually ended in a compromise, the
+master having his way in part, and the men in part. This lack of
+decision ran through all, and undid all that his hard work
+achieved. Everything was muddled from morn till night, from year's
+end to year's end. As children came the living indoors became
+harder, and the work out of doors still more laborious.</p>
+<p>If a farmer can put away fifty pounds a year, after paying his
+rent and expenses, if he can lay by a clear fifty pounds of profit,
+he thinks himself a prosperous man. If this farmer, after forty
+years of saving, should chance to be succeeded by a son as thrifty,
+when, he too has carried on the same process for another twenty
+years, then the family may be, for village society, wealthy, with
+three or even four thousand pounds, besides goods and gear. This is
+supposing all things favourable, and men of some ability, making
+the most of their opportunities. Now reverse the process. When
+children came, as said before, our hard-working farmer found the
+living indoors harder, and the labour without heavier. Instead of
+saving fifty pounds a year, at first the two sides of the account
+(not that he ever kept any books) about balanced. Then, by degrees,
+the balance dropped the wrong way. There was a loss, of twenty or
+thirty pounds on the year, and presently of forty or fifty pounds,
+which could only be made good by borrowing, and so increasing the
+payment of interest.</p>
+<p>Although it takes sixty years&mdash;two generations&mdash;to
+accumulate a village fortune by saving fifty pounds a year, it does
+not occupy so long to reduce a farmer to poverty when half that sum
+is annually lost. There was no strongly marked and radical defect
+in his system of farming to amount for it; it was the muddling, and
+the muddling only, that did it. His work was blind. He would never
+miss giving the pigs their dinner, he rose at half-past three in
+the morning, and foddered the cattle in the grey dawn, or milked a
+certain number of cows, with unvarying regularity. But he had no
+foresight, and no observation whatever. If you saw him crossing a
+field, and went after him, you might walk close behind, placing
+your foot in the mark just left by his shoe, and he would never
+know it. With his hands behind his back, and his eyes upon the
+ground, he would plod across the field, perfectly unconscious that
+any one was following him. He carried on the old rotation of
+cropping in the piece of arable land belonging to the farm, but in
+total oblivion of any advantage to be obtained by local change of
+treatment. He could plan nothing out for next year. He spent
+nothing, or next to nothing, on improved implements; but, on the
+other hand, he saved nothing, from a lack of resource and
+contrivance.</p>
+<p>As the years went by he fell out of the social life of the
+times; that is, out of the social life of his own circle. He
+regularly fed the pigs; but when he heard that the neighbours, were
+all going in to the town to attend some important agricultural
+meeting, or to start some useful movement, he put his hands behind
+his back and said that he should not go; he did not understand
+anything about it. There never used to be anything of that sort. So
+he went in to luncheon on bread and cheese and small ale. Such a
+course could only bring him into the contempt of his fellow-men. He
+became a nonentity. No one had any respect for or confidence in
+him. Otherwise, possibly, he might have obtained powerful help, for
+the memory of what his family had been had not yet died out.</p>
+<p>Men saw that he lived and worked as a labourer; they gave him no
+credit for the work, but they despised him for the meanness and
+churlishness of his life. There was neither a piano nor a decanter
+of sherry in his house. He was utterly out of accord with the
+times. By degrees, after many years, it became apparent to all that
+he was going downhill. The stock upon the farm was not so large nor
+of so good a character as had been the case. The manner of men
+visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the very
+carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call
+at a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own
+coarse way that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him,
+and bore him down with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly,
+without showing any spirit; but, on the other hand, without
+resentment, for he never said ill of any man behind his back.</p>
+<p>It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had
+seen a jar of spirits carried into the house from the wine
+merchant's cart. A jar of spirits had been delivered at the house
+at intervals for years and years, far back into his father's time,
+and every one of those who now expressed their disgust at his
+supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in that house
+without stint. He did not drink&mdash;he did not take one-half at
+home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and
+auctions every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and
+they called to mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and
+pointed out to their acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was
+coming home to him.</p>
+<p>No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the
+declining farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain
+every drop, and to linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or
+ten, or fifteen years about. He cannot, like the bankrupt
+tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes, put up his shutters at
+once and retire from view. Even at the end, after the notice, six
+months at least elapse before all is over&mdash;before the farm is
+surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
+place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his
+neighbours are concerned he is in public view for years previously.
+He has to rise in the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees
+them in the road; he passes through groups of them in the
+market-place. As he goes by they look after him, and perhaps
+audibly wonder how long he will last. These people all knew him
+from a lad, and can trace every inch of his descent. The labourers
+in the field know it, and by their manner show that they know
+it.</p>
+<p>His wife&mdash;his wife who worked so hard for so many, many
+years&mdash;is made to know it too. She is conspicuously omitted
+from the social gatherings that occur from time to time. The
+neighbours' wives do not call; their well-dressed daughters, as
+they rattle by to the town in basket-carriage or dog-cart, look
+askance at the shabby figure walking slowly on the path beside the
+road. They criticise the shabby shawl; they sneer at the slow step
+which is the inevitable result of hard work, the cares of
+maternity, and of age. So they flaunt past with an odour of
+perfume, and leave the 'old lady' to plod unrecognised.</p>
+<p>The end came at last. All this blind work of his was of no avail
+against the ocean steamer and her cargo of wheat and meat from the
+teeming regions of the West. Nor was it of avail against the fall
+of prices, and the decreased yield consequent upon a succession of
+bad seasons. The general lack of confidence pressed heavily upon a
+man who did not even attempt to take his natural place among his
+fellow-men. The loan from the bank had gradually grown from five to
+seven or eight hundred by thirties, and forties, and fifties added
+to it by degrees; and the bank&mdash;informed, perhaps, by the same
+busybodies who had discovered that he drank&mdash;declined further
+assistance, and notified that part, at least, of the principal must
+be repaid. The landlord had long been well aware of the state of
+affairs, but refrained from action out of a feeling for the old
+family. But the land, from the farmer's utter lack of capital, was
+now going from bad to worse. The bank having declined to advance
+further, the rent began to fall into arrear. The landlord caused it
+to be conveyed to his tenant that if he would quit the farm, which
+was a large one, he could go into a smaller, and his affairs might
+perhaps be arranged.</p>
+<p>The old man&mdash;for he was now growing old&mdash;put his hands
+behind his back and said nothing, but went on with his usual
+routine of work. Whether he had become dulled and deadened and
+cared nothing, whether hope was extinct, or he could not wrench
+himself from the old place, he said nothing. Even then some further
+time elapsed&mdash;so slow is the farmer's fall that he might
+almost be excused for thinking that it would never come. But now
+came the news that the old uncle who had 'backed' him at the bank
+had been found dead in bed of sheer old age. Then the long-kept
+secret came out at last. The dead man's executors claimed the money
+advanced so many, many years ago.</p>
+<p>This discovery finished it. The neighbours soon had food for
+gossip in the fact that a load of hay which he had sold was met in
+the road by the landlord's agent and turned back. By the strict
+letter of his agreement he could not sell hay off the farm; but it
+had been permitted for years. When they heard this they knew it was
+all over. The landlord, of course, put in his claim; the bank
+theirs. In a few months the household furniture and effects were
+sold, and the farmer and his aged wife stepped into the highway in
+their shabby clothes.</p>
+<p>He did not, however, starve; he passed to a cottage on the
+outskirts of the village, and became bailiff for the tenant of that
+very arable farm to work which years ago his father had borrowed
+the thousand pounds that ultimately proved their ruin. He made a
+better bailiff than a farmer, being at home with every detail of
+practice, but incapable of general treatment. His wife does a
+little washing and charing; not much, for she is old and feeble. No
+charity is offered to them&mdash;they have outlived old
+friends&mdash;nor do they appeal for any. The people of the village
+do not heed them, nor reflect upon the spectacle in their midst.
+They are merged and lost in the vast multitude of the agricultural
+poor. Only two of their children survive; but these, having early
+left the farm and gone into a city, are fairly well-to-do. That, at
+least, is a comfort to the old folk.</p>
+<p>It is, however, doubtful whether the old man, as he walks down
+the lane with his hands behind his back and the dead leaves driven
+by the November breeze rustling after, has much feeling of any kind
+left. Hard work and adversity have probably deadened his finer
+senses. Else one would think he could never endure to work as a
+servant upon that farm of all others, nor to daily pass the scenes
+of his youth. For yonder, well in sight as he turns a corner of the
+lane, stands the house where he dwelt so many, many years; where
+the events of his life came slowly to pass; where he was born;
+where his bride came home; where his children were born, and from
+whose door he went forth penniless.</p>
+<p>Seeing this every day, surely that old man, if he have but one
+spark of feeling left, must drink the lees of poverty to the last
+final doubly bitter dregs.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap5" id="chap5">CHAPTER V</a></h3>
+<h3>THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER</h3>
+'Where do he get the money from, you?' 'It be curious, bean't it; I
+minds when his father drove folks' pigs to market.' These remarks
+passed between two old farmers, one standing on the sward by the
+roadside, and the other talking to him over the low ledge, as a
+gentleman drove by in a Whitechapel dog-cart, groom behind. The
+gentleman glanced at the two farmers, and just acknowledged their
+existence with a careless nod, looking at the moment over their
+heads and far away.
+<p>There is no class so jealous of a rapid rise as old-fashioned
+farming people. They seem to think that if a man once drove pigs to
+market he should always continue to do so, and all his descendants
+likewise. Their ideas in a measure approximate to those of caste
+among the Hindoos. It is a crime to move out of the original
+groove; if a man be lowly he must remain lowly, or never be
+forgiven. The lapse of time makes not the least difference. If it
+takes the man thirty years to get into a fair position he is none
+the less guilty. A period equal to the existence of a generation is
+not sufficient excuse for him. He is not one whit better than if he
+had made his money by a lucky bet on a racehorse. Nor can he ever
+hope to live down this terrible social misdemeanour, especially if
+it is accompanied by the least ostentation.</p>
+<p>Now, in the present day a man who gets money shows off more than
+ever was the case. In the olden time the means of luxury were
+limited, and the fortunate could do little more than drink, and
+tempt others to drink. But to-day the fortunate farmer in the
+dog-cart, dressed like a gentleman, drove his thorough-bred, and
+carried his groom behind. Frank D&mdash;&mdash;, Esq., in the slang
+of the time, 'did the thing grand!' The dog-cart was a first-rate
+article. The horse was a high-stepper, such as are not to be bought
+for a song; the turn-out was at the first glance perfect. But if
+you looked keenly at the groom, there was a suspicion of the plough
+in his face and attitude. He did not sit like a man to the manner
+born. He was lumpy; he lacked the light, active style
+characteristic of the thoroughbred groom, who is as distinct a
+breed as the thoroughbred horse. The man looked as if he had been
+taken from the plough and was conscious of it. His feet were in
+top-boots, but he could not forget the heavy action induced by a
+long course of walking in wet furrows. The critics by the hedge
+were not capable of detecting these niceties. The broad facts were
+enough for them. There was the gentleman in his ulster, there was
+the resplendent turn-out, there was the groom, and there was the
+thoroughbred horse. The man's father drove their pigs to market,
+and they wanted to know where he got the money from.</p>
+<p>Meantime Mr. D&mdash;&mdash;, having carelessly nodded, had gone
+on. Half a mile farther some of his own fields were contiguous to
+the road, yet he did not, after the fashion of the farmer
+generally, pause to gaze at them searchingly; he went on with the
+same careless glance. This fact, which the old-fashioned folk had
+often observed, troubled them greatly. It seemed so unnatural, so
+opposite to the old ideas and ways, that a man should take no
+apparent interest in his own farm. They said that Frank was nothing
+of a farmer; he knew nothing of farming. They looked at his ricks;
+they were badly built, and still worse thatched. They examined his
+meadows, and saw wisps of hay lying about, evidence of neglect; the
+fields had not been properly raked. His ploughed fields were full
+of weeds, and not half worked enough. His labourers had acquired a
+happy-go-lucky style, and did their work anyhow or not at all,
+having no one to look after them. So, clearly, it was not Frank's
+good farming that made him so rich, and enabled him to take so high
+and leading a position.</p>
+<p>Nor was it his education or his 'company' manners. The old folk
+noted his boorishness and lack of the little refinements which mark
+the gentleman. His very voice was rude and hoarse, and seemed
+either to grumble or to roar forth his meaning. They had frequently
+heard him speak in public&mdash;he was generally on the platform
+when any local movement was in progress&mdash;and could not
+understand why he was put up there to address the audience, unless
+it was for his infinite brass. The language he employed was rude,
+his sentences disjointed, his meaning incoherent; but he had a
+knack of an <i>apropos</i> jest, not always altogether savoury, but
+which made a mixed assembly laugh. As his public speeches did not
+seem very brilliant, they supposed he must have the gift of
+persuasion, in private. He did not even ride well to
+hounds&mdash;an accomplishment that has proved a passport to a
+great landlord's favour before now&mdash;for he had an awkward,
+and, to the eye, not too secure a seat in the saddle.</p>
+<p>Nor was it his personal appearance. He was very tall and
+ungainly, with a long neck and a small round head on the top of it.
+His features were flat, and the skin much wrinkled; there seemed
+nothing in his countenance to recommend him to the notice of the
+other sex. Yet he had been twice married; the last time to a
+comparatively young lady with some money, who dressed in the height
+of fashion.</p>
+<p>Frank had two families&mdash;one, grown up, by his first wife,
+the second in the nursery&mdash;but it made no difference to him.
+All were well dressed and well educated; the nursery maids and the
+infants went out for their airings in a carriage and pair. Mrs.
+D&mdash;&mdash;, gay as a Parisian belle, and not without
+pretensions to beauty, was seen at balls, parties, and every other
+social amusement. She seemed to have the <i>entr&eacute;e</i>
+everywhere in the county. All this greatly upset and troubled the
+old folk, whose heads Frank looked over as he carelessly nodded
+them good-morning driving by. The cottage people from whose ranks
+his family had so lately risen, however, had a very decided opinion
+upon the subject, and expressed it forcibly. "'Pend upon it," they
+said, "'pend upon it, he have zucked zumbody in zumhow."</p>
+<p>This unkind conclusion was perhaps not quite true. The fact was,
+that Frank, aided by circumstances, had discovered the ease with
+which a man can borrow. That was his secret&mdash;his philosopher's
+stone. To a certain extent, and in certain ways, he really was a
+clever man, and he had the luck to begin many years ago when
+farming was on the ascending side of the cycle. The single solid
+basis of his success was his thorough knowledge of cattle&mdash;his
+proficiency in dealership. Perhaps this was learnt while assisting
+his father to drive other folks' pigs to market. At all events,
+there was no man in the county who so completely understood cattle
+and sheep, for buying and selling purposes, as Frank. At first he
+gained his reputation by advising others what and when to buy; by
+degrees, as people began to see that he was always right, they felt
+confidence in him, and assisted him to make small investments on
+his own account. There were then few auctioneers, and cattle were
+sold in open market. If a man really was a judge, it was as good to
+him as a reputation for good ale is to an innkeeper. Men flock to a
+barrel of good ale no matter whether the inn be low class or high
+class. Men gather about a good judge of cattle, and will back him
+up. By degrees D&mdash;&mdash; managed to rent a small farm, more
+for the purpose of having a place to turn his cattle into than for
+farming proper&mdash;he was, in fact, a small dealer.</p>
+<p>Soon afterwards there was an election. During the election,
+Frank gained the good-will of a local solicitor and political
+agent. He proved himself an active and perhaps a discreetly
+unscrupulous assistant. The solicitor thought he saw in Frank
+talent of a certain order&mdash;a talent through which he (the
+solicitor) might draw unto himself a share of other people's money.
+The lawyer's judgment of men was as keen as Frank's judgment of
+cattle. He helped Frank to get into a large farm, advancing the
+money with which to work it. He ran no risk; for, of course, he had
+Frank tight in the grasp of his legal fist, and he was the agent
+for the landlord. The secret was this&mdash;the lawyer paid his
+clients four per cent, for the safe investment of their money.
+Frank had the money, worked a large farm with it, and speculated in
+the cattle markets, and realised some fifteen or perhaps twenty per
+cent., of which the lawyer took the larger share. Something of this
+sort has been done in other businesses besides farming. Frank,
+however, was not the man to remain in a state of tutelage, working
+for another. His forte was not saving&mdash;simple accumulation was
+not for him; but he looked round the district to discover those who
+had saved.</p>
+<p>Now, it is a fact that no man is so foolish with his money as
+the working farmer in a small way, who has put by a little coin. He
+is extremely careful about a fourpenny piece, and will wrap a
+sovereign up in several scraps of paper lest he should lose it; but
+with his hundred or two hundred pounds he is quite helpless. It has
+very likely occupied him the best part of his lifetime to add one
+five-pound note to another, money most literally earned in the
+sweat of his brow; and at last he lends it to a man like Frank, who
+has the wit to drive a carriage and ride a thoroughbred. With the
+strange inconsistency so characteristic of human nature, a
+half-educated, working farmer of this sort will sneer in his rude
+way at the pretensions of such a man, and at the same time bow down
+before him.</p>
+<p>Frank knew this instinctively, and, as soon as ever he began to
+get on, set up a blood-horse and a turn-out. By dint of such vulgar
+show and his own plausible tongue he persuaded more than one such
+old fellow to advance him money. Mayhap these confiding persons,
+like a certain Shallow, J.P., have since earnestly besought him in
+vain to return them five hundred of their thousand. In like manner
+one or two elderly ladies&mdash;cunning as magpies in their own
+conceit&mdash;let him have a few spare hundreds. They thought they
+could lay out this money to better advantage than the safe family
+adviser 'uncle John,' with his talk of the Indian railways and a
+guaranteed five per cent. They thought (for awhile) that they had
+done a very clever thing on the sly in lending their spare hundreds
+to the great Mr. Frank D&mdash;&mdash; at a high rate of interest,
+and by this time would perhaps be glad to get the money back again
+in the tea-caddy.</p>
+<p>But Frank was not the man to be satisfied with such small game.
+After a time he succeeded in getting at the 'squire.' The squire
+had nothing but the rents of his farms to live upon, and was
+naturally anxious for an improving tenant who would lay out money
+and put capital into the soil. He was not so foolish as to think
+that Frank was a safe man, and of course he had legal advice upon
+the matter. The squire thought, in fact, that although Frank
+himself had no money, Frank could get it out of others, and spend
+it upon his place. It did not concern the squire where or how Frank
+got his money, provided he had it&mdash;he as landlord was secure
+in case of a crash, because the law gave him precedence over all
+other creditors. So Frank ultimately stepped into one of the
+squire's largest farms and cut a finer dash than ever.</p>
+<p>There are distinct social degrees in agriculture. The man who
+occupies a great farm under a squire is a person of much more
+importance than he who holds a little tenancy of a small
+proprietor. Frank began to take the lead among the farmers of the
+neighbourhood, to make his appearance at public meetings, and to
+become a recognised politician&mdash;of course upon the side most
+powerful in that locality, and most likely to serve his own
+interest. His assurance, and, it must be owned, his ready wit,
+helped him in coming to the front. When at the front, he was
+invited to the houses of really well-to-do country people. They
+condoned his bluff manners&mdash;they were the mark of the true,
+solid British agriculturist. Some perhaps in their hearts thought
+that another day they might want a tenant, and this man would serve
+their turn. As a matter of fact, Frank took every unoccupied farm
+which he could get at a tolerably reasonable rent. He never seemed
+satisfied with the acreage he held, but was ever desirous of
+extending it. He took farm after farm, till at last he held an area
+equal to a fine estate. For some years there has been a disposition
+on the part of landlords to throw farms together, making many small
+ones into one large one. For the time, at all events, Frank seemed
+to do very well with all these farms to look after. Of course the
+same old-fashioned folk made ill-natured remarks, and insisted upon
+it that he merely got what he could out of the soil, and did not
+care in the least how the farming was done. Nevertheless, he
+flourished&mdash;the high prices and general inflation of the
+period playing into his hand.</p>
+<p>Frank was now a very big man, the biggest man thereabout. And it
+was now that he began to tap another source of supply&mdash;to, as
+it were, open a fresh cask&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> the local bank. At
+first he only asked for a hundred or so, a mere bagatelle, for a
+few days&mdash;only temporary convenience. The bank was glad to get
+hold of what really looked like legitimate business, and he
+obtained the bagatelle in the easiest manner&mdash;so easily that
+it surprised him. He did not himself yet quite know how completely
+his showy style of life, his large acreage, his speeches, and
+politics, and familiarity with great people, had imposed upon the
+world in which he lived. He now began to realise that he was
+somebody. He repaid the loan to the day, waited awhile and took a
+larger one, and from that time the frequency and the amount of his
+loans went on increasing.</p>
+<p>We have seen in these latter days bank directors bitterly
+complaining that they could not lend money at more than 7/8 or even
+1/2 per cent., so little demand was there for accommodation. They
+positively could not lend their money; they had millions in their
+tills unemployed, and practically going a-begging. But here was
+Frank paying seven per cent, for short loans, and upon a
+continually enlarging amount. His system, so far as the seasons
+were concerned, was something like this. He took a loan (or renewed
+an old one) at the bank on the security of the first draught of
+lambs for sale, say, in June. This paid the labourers and the
+working expenses of the hay harvest, and of preparing for the corn.
+He took the next upon the second draught of lambs in August, which
+paid the reapers. He took a third on the security of the crops,
+partly cut, or in process of cutting, for his Michaelmas rent. Then
+for the fall of the year he kept on threshing out and selling as he
+required money, and had enough left to pay for the winter's work.
+This was Frank's system&mdash;the system of too many farmers, far
+more than would be believed. Details of course vary, and not all,
+like Frank, need three loans at least in the season to keep them
+going. It is not every man who mortgages his lambs, his ewes (the
+draught from a flock for sale), and the standing crops in
+succession.</p>
+<p>But of late years farming has been carried on in such an
+atmosphere of loans, and credit, and percentage, and so forth, that
+no one knows what is or what is not mortgaged. You see a flock of
+sheep on a farm, but you do not know to whom they belong. You see
+the cattle in the meadow, but you do not know who has a lien upon
+them. You see the farmer upon his thoroughbred, but you do not know
+to whom in reality the horse belongs. It is all loans and debt. The
+vendors of artificial manure are said not to be averse sometimes to
+make an advance on reasonable terms to those enterprising and
+deserving farmers who grow so many tons of roots, and win the
+silver cups, and so on, for the hugest mangold grown with their
+particular manure. The proprietors of the milk-walks in London are
+said to advance money to the struggling dairymen who send them
+their milk. And latterly the worst of usurers have found out the
+farmers&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> the men who advance on bills of sale of
+furniture, and sell up the wretched client who does not pay to the
+hour. Upon such bills of sale English farmers have been borrowing
+money, and with the usual disastrous results. In fact, till the
+disastrous results became so conspicuous, no one guessed that the
+farmer had descended so far. Yet, it is a fact, and a sad one.</p>
+<p>All the while the tradespeople of the market-towns&mdash;the
+very people who have made the loudest outcry about the depression
+and the losses they have sustained&mdash;these very people have
+been pressing their goods upon the farmers, whom they must have
+known were many of them hardly able to pay their rents. Those who
+have not seen it cannot imagine what a struggle and competition has
+been going on in little places where one would think the very word
+was unknown, just to persuade the farmer and the farmer's family to
+accept credit. But there is another side to it. The same tradesman
+who to-day begs&mdash;positively begs&mdash;the farmer to take his
+goods on any terms, in six months' time sends his bill, and, if it
+be not paid immediately, puts the County Court machinery in
+motion.</p>
+<p>Now this to the old-fashioned farmer is a very bitter thing. He
+has never had the least experience of the County Court; his family
+never were sued for debt since they can remember. They have always
+been used to a year's credit at least&mdash;often two, and even
+three. To be threatened with public exposure in the County Court
+because a little matter of five pounds ten is not settled instantly
+is bitter indeed. And to be sued so arbitrarily by the very
+tradesman who almost stuffed his goods down their throats is more
+bitter still.</p>
+<p>Frank D&mdash;&mdash;, Esq.'s coarse grandeur answered very well
+indeed so long as prices were high. While the harvests were large
+and the markets inflated; while cattle fetched good money; while
+men's hearts were full of mirth&mdash;all went well. It is
+whispered now that the grand Frank has secretly borrowed
+25<i>l</i>. of a little cottage shopkeeper in the adjacent
+village&mdash;a man who sells farthing candles and ounces of
+tea&mdash;to pay his reapers. It is also currently whispered that
+Frank is the only man really safe, for the following
+reason&mdash;they are all 'in' so deep they find it necessary to
+keep him going. The squire is 'in,' the bank is 'in,' the lawyer is
+'in,' the small farmers with two hundred pounds capital are 'in,'
+and the elderly ladies who took their bank-notes out of their
+tea-caddies are 'in.' That is to say, Mr. Frank owes them so much
+money that, rather than he should come to grief (when, they must
+lose pretty well all), they prefer to keep him afloat. It is a
+noticeable fact that Frank is the only man who has not raised his
+voice and shouted 'Depression.' Perhaps the squire thinks that so
+repellent a note, if struck by a leading man like Frank, might not
+be to his interest, and has conveyed that thought to the gentleman
+in the dog-cart with the groom behind. There are, however, various
+species of the fa&ccedil;ade farmer.</p>
+<p>'What kind of agriculture is practised here?' the visitor from
+town naturally asks his host, as they stroll towards the turnips
+(in another district), with shouldered guns. 'Oh, you had better
+see Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;,' is the reply, 'He is our leading
+agriculturist; he'll tell you all about it.' Everybody repeats the
+same story, and once Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s name is started
+everybody talks of him. The squire, the clergyman&mdash;even in
+casually calling at a shop in the market town, or at the hotel
+(there are few inns now)&mdash;wherever he goes the visitor hears
+from all of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;. A successful man&mdash;most
+successful, progressive, scientific, intellectual. 'Like to see
+him? Nothing easier. Introduction? Nonsense. Why, he'd be delighted
+to see you. Come with me.'</p>
+<p>Protesting feebly against intruding on privacy, the visitor is
+hurried away, and expecting to meet a solid, sturdy, and somewhat
+gruff old gentleman of the John Hull type, endeavors to hunt up
+some ideas about shorthorns and bacon pigs. He is a little
+astonished upon entering the pleasure grounds to see one or more
+gardeners busy among the parterres and shrubberies, the
+rhododendrons, the cedar deodaras, the laurels, the pampas grass,
+the 'carpet gardening' beds, and the glass of distant hothouses
+glittering in the sun. A carriage and pair, being slowly driven by
+a man in livery from the door down to the extensive stabling,
+passes&mdash;clearly some of the family have just returned. On
+ringing, the callers are shown through a spacious hall with a
+bronze or two on the marble table, into a drawing-room, elegantly
+furnished. There is a short iron grand open with a score carelessly
+left by the last player, a harp in the corner, half hidden by the
+curtains, some pieces of Nankin china on the side tables.</p>
+<p>Where are the cow-sheds? Looking out of window a level lawn
+extends, and on it two young gentlemen are playing tennis, in
+appropriate costume. The laboured platitudes that had been prepared
+about shorthorns and bacon pigs are quite forgotten, and the
+visitor is just about to ask the question if his guide has not
+missed the farm-house and called at the squire's, when Mr.
+X&mdash;&mdash; comes briskly in, and laughs all apology about
+intrusion to the winds in his genial manner. He insists on his
+friends taking some refreshment, will not take refusal; and such is
+the power of his vivacity, that they find themselves sipping
+Madeira and are pressed to come and dine in the evening, before one
+at least knows exactly where he is. 'Just a homely spread, you
+know; pot-luck; a bit of fish and a glass of Moet; now <i>do</i>
+come.' This curious mixture of bluff cordiality, with unexpected
+snatches of refinement, is Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s great charm.
+'Style of farming; tell you with pleasure.' [Rings the bell.]
+'John' (to the manservant), 'take this key and bring me account
+book No. 6 B, Copse Farm; that will be the best way to begin.'</p>
+<p>If the visitor knows anything of country life, he cannot help
+recollecting that, if the old type of farmer was close and
+mysterious about anything, it was his accounts. Not a word could be
+got out of him of profit or loss, or revenue: he would barely tell
+you his rent per acre, and it was doubtful if his very wife ever
+saw his pass-book. Opening account book No. 6 B, the explanation
+proceeds.</p>
+<p>'My system of agriculture is simplicity itself, sir. It is all
+founded on one beautiful commercial precept. Our friends round
+about here [with a wave of the hand, indicating the country
+side]&mdash;our old folks&mdash;whenever they got a guinea put it
+out of sight, made a hoard, hid it in a stocking, or behind a brick
+in the chimney. Ha! ha! Consequently their operations were always
+restricted to the same identical locality&mdash;no scope, sir, no
+expansion. Now my plan is&mdash;invest every penny. Make every
+shilling pay for the use of half a crown, and turn the half-crown
+into seven and sixpence. Credit is the soul of business. There you
+have it. Simplicity itself. Here are the books; see for yourself. I
+publish my balance half-yearly&mdash;like a company. Then the
+public see what you are doing. The earth, sir, as I said at the
+dinner the other day (the idea was much applauded), the earth is
+like the Bank of England&mdash;you may draw on it to any extent;
+there's always a reserve to meet you. You positively can't overdraw
+the account. You see there's such a solid security behind you. The
+fact is, I bring commercial principles into agriculture; the result
+is, grand success. However, here's the book; just glance over the
+figures.'</p>
+<p>The said figures utterly bewilder the visitor, who in courtesy
+runs his eye from top to bottom of the long columns&mdash;farming
+accounts are really the most complicated that can be
+imagined&mdash;so he, meantime, while turning over the pages,
+mentally absorbs the personality of the commercial agriculturist.
+He sees a tall, thin farmer, a brown face and neck, long restless
+sinewy hands, perpetually twiddling with a cigar or a gold
+pencil-case&mdash;generally the cigar, or rather the extinct stump
+of it, which he every now and then sucks abstractedly, in total
+oblivion as to its condition. His dress would pass muster in
+towns&mdash;well cut, and probably from Bond Street. He affects a
+frock and high hat one day, and knickerbockers and sun helmet the
+next. His pockets are full of papers, letters, etc., and as he
+searches amid the mass for some memorandum to show, glimpses may be
+seen of certain oblong strips of blue paper with an impressed
+stamp.</p>
+<p>'Very satisfactory,' says the visitor, handing back No 6 B; 'may
+I inquire how many acres you occupy?'</p>
+<p>Out comes a note-book. 'Hum! There's a thousand down in the
+vale, and fifteen hundred upland, and the new place is about nine
+hundred, and the meadows&mdash;I've mislaid the meadows&mdash;but
+it's near about four thousand. Different holdings, of course. Great
+nuisance that, sir; transit, you see, costs money. City gentlemen
+know that. Absurd system in this country&mdash;the land parcelled
+out in little allotment gardens of two or three hundred acres. Why,
+there's a little paltry hundred and twenty acre freehold dairy farm
+lies between my vale and upland, and the fellow won't let my
+waggons or ploughing-tackle take the short cut, ridiculous. Time it
+was altered, sir. Shooting? Why, yes; I have the shooting. Glad if
+you'd come over.'</p>
+<p>Then more Madeira, and after it a stroll through the gardens and
+shrubberies and down to the sheds, a mile, or nearly, distant.
+There, a somewhat confused vision of 'grand shorthorns,' and an
+inexplicable jumble of pedigrees, grand-dams, and
+'g-g-g-g-g-g-dams,' as the catalogues have it; handsome hunters
+paraded, steam-engines pumping water, steam-engines slicing up
+roots, distant columns of smoke where steam-engines are tearing up
+the soil. All the while a scientific disquisition on ammonia and
+the constituent parts and probable value of town sewage as compared
+with guano. And at intervals, and at parting, a pressing invitation
+to dinner [when pineapples or hot-house grapes are certain to make
+their appearance at dessert]&mdash;such a flow of genial eloquence
+surely was never heard before!</p>
+<p>It requires a week at least of calm reflection, and many
+questions to his host, before the visitor&mdash;quite carried
+away&mdash;can begin to arrange his ideas, and to come slowly to
+the opinion that though Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; is as open as the day
+and frank to a fault, it will take him a precious long time to get
+to the bottom of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s system; that is to say, if
+there is any bottom at all to it.</p>
+<p>Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; is, in brief, a gambler. Not in a dishonest,
+or even suspicious sense, but a pure gambler. He is a gigantic
+agricultural speculator; his system is, as he candidly told you,
+credit. Credit not only with the bank, but with everybody. He has
+actually been making use of you, his casual and unexpected visitor,
+as an instrument. You are certain to talk about him; the more he is
+talked of the better, it gives him a reputation, which is beginning
+to mean a great deal in agriculture as it has so long in other
+pursuits. You are sure to tell everybody who ever chooses to
+converse with you about the country of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;, and Mr.
+X&mdash;&mdash;'s engines, cattle, horses, profuse hospitality, and
+progressive science.</p>
+<p>To be socially popular is a part of his system; he sows corn
+among society as freely as over his land, and looks to some grains
+to take root, and bring him increase a hundred fold, as indeed they
+do. Whatever movement is originated in the neighbourhood finds him
+occupying a prominent position. He goes to London as the
+representative of the local agricultural chamber; perhaps waits
+upon a Cabinet Minister as one of the deputation. He speaks
+regularly at the local chamber meetings; his name is ever in the
+papers. The press are invited to inspect his farms, and are
+furnished with minute details. Every now and then a sketch of his
+life and doings, perhaps illustrated with a portrait, appears in
+some agricultural periodical. At certain seasons of the year
+parties of gentlemen are conducted over his place. In parochial or
+district matters he is a leading man.</p>
+<p>Is it a cottage flower-show, a penny reading, a cricket club, a
+benefit society&mdash;it does not matter what, his subscriptions,
+his name, and his voice are heard in it. He is the life and soul of
+it; the energy comes from him, though others higher in the scale
+may be the nominal heads. And the nominal heads, knowing that he
+can be relied upon politically, are grateful, and give him their
+good word freely. He hunts, and is a welcome companion&mdash;the
+meet frequently takes place at his house, or some of the huntsmen
+call for lunch; in fact, the latter is an invariable thing.
+Everybody calls for lunch who happens to pass near any day; the
+house has a reputation for hospitality. He is the clergyman's right
+hand&mdash;as in managing the school committee. When the bishop
+comes to the confirmation, he is introduced as 'my chief lay
+supporter.' At the Rural Diaconal Conference, 'my chief supporter'
+is one of the lay speakers. Thus he obtains every man's good word
+whose good word is worth anything. Social credit means commercial
+credit. Yet he is not altogether acting a part&mdash;he really
+likes taking the lead and pushing forward, and means a good deal of
+what he says.</p>
+<p>He is especially quite honest in his hospitality. All the same,
+so far as business is concerned, it is pure gambling, which may
+answer very well in favourable times, but is not unlikely to end in
+failure should the strain of depression become too severe. Personal
+popularity, however, will tide him over a great deal. When a man is
+spoken highly of by gentry, clergy, literally everybody, the bank
+is remarkably accommodating. Such a man may get for his bare
+signature&mdash;almost pressed on him, as if his acceptance of it
+were a favour&mdash;what another would have to deposit solid
+security for.</p>
+<p>In plain language, he borrows money and invests it in every
+possible way. His farms are simply the basis of his credit. He buys
+blood shorthorns, he buys blood horses, and he sells them again. He
+buys wheat, hay, &amp;c., to dispose of them at a profit. If he
+chose, he could explain to you the meaning of contango, and even of
+that mysterious term to the uninitiated, 'backwardation.' His
+speculations for the 'account' are sometimes heavy. So much so,
+that occasionally, with thousands invested, he has hardly any ready
+money. But, then, there are the crops; he can get money on the
+coming crops. There is, too, the live stock money can be borrowed
+on the stock.</p>
+<p>Here lies the secret reason of the dread of foreign cattle
+disease. The increase of our flocks and herds is, of course, a
+patriotic cry (and founded on fact); but the secret pinch is
+this&mdash;if foot-and-mouth, pleuro-pneumonia, or rinderpest
+threaten the stock, the tenant-farmer cannot borrow on that
+security. The local bankers shake their heads&mdash;three cases of
+rinderpest are equivalent to a reduction of 25 per cent. in the
+borrowing power of the agriculturist. The auctioneers and our
+friends have large transactions&mdash;'paper' here again. With
+certain members of the hunt he books bets to a high amount; his
+face is not unknown at Tattersall's or at the race meetings. But he
+does not flourish the betting-book in the face of society. He
+bets&mdash;and holds his tongue. Some folks have an ancient and
+foolish prejudice against betting; he respects sincere
+convictions.</p>
+<p>Far and away he is the best fellow, the most pleasant company in
+the shire, always welcome everywhere. He has read widely, is well
+educated; but, above all, he is ever jolly, and his jollity is
+contagious. Despite his investments and speculations, his brow
+never wears that sombre aspect of gloomy care, that knitted
+concentration of wrinkles seen on the face of the City man, who
+goes daily to his 'office.' The out-of-door bluffness, the cheery
+ringing voice, and the upright form only to be gained in the saddle
+over the breezy uplands, cling to him still. He wakes everybody up,
+and, risky as perhaps some of his speculations are, is socially
+enlivening.</p>
+<p>The two young gentlemen, by-the-by, observed playing lawn-tennis
+from the drawing-room window, are two of his pupils, whose high
+premiums and payments assist to keep up the free and generous
+table, and who find farming a very pleasant profession. The most
+striking characteristic of their tutor is his Yankee-like fertility
+of resource and bold innovations&mdash;the very antipodes of the
+old style of 'clod-compeller.'</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap6" id="chap6">CHAPTER VI</a></h3>
+<h3>AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS&mdash;OLD STYLE</h3>
+Towards the hour of noon Harry Hodson, of Upcourt Farm, was slowly
+ascending the long slope that led to his dwelling. In his left hand
+he carried a hare, which swung slightly to and fro as he stepped
+out, and the black-tipped ears rubbed now and then against a bunch
+of grass. His double-barrel was under his right arm. Every day at
+the same hour Harry turned towards home, for he adhered to the ways
+of his fathers and dined at half-past twelve, except when the
+stress of harvest, or some important agricultural operation,
+disturbed the usual household arrangements. It was a beautiful
+October day, sunny and almost still, and, as he got on the high
+ground, he paused and looked round. The stubbles stretched far away
+on one side, where the country rose and fell in undulations. On the
+distant horizon a column of smoke, broadening at the top, lifted
+itself into the sky; he knew it was from the funnel of a
+steam-plough, whose furnace had just been replenished with coal.
+The appearance of the smoke somewhat resembled that left by a
+steamer at sea when the vessel is just below the horizon. On the
+other hand were wooded meadows, where the rooks were
+cawing&mdash;some in the oaks, some as they wheeled round in the
+air. Just beneath him stood a row of wheat ricks&mdash;his own. His
+gaze finally rested upon their conical roofs with satisfaction, and
+he then resumed his walk.
+<p>Even as he moved he seemed to bask in the sunshine; the sunshine
+pouring down from the sky above, the material sunshine of the
+goodly wheat ricks, and the physical sunshine of personal health
+and vigour. His walk was the walk of a strong, prosperous
+man&mdash;each step long, steady, and firm, but quite devoid of
+haste. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, in the very prime of
+life, and though stooping a little, like so many countrymen, very
+tall, and built proportionately broad across the shoulders and
+chest. His features were handsome&mdash;perhaps there was a trace
+of indolence in their good-humoured expression&mdash;and he had a
+thick black beard just marked with one thin wavy line of grey. That
+trace of snow, if anything, rather added to the manliness of his
+aspect, and conveyed the impression that he was at the fulness of
+life when youth and experience meet. If anything, indeed, he looked
+too comfortable, too placid. A little ambition, a little
+restlessness, would perhaps have been good for him.</p>
+<p>By degrees he got nearer to the house; but it was by degrees
+only, for he stayed to look over every gate, and up into almost
+every tree. He stopped to listen as his ear caught the sound of
+hoofs on the distant road, and again at the faint noise of a gun
+fired a mile away. At the corner of a field a team of
+horses&mdash;his own&mdash;were resting awhile as the carter and
+his lad ate their luncheon. Harry stayed to talk to the man, and
+yet again at the barn door to speak to his men at work within with
+the winnowing machine. The homestead stood on an eminence, but was
+hidden by elms and sycamores, so that it was possible to pass at a
+distance without observing it.</p>
+<p>On entering the sitting-room Harry leaned his gun against the
+wall in the angle between it and the bureau, from which action
+alone it might have been known that he was a bachelor, and that
+there were no children about the house to get into danger with
+fire-arms. His elderly aunt, who acted as housekeeper, was already
+at table waiting for him. It was spread with a snow-white cloth,
+and almost equally snow-white platter for bread&mdash;so much and
+so well was it cleaned. They ate home-baked bread; they were so
+many miles from a town or baker that it was difficult to get served
+regularly, a circumstance which preserved that wholesome
+institution. There was a chine of bacon, small ale, and a plentiful
+supply of good potatoes. The farmer did full justice to the sweet
+picking off the chine, and then lingered over an old cheese. Very
+few words were spoken.</p>
+<p>Then, after his dinner, he sat in his arm-chair&mdash;the same
+that he had used for many years&mdash;and took a book. For Harry
+rather enjoyed a book, provided it was not too new. He read works
+of science, thirty years old, solid and correct, but somewhat
+behind the age; he read histories, such as were current in the
+early part of the present century, but none of a later date than
+the end of the wars of the First Napoleon. The only thing modern he
+cared for in literature was a 'society' journal, sent weekly from
+London. These publications are widely read in the better class of
+farmsteads now. Harry knew something of most things, even of
+geology. He could show you the huge vertebr&aelig; of some extinct
+saurian, found while draining was being done. He knew enough of
+arch&aelig;ology to be able to tell any enthusiastic student who
+chanced to come along where to find the tumuli and the earthworks
+on the Downs. He had several Roman coins, and a fine bronze
+spearhead, which had been found upon the farm. These were kept with
+care, and produced to visitors with pride. Harry really did possess
+a wide fund of solid, if quiet, knowledge. Presently, after reading
+a chapter or two, he would drop off into a siesta, till some
+message came from the men or the bailiff, asking for
+instructions.</p>
+<p>The farmstead was, in fact, a mansion of large size, an old
+manor-house, and had it been situate near a fashionable suburb and
+been placed in repair would have been worth to let as much per
+annum as the rent of a small farm. But it stood in a singularly
+lonely and outlying position, far from any village of size, much
+less a town, and the very highway even was so distant that you
+could only hear the horse's hoofs when the current of air came from
+that direction. This was his aunt's&mdash;the
+housekeeper's&mdash;great complaint, the distance to the highway.
+She grumbled because she could not see the carriers' carts and the
+teams go by; she wanted to know what was going on.</p>
+<p>Harry, however, seemed contented with the placid calm of the
+vast house that was practically empty, and rarely left it, except
+for his regular weekly visit to market. After the fashion of a
+thoroughbred farmer he was often rather late home on market nights.
+There were three brothers, all in farms, and all well to do; the
+other two were married, and Harry was finely plagued about being a
+bachelor. But the placid life at the old place&mdash;he had
+succeeded to his father&mdash;somehow seemed to content him. He had
+visitors at Christmas, he read his books of winter evenings and
+after dinner; in autumn he strolled round with his double-barrel
+and knocked over a hare or so, and so slumbered away the days. But
+he never neglected the farming-everything was done almost exactly
+as it had been done by his father.</p>
+<p>Old Harry Hodson was in his time one of the characters of that
+country side. He was the true founder of the Hodson family. They
+had been yeomen in a small way for generations, farming little
+holdings, and working like labourers, plodding on, and never heard
+of outside their fifty-acre farms. So they might have continued
+till this day had not old Harry Hodson arose to be the
+genius&mdash;the very Napoleon&mdash;of farming in that district.
+When the present Harry, the younger, had a visitor to his
+taste&mdash;<i>i.e</i>. one who was not in a hurry&mdash;he would,
+in the evening, pull out the books and papers and letters of his
+late father from the bureau (beside which stood the gun), and
+explain how the money was made. The logs crackled and sparkled on
+the hearth, the lamp burnt clear and bright; there was a low
+singing sound in the chimney; the elderly aunt nodded and worked in
+her arm-chair, and woke up and mixed fresh spirits and water, and
+went off to sleep again; and still Harry would sit and smoke and
+sip and talk. By-and-by the aunt would wish the visitor good-night,
+draw up the clock, and depart, after mixing fresh tumblers and
+casting more logs upon the fire, for well she knew her nephew's
+ways. Harry was no tippler, he never got intoxicated; but he would
+sit and smoke and sip and talk with a friend, and tell him all
+about it till the white daylight came peeping through the chinks in
+the shutters.</p>
+<p>Old Harry Hodson, then, made the money, and put two of his sons
+in large farms, and paid all their expenses, so that they started
+fair, besides leaving his own farm to the third. Old Harry Hodson
+made the money, yet he could not have done it had he not married
+the exact woman. Women have made the fortunes of Emperors by their
+advice and assistance, and the greatest men the world has seen have
+owned that their success was owing to feminine counsel. In like
+manner a woman made the policy of an obscure farmer a success. When
+the old gentleman began to get well to do, and when he found his
+teeth not so strong as of yore, and his palate less able to face
+the coarse, fat, yellowy bacon that then formed the staple of the
+household fare, he actually ventured so far as to have one joint of
+butcher's meat, generally a leg of mutton, once a week. It was
+cooked for Sunday, and, so far as that kind of meat was concerned,
+lasted till the next Sunday. But his wife met this extravagant
+innovation with furious opposition. It was sheer waste; it was
+something almost unpardonably prodigal. They had eaten bacon all
+their lives, often bacon with the bristles thick upon it, and to
+throw away money like this was positively wicked. However, the-old
+gentleman, being stubborn as a horse-nail, persisted; the wife,
+still grumbling, calmed down; and the one joint of meat became an
+institution. Harry, the younger, still kept it up; but it had lost
+its significance in his day, for he had a fowl or two in the week,
+and a hare or a partridge, and, besides, had the choicest hams.</p>
+<p>Now, this dispute between the old gentleman and his
+wife&mdash;this dispute as to which should be most
+parsimonious&mdash;was typical of their whole course of life. If
+one saved cheese-parings, the other would go without cheese at all,
+and be content with dry bread. They lived&mdash;indeed, harder than
+their own labourers, and it sometimes happened that the food they
+thought good enough was refused by a cottager. When a strange
+carter, or shepherd, or other labourer came to the house from a
+distance, perhaps with a waggon for a load of produce or with some
+sheep, it was the custom to give them some lunch. These men,
+unaccustomed even in their own cottages to such coarse food, often
+declined to eat it, and went away empty, but not before delivering
+their opinion of the fare, expressed in language of the rudest
+kind.</p>
+<p>No economy was too small for old Hodson; in the house his wife
+did almost all the work. Nowadays a farmer's house alone keeps the
+women of one, or even two, cottages fully employed. The washing is
+sent out, and occupies one cottage woman the best part of her spare
+time. Other women come in to do the extra work, the cleaning up and
+scouring, and so on. The expense of employing these women is not
+great; but still it is an expense. Old Mrs. Hodson did everything
+herself, and the children roughed it how they could, playing in the
+mire with the pigs and geese. Afterwards, when old Hodson began to
+get a little money, they were sent to a school in a market town.
+There they certainly did pick up the rudiments, but lived almost as
+hard as at home. Old Hodson, to give an instance of his method,
+would not even fatten a pig, because it cost a trifle of ready
+money for 'toppings,' or meal, and nothing on earth could induce
+him to part with a coin that he had once grasped. He never fattened
+a pig (meaning for sale), but sold the young porkers directly they
+were large enough to fetch a sovereign a-piece, and kept the
+money.</p>
+<p>The same system was carried on throughout the farm. The one he
+then occupied was of small extent, and he did a very large
+proportion of the work himself. He did not purchase stock at all in
+the modern sense; he grew them. If he went to a sale he bought one
+or two despicable-looking cattle at the lowest price, drove them
+home, and let them gradually gather condition. The grass they ate
+grew almost as they ate it&mdash;in his own words, 'They cut their
+own victuals'&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> with their teeth. He did not miss
+the grass blades, but had he paid a high price then he would have
+missed the money.</p>
+<p>Here he was in direct conflict with modern farming. The theory
+of the farming of the present day is that time is money, and,
+according to this, Hodson made a great mistake. He should have
+given a high price for his stock, have paid for cake, &amp;c., and
+fattened them up as fast as possible, and then realised. The logic
+is correct, and in any business or manufacture could not be
+gainsaid. But Hodson did just the reverse. He did not mind his
+cattle taking a little time to get into condition, provided they
+cost him no ready money. Theoretically, the grass they ate
+represented money, and might have been converted to a better use.
+But in practice the reverse came true. He succeeded, and other men
+failed. His cattle and his sheep, which he bought cheap and out of
+condition, quietly improved (time being no object), and he sold
+them at a profit, from which there were no long bills to deduct for
+cake.</p>
+<p>He purchased no machinery whilst in this small place&mdash;which
+was chiefly grass land&mdash;with the exception of a second-hand
+haymaking machine. The money he made he put out at interest on
+mortgage of real property, and it brought in about 4 per cent. It
+was said that in some few cases where the security was good he lent
+it at a much higher rate to other farmers of twenty times his
+outward show. After awhile he went into the great farm now occupied
+by his son Harry, and commenced operations without borrowing a
+single shilling. The reason was because he was in no hurry. He
+slowly grew his money in the little farm, and then, and not till
+then, essayed the greater. Even then he would not have ventured had
+not the circumstances been peculiarly favourable. Like the present,
+it was a time of depression generally, and in this particular case
+the former tenant had lived high and farmed bad. The land was in
+the worst possible state, the landlord could not let it, and Hodson
+was given to understand that he could have it for next to nothing
+at first.</p>
+<p>Now it was at this crisis of his life that he showed that in his
+own sphere he possessed the true attribute of genius. Most men who
+had practised rigid economy for twenty years, whose hours, and
+days, and weeks had been occupied with little petty details, how to
+save a penny here and a fourpenny bit yonder, would have become
+fossilised in the process. Their minds would have become as narrow
+as their ways. They would have shrunk from any venture, and
+continued in the old course to the end of their time.</p>
+<p>Old Hodson, mean to the last degree in his way of living, narrow
+to the narrowest point where sixpence could be got, nevertheless
+had a mind. He saw that his opportunity had come, and he struck. He
+took the great corn farm, and left his little place. The whole
+country side at once pronounced him mad, and naturally anticipated
+his failure. The country side did not yet understand two things.
+They did not know how much money he had saved, and they did not
+know the capacity of his mind. He had not only saved money, and
+judiciously invested it, but he had kept it a profound secret,
+because he feared if his landlord learnt that he was saving money
+so fast the rent of the little farm would have been speedily
+raised. Here, again, he was in direct conflict with the modern
+farmer. The modern man, if he has a good harvest or makes a profit,
+at once buys a 'turn-out,' and grand furniture, and in every way
+'exalts his gate,' When landlords saw their tenants living in a
+style but little inferior to that they themselves kept up, it was
+not really very surprising that the rents a few years back began to
+rise so rapidly. In a measure tenants had themselves to blame for
+that upward movement.</p>
+<p>Old Hodson carried his money to a long distance from home to
+invest, so anxious was he that neither his landlord nor any one
+else should know how quickly he was getting rich. So he entered
+upon his new venture&mdash;the great upland farm, with its broad
+cornfields, its expanse of sheep walk and down, its meadows in the
+hollow, its copses (the copses alone almost as big as his original
+holding), with plenty of money in his pocket, and without being
+beholden to bank or lawyer for a single groat. Men thought that the
+size of the place, the big manor-house, and so on, would turn his
+head. Nothing of the kind; he proceeded as cautiously and prudently
+as previously. He began by degrees. Instead of investing some
+thousand pounds in implements and machinery at a single swoop,
+instead of purchasing three hundred sheep right off with a single
+cheque, he commenced with one thing at a time. In this course he
+was favoured by the condition of the land, and by the conditions of
+the agreement. He got it, as it were, gradually into cultivation,
+not all at once; he got his stock together, a score or two at a
+time, as he felt they would answer. By the year the landlord was to
+have the full rent: the new tenant was quite able to pay it, and
+did pay it without hesitation at the very hour it was due. He
+bought very little machinery, nothing but what was absolutely
+necessary&mdash;no expensive steam-plough. His one great idea was
+still the same, <i>i.e.</i> spend no money.</p>
+<p>Yet he was not bigoted or prejudiced to the customs of his
+ancestors&mdash;another proof that he was a man of mind. Hodson
+foresaw, before he had been long at Upcourt Farm, that corn was not
+going in future to be so all in all important as it had been. As he
+said himself, 'We must go to our flocks now for our rent, and not
+to our barn doors.' His aim, therefore, became to farm into and
+through his flock, and it paid him well. Here was a man at once
+economical to the verge of meanness, prudent to the edge of
+timidity, yet capable of venturing when he saw his chance; and
+above all, when that venture succeeded, capable of still living on
+bacon and bread and cheese, and putting the money by.</p>
+<p>In his earlier days Hodson was as close of speech as of
+expenditure, and kept his proceedings a profound secret. As he grew
+older and took less active exercise&mdash;the son resident at home
+carrying out his instructions&mdash;he became more garrulous and
+liked to talk about his system. The chief topic of his discourse
+was that a farmer in his day paid but one rent, to the landlord,
+whereas now, on the modern plan, he paid eight rents, and sometimes
+nine. First, of course, the modern farmer paid his landlord (1);
+next he paid the seedsman (2); then the manure manufacturer (3);
+the implement manufacturer (4); the auctioneer (5); the railroad,
+for transit (6); the banker, for short loans (7); the lawyer or
+whoever advanced half his original capital (8); the schoolmaster
+(9).</p>
+<p>To begin at the end, the rent paid by the modern farmer to the
+schoolmaster included the payment for the parish school; and,
+secondly, and far more important, the sum paid for the education of
+his own children. Hodson maintained that many farmers paid as much
+hard cash for the education of their children, and for the
+necessary social surroundings incident to that education, as men
+used to pay for the entire sustenance of their households. Then
+there was the borrowed capital, and the short loans from the
+banker; the interest on these two made two more rents. Farmers paid
+rent to the railroad for the transit of their goods. The
+auctioneer, whether he sold cattle and sheep, or whether he had a
+dep&ocirc;t for horses, was a new man whose profits were derived
+from the farmers. There were few or no auctioneers or horse
+depositories when he began business; now the auctioneer was
+everywhere, and every country town of any consequence had its
+establishment for the reception and sale of horses. Farmers sunk
+enough capital in steam-ploughs and machinery to stock a small farm
+on the old system, and the interest on this sunk capital
+represented another rent. It was the same with the artificial
+manure merchant and with the seedsman. Farmers used to grow their
+own seed, or, at most, bought from the corn dealers or a neighbour
+if by chance they were out. Now the seedsman was an important
+person, and a grand shop might be found, often several shops, in
+every market town, the owners of which shops must likewise live
+upon the farmer. Here were eight or nine people to pay rent to
+instead of one.</p>
+<p>No wonder farming nowadays was not profitable. No wonder farmers
+could not put their sons into farms. Let any one look round their
+own neighbourhood and count up how many farmers had managed to do
+that. Why, they were hardly to be found. Farmers' sons had to go
+into the towns to get a livelihood now. Farming was too expensive a
+business on the modern system&mdash;it was a luxury for a rich man,
+who could afford to pay eight or nine landlords at once. The way he
+had got on was by paying one landlord only. Old Hodson always
+finished his lecture by thrusting both hands into his breeches
+pockets, and whispering to you confidentially that it was not the
+least use for a man to go into farming now unless he had got ten
+thousand pounds.</p>
+<p>It was through the genius of this man that his three sons were
+doing so well. At the present day, Harry, the younger, took his
+ease in his arm-chair after his substantial but plain dinner, with
+little care about the markets or the general depression. For much
+of the land was on high ground and dry, and the soil there
+benefited by the wet. At the same time sheep sold well, and Harry's
+flocks were large and noted. So he sauntered round with his gun,
+and knocked over a hare, and came comfortably home to dinner, easy
+in his mind, body, and pocket.</p>
+<p>Harry was not a man of energy and intense concentrated purpose
+like his father. He could never have built up a fortune, but, the
+money being there, Harry was just the man to keep it. He was
+sufficiently prudent to run no risk and to avoid speculation. He
+was sufficiently frugal not to waste his substance on riotous
+living, and he was naturally of a placid temperament, so that he
+was satisfied to silently and gradually accumulate little by
+little. His knowledge of farming, imbibed from his father, extended
+into every detail. If he seldom touched an implement now, he had in
+his youth worked like the labourers, and literally followed the
+plough. He was constantly about on the place, and his eye, by
+keeping the men employed, earned far more money than his single arm
+could have done. Thus he dwelt in the lonely manor-house, a living
+proof of the wisdom of his father's system.</p>
+<p>Harry is now looking, in his slow complacent way, for a wife.
+Being forty years of age, he is not in a great hurry, and is not at
+all inclined to make a present of himself to the first pretty face
+he meets. He does not like the girl of the period; he fears she
+would spend too much money. Nor, on the other hand, does he care
+for the country hoyden, whose mind and person have never risen
+above the cheese-tub, with red hands, awkward gait, loud voice, and
+limited conversation. He has read too much, in his quiet way, and
+observed too much, in his quiet way, also, for that. He wants a
+girl well educated, but not above her station, unaffected and yet
+comely, fond of home and home duties, and yet not homely. And it
+would be well if she had a few hundreds&mdash;a very small sum
+would do&mdash;for her dower. It is not that he wants the money,
+which can be settled on herself; but there is a vein of the old,
+prudent common sense running through Harry's character. He is in no
+hurry; in time he will meet with her somewhere.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap7" id="chap7">CHAPTER VII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER</h3>
+Two vehicles were gradually approaching each other from opposite
+directions on a long, straight stretch of country road, which, at
+the first glance, appeared level. The glare of the August sunshine
+reflected from the white dust, the intense heat that caused a
+flickering motion of the air like that which may be seen over a
+flue, the monotonous low cropped hedges, the scarcity of trees, and
+boundless plain of cornfields, all tended to deceive the eye. The
+road was not really level, but rose and fell in narrow, steep
+valleys, that crossed it at right angles&mdash;the glance saw
+across these valleys without recognising their existence. It was
+curious to observe how first one and then the other vehicle
+suddenly disappeared, as if they had sunk into the ground, and
+remained hidden for some time. During the disappearance the vehicle
+was occupied in cautiously going down one steep slope and slowly
+ascending the other. It then seemed to rapidly come nearer till
+another hollow intervened, and it was abruptly checked. The people
+who were driving could observe each other from a long distance, and
+might naturally think that they should pass directly, instead of
+which they did not seem to get much nearer. Some miles away, where
+the same road crossed the Downs, it looked from afar like a white
+line drawn perpendicularly up the hill.
+<p>The road itself was narrow, hardly wider than a lane, but on
+either side was a broad strip of turf, each strip quite twice the
+width of the metalled portion. On the verge of the dust the red
+pimpernel opened its flowers to the bright blue cloudless sky, and
+the lowly convolvulus grew thickly among the tall dusty bennets.
+Sweet short clover flowers stood but a little way back; still
+nearer the hedges the grass was coarser, long, and wire-like. Tall
+thistles stood beside the water furrows and beside the ditch, and
+round the hawthorn bushes that grew at intervals on the sward
+isolated from the hedge. Loose flints of great size lay here and
+there among the grass, perhaps rolled aside surreptitiously by the
+stone-breakers to save themselves trouble. Everything hot and
+dusty. The clover dusty, the convolvulus dusty, the brambles and
+hawthorn, the small scattered elms all dusty, all longing for a
+shower or for a cool breeze.</p>
+<p>The reapers were at work in the wheat, but the plain was so
+level that it was not possible to see them without mounting upon a
+flint heap. Then their heads were just visible as they stood
+upright, but when they stooped to use the hook they disappeared.
+Yonder, however, a solitary man in his shirt-sleeves perched up
+above the corn went round and round the field, and beside him
+strange awkward arms seemed to beat down the wheat. He was driving
+a reaping machine, to which the windmill-like arms belonged. Beside
+the road a shepherd lingered, leaning on a gate, while his flock,
+which he was driving just as fast and no faster than they cared to
+eat their way along the sward, fed part on one side and part on the
+other. Now and then two or three sheep crossed over with the
+tinkling of a bell. In the silence and stillness and brooding heat,
+the larks came and dusted themselves in the white impalpable powder
+of the road. Farther away the partridges stole quietly to an
+anthill at the edge of some barley. By the white road, a white
+milestone, chipped and defaced, stood almost hidden among thistles
+and brambles. Some white railings guarded the sides of a bridge, or
+rather a low arch over a dry watercourse. Heat, dust, a glaring
+whiteness, and a boundless expanse of golden wheat on either
+hand.</p>
+<p>After awhile a towering four-in-hand coach rose out of the
+hollow where it had been hidden, and came bowling along the level.
+The rapid hoofs beat the dust, which sprang up and followed behind
+in a cloud, stretching far in the rear, for in so still an
+atmosphere the particles were long before they settled again. White
+parasols and light dust coats&mdash;everything that could be
+contrived for coolness&mdash;gay feathers and fluttering fringes,
+whose wearers sat in easy attitudes enjoying the breeze created by
+the swift motion. Upon such a day the roof of a coach is more
+pleasant than the thickest shade, because of that current of air,
+for the same leaves that keep off the sun also prevent a passing
+zephyr from refreshing the forehead. But the swifter the horses the
+sweeter the fresh wind to fan the delicate cheek and drooping
+eyelid of indolent beauty. So idle were they all that they barely
+spoke, and could only smile instead of laugh if one exerted himself
+to utter a good jest. The gentleman who handled the ribbons was the
+only one thoroughly awake.</p>
+<p>His eyes were downcast, indeed, because they never left his
+horses, but his ears were sharply alive to the rhythmic beat of the
+hoofs and the faint creak and occasional jingle of the harness. Had
+a single shoe failed to send forth the proper sound as it struck
+the hard dry road, had there been a creak or a jingle too many, or
+too few, those ears would instantly have detected it. The downcast
+eyes that looked neither to the right nor left&mdash;at the golden
+wheat or the broad fields of barley&mdash;were keenly watching the
+ears of the team, and noting how one of the leaders lathered and
+flung white froth upon the dust. From that height the bowed backs
+of the reapers were visible in the corn. The reapers caught sight
+of the coach, and stood up to look, and wiped their brows, and a
+distant hurrah came from the boys among them. In all the pomp and
+glory of paint and varnish the tall coach rolled on, gently swaying
+from side to side as the springs yielded to the irregularities of
+the road. It came with a heavy rumble like far-away thunder over
+the low arch that spanned the dry water-course.</p>
+<p>Meantime the vehicle approaching from the opposite direction had
+also appeared out of a hollow. It was a high, narrow gig of ancient
+make, drawn by a horse too low for the shafts and too fat for work.
+In the gig sat two people closely pressed together by reason of its
+narrow dimensions. The lady wore a black silk dress, of good and
+indeed costly material, but white with the dust that had settled
+upon it. Her hands were covered with black cotton gloves, and she
+held a black umbrella. Her face was hidden by a black veil; thin
+corkscrew curls fringed the back of her head. She was stout, and
+sat heavily in the gig. The man wore a grey suit, too short in the
+trousers&mdash;at least they appeared so as he sat with his knees
+wide apart, and the toe of one heavy boot partly projecting at the
+side of the dash-board. A much-worn straw hat was drawn over his
+eyes, and he held a short whip in his red hand. He did not press
+his horse, but allowed the lazy animal to go jog-trot at his own
+pace. The panels of the gig had lost their original shining polish;
+the varnish had cracked and worn, till the surface was rough and
+grey. The harness was equally bare and worn, the reins mended more
+than once. The whole ramshackle concern looked as if it would
+presently fall to pieces, but the horse was in much too good a
+condition.</p>
+<p>When the four-in-hand had come within about a hundred yards, the
+farmer pulled his left rein hard, and drew his gig right out of the
+road on to the sward, and then stopped dead, to give the coach the
+full use of the way. As it passed he took off his straw hat, and
+his wife stooped low as a makeshift for bowing. An outsider might
+have thought that the aristocratic coach would have gone by this
+extremely humble couple without so much as noticing it. But the
+gentleman who was driving lifted his hat to the dowdy lady, with a
+gesture of marked politeness, and a young and elegantly-dressed
+lady, his sister, nodded and smiled, and waved her hand to her.
+After the coach had rolled some fifty yards away, the farmer pulled
+into the road, and went on through the cloud of dust it had left
+behind it, with a complacent smile upon his hard and weather-worn
+features. 'A' be a nice young gentleman, the Honourable be,' said
+he presently. 'So be Lady Blanche,' replied his wife, lifting her
+veil and looking back after the four-in-hand. 'I'm sure her smile's
+that sweet it be a pleasure for to see her.'</p>
+<p>Half a mile farther the farmer drew out of the road again, drove
+close to the hedge, stopped, and stood up to look over. A
+strongly-built young man, who had been driving the reaping machine
+in his shirt-sleeves, alighted from his seat and came across to the
+hedge.</p>
+<p>'Goes very well to-day,' he said, meaning that the machine
+answered.</p>
+<p>'You be got into a good upstanding piece, John,' replied the old
+man sharply in his thin jerky voice, which curiously contrasted
+with his still powerful frame. 'You take un in there and try
+un'&mdash;pointing to a piece where the crop had been beaten down
+by a storm, and where the reapers were at work. 'You had better put
+the rattletrap thing away, John, and go in and help they. Never
+wasted money in all my life over such a thing as that before. What
+be he going to do all the winter? Bide and rust, I 'spose. Can you
+put un to cut off they nettles along the ditch among they
+stones?'</p>
+<p>'It would break the knives,' said the son.</p>
+<p>'But you could cut um with a hook, couldn't you?' asked the old
+man, in a tone that was meant to convey withering contempt of a
+machine that could only do one thing, and must perforce lie idle
+ten months of the year.</p>
+<p>'That's hardly a fair way of looking at it,' the son
+ventured.</p>
+<p>'John,' said his mother, severely, 'I can't think how you young
+men can contradict your father. I'm sure young men never spoke so
+in my time; and I'm sure your father has been prospered in his
+farming' (she felt her silk dress), 'and has done very well without
+any machines, which cost a deal of money&mdash;and Heaven knows
+there's a vast amount going out every day.'</p>
+<p>A gruff voice interrupted her&mdash;one of the reapers had
+advanced along the hedge, with a large earthenware jar in his
+hand.</p>
+<p>'Measter,' he shouted to the farmer in the gig, 'can't you send
+us out some better tackle than this yer stuff?'</p>
+<p>He poured some ale out of the jar on the stubble with an
+expression of utter disgust.</p>
+<p>'It be the same as I drink myself,' said the farmer, sharply,
+and immediately sat down, struck the horse, and drove off.</p>
+<p>His son and the labourer&mdash;who could hardly have been
+distinguished apart so far as their dress went&mdash;stood gazing
+after him for a few minutes. They then turned, and each went back
+to his work without a word.</p>
+<p>The farmer drove on steadily homewards at the same jog-trot pace
+that had been his wont these forty years. The house stood a
+considerable distance back from the road: it was a gabled building
+of large size, and not without interest. It was approached by a
+drive that crossed a green, where some ducks were waddling about,
+and entered the front garden, which was surrounded by a low wall.
+Within was a lawn and an ancient yew tree. The porch was overgrown
+with ivy, and the trees that rose behind the grey tiles of the roof
+set the old house in a frame of foliage. A fine old English
+homestead, where any man might be proud to dwell. But the farmer
+did not turn up the drive. He followed the road till he came to a
+gate leading into the rickyard, and, there getting out of the gig,
+held the gate open while the horse walked through. He never used
+the drive or the front door, but always came in and went out at the
+back, through the rickyard.</p>
+<p>The front garden and lawn were kept in good order, but no one
+belonging to the house ever frequented it. Had any stranger driven
+up to the front door, he might have hammered away with the narrow
+knocker&mdash;there was no bell&mdash;for half an hour before
+making any one hear, and then probably it would have been by the
+accident of the servant going by the passage, and not by dint of
+noise. The household lived in the back part of the house. There was
+a parlour well furnished, sweet with flowers placed there fresh
+daily, and with the odour of those in the garden, whose scent came
+in at the ever open window; but no one sat in it from week's end to
+week's end. The whole life of the inmates passed in two back
+rooms&mdash;a sitting-room and kitchen.</p>
+<p>With some slight concessions to the times only, Farmer
+M&mdash;&mdash; led the life his fathers led before him, and farmed
+his tenancy upon the same principles. He did not, indeed, dine with
+the labourers, but he ate very much the same food as they did. Some
+said he would eat what no labourer or servant would touch; and, as
+he had stated, drank the same smallest of small beer. His wife made
+a large quantity of home-made wine every year, of which she partook
+in a moderate degree, and which was the liquor usually set before
+visitors. They rose early, and at once went about their work. He
+saw his men, and then got on his horse and rode round the farm. He
+returned to luncheon, saw the men again, and again went out and
+took a turn of work with them. He rode a horse because of the
+distance&mdash;the farm being large&mdash;not for pleasure. Without
+it he could not have visited his fields often enough to satisfy
+himself that the labourers were going on with their work. He did
+not hunt, nor shoot&mdash;he had the right, but never exercised it;
+though occasionally he was seen about the newly-sown fields with a
+single-barrel gun, firing at the birds that congregated in crowds.
+Neither would he allow his sons to shoot or hunt.</p>
+<p>One worked with the labourers, acting as working
+bailiff&mdash;it was he who drove the reaping machine, which, after
+long argument and much persuasion the farmer bought, only to
+grumble at and abuse every day afterwards. The other was
+apprenticed as a lad to a builder and carpenter of the market town,
+and learned the trade exactly as the rest of the men did there. He
+lodged in the town in the cheapest of houses, ate hard bread and
+cheese with the carpenters and masons and bricklayers, and was glad
+when the pittance he received was raised a shilling a week. Once
+now and then he walked over to the farm on Sundays or
+holidays&mdash;he was not allowed to come too often. They did not
+even send him in a basket of apples from the great orchard; all the
+apples were carefully gathered and sold.</p>
+<p>These two sons were now grown men, strong and robust, and better
+educated than would have been imagined&mdash;thanks to their own
+industry and good sense, and not to any schooling they received.
+Two finer specimens of physical manhood it would have been
+difficult to find, yet their wages were no more than those of
+ordinary labourers and workmen. The bailiff, the eldest, had a
+pound a week, out of which he had to purchase every necessary, and
+from which five shillings were deducted for lodgings. It may be
+that he helped himself to various little perquisites, but his
+income from every source was not equal to that of a junior clerk.
+The other nominally received more, being now a skilled workman; but
+as he had to pay for his lodgings and food in town, he was really
+hardly so well off. Neither of these young men had the least chance
+of marrying till their father should die; nothing on earth would
+induce him to part with the money required to set the one in
+business up or the other in a separate farm. He had worked all his
+time under his father, and it seemed to him perfectly natural that
+his sons should work all their time under him.</p>
+<p>There was one daughter, and she, too, was out at work. She was
+housekeeper to an infirm old farmer; that is to say, she
+superintended the dairy and the kitchen, and received hardly as
+much as a cook in a London establishment. Like the sons, she was
+finely developed physically, and had more of the manners of a lady
+than seemed possible under the circumstances.</p>
+<p>Her father's principles of farming were much the same as his
+plan of housekeeping and family government. It consisted of never
+spending any money. He bought no machines. The reaping machine was
+the one exception, and a bitter point with the old man. He entered
+on no extensive draining works, nor worried his landlord to begin
+them. He was content with the tumble-down sheds till it was
+possible to shelter cattle in them no longer. Sometimes he was
+compelled to purchase a small quantity of artificial manure, but it
+was with extreme reluctance. He calculated to produce sufficient
+manure in the stalls, for he kept a large head of fattening cattle,
+and sheep to the greatest extent possible. He would rather let a
+field lie fallow, and go without the crop from it, till nature had
+restored the exhausted fertility, than supply that fertility at the
+cost of spending money. The one guiding motto of his life was
+'Save, not invest.' When once he got hold of a sovereign he parted
+with it no more; not though all the scientific professors in the
+world came to him with their analyses, and statistics, and
+discoveries. He put it in the bank, just as his father would have
+put it into a strong box under his bed. There it remained, and the
+interest that accrued, small as it was, was added to it.</p>
+<p>Yet it was his pride to do his land well. He manured it well,
+because he kept cattle and sheep, especially the latter, to the
+fullest capacity of his acreage; and because, as said before, he
+could and did afford to let land lie fallow when necessary. He was
+in no hurry. He was not anxious for so much immediate percentage
+upon an investment in artificial manure or steam-plough. He might
+have said, with a greater man, 'Time and I are two.' It was Time,
+the slow passage of the years, that gave him his profit. He was
+always providing for the future; he was never out of anything,
+because he was never obliged to force a sale of produce in order to
+get the ready cash to pay the bank its interest upon borrowed
+money. He never borrowed; neither did he ever make a speech, or
+even so much as attend a farmers' club, to listen to a scientific
+lecture. But his teams of horses were the admiration of the country
+side&mdash;no such horses came into the market town. His rent was
+paid punctually, and always with country bank-notes&mdash;none of
+your clean, newfangled cheques, or Bank of England crisp paper, but
+soiled, greasy country notes of small denomination.</p>
+<p>Farmer M&mdash;&mdash; never asked for a return or reduction of
+his rent. The neighbours said that he was cheaply rented: that was
+not true in regard to the land itself. But he certainly was cheaply
+rented if the condition of the farm was looked at. In the course of
+so many long years of careful farming he had got his place into
+such a state of cultivation that it could stand two or three bad
+seasons without much deterioration. The same bad seasons quite
+spoiled the land of such of his neighbours as had relied upon a
+constant application of stimulants to the soil. The stimulating
+substances being no longer applied, as they could not afford to buy
+them, the land fell back and appeared poor.</p>
+<p>Farmer M&mdash;&mdash;, of course, grumbled at the weather, but
+the crops belied his lips. He was, in fact, wealthy&mdash;not the
+wealth that is seen in cities, but rich for a countryman. He could
+have started both his sons in business with solid capital. Yet he
+drank small beer which the reapers despised, and drove about in a
+rusty old gig, with thousands to his credit at that old country
+bank. When he got home that afternoon, he carefully put away some
+bags of coin for the wages of the men, which he had been to fetch,
+and at once started out for the rickyard, to see how things were
+progressing. So the Honourable on the tall four-in-hand saluted
+with marked emphasis the humble gig that pulled right out of the
+road to give him the way, and the Lady Blanche waved her hand to
+the dowdy in the dusty black silk with her sweetest smile. The
+Honourable, when he went over the farm with his breechloader,
+invariably came in and drank a glass of the small beer. The Lady
+Blanche, at least once in the autumn, rode up, alighted, and drank
+one glass of the home-made wine with the dowdy. Her papa, the
+landlord, was an invalid, but he as invariably sent a splendid
+basket of hot-house grapes. But Farmer M&mdash;&mdash; was behind
+the age.</p>
+<p>Had he looked over the hedge in the evening, he might have seen
+a row of reapers walking down the road at the sudden sound of a
+jingling bell behind them, open their line, and wheel like a squad,
+part to the right and part to the left, to let the bicycle pass.
+After it had gone by they closed their rank, and trudged on toward
+the village. They had been at work all day in the uplands among the
+corn, cutting away with their hooks low down the yellow straw. They
+began in the early morning, and had first to walk two miles or more
+up to the harvest field. Stooping, as they worked, to strike low
+enough, the hot sun poured his fierce rays upon their shoulders and
+the backs of their necks. The sinews of the right arm had
+continually to drive the steel through straw and tough weeds
+entangled in the wheat. There was no shadow to sit under for
+luncheon, save that at the side of the shocks, where the sheaves
+radiated heat and interrupted the light air, so that the shadow was
+warmer than the sunshine. Coarse cold bacon and bread, cheese, and
+a jar of small beer, or a tin can of weak cold tea, were all they
+had to supply them with fresh strength for further labour.</p>
+<p>At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were
+resumed, and the walk home began. After so many hours of wearisome
+labour it was hardly strange that their natural senses were
+dulled&mdash;that they did not look about them, nor converse gaily.
+By mutual, if unexpressed consent, they intended to call at the
+wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on the hard bench
+outside, and take a quart of stronger ale. Thus trudging homewards
+after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent
+approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell. When
+he had passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped
+away along the dry and dusty road. He was a tall young gentleman,
+whose form was well set off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle
+costume. He rode well and with perfect command&mdash;the track left
+in the dust was straight, there was no wobbling or uncertainty.</p>
+<p>'That be a better job than ourn, you,' said one of the men, as
+they watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.</p>
+<p>'Ay,' replied his mate, 'he be a vine varmer, he be.'</p>
+<p>Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his
+utmost speed, and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor
+would ha e cared if he had. He was in haste, for he was late, and
+feared every minute to hear the distant dinner bell. It was his
+vacation, and Master Phillip, having temporarily left his studies,
+was visiting a gentleman who had taken a country mansion and
+shooting for the season. His host had accumulated wealth in the
+'City,' and naturally considered himself an authority on country
+matters. Master Phillip's 'governor' was likewise in a large way of
+business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing
+for one of his sons to 'go in' for agriculture&mdash;a highly
+genteel occupation, if rightly followed, with capital and
+intelligence. Phillip liked to ride his bicycle in the cool of the
+evening, and was supposed in these excursions to be taking a survey
+of the soil and the crops, and to be comparing the style of
+agriculture in the district to that to which he had been trained
+while pursuing his studies. He slipped past the wayside inn; he
+glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village;
+and then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went
+by a rickyard. Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load
+of the evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working
+among and directing the rest. The bicyclist without a glance rode
+on, and shortly after reached the lodge gates. They were open, in
+anticipation of his arrival.</p>
+<p>He rode up the long drive, across the park, under the old elms,
+and alighted at the mansion before the dinner bell rang, much to
+his relief; for his host had more than one daughter, and Phillip
+liked to arrange his toilet to perfection before he joined their
+society. His twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, elaborately fitted
+up&mdash;too completely indeed, for he had no use for the
+razor&mdash;soon enabled him to trim and prepare for the
+dining-room. His five-guinea coat, elegant studs, spotless shirt
+and wristbands, valuable seal ring on one finger, patent leather
+boots, keyless watch, eyeglass, gold toothpick in one pocket, were
+all carefully selected, and in the best possible style. Mr.
+Phillip&mdash;he would have scorned the boyish 'master'&mdash;was a
+gentleman, from the perfumed locks above to the polished patent
+leather below. There was <i>ton</i> in his very air, in the 'ah,
+ah,' of his treble London tone of voice, the antithesis of the
+broad country bass. He had a firm belief in the fitness of
+things&mdash;in the unities, so to speak, of suit, action, and
+time.</p>
+<p>When his team were struggling to force the ball by kick, or
+other permitted means, across the tented field, Phillip was arrayed
+in accurate football costume. When he stood on the close-mown lawn
+within the white-marked square of tennis and faced the net, his
+jacket was barred or striped with scarlet. Then there was the
+bicycle dress, the morning coat, the shooting jacket, and the
+dinner coat, not to mention the Ulster or Connaught overcoat, the
+dust coat, and minor items innumerable. Whether Phillip rolled in
+the mire at football, or bestrode a bicycle, or sat down to
+snow-white tablecloth and napkin, he conscientiously dressed the
+part. The very completeness of his prescribed studies&mdash;the
+exhaustive character of the curriculum-naturally induced a frame of
+mind not to be satisfied with anything short of absolute precision,
+and perhaps even apt to extend itself into dilettanteism.</p>
+<p>Like geology, the science of agriculture is so vast, it embraces
+so wide a range, that one really hardly knows where it begins or
+ends. Phillip's knowledge was universal. He understood all about
+astronomy, and had prepared an abstract of figures proving the
+connection of sun-spots, rainfall, and the price of wheat. Algebra
+was the easiest and at the same time the most accurate mode of
+conducting the intricate calculations arising out of the
+complicated question of food&mdash;of flesh formers and heat
+generators&mdash;that is to say, how much a sheep increased in
+weight by gnawing a turnip. Nothing could be more useful than
+botany-those who could not distinguish between a dicotyledon and a
+monocotyledon could certainly never rightly grasp the nature of a
+hedgerow. <i>Bellis perennis</i> and <i>Sinapis arvensis</i> were
+not to be confounded, and <i>Triticum repens</i> was a sure sign of
+a bad farmer. Chemistry proved that too small a quantity of
+silicate made John Barleycorn weak in the knee; ammonia, animal
+phosphates, nitrogen, and so on, were mere names to many ignorant
+folk. The various stages and the different developments of insect
+life were next to be considered.</p>
+<p>As to the soil and strata&mdash;the very groundwork of a
+farm&mdash;geology was the true guide to the proper selection of
+suitable seed. Crops had been garnered by the aid of the electric
+light, the plough had been driven by the Gramme machine;
+electricity, then, would play a foremost part in future farming,
+and should be studied with enthusiasm. Without mathematics nothing
+could be done; without ornithological study, how know which bird
+revelled on grain and which destroyed injurious insects? Spectrum
+analysis detected the adulteration of valuable compounds; the
+photographer recorded the exact action of the trotting horse; the
+telephone might convey orders from one end of an estate to the
+other; and thus you might go through the whole alphabet, the whole
+cyclop&aelig;dia of science, and apply every single branch to
+agriculture.</p>
+<p>It is to be hoped that Phillip's conversational account of his
+studies has been correctly reproduced here. The chemical terms look
+rather weak, but the memory of an ordinary listener can hardly be
+expected to retain such a mass of technicalities. He had piles of
+strongly-bound books, the reward of successful examinations,
+besides diplomas and certificates of proficiency. These subjects
+could be pursued under cover, but there was besides the field work,
+which had a more practical sound; model farms to be visited;
+steam-engines to be seen at work; lectures to be listened to on the
+spot; deep-drainage operations, a new drill, or a new sheaf-binder
+to be looked at. Then there were the experimental
+plots&mdash;something like the little <i>parterres</i> seen at the
+edge of lawns.</p>
+<p>One plot was sown without manure, another was sown with manure,
+a third had a different kind of manure. The dozen mangolds grown in
+one patch were pulled up and carefully weighed. The grains of wheat
+in an ear standing in an adjacent patch were counted and recorded.
+As these plots were about a yard wide, and could be kept clean, no
+matter what the weather; and as a wheelbarrow load of clay, or
+chalk, or sand thrown down would alter the geological formation,
+the results obtained from them were certainly instructive, and
+would be very useful as a guide to the cultivation of a thousand
+acres. There was also a large, heavy iron roller, which the
+scholars could if they chose drag round and round the gravel
+path.</p>
+<p>Architecture, again, touches the agriculturist nearly. He
+requires buildings for the pigs, cattle, horses, labourers, engine
+and machinery, lastly, for himself. Out of doors almost any
+farmhouse that could be visited might be made by a lecturer an
+illustrative example of what ought to be avoided. Scarcely one
+could be found that was not full of mistakes&mdash;utterly wrong,
+and erected regardless of design and utility. Within doors, with
+ink, tracing paper, compasses, straight-edge and ruler, really
+valuable ground plans, front elevations, and so on, could be laid
+down. Altogether, with this circle of science to study, the future
+farmer had very hard work to face. Such exhaustive mental labour
+induced a certain nervousness that could only be allayed by
+relaxation. The bicycle afforded a grateful change. Mounted upon
+the slender, swift-revolving wheel, Mr. Phillip in the cool of the
+evening, after the long day of study, sometimes proceeded to
+stretch his limbs. The light cigar soothed his weary and
+overstrained mind.</p>
+<p>The bicycle by-and-by, as if drawn by the power of gravitation,
+approached more and more nearly to the distant town. It threaded
+the streets, and finally stopped in the archway of an inn. There,
+leaned against the wall, under the eye of the respectful ostler,
+the bicycle reposed. The owner strolled upstairs, and in the
+company of choice spirits studied the laws of right angles, of
+motion, and retarding friction, upon the level surface of the
+billiard table. Somewhere in a not much frequented street there
+could be seen a small window in which a coloured plate of fashions
+was always displayed. There were also some bonnets, trimming, and
+tasteful feathers. Nothing could be more attractive than this
+window. The milliner was young and pretty, and seemed to have a
+cousin equally young and pretty. Poor, lonely, friendless
+creatures, it was not surprising they should welcome a little
+flirtation. The bicycle which so swiftly carries the young man of
+the present day beyond the penetrating vision of his aunt or tutor
+has much to answer for.</p>
+<p>But, as pointed out previously, such exhaustive scientific
+training naturally tends to make the mind mathematical. It cannot
+be satisfied unless its surroundings&mdash;the substantial
+realisation of the concrete-are perfect. So Mr. Phillip had a suit
+for every purpose&mdash;for football, cricket, tennis, bicycle,
+shooting, dining, and strolling about. In the same way he possessed
+a perfect armoury of athletic and other useful implements. There
+were fine bats by the best makers for cricket, rods for trout
+fishing, splendid modified choke-bores, saddles, jockey caps, and
+so on. A gentleman like this could hardly long remain in the
+solitary halls of learning&mdash;society must claim him for
+parties, balls, dinners, and the usual round. It was understood
+that his 'governor' was a man of substantial wealth; that Phillip
+would certainly be placed in an extensive farm, to play the
+pleasant part of a gentleman farmer. People with marriageable
+daughters looked upon the clever scholar as a desirable addition to
+their drawing-rooms. Phillip, in short, found himself by degrees
+involved in a whirl of festivities, and was never at a loss where
+to go for amusement when he could obtain leave to seek
+relaxation. If such social adulation made him a little vain, if it
+led to the purchase of a twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, and to
+frequent consultations with the tailor, it really was not Phillip's
+fault. He felt himself popular, and accepted the position.</p>
+<p>When the vacation came, gathering up a fresh pile of
+grandly-bound prize books, broad sheets of diplomas, and
+certificates, Phillip departed to his friend's mansion for the
+partridge shooting. Coming down the road on the bicycle he overtook
+the reapers, and sprang his bell to warn them. The reapers thought
+Phillip's job better than theirs.</p>
+<p>At dinner, while sipping his claret, Phillip delivered his
+opinion upon the agriculture of the district, which he had surveyed
+from his bicycle. It was incomplete, stationary, or retrograde. The
+form of the fields alone was an index to the character of the
+farmers who cultivated them. Not one had a regular shape. The
+fields were neither circles, squares, parallelograms, nor
+triangles. One side, perhaps, might be straight; the hedgerow on
+the other had a dozen curves, and came up to a point. With such
+irregular enclosures it was impossible that the farmer could plan
+out his course with the necessary accuracy. The same incompleteness
+ran through everything&mdash;one field was well tilled, the next
+indifferently, the third full of weeds. Here was a good modern
+cattle-shed, well-designed for the purpose; yonder was a
+tumble-down building, with holes in the roof and walls.</p>
+<p>So, too, with the implements&mdash;a farmer never seemed to have
+a complete set. One farmer had, perhaps, a reaping machine, but he
+had not got an elevator; another had an elevator, but no
+steam-plough. No one had a full set of machinery. If they drained,
+they only drained one field; the entire farm was never by any
+possibility finished straight off. If the farmer had two new light
+carts of approved construction, he was sure to have three old
+rumbling waggons, in drawing which there was a great waste of
+power. Why not have all light carts? There was no uniformity. The
+farming mind lacked breadth of view, and dwelt too much on detail.
+It was not, of course, the fault of the tenants of the present day,
+but the very houses they inhabited were always put in the wrong
+place. Where the ground was low, flat, and liable to be flooded,
+the farmhouse was always built by a brook. When the storms of
+winter came the brook overflowed, and the place was almost
+inaccessible. In hilly districts, where there was not much water,
+the farmhouse was situate on the slope, or perhaps on the plateau
+above, and in summer very likely every drop of water used had to be
+drawn up there from a distance in tanks.</p>
+<p>The whole of rural England, in short, wanted rearranging upon
+mathematical principles. To begin at the smallest divisions, the
+fields should be mapped out like the squares of a chessboard; next,
+the parishes; and, lastly, the counties. You ought to be able to
+work steam-ploughing tackle across a whole parish, if the rope
+could be made strong enough. If you talked with a farmer, you found
+him somehow or other quite incapable of following a logical
+sequence of argument. He got on very well for a few sentences, but,
+just as one was going to come to the conclusion, his mind seized on
+some little paltry detail, and refused to move any farther. He
+positively could not follow you to a logical conclusion. If you,
+for instance, tried to show him that a certain course of cropping
+was the correct one for certain fields, he would listen for awhile,
+and then suddenly declare that the turnips in one of the said
+fields last year were a failure. That particular crop of turnips
+had nothing at all to do with the system at large, but the farmer
+could see nothing else.</p>
+<p>What had struck him most, however, in that particular district,
+as he traversed it on the bicycle, was the great loss of time that
+must result from the absence of rapid means of communication on
+large farms. The distance across a large farm might, perhaps, be a
+mile. Some farms were not very broad, but extended in a narrow
+strip for a great way. Hours were occupied in riding round such
+farms, hours which might be saved by simple means. Suppose, for
+example, that a gang of labourers were at work in the
+harvest-field, three-quarters of a mile from the farmhouse. Now,
+why not have a field telegraph, like that employed in military
+operations? The cable or wire was rolled on a drum like those used
+for watering a lawn. All that was needed was to harness a pony, and
+the drum would unroll and lay the wire as it revolved. The farmer
+could then sit in his office and telegraph his instructions without
+a moment's delay. He could tap the barometer, and wire to the
+bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the mercury was
+falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the farmer to
+go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
+merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to
+him: why should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could
+drive the farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in
+short, do everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any
+required spot with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his
+office chair, the farmer could control the operations of the farm
+without once soiling his hands. Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his
+remarks, reached his glass of claret, and thus incidentally
+exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap8" id="chap8">CHAPTER VIII</a></h3>
+<h3>HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'</h3>
+A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war
+drums by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at
+the bramble flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower
+to flower, seeking the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as
+their bee ancestors did before the Roman legions marched to Cowey
+Stakes. Their habits have not changed; their 'social' relations are
+the same; they have not called in the aid of machinery to enlarge
+their liquid, wealth, or to increase the facility of collecting it.
+There is a low murmur rather than a buzz along the hedgerow; but
+over it the hot summer breeze brings the thumping, rattling,
+booming sound of hollow metal striking against the ground or in
+contact with other metal. These ringing noises, which so little
+accord with the sweet-scented hay and green hedgerows, are caused
+by the careless handling of milk tins dragged hither and thither by
+the men who are getting the afternoon milk ready for transit to the
+railway station miles away. Each tin bears a brazen badge engraved
+with the name of the milkman who will retail its contents in
+distant London. It may be delivered to the countess in Belgravia,
+and reach her dainty lip in the morning chocolate, or it may be
+eagerly swallowed up by the half-starved children of some back
+court in the purlieus of the Seven Dials.
+<p>Sturdy milkmaids may still be seen in London, sweeping the
+crowded pavement clear before them as they walk with swinging
+tread, a yoke on their shoulders, from door to door. Some remnant
+of the traditional dairy thus survives in the stony streets that
+are separated so widely from the country. But here, beside the hay,
+the hedgerows, the bees, the flowers that precede the
+blackberries&mdash;here in the heart of the meadows the romance has
+departed. Everything is mechanical or scientific. From the
+refrigerator that cools the milk, the thermometer that tests its
+temperature, the lactometer that proves its quality, all is
+mechanical precision. The tins themselves are metal&mdash;wood, the
+old country material for almost every purpose, is
+eschewed&mdash;and they are swung up into a waggon specially built
+for the purpose. It is the very antithesis of the jolting and
+cumbrous waggon used for generations in the hay-fields and among
+the corn. It is light, elegantly proportioned, painted,
+varnished&mdash;the work rather of a coachbuilder than a
+cartwright. The horse harnessed in it is equally unlike the
+cart-horse. A quick, wiry horse, that may be driven in a trap or
+gig, is the style&mdash;one that will rattle along and catch the
+train.</p>
+<p>The driver takes his seat and handles the reins with the air of
+a man driving a tradesman's van, instead of walking, like the true
+old carter, or sitting on the shaft. The vehicle rattles off to the
+station, where ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty such converge at the
+same hour, and then ensues a scene of bustle, chaff, and rough
+language. The tins are placed in the van specially reserved for
+them, the whistle sounds, the passengers&mdash;who have been
+wondering why on earth there was all this noise and delay at a
+little roadside station without so much as a visible
+steeple&mdash;withdraw their heads from the windows; the wheels
+revolve, and, gathering speed, the train disappears round the
+curve, hastening to the metropolis. Then the empty tins returned
+from town have to be conveyed home with more rattling, thumping and
+booming of hollow tin&mdash;there to be carefully cleansed, for
+which purpose vast quantities of hot water must be ready, and coal,
+of course, must be consumed in proportion.</p>
+<p>This beautiful afternoon the booming seems to sound more than
+usual; it may perhaps be the wind that carries the noise along. But
+Mr. George, the farmer, who has been working among the haymakers,
+steps out from the rank, and going some way aside pauses awhile to
+consider. You should not address him as Farmer George. Farmer as an
+affix is not the thing now; farmers are 'Mr. So-and-so.' Not that
+there is any false pride about the present individual; his memory
+goes back too far, and he has had too much experience of the world.
+He leans on his prong&mdash;the sharp forks worn bright as silver
+from use&mdash;stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on the
+top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
+The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and
+thus gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.</p>
+<p>He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight
+into the teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and
+odd summers past. Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of
+the master haymaker must be always watching the horizon to
+windward. He depends on the sky, like the mariner, and spreads his
+canvas and shapes his course by the clouds. He must note their
+varying form and drift; the height and thickness and hue; whether
+there is a dew in the evenings; whether the distant hills are
+clearly defined or misty; and what the sunset portends. From the
+signs of the sunset he learns, like the antique Roman
+husbandman&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>'When the south projects a stormy day,<br>
+And when the clearing north will puff the clouds
+away.'</blockquote>
+According as the interpretation of the signs be favourable,
+adverse, or doubtful, so he gives his orders.
+<p>This afternoon, as he stands leaning on the prong, he marks the
+soft air which seems itself to be heated, and renders the shade, if
+you seek it for coolness, as sultry as the open field. The flies
+are numerous and busy&mdash;the horses can barely stand still, and
+nod their heads to shake them off. The hills seem near, and the
+trees on the summit are distinctly visible. Such noises as are
+heard seem exaggerated and hollow. There is but little cloud, mere
+thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and the blue of the
+sky is hard and opaque. Farmer George recollects that the barometer
+he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does not
+like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze. There is
+a large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for
+carting, indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can,
+and the rest, if left spread about through next
+day&mdash;Sunday&mdash;would be fit on Monday.</p>
+<p>On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the
+sun, if it shines, works as hard and effectually as ever. It is
+always a temptation to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay
+spread about for Sunday, so that on Monday morning he may find it
+made. Another reason why he hesitates is because he knows he will
+have trouble with the labourers, who will want to be off early as
+it is Saturday. They are not so ready to work an hour or two
+overtime as when he was a boy. On the other hand, he recollects
+that the weather cablegrams from America foretell the arrival of a
+depression. What would his grandfather have thought of adjusting
+the work in an English meadow to the tenour of news from the other
+side of the Atlantic?</p>
+<p>Suddenly, while he ponders, there arises a shout from the
+labourers. The hay in one spot, as if seized by an invisible force,
+lifts itself up and revolves round and round, rising higher every
+turn. A miniature cyclone is whirling it up&mdash;a column of hay
+twisting in a circle and rising above the trees. Then the force of
+the whirlwind spends itself; some of the hay falls on the oaks, and
+some drifts with the breeze across the field before it sinks.</p>
+<p>This decides him at once. He resolves to have all the hay carted
+that he can, and the remainder put up into haycocks. The men
+grumble when they hear it; perhaps a year ago they would have
+openly mutinied, and refused to work beyond the usual hour. But,
+though wages are still high, the labourers feel that they are not
+so much the masters as they were&mdash;they grumble, but obey. The
+haycocks are put up, and the rick-cloth unfolded over the partly
+made rick. Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth does not
+touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go
+through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and
+firmly belayed. His caution is justified in the night by a violent
+thunderstorm, and in the morning it is raining steadily.</p>
+<p>It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Thursday it
+does not rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the
+grass hung with raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting
+cloud. The hay cannot be touched; it must lie a day till
+sufficiently dry. Friday is more hopeful. He walks out into the
+fields, and kicks a haycock half over. The hay is still wet, but he
+congratulates himself that not much damage is done. Saturday Is
+warm and fine&mdash;work goes on again. But Sunday is near. Sunday
+is fiery hot. Monday, the rain pours down with tropical
+vehemence.</p>
+<p>Thus the monotonous, heart-breaking days go by and lengthen into
+weeks, and the weeks extend into months. The wheat is turning
+colour, and still the hay lies about, and the farmer has ceased
+even to tap the barometer. Those fields that are not cut are brown
+as brown can be&mdash;the grass has seeded and is over ripe. The
+labourers come every day, and some trifling job is found for
+them&mdash;the garden path is weeded, the nettles cut, and such
+little matters done. Their wages are paid every week in silver and
+gold&mdash;harvest wages, for which no stroke of harvest work has
+been done. He must keep them on, because any day the weather may
+brighten, and then they will be wanted. But the weather does not
+brighten, and the drain of ready cash continues. Besides the men,
+tho mowing machine is idle in the shed. Even if the rain ceases,
+the crops are so laid that it is doubtful if it can be employed.
+The horse-rake is idle, the elevator is idle, the haymaking machine
+is idle, and these represent capital, if not to a large amount. He
+notes the price of hay at the market. For months past it has been
+low&mdash;so low that it has hardly paid him to sell that portion
+of old hay which he felt he could spare. From October of last year
+to June of this [1879] the price remained about the same. It is now
+rising, but he has no more old hay to part with, and the new is not
+yet made. He has to bear in mind that his herd of cows has to be
+kept in high feed all the winter, to supply an unvarying quantity
+of milk to the London purchaser.</p>
+<p><a name="bnote1" id="bnote1">These</a> wet days, forcing him
+unwillingly to stay within doors, send him to his books and
+accounts, and they tell a story somewhat at variance with the
+prevalent belief that dairy-farming is the only branch of farming
+that is still profitable. First, as to the milk-selling. Cows
+naturally yield a larger supply in the summer than in winter but by
+the provisions of the contract between the farmer and the milkman
+the quantity sent in summer is not to exceed and the quantity in
+winter not to fall short of, a stipulated amount.<a href=
+"#fnote1">[1]</a> The price received in summer is about fivepence
+or fivepence-halfpenny per imperial gallon, afterwards retailed in
+London at about one shilling and eightpence. When the cost of
+conveyance to the station, of the horses, of the wear and tear, of
+the men who have to be paid for doing nothing else but look after
+the milk, is deducted, the profit to the farmer is but small. He
+thinks, too, that he notices a decided falling-off in the demand
+for milk even at this price.</p>
+<p>Some dairies find a difficulty in disposing of the
+milk&mdash;they cannot find a purchaser. He has himself a
+considerable surplus over and above what the contract allows him to
+send. This must either be wasted entirely or made into butter and
+cheese. In order to make cheese, the plant, the tubs, vats,
+presses, and so on, must be kept in readiness, and there must be an
+experienced person to superintend the work. This person must be
+paid a salary, and lodge and board in the house, representing
+therefore a considerable outlay. The cheese, when made and sent to
+market, fluctuates of course in price: it may be as low as
+fourpence a pound wholesale; it may go as high as sixpence.
+Fourpence a pound wholesale will not pay for the making; sixpence
+will leave a profit; but of late the price has gone rather to the
+lower than the higher figure. A few years since, when the iron
+industries flourished, this kind of cheese had a good and ready
+sale, and there was a profit belonging to it; but since the iron
+trade has been in so depressed a condition this cheese has sold
+badly. The surplus milk consequently brings no profit, and is only
+made into cheese because it shall not be wasted, and in the hope
+that possibly a favourable turn of the cheese market may happen.
+Neither the summer cheese nor the summer milk is bringing him in a
+fortune.</p>
+<p>Meantime the hay is spoiling in the fields. But a few years ago,
+when agricultural prices were inflated, and men's minds were full
+of confidence, he recollects seeing standing grass crops sold by
+auction for 5<i>l</i>. the acre, and in some cases even higher
+prices were realised. This year similar auctions of standing grass
+crops hardly realised 30<i>s</i>. an acre, and in some instances a
+purchaser could not be found even at that price. The difference in
+the value of grass represented by these prices is very great.</p>
+<p>He has no pigs to sell, because, for a long while past, he has
+had nothing upon which to feed them, the milk being sold. The
+pigsties are full of weeds; he can hardly fatten one for his own
+use, and has scarcely better facilities for keeping pigs than an
+agricultural labourer. The carriage of the milk to the station
+requires at least two quick horses, and perhaps more; one cannot do
+it twice a day, even with a very moderate load. The hard highway
+and the incessant work would soon knock a single horse up. The
+mowing machine and the horse-rake must be drawn by a similar horse,
+so that the dairy farm may be said to require a style of horse like
+that employed by omnibus proprietors. The acreage being limited, he
+can only keep a certain number of horses, and, therefore, has no
+room for a brood mare.</p>
+<p>Farmer George is aware that nothing now pays like a brood cart
+mare with fair good luck. The colt born in April is often sold six
+months afterwards, in September, for 20<i>l</i>. or 25<i>l</i>.,
+and even up to 30<i>l</i>., according to excellence. The value of
+cart-horse colts has risen greatly, and those who are fortunately
+able to maintain a brood mare have reaped the profit. But Mr.
+George, selling the milk, and keeping a whole stud of nags for the
+milk cart, the mowing machine, the horse-rake, and so forth, cannot
+maintain a brood mare as well. In the winter, it is true, the milk
+may sell for as high a price as tenpence per gallon of four quarts,
+but then he has a difficulty in procuring the quantity contracted
+for, and may perhaps have to buy of neighbours to keep up the
+precise supply.</p>
+<p>His herd must also be managed for the purpose, and must be well
+fed, and he will probably have to buy food for them in addition to
+his hay. The nag horses, too, that draw the milk waggon, have to be
+fed during the winter, and are no slight expense. As for fattening
+a beast in a stall, with a view to take the prize at Christmas at
+the local show, he has abandoned that, finding that it costs more
+to bring the animal up to the condition required than he can
+afterwards sell it for. There is no profit in that. America presses
+upon him hard, too&mdash;as hard, or harder, than on the
+wheat-grower. Cases have been known of American cheese being sold
+in manufacturing towns as low as twopence per pound
+retail&mdash;given away by despairing competition.</p>
+<p>How, then, is the dairyman to succeed when he cannot, positively
+cannot, make cheese to sell at less than fourpence per pound
+wholesale? Of course such instances are exceptional, but American
+cheese is usually sold a penny or more a pound below the English
+ordinary, and this cuts the ground from under the dairyman's feet;
+and the American cheese too is acquiring a reputation for richness,
+and, price for price, surpasses the English in quality. Some people
+who have long cherished a prejudice against the American have
+found, upon at last being induced to try the two, that the Canadian
+cheddar is actually superior to the English cheddar, the English
+selling at tenpence per pound and the Canadian at sevenpence.</p>
+<p>Mr. George finds he pays a very high rent for his grass
+land&mdash;some 50<i>s</i>. per acre&mdash;and upon reckoning up
+the figures in his account-books heaves a sigh. His neighbours
+perchance may be making fortunes, though they tell quite a
+different tale, but he feels that he is not growing rich. The work
+is hard, or rather it is continuous. No one has to attend to his
+duties so regularly all the year round as the man who looks after
+cows. They cannot be left a single day from the 1st of January to
+the 31st of December. Nor is the social state of things altogether
+pleasant to reflect on. His sons and daughters have all left home;
+not one would stay and take to the dairy work. They have gone into
+the towns, and found more congenial employment there. He is himself
+growing in years. His wife, having once left off making cheese when
+the milk selling commenced, and having tasted the sweets of rest,
+is unwilling to return to that hard labour. When it is done he must
+pay some one to do it.</p>
+<p>In every way ready money is going out of the house. Cash to pay
+the haymakers idling about in the sheds out of the rain; cash to
+pay the men who manage the milk; cash to pay the woman who makes
+the cheese out of the surplus milk; cash to pay the blacksmith for
+continually re-shoeing the milk cart nags and for mending machines;
+cash to pay the brewer and the butcher and the baker, neither of
+whom took a sovereign here when he was a lad, for his father ate
+his own bacon, brewed his own beer, and baked his own bread; cash
+to pay for the education of the cottagers' children; cash, a great
+deal of cash, to pay the landlord.</p>
+<p>Mr. George, having had enough of his accounts, rises and goes to
+the window. A rain cloud sweeping along the distant hills has
+hidden them from sight, and the rack hurries overhead driven before
+the stormy wind. There comes a knock at the door. It is the
+collector calling the second time for the poor rates, which have
+grown heavier of late.</p>
+<p>But, however delayed, the haymaking is finished at last, and
+by-and-by, when the leaves have fallen and the hunting commences, a
+good run drives away for the time at least the memory of so
+unpropitious a season. Then Mr. George some mild morning forms one
+of a little group of well-mounted farmers waiting at a quiet corner
+while the hounds draw a great wood. Two of them are men long past
+middle age, whose once tawny beards are grizzled, but who are still
+game, perhaps more so than the rising generation. The rest have
+followed them here, aware that these old hands know every inch of
+the country, and are certain to be in the right place. The spot is
+not far from the park wall, where the wood runs up into a
+wedge-shaped point, and ends in a low mound and hedge. Most of the
+company at the meet in the park have naturally cantered across the
+level sward, scattering the sheep as they go, and are now assembled
+along the side of the wood, near where a green 'drive' goes through
+it, and apparently gives direct access to the fields beyond. From
+thence they can see the huntsman in the wood occasionally, and
+trace the exact course the hounds are taking in their search.</p>
+<p>A gallant show it is by the wood! Horsemen and horsewomen, late
+comers hastening up, restless horses, a throng for ever in motion,
+and every now and then the blast of a horn rising up from the trees
+beneath. A gallant show indeed, but two old cunning ones and their
+followers have slipped away down to this obscure corner where they
+can see nothing of it, and are themselves hidden. They know that
+the wood is triangular in shape, and that from this, the apex, they
+have merely to pass the low hedge in front, and, turning to the
+left, ride along the lower side, and so bisect the course the fox
+will probably take. They know that the 'drive,' which offers so
+straight and easy a descent through the wood from the park, is
+pleasant enough till the lower ground is reached. There the soft,
+oozy earth, which can never dry under the trees, is poached into a
+slough through which even timber carriages cannot be drawn. Nor can
+a horseman slip aside, because of the ash poles and thorn thickets.
+Those who are trapped there must return to the park and gallop all
+round the wood outside, unless they like to venture a roll in that
+liquid mud. Any one can go to a meet, but to know all the
+peculiarities of the covers is only given to those who have ridden
+over the country these forty years. In this corner a detached copse
+of spruce fir keeps off the wind&mdash;the direction of which they
+have noted&mdash;and in this shelter it is almost warm.</p>
+<p>The distant crack of a whip, the solitary cry of a hound, a
+hollow shout, and similar sounds, come frequently, and now and then
+there is an irrepressible stir in the little group as they hear one
+of the many false alarms that always occur in drawing a great wood.
+To these noises they are keenly sensitive, but utterly ignore the
+signs of other life around them. A pheasant, alarmed by the hounds,
+comes running quietly, thinking to escape into the line of isolated
+copses that commences here; but, suddenly confronted by the
+horsemen just outside, rises with an uproar, and goes sailing down
+over the fields. Two squirrels, happy in the mild weather, frisk
+out of the copse into the dank grass, till a curvet of one of the
+horses frightens them up into the firs again.</p>
+<p>Horses and men are becoming impatient. 'That dalled keeper has
+left an earth open,' remarks one of the riders. His companion
+points with his whip at the hedge just where it joins the wood. A
+long slender muzzle is thrust for a moment cautiously over the bare
+sandy mound under cover of a thorn stole. One sniff, and it is
+withdrawn. The fox thought also to steal away along the copses, the
+worst and most baffling course he could choose. Five minutes
+afterwards, and there is this time no mistake. There comes from the
+park above the low, dull, rushing roar of hundreds of hoofs, that
+strike the sward together, and force by sheer weight the reluctant
+earth to resound. The two old hands lead over the hedge, and the
+little company, slipping along below the wood, find themselves well
+on the track, far in front of the main body. There is a block in
+the treacherous 'drive,' those who where foremost struggling to get
+back, and those behind struggling to come down. The rest at last,
+learning the truth, are galloping round the outside, and taking it
+out of their horses before they get on the course at all.</p>
+<p>It is a splendid burst, and the pace is terrible. The farmers'
+powerful horses find it heavy going across the fresh ploughed
+furrows and the wet 'squishey' meadows, where the double mounds
+cannot be shirked. Now a lull, and the two old hands, a little at
+fault, make for the rising ground, where are some ricks, and a
+threshing machine at work, thinking from thence to see over the
+tall hedgerows. Upon the rick the labourers have stopped work, and
+are eagerly watching the chase, for from that height they can see
+the whole field. Yonder the main body have found a succession of
+fields with the gates all open: some carting is in progress, and
+the gates have been left open for the carter's convenience. A
+hundred horsemen and eight or ten ladies are galloping in an
+extended line along this route, riding hardest, as often happens,
+when the hounds are quiet, that they may be ready when the chiding
+commences.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the labourers exclaim and point, the hounds open, and
+the farmers, knowing from the direction they point where to ride,
+are off. But this time the fox has doubled, so that the squadrons
+hitherto behind are now closest up, and the farmers in the rear:
+thus the fortune of war changes, and the race is not to the swift.
+The labourers on the rick, which stands on the side of a hill, are
+fully as excited as the riders, and they can see what the hunter
+himself rarely views, <i>i.e.</i> the fox slipping ahead before the
+hounds. Then they turn to alternately laugh at, and shout
+directions to a disconsolate gentleman, who, ignorant of the
+district, is pounded in a small meadow. He is riding frantically
+round and round, afraid to risk the broad brook which encircles it,
+because of the treacherous bank, and maddened by the receding sound
+of the chase. A boy gets off the rick and runs to earn sixpence by
+showing a way out. So from the rick Hodge has his share of the
+sport, and at that elevation can see over a wide stretch of what
+he&mdash;changing the 'd' into a 'j'&mdash;calls 'the juke's
+country.'</p>
+<p>It is a famous land. There are spaces, which on the map look
+large, and yet have no distinctive character, no individuality as
+it were. Such broad expanses of plain and vale are usefully
+employed in the production of cattle and corn. Villages, hamlets,
+even towns are dotted about them, but a list of such places would
+not contain a single name that would catch the eye. Though
+occupying so many square miles, the district, so far as the world
+is concerned, is non-existent. It is socially a blank. But 'the
+juke's country' is a well-known land. There are names connected
+with it which are familiar not only in England, but all the world
+over, where men&mdash;and where do they not?&mdash;converse of
+sport. Something beyond mere utility, beyond ploughing and sowing,
+has given it within its bounds a species of separate nationality.
+The personal influence of an acknowledged leader has organised
+society and impressed it with a quiet enthusiasm. Even the
+bitterest Radical forgives the patrician who shoots or rides
+exceptionally well, and hunting is a pursuit which brings the peer
+and the commoner side by side.</p>
+<p>The agricultural population speak as one man upon the subject.
+The old farmer will tell you with pride how his advice was sought
+when disease entered the kennels, and how his remedy saved the
+lives of valuable hounds. The farmer's son, a mere lad, whose head
+barely rises to his saddle, talks of 'the duke' as his hero. This
+boy knows the country, and can ride straight, better than many a
+gentleman with groom and second horse behind. Already, like his
+elders, he looks forward impatiently to the fall of the leaf. The
+tenants' wives and daughters allude with pleasure to the annual
+social gatherings at the mansion, and it is apparent that something
+like a real bond exists between landlord and tenant. No false pride
+separates the one from the other&mdash;intercourse is easy, for a
+man of high and ancient lineage can speak freely to the humblest
+labourer without endangering his precedence. It needs none of the
+parvenu's <i>hauteur</i> and pomp to support his dignity. Every
+tenant is treated alike.</p>
+<p>On small estates there is sometimes a complaint that the largest
+tenant is petted while the lesser are harshly treated. Nothing of
+that is known here. The tenants are as well content as it is
+possible for men to be who are passing under the universal
+depression. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>&mdash;it would be impossible for
+that ancient house to stoop to meanness. The head rides to the
+hunt, as his ancestors rode to battle, with a hundred horsemen
+behind him. His colours are like the cockades of olden times. Once
+now and then even Royalty honours the meet with its presence. Round
+that ancient house the goodwill of the county gathers; and when any
+family event&mdash;as a marriage&mdash;takes place, the hearty
+congratulations offered come from far beyond the actual property.
+His pastime is not without its use&mdash;all are agreed that
+hunting really does improve the breed of horses. Certainly it gives
+a life, a go, a social movement to the country which nothing else
+imparts.</p>
+<p>It is a pleasant land withal&mdash;a land of hill and vale, of
+wood and copse. How well remembered are the copses on the hills,
+and the steeples, those time-honoured landmarks to wandering
+riders! The small meadows with double mounds have held captive many
+a stranger. The river that winds through them enters by-and-by a
+small but ancient town, with its memories of the fierce Danes, and
+its present talk of the hunt. About five o'clock on winter
+afternoons there is a clank of spurs in the courtyard of the old
+inn, and the bar is crowded with men in breeches and top-boots. As
+they refresh themselves there is a ceaseless hum of conversation,
+how so-and-so came a cropper, how another went at the brook in
+style, or how some poor horse got staked and was mercifully shot. A
+talk, in short, like that in camp after a battle, of wounds and
+glory. Most of these men are tenant farmers, and reference is sure
+to be made to the price of cheese, and the forthcoming local
+agricultural show.</p>
+<p>This old market town has been noted for generations as a great
+cheese centre. It is not, perhaps, the most convenient situation
+for such a market, and its population is inconsiderable; but the
+trade is, somehow or other, a tradition of the place, and
+traditions are hard to shake. Efforts have been made to establish
+rival markets in towns nearer to the modern resorts of commerce,
+but in vain. The attempt has always proved a failure, and to this
+day the prices quoted at this place rule those of the adjoining
+counties, and are watched in distant cities. The depression made
+itself felt here in a very practical manner, for prices fell to
+such an extent that the manufacture of the old style of cheese
+became almost a dead loss. Some farmers abandoned it, and at much
+trouble and expense changed their system, and began to produce
+Cheddar and Stilton. But when the Stilton was at last ready, there
+was no demand for it. Almost suddenly, however, and quite recently,
+a demand sprang up, and the price of that cheese rose. They say
+here in the bar that this probably saved many from difficulties;
+large stocks that had been lying on hand unsaleable for months
+going off at a good price. They hope that it is an omen of
+returning prosperity, and do not fail to observe the remarkable
+illustration it affords of the close connection between trade and
+agriculture. For no sooner did the iron trade revive than the price
+of cheese responded. The elder men cannot refrain from chuckling
+over the altered tone of the inhabitants of cities towards the
+farmers. 'Years ago,' they say, 'we were held up to scorn, and told
+that we were quite useless; there was nothing so contemptible as
+the British farmer. Now they have discovered that, after all, we
+are some good, and even Manchester sympathises with us.'</p>
+<p>It is now hoped that the forthcoming local show&mdash;largely
+patronised and promoted by the chief of the hunting
+field&mdash;will be better than was at one time anticipated. Those
+who would like to see the real working of an agricultural show such
+as this should contrive to visit the yard early in the morning of
+the opening day, some few hours before the public are admitted. The
+bustle, the crash of excited exhibitors, the cries of men in charge
+of cattle, the apparently inextricable confusion, as if everything
+had been put off to the last moment&mdash;the whole scene is
+intensely agricultural. Every one is calling for the secretary. A
+drover wants to know where to put his fat cattle; a carter wants to
+ask where a great cart-horse is to stand&mdash;he and his horse
+together are hopelessly floundering about in the crowd. The agent
+of a firm of implement manufacturers has a telegram that another
+machine is coming, and is anxious for extra space; the
+representative of an artificial manure factory is vainly seeking a
+parcel that has got mislaid. The seedsman requires permission to
+somewhat shift his stall; wherever is the secretary?</p>
+<p>When he appears, a clergyman at once pounces on him to apply for
+tickets for the dinner, and is followed by a farmer, who must have
+a form and an explanation how to fill it up. One of his labourers
+has decided at the last minute to enter for a prize&mdash;he has
+had a year to make up his mind in. A crowd of members of the
+Society are pushing round for a private view, and watching the
+judges at their work. They all turn to the secretary to ask where
+such and such an exhibit may be found, and demand why on earth the
+catalogues are not ready? Mr. Secretary, a stout tenant farmer, in
+breeches and top-boots, whose broad face beams with good nature
+(selected, perhaps, for that very quality), pants and wipes his
+forehead, for, despite the cold, the exertion and the universal
+flurry have made him quiet hot. He gives every inquirer a civil
+answer, and affably begs the eager folk that press upon him to come
+up into the committee-room.</p>
+<p>At this a satisfied smile replaces the troubled expression upon
+their faces. They feel that their difficulties are at an end; they
+have got hold of the right man at last&mdash;there is something
+soothing in the very sound of the committee-room. When they get up
+into this important apartment they find it quite empty. There is a
+blazing fire in the grate, and littered on the long table is a mass
+of forms, letters, lists, and proofs of the catalogue waiting for
+the judges' decision to be entered. After half an hour or so their
+hopes begin to fall, and possibly some one goes down to try and
+haul the secretary up into his office. The messenger finds that
+much-desired man in the midst of an excited group; one has him by
+the arm pulling him forward, another by the coat dragging him back,
+a third is bawling at him at the top of a powerful voice.</p>
+<p>By-and-by, however, the secretary comes panting up into the
+committee-room with a letter in his hand and a pleased expression
+on his features. He announces that he has just had a note from his
+Grace, who, with his party, will be here early, and who hopes that
+all is going on well. Then to business, and it is surprising how
+quickly he disposes of it. A farmer himself, he knows exactly what
+is wanted, and gives the right order without a moment's hesitation.
+It is no new experience to him, and despite all this apparent
+confusion, everything presently falls into its place.</p>
+<p>After the opening of the show there is a meeting, at which
+certain prizes are distributed, among them rewards to the best
+ploughman in 'the juke's country,' and to those labourers who have
+remained longest in the service of one master. For the graceful
+duty of presentation a marchioness has been selected, who, with
+other visitors of high social rank, has come over from that famous
+hunting mansion. To meet that brilliant party the whole
+agricultural interest has assembled. The room is crowded with
+tenant farmers, the entire hunting field is present. Every
+clergyman in the district is here, together with the gentry, and
+many visitors for the hunting season. Among them, shoulder to
+shoulder, are numbers of agricultural labourers, their wives, and
+daughters, dressed in their best for the occasion. After some
+speeches, a name is called, and an aged labourer steps forward.</p>
+<p>His grandchildren are behind him; two of his sons, quite elderly
+themselves, attend him almost to the front, so that he may have to
+make but a few steps unsupported. The old man is frosted with age,
+and moves stiffly, like a piece of mechanism rather than a living
+creature, nor is there any expression&mdash;neither smile nor
+interest&mdash;upon his absolutely immobile features. He wears
+breeches and gaiters, and a blue coat cut in the style of two
+generations since. There is a small clear space in the midst of the
+well-dressed throng. There he stands, and for the moment the hum is
+hushed.</p>
+<p>For sixty years that old man laboured upon one farm; sixty years
+of ploughing and sowing, sixty harvests. What excitement, what
+discoveries and inventions&mdash;with what giant strides the world
+has progressed while he quietly followed the plough! An
+acknowledgment has been publicly awarded to him for that long and
+faithful service. He puts forth his arm; his dry, horny fingers are
+crooked, and he can neither straighten nor bend them. Not the least
+sign appears upon his countenance that he is even conscious of what
+is passing. There is a quick flash of jewelled rings ungloved to
+the light, and the reward is placed in that claw-like grasp by the
+white hand of the marchioness.</p>
+<p>Not all the gallant cavalry of the land fearlessly charging
+hedge and brook can, however, repel the invasion of a foe mightier
+than their chief. Frost sometimes comes and checks their gaiety.
+Snow falls, and levels every furrow, and then Hodge going to his
+work in the morning can clearly trace the track of one of his most
+powerful masters, Squire Reynard, who has been abroad in the night,
+and, likely enough, throttled the traditional grey goose. The
+farmer watches for the frozen thatch to drip; the gentleman
+visiting the stable looks up disconsolately at the icicles
+dependent from the slated eave with the same hope. The sight of a
+stray seagull wandering inland is gladly welcomed, as the harbinger
+of drenching clouds sweeping up on soft south-westerly gales from
+the nearest coast.</p>
+<p>The hunt is up once more, and so short are the hours of the day
+in the dead of the year, that early night often closes round the
+chase. From out of the gloom and the mist comes the distant note of
+the horn, with a weird and old-world sound. By-and-by the labourer,
+trudging homeward, is overtaken by a hunter whose horse's neck
+droops with weariness. His boots are splashed with mud, his coat
+torn by the thorns. He is a visitor, vainly trying to find his way
+home, having come some ten or fifteen miles across country since
+the morning. The labourer shows the route&mdash;the longest way
+round is the shortest at night&mdash;and as they go listens eagerly
+to the hunter's tale of the run. At the cross roads they part with
+mutual goodwill towards each other, and a shilling, easily earned,
+pays that night for the cottager's pipe and glass of ale.</p>
+<h4>Footnotes:</h4>
+<a name="fnote1" id="fnote1"></a><a href="#bnote1">1.</a> An
+improvement upon this system has been introduced by the leading
+metropolitian dairy company. The farmer is asked to fix a minimum
+quantity which he will engage to supply daily, but he can send as
+much more as he likes. This permits of economical and natural
+management in a dairy, which was very difficult under the rigid
+rule mentioned above.
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap9" id="chap9">CHAPTER IX</a></h3>
+<h3>THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS</h3>
+A pair of well-matched bays in silver-plated harness, and driven by
+a coachman in livery, turn an easy curve round a corner of the
+narrow country road, forcing you to step on the sward by the
+crimson-leaved bramble bushes, and sprinkling the dust over the
+previously glossy surface of the newly fallen horse chestnuts. Two
+ladies, elegantly dressed, lounge in the carriage with that
+graceful idleness&mdash;that indifferent indolence&mdash;only to be
+acquired in an atmosphere of luxury. Before they pass out of sight
+round another turn of the road it is possible to observe that one
+at least possesses hair of the fashionable hue, and a complexion
+delicately brilliant&mdash;whether wholly natural or partly aided
+by art. The other must be pronounced a shade less rich in the
+colours of youth, but is perhaps even more expensively dressed. An
+experienced observer would at once put them down as mother and
+daughter, as, indeed, they are.
+<p>The polished spokes of the wheels glitter in the sun, the hoofs
+of the high-stepping pair beat the firm road in regular cadence,
+and smoothly the carriage rolls on till the brown beech at the
+corner hides it. But a sense of wealth, of social station, and
+refinement&mdash;strange and in strong contrast to the rustic
+scene&mdash;lingers behind, like a faint odour of perfume. There
+are the slow teams pulling stolidly at the ploughs&mdash;they were
+stopped, of course, for the carters to stare at the equipage; there
+are the wheat ricks; yonder a lone farmstead, and black cattle
+grazing in the pasture. Surely the costly bays, whose hoofs may
+even now be heard, must belong to the lordly owner of these broad
+acres&mdash;this undulating landscape of grass and stubble, which
+is not beautiful but evidently fertile!</p>
+<p>A very brief inquiry at the adjacent market town disposes of
+this natural conclusion. It is the carriage of a tenant
+farmer&mdash;but what a tenant! The shopkeepers here are eloquent,
+positively gratefully eloquent, in the praise of his wife and
+daughter. Customers!&mdash;no such customers had been known in the
+old borough from time immemorial. The tradesman as he speaks
+involuntarily pulls out his till, glances in, and shuts it up with
+a satisfied bang. The old style of farmer, solid and substantial
+enough, fumbling at the bottom of his canvas bag for silver and
+gold, was a crusty curmudgeon where silk and satin, kid gloves, and
+so forth were concerned. His wife had to look sharp after her
+poultry, geese and turkeys, and such similar perquisites, in order
+to indulge in any innocent vanity, notwithstanding that the rent
+was paid and a heavy balance at the bank.</p>
+<p>Then he would have such a length of credit&mdash;a year at
+least&mdash;and nowadays a shopkeeper, though sure of his money,
+cannot wait long for it. But to ask for the account was to give
+mortal offence. The bill would be paid with the remark, intended to
+be intensely sarcastic, 'Suppose you thought we was a-going to run
+away&mdash;eh?' and the door would never again be darkened by those
+antique breeches and gaiters. As for the common run of ordinary
+farmers, their wives bought a good deal, but wanted it cheap and,
+looking at the low price of corn and the 'paper' there was floating
+about, it did not do to allow a long bill to be run up. But the
+Grange people&mdash;ah! the Grange people put some life into the
+place. 'Money! they must have heaps of money' (lowering his voice
+to a whisper). 'Why, Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; brought him a fortune,
+sir; why, she's got a larger income than our squire' (as if it
+were, rank treason to say so). 'Mr. &mdash;&mdash; has got money
+too, and bless you, they holds their heads as high as their
+landlord's, and good reason they should. They spend as much in a
+week as the squire do in a month, and don't cheapen nothing, and
+your cheque just whenever you like to ask for it. That's what I
+calls gentlefolks.' For till and counter gauge long descent, and
+heraldic quarterings, and ancestral Crusaders, far below the chink
+of ready money, that synonym for all the virtues.</p>
+<p>The Grange people, indeed, are so conspicuous, that there is
+little secrecy about them or their affairs. The house they reside
+in&mdash;it cannot be called a farmstead&mdash;is a large
+villa-like mansion of recent erection, and fitted with every modern
+convenience. The real farmstead which it supplanted lies in a
+hollow at some distance, and is occupied by the head bailiff, for
+there are several employed. As the architecture of the villa is
+consonant with modern 'taste,' so too the inferior is furnished in
+the 'best style,' of course under the supervision of the mistress.
+Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; has filled it with rosewood and ormolu, with
+chairs completely gilt, legs, back, seat, and all, with luxurious
+ottomans, 'occasional' tables inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, soft
+carpets, polished brazen grate-fittings, semi-ecclesiastical,
+semi-medi&aelig;val, and so forth.</p>
+<p>Everywhere the glitter of glass, mirrors over the mantelpieces,
+mirrors let into panels, glass chiffoniers, and pendent prisms of
+glass round the ornamental candlesticks. Mixed with this some of
+the latest productions of the new English Renaissance&mdash;stiff,
+straight-back, plain oak chairs, such as men in armour may have
+used&mdash;together with Japanese screens. In short, just such a
+medley of artistic styles as may be seen in scores of suburban
+villas where money is of little account, and even in houses of
+higher social pretensions. There is the usual illustrated
+dining-room literature, the usual <i>bric-&agrave;-brac</i>, the
+usual cabinet series of poets. There are oil paintings on the
+walls; there is an immense amount of the most expensive
+electroplate on the dinner table; the toilet accessories in the
+guest chambers are 'elegant' and <i>recherch&eacute;</i>. The
+upholsterer has not been grudged.</p>
+<p>For Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; is the daughter of a commercial man, one
+of the principals of a great firm, and has been accustomed to these
+things from her youth upwards. She has no sympathies with the past,
+that even yet is loth to quit its hold of the soil and of those who
+are bred upon it. The ancient simplicity and plainness of country
+life are positively repulsive to her; she associates them with
+poverty. Her sympathies are with warm, well-lighted rooms, full of
+comfort, shadowless because of the glare of much gas. She is not
+vulgar, just the reverse&mdash;she is a thorough lady, but she is
+not of the country and its traditions. She is the city and the
+suburb transplanted to the midst of corn, and grass, and cattle.
+She has her maid, skilled in the toilet, her carriage and pair and
+pony carriage, grooms, footmen, just exactly as she would have done
+had she brought her magnificent dowry to a villa at Sydenham.</p>
+<p>In the season, with her daughter, she goes to town, and drives
+daily in the park, just the same as to-day she has driven through
+the leaf-strewn country-lane to the market town. They go also to
+the sea-side, and now and then to the Continent. They are, of
+course, invited to the local balls, and to many of the best houses
+on more private occasions. The ramifications of finance do not
+except the proudest descendants of the Crusaders, and the 'firm'
+has its clients even among them. Bonnets come down from Madame
+Louise, boxes of novels from Mudie's; 'Le Follet' is read in the
+original, and many a Parisian romance as well. Visitors are
+continually coming and going&mdash;the carriage is perpetually
+backwards and forwards to the distant railway station. Friends come
+to the shooting, the hunting, the fishing; there is never any lack
+of society.</p>
+<p>The house is full of servants, and need be, to wait upon these
+people. Now, in former days, and not such a great while since, the
+best of servants came from the country. Mistresses sought for them,
+and mourned when, having imbibed town ways and town independence,
+they took their departure to 'better' themselves. But that is a
+thing of the past; it is gone with the disappearance of the old
+style of country life. Servant girls in farmhouses when young used
+to have a terribly hard life: hard work, hard fare, up early of a
+morning, stone flags under foot by day, bare boards under foot
+upstairs, small pay, and hard words too often. But they turned out
+the best of women, the healthiest and strongest, the most sought
+after. Now they learn a great deal about Timbuctoo, and will soon,
+no doubt, about Cyprus; but the 'servant from the country' is no
+more. Nothing less will suit them to begin with than the service of
+the parish clergyman, then they aspire to the Grange, get there,
+and receive a finishing education, and can never afterwards
+condescend to go where a footman is not kept. They become, in
+short, fine ladies, whose fathers are still at the
+plough&mdash;ladies who at home have been glad of bread and bacon,
+and now cannot possibly survive without hot butcher's meat every
+day, and game and fish in their seasons.</p>
+<p>But to return. Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; and her daughter have also
+their saddle horses. They do not often hunt, but frequently go to
+the meet. They have, it is true, an acceptable excuse for
+preferring riding to walking&mdash;the fashion of tying the dress
+back so tightly makes it extremely difficult for a lady to get over
+a country stile. The rigours of winter only enable them to appear
+even yet more charming in furs and sealskin. In all this the Grange
+people have not laid themselves open to any reproach as to the
+extravagance or pretension of their doings. With them it is
+genuine, real, unaffected: in brief, they have money, and have a
+right to what it can purchase.</p>
+<p>Mr. &mdash;&mdash; is not a tenant farmer from necessity;
+personally he is not a farmer at all, and knows no more of
+shorthorns than the veriest 'City' man. He has a certain taste for
+country life, and this is his way of enjoying it&mdash;and a very
+acute way, too, when you come to analyse it. The major portion of
+his capital is, with his wife's, in the 'firm'; it is administered
+and employed for him by men whose family interests and his are
+identical, whose knowledge of business is profound, whose own
+capital is there too. It is a fortunate state of things, not
+brought about in a day, but the growth of more than one generation.
+Now this man, as has been remarked, has a taste for country
+life&mdash;that is to say, he is an enthusiast over
+horses&mdash;not betting, but horses in their best form. He likes
+to ride and drive about, to shoot, and fish, and hunt. There is
+nothing despicable in this, but, after the manner of men, of course
+he must find an excuse.</p>
+<p>He found it in the children when they were young&mdash;two boys
+and one girl. It was better for them to have country air, to ride
+about the country lanes, and over the hills. The atmosphere
+altogether was more healthy, more manly than in the suburbs of a
+city. The excuse is a good one. Now come the means; two plans are
+open to him. He can buy an estate, or he can rent a large farm, or
+rather series of farms. If he purchases a fine estate he must
+withdraw his capital from business. In the first place, that would
+be inconvenient to old friends, and even unjust to them; in the
+second place, it would reduce his income most materially. Suppose
+we say, not for absolute exactness, but for the sake of present
+contrast, that capital well invested in business brings in ten per
+cent. The same capital invested in land brings in, say, three per
+cent. nominally; but is it as much in reality if you deduct those
+expensive improvements upon which tenants insist nowadays, and the
+five per cents, and ten per cents, allowed off the rent in bad
+years? At all events, it is certain that landlords, as a class, are
+investing more and more every year in business, which looks as if
+they did not consider land itself sufficiently remunerative. In
+addition, when you have bought your estate, should you subsequently
+wish to realise, the difficulties and delays are very trying. You
+cannot go down to your broker and say, 'Sell me a thousand acres
+this morning.' Capital in land is locked up.</p>
+<p>Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, having been trained in traditions of ready
+money and easy transfer, does not like this prospect. But as the
+tenant of a great farm it is quite another matter. The larger part
+of his capital still remains in the 'firm,' and earns him a
+handsome income. That which is invested in stock, cattle, horses,
+implements, &amp;c., is in a sense readily negotiable if ever he
+should desire to leave. Instead of having to pet and pamper
+discontented tenants, his landlord has to pet and pamper him. He
+has, in fact, got the upper hand. There are plenty of landlords who
+would be only too glad to get the rich Mr. &mdash;&mdash; to manure
+and deep-plough their lands; but there are comparatively few Mr.
+&mdash;&mdash;'s whose rent-day payments can be implicitly relied
+on. Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, in point of fact, gets all the sweets of
+the country gentleman's life, and leaves the owner all the sour. He
+has no heir presumptive to check his proceedings; no law of entail
+to restrain him; no old settlements to bind him hand and foot; none
+of those hundred and one family interests to consult which
+accumulate in the course of years around a landed estate, and so
+seriously curtail the freedom of the man in possession, the head of
+the family. So far as liberty and financial considerations go, he
+is much better off than his landlord, who perhaps has a title.
+Though he knows nothing of farming, he has the family instinct of
+accounts and figures; he audits the balance-sheets and books of his
+bailiff personally, and is not easily cheated. Small peculations of
+course go on, but nothing serious. The farms pay their way, and
+contribute a trifle towards the household expenses. For the rest,
+it is taken out in liberty, out-of-door life, field sports, and
+unlimited horses. His wife and daughter mix in the best society the
+county affords, besides their annual visits to town and the
+sea-side: they probably enjoy thrice the liberty and pleasure they
+would elsewhere. Certainly they are in blooming health. The eldest
+son is studying for the law, the younger has the commercial
+instinct more strongly developed, and is already with the 'firm.'
+Both of them get the full benefit of country life whenever they
+wish; both of them feel that there is plenty of capital behind
+them, and not the slightest jealousy exists on account of
+primogeniture. Of course they have their troubles&mdash;what family
+has not its troubles?&mdash;but on the whole their position is an
+enviable one.</p>
+<p>When Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; and her daughter rustle into their pew
+at church&mdash;placed next in honour to that of the proprietor of
+the soil&mdash;all eyes are turned upon them. The old-fashioned
+farmer's wife, who until her years pressed heavily upon her made
+the cheese and butter in her husband's dairy, is not so old but
+that her eyes can distinguish the colour of a ribbon. She may talk
+of such things as vanities, and unknown in her day, but for all
+that a pair of keen eyes criticise skirt, and trimmings, and
+braidings, and so forth, as displayed up in the Grange pew. Her
+daughter, who is quite young&mdash;for in her mother's time farming
+people did not marry till late in life&mdash;brings a still keener
+pair of eyes to bear in the same direction.</p>
+<p>The bonnets from Regent Street are things to think over and talk
+of. The old lady disinters her ancient finery; the girl, by hook or
+crook, is determined to dress in the fashion. If one farmer's wife
+is a fine lady, why not another? Do not even the servant girls at
+the Grange come out twenty times finer than people who have a
+canvas bag full of sovereigns at home, and many such bags at the
+bank? So that the Grange people, though they pay their way
+handsomely, and plough deep and manure lavishly, and lead the van
+of agriculture, are not, perhaps, an unmixed good. They help on
+that sapping and undermining of the ancient, sturdy simplicity, the
+solid oak of country character, replacing it with veneer. It is
+not, of course, all, or a tenth part, their fault, or in any way
+traceable to them. It is part and parcel of the wide-spread social
+changes which have gradually been proceeding.</p>
+<p>But the tenant farmer's wife who made the butter and cheese, and
+even helped to salt bacon, where is she now? Where are the healthy
+daughters that used to assist her? The wife is a fine
+lady&mdash;not, indeed, with carriage and pair, but with a dandy
+dog-cart at least; not with three-guinea bonnets, but with a costly
+sealskin jacket. There are kid gloves on her hands; there is a
+suspicion of perfume about her; there is a rustling of silk and
+satin, and a waving of ostrich feathers. The daughter is pale and
+interesting, and interprets Beethoven, and paints the old mill;
+while a skilled person, hired at a high price, rules in the dairy.
+The son rides a-hunting, and is glib on the odds. The
+'offices'&mdash;such it is the fashion to call the places in which
+work was formerly done&mdash;are carefully kept in the background.
+The violets and snowdrops and crocuses are rooted up, all the sweet
+and tender old flowers ruthlessly eradicated, to make way for a
+blazing parterre after the manner of the suburban villa&mdash;gay
+in the summer, in the spring a wilderness of clay, in the autumn a
+howling desert of musty evergreens..</p>
+<p>The 'civilisation' of the town has, in fact, gone out and taken
+root afresh in the country. There is no reason why the farmer
+should not be educated; there is no reason why his wife should not
+wear a sealskin jacket, or the daughter interpret Beethoven. But
+the question arises, Has not some of the old stubborn spirit of
+earnest work and careful prudence gone with the advent of the piano
+and the oil painting? While wearing the dress of a lady, the wife
+cannot tuck up her sleeves and see to the butter, or even feed the
+poultry, which are down at the pen across 'a nasty dirty field.' It
+is easy to say that farming is gone to the dogs, that corn is low,
+and stock uncertain, and rents high, and so forth. All that is
+true, but difficulties are nothing new; nor must too much be
+expected from the land.</p>
+<p>A moderate-sized farm, of from 200 to 800 acres, will no more
+enable the mistress and the misses to play the fine lady to-day
+than it would two generations ago. It requires work now the same as
+then&mdash;steady, persevering work&mdash;and, what is more
+important, prudence, economy, parsimony if you like; nor do these
+necessarily mean the coarse manners of a former age. Manners may be
+good, education may be good, the intellect and even the artistic
+sense may be cultivated, and yet extravagance avoided. The proverb
+is true still: 'You cannot have your hare and cook him too.' Now so
+many cook their hares in the present day without even waiting to
+catch them first. A euphuism has been invented to cover the
+wrongfulness of this system; it is now called 'discounting.' The
+fine lady farmers discount their husbands' corn and fat cattle,
+cheese and butter, before they reach the market. By-and-by the
+plough stops in the furrow, and the team is put up to auction, and
+farewell is said to the old homestead for evermore.</p>
+<p>There was no warmer welcome to be met with in life than used to
+be bestowed upon the fortunate visitor to an old house in the
+country where the people were not exactly farmers in the ordinary
+sense, because they were sufficiently well off to be independent,
+and yet made no pretence to gentility. You dropped in quite
+unexpectedly and informally after a pleasant stroll about the
+fields with a double-barrel, untrammelled by any attendant. The
+dogs were all over cleavers sticking to their coats, and your boots
+had to be wiped with a wisp of straw; your pocket was heavy with a
+couple of rabbits or a hare, and your hands black enough from
+powder and handling gates and stiles. But they made you feel
+immediately that such trifles were not of the slightest
+account.</p>
+<p>The dogs were allowed to rush in anyhow and set to work to lick
+their paws by the fire as if the house was their own. Your apology
+about your boots and general state of disorder was received with a
+smile by the mistress, who said she had sons of her own, and knew
+their ways. Forthwith one sturdy son seized the double-barrel, and
+conveyed it to a place of safety; a second took the rabbits or the
+hare, that you might not be incommoded by such a lump in your
+pocket, and sent the game on home to your quarters by a labourer; a
+third relieved you of your hat. As many tall young ladies rose to
+offer you a seat, so that it was really difficult to know which way
+to turn, besides which the old grandfather with silvery hair
+pressed you to take his chair by the fire.</p>
+<p>They had just sat down to the old-fashioned tea at half-past
+four, and in a moment there was a cup and plate ready. The tea had
+a fragrant scent, warm and grateful after the moist atmosphere of
+the meadows, smelling of decaying leaves. The mistress suggested
+that a nip of brandy might improve it, thinking that tea was hardly
+strong enough for a man. But that was, declined; for what could be
+more delicious than the sweet, thick cream poured in by a liberal
+hand? A fine ham had already been put on the table, as if by
+magic&mdash;the girls really seemed to anticipate everything you
+could possibly want. As for the butter, it was exquisite, and so,
+too, the home-baked bread, the more so, because only touched in the
+processes of preparing by the whitest and softest of hands. Such
+simple things become luxuries when brought to perfection by loving
+care. The old dog on the hearthrug came thrusting his nose into
+your hands, making almost too great friends, being perfectly well
+aware (cunning old fellow) that he could coax more out of a visitor
+than one of the family, who knew how he had stuffed all day.</p>
+<p>Over all there was an atmosphere of welcome, a genial
+brightness. The young men were anxious to tell you where the best
+sport could be got. The young ladies had a merry, genuine,
+unaffected smile&mdash;clearly delighted to see you, and not in the
+least ashamed of it. They showed an evident desire to please,
+without a trace of an <i>arri&eacute;re pens&eacute;e</i>. Tall,
+well-developed, in the height of good health, the bloom upon the
+cheek and the brilliant eyes formed a picture irresistibly
+charming. But it was the merry laugh that so long dwelt in the
+memory&mdash;nothing so thoroughly enchants one as the woman who
+laughs from her heart in the joyousness of youth. They joined
+freely in the conversation, but did not thrust themselves forward.
+They were, of course, eager for news of the far away world, but not
+a hint was breathed of those social scandals which now form our
+favourite gossip. From little side remarks concerning domestic
+matters it was evident that they were well acquainted with
+household duties. Indeed, they assisted to remove the things from
+the table without any consciousness that it was a menial task.</p>
+<p>It was not long after tea before, drawing round the fire, pipes
+were produced, and you were asked to smoke. Of course you declined
+on account of the ladies, but it was none the less pleasant to be
+asked. There was the great secret of it all-the genuine, liberal,
+open-handed and open-hearted proffering of all the house contained
+to the guest. And it was none the less an amusing conversation
+because each of the girls candidly avowed her own opinions upon
+such topics as were started&mdash;blushing a little, it is true, if
+you asked the reason for the opinion, for ladies are not always
+quite ready with the why and wherefore. But the contrast of
+character, the individuality displayed, gave a zest and interest to
+the talk; so that the hour wore late before you were aware of it.
+Then, if you would go, two, at least, of the three boys piloted you
+by the best and cleanest route, and did not wish you farewell till
+you were in the straight road. This was not so many years ago.</p>
+<p>Today, if you call at such a country house, how strangely
+different is the reception! None of the family come to the door to
+meet you. A servant shows you into a parlour&mdash;drawing-room is
+the proper word now&mdash;well carpeted and furnished in the modern
+style. She then takes your name&mdash;what a world of change is
+shown in that trifling piece of etiquette! By-and-by, after the
+proper interval, the ladies enter in morning costume, not a stray
+curl allowed to wander from its stern bands, nature rigidly
+repressed, decorum&mdash;'Society'&mdash;in every flounce and
+trimming. You feel that you have committed a solecism coming on
+foot, and so carrying the soil on your boots from the fields
+without into so elegant an apartment Visitors are obviously
+expected to arrive on wheels, and in correct trim for company. A
+remark about the crops falls on barren ground; a question
+concerning the dairy, ignorantly hazarded, is received with so much
+<i>hauteur</i> that at last you see such subjects are considered
+vulgar. Then a touch of the bell, and decanters of port and sherry
+are produced and our wine presented to you on an electro salver
+together with sweet biscuits. It is the correct thing to sip one
+glass and eat one biscuit.</p>
+<p>The conversation is so insipid, so entirely confined to the
+merest platitudes, that it becomes absolutely a relief to escape.
+You are not pressed to stay and dine, as you would have been in the
+old days&mdash;not because there is a lack of hospitality, but
+because they would prefer a little time for preparation in order
+that the dinner might be got up in polite style. So you
+depart&mdash;chilled and depressed. No one steps with you to open
+the gate and exchange a second farewell, and express a cordial wish
+to see you again there. You feel that you must walk in measured
+step and place your hat precisely perpendicular, for the eyes of
+'Society' are upon you. What a comfort when you turn a corner
+behind the hedge and can thrust your hands into your pockets and
+whistle!</p>
+<p>The young ladies, however, still possess one thing which they
+cannot yet destroy&mdash;the good constitution and the rosy look
+derived from ancestors whose days were spent in the field under the
+glorious sunshine and the dews of heaven. They worry themselves
+about it in secret and wish they could appear more
+ladylike&mdash;i.e. thin and white. Nor can they feel quite so
+languid and indifferent, and <i>blas&eacute;</i> as they desire.
+Thank Heaven they cannot! But they have succeeded in obliterating
+the faintest trace of character, and in suppressing the slightest
+approach to animation. They have all got just the same opinions on
+the same topics&mdash;that is to say, they have none at all; the
+idea of a laugh has departed. There is a dead line of uniformity.
+But if you are sufficiently intimate to enter into the inner life
+of the place it will soon be apparent that they either are or wish
+to appear up to the 'ways of the world.'</p>
+<p>They read the so-called social journals, and absorb the gossip,
+tittle-tattle, and personalities&mdash;absorb it because they have
+no means of comparison or of checking the impression it produces of
+the general loose tone of society. They know all about it, much
+more than you do. No turn of the latest divorce case or great
+social exposure has escaped them, and the light, careless way in
+which it is the fashion nowadays to talk openly of such things, as
+if they were got up like a novel&mdash;only with living
+characters&mdash;for amusement, has penetrated into this distant
+circle. But then they have been to half the leading
+watering-places&mdash;from Brighton to Scarborough; as for London,
+it is an open book to them; the railways have long dissipated the
+pleasing mysteries that once hung over the metropolis. Talk of this
+sort is, of course, only talk; still it is not a satisfactory sign
+of the times. If the country girl is no longer the hoyden that
+swung on the gates and romped in the hay, neither has she the
+innocent thought of the olden days.</p>
+<p>At the same time our friends are greatly devoted to the
+Church&mdash;old people used to attend on Sundays as a sacred and
+time honoured duty, but the girls leave them far behind, for they
+drive up in a pony carriage to the distant church at least twice a
+week besides. They talk of matins and even-song; they are full of
+vestments, and have seen 'such lovely things' in that line. At
+Christmas and Easter they are mainly instrumental in decorating the
+interior till it becomes perfectly gaudy with colour, and the old
+folk mutter and shake their heads. Their devotion in getting
+hothouse flowers is quite touching. One is naturally inclined to
+look with a liberal eye upon what is capable of a good
+construction. But is all this quite spontaneous? Has the new curate
+nothing at all to do with it? Is it not considered rather the
+correct thing to be 'High' in views, and even to manifest an
+Ultramontane tendency? There is a rather too evident determination
+to go to the extreme&mdash;the girls are clearly bent upon
+thrusting themselves to the very front of the parish, so that no
+one shall be talked of but the Misses &mdash;&mdash;. Anything is
+seized upon, that will afford an opening for posing before the
+world of the parish, whether it be an extreme fashion in dress or
+in ritual.</p>
+<p>And the parish is splitting up into social cliques. These girls,
+the local leaders of fashion, hold their heads far above those
+farmers' sons who bear a hand in the field. No one is eligible who
+takes a share in manual work: not even to be invited to the house,
+or even to be acknowledged if met in the road. The Misses
+&mdash;&mdash;, whose papa is well-to-do, and simply rides round on
+horseback to speak to the men with his steam-plough, could not
+possibly demean themselves to acknowledge the existence of the
+young men who actually handle a fork in the haymaking time. Nothing
+less than the curate is worthy of their smile. A very great change
+has come over country society in this way. Of course, men (and
+women) with money were always more eligible than those without; but
+it is not so very long ago that one and all&mdash;well-to-do and
+poor&mdash;had one bond in common. Whether they farmed large or
+small acres, all worked personally. There was no disgrace in the
+touch of the plough&mdash;rather the contrary; now it is
+contamination itself.</p>
+<p>The consequence is that the former general goodwill and
+acquaintanceship is no more. There are no friendly meetings; there
+is a distinct social barrier between the man and the woman who
+labours and the one who does not. These fashionable young ladies
+could not possibly even go into the hayfield because the sun would
+spoil their complexion, they refresh themselves with a&euml;rated
+waters instead. They could not possibly enter the dairy because it
+smells so nasty. They would not know their father's teams if they
+met them on the road. As for speaking to the workpeople&mdash;the
+idea would be too absurd!</p>
+<p>Once on a time a lift in the waggon just across the wet turf to
+the macadamised road&mdash;if it chanced to be going that
+way&mdash;would have been looked upon as a fortunate thing. The
+Misses &mdash;&mdash; would indeed stare if one of their papa's
+carters touched his hat and suggested that they should get up. They
+have a pony carriage and groom of their own. He drives the
+milk-cart to the railway station in the morning; in the afternoon
+he dons the correct suit and drives the Misses &mdash;&mdash; into
+the town to shopping. Now there exists a bitter jealousy between
+the daughters of the tradesmen in the said town and these young
+ladies. There is a race between them as to which shall be first in
+fashion and social rank. The Misses &mdash;&mdash; know very well
+that it galls their rivals to see them driving about so grandly
+half the afternoon up and down the streets, and to see the big
+local people lift their hats, as the banker, with whom, of course,
+the large farmer has intimate dealings. All this is very little; on
+paper it reads moan and contemptible: but in life it is
+real&mdash;in life these littlenesses play a great part. The Misses
+&mdash;&mdash; know nothing of those long treasured recipes
+formerly handed down in old country houses, and never enter the
+kitchen. No doubt, if the fashion for teaching cooking presently
+penetrates into the parish, they will take a leading part, and with
+much show and blowing of trumpets instruct the cottager how to boil
+the pot. Anything, in short, that happens to be the rage will
+attract them, but there is little that is genuine about them,
+except the eagerness for a new excitement.</p>
+<p>What manner of men shall accept these ladies as their future
+helpmates? The tenant farmers are few and far between that could
+support their expenditure upon dress, the servants they would
+require, and last, but not least, the waste which always
+accompanies ignorance in household management. Nor, indeed, do they
+look for tenant farmers, but hope for something higher in the
+scale.</p>
+<p>The Misses &mdash;&mdash; are fortunate in possessing a 'papa'
+sufficiently well-to-do to enable them to live in this manner. But
+there are hundreds of young ladies whose fathers have not got so
+much capital in their farms, while what they have is perhaps
+borrowed. Of course these girls help cheerfully in the household,
+in the dairy, and so forth? No. Some are forced by necessity to
+assist in the household with unwilling hands: but few, indeed,
+enter the dairy. All dislike the idea of manual labour, though
+never so slight. Therefore they acquire a smattering of knowledge,
+and go out as governesses. They earn but a small stipend in that
+profession, because they have rarely gone through a sufficiently
+strict course of study themselves. But they would rather live with
+strangers, accepting a position which is often invidious, than lift
+a hand to work at home, so great is the repugnance to manual
+labour. These, again, have no domestic knowledge (beyond that of
+teaching children), none of cooking, or general household
+management. If they marry a tenant farmer of their own class, with
+but small capital, they are too often a burden financially. Whence
+comes this intense dislike to hand work&mdash;this preference for
+the worst paid head work? It is not confined, of course, to the
+gentler sex. No more striking feature of modern country life can be
+found.</p>
+<p>You cannot blame these girls, whether poor or moderately
+well-to-do, for thinking of something higher, more refined and
+elevating than the cheese-tub or the kitchen. It is natural, and it
+is right, that they should wish to rise above that old, dull, dead
+level in which their mothers and grandmothers worked from youth to
+age. The world has gone on since then&mdash;it is a world of
+education, books, and wider sympathies. In all this they must and
+ought to share. The problem is how to enjoy the intellectual
+progress of the century and yet not forfeit the advantages of the
+hand labour and the thrift of our ancestors? How shall we sit up
+late at night, burning the midnight oil of study, and yet rise with
+the dawn, strong from sweet sleep, to guide the plough? One good
+thing must be scored down to the credit of the country girls of the
+day. They have done much to educate the men. They have shamed them
+out of the old rough, boorish ways; compelled them to abandon the
+former coarseness, to become more gentlemanly in manner. By their
+interest in the greater world of society, literature, art, and
+music (more musical publications probably are now sold for the
+country in a month than used to be in a year), they have made the
+somewhat narrow-sighted farmer glance outside his parish. If the
+rising generation of tenant farmers have lost much of the bigoted
+provincial mode of thought, together with the provincial
+pronunciation, it is undoubtedly due to the influence of the higher
+ideal of womanhood that now occupies their minds. And this is a
+good work to have accomplished.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap10" id="chap10">CHAPTER X</a></h3>
+<h3>MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS</h3>
+A country 'roadside' railway station seemed deserted upon a warm
+August afternoon. It was all but concealed on that level ground by
+the hedges and trees of the fields with which it was surrounded.
+There was no sound of man or wheels, and nothing moving upon the
+platform. On the low green banks of the rail, where the mast-like
+telegraph poles stood, the broad leaves of the coltsfoot almost
+covered the earth, and were dusty with the sand whirled up an hour
+since behind the rushing express. By the footpath, higher up under
+the close-cropped hedge, the yarrow flourished, lifting its white
+flower beside the trodden soil. The heavy boots of the platelayers
+walking to and fro to their work on the permanent way brushed
+against it, and crushed the venturous fibres of the creeping
+cinquefoil that stretched into the path. From the yellow standing
+wheat the sparrows rose in a bevy, and settled upon the hedge,
+chirping merrily. Farther away, where a meadow had been lately
+mown, the swallows glided to and fro, but just above the short
+grass, round and round, under the shadow of the solitary oaks. Over
+the green aftermath is the swallows' favourite haunt when the day,
+though passing fair, does not look like settled weather. For lack
+of such weather the reapers have not yet entered the ripening corn.
+<p>But, for the hour, the sun shines brightly, and a narrow line
+along the upper surfaces of the metals, burnished by the polishing
+friction of a thousand wheels, glints like silver under the rays.
+The red brick of the booking-office looks redder and more staring
+under the fierce light. The door is locked, and there is no
+waiting-room in which to take shelter; nothing but a projecting
+roof over a part of the platform. On the lintel is the
+stationmaster's name painted in small white letters, like the name
+of the landlord over the doorway of an inn. Two corded boxes lie on
+the platform, and near them stand half a dozen rusty milk tins,
+empty. With the exception of a tortoiseshell cat basking in the
+sunshine, there seems nothing living in the station, and the long
+endless rails stretching on either side in a straight line are
+vacant. For hours during the day the place slumbers, and a
+passenger gliding by in the express may well wonder why a station
+was built at all in the midst of trees and hedges without so much
+as a single visible house.</p>
+<p>But by night and very early in the morning there is bustle
+enough. Then the white painted cattle pen yonder, from which the
+animals are forced into the cattle trucks, is full of frightened
+beasts, lowing doubtfully, and only goaded in by the resounding
+blows upon their backs. Then the sheep file in in more patient
+ranks, but also doubtful and bleating as they go. An engine snorts
+to and fro, shunting coal waggons on to the siding&mdash;coal for
+the traction engines, and to be consumed in threshing out the
+golden harvest around. Signalmen, with red and green lights, rush
+hither and thither, the bull's-eyes now concealed by the trucks,
+and now flashing out brightly like strange will-o'-the-wisps. At
+intervals long and heavy goods trains go by, causing the solid
+earth to tremble.</p>
+<p>Presently the sun rises over the distant hills, and the red arms
+of the signals stand out clearly defined, and then the noise of
+wheels, the shouts of the drivers, and the quick sound of hoofs
+betoken the approach of the milk carts with their freight for the
+early morning train. From the platform it is out of sight; but a
+few yards from the gate a small inn is hidden under the tall elms
+of the hedgerow. It has sprung up since the railway came, and is
+called the Railway Hotel. It proffers good stabling, and even a fly
+and posting for the passenger who finds himself set down at that
+lonely place&mdash;a mere road&mdash;without the certainty of a
+friendly carriage meeting him. The porter may, perhaps, be taking
+his glass within. The inspector or stationmaster (whichever may be
+technically correct), now that the afternoon express has gone
+safely through, has strolled up the line to his garden, to see how
+his potatoes are getting on. He knows full well that the slow,
+stopping train despatched just after it will not reach his station
+for at least an hour.</p>
+<p>Outside the 'Hotel' stands a pony cart&mdash;a gaily coloured
+travelling rug lies across the seat, and the pony, a perfect little
+beauty, is cropping the grass by the hedge side. By-and-by a
+countryman comes up the road, evidently a labourer dressed in his
+best&mdash;he hastens to the 'Hotel,' instead of to the station,
+and finds from the porter that he is at least twenty minutes too
+soon. Then a waggon arrives, and stops while the carter drinks.
+Presently the porter and the labourer stroll together over to the
+platform, and after them a young fellow&mdash;a farmer's son, not
+yet a man but more than a boy&mdash;comes out and re-arranges the
+travelling rug in the pony cart. He then walks on to the platform,
+whistling defiantly with his hands in his pockets, as if he had got
+an unpleasant duty to perform, but was not going to be intimidated.
+He watches the stationmaster unlock the booking-office, and follows
+him in out of idle curiosity.</p>
+<p>It is booking-office, parcel-office, waiting-room and all
+combined, and the telegraph instrument is there too, some of the
+needles blocked over with a scrap of paper. The place is crammed
+with sacks, bags, boxes, parcels and goods mixed together, such as
+ironwork for agricultural machines, and in a corner lies a
+rick-cloth smelling strongly of tar like the rigging of a ship. On
+the counter, for there is no sliding window as usual at large
+stations, stands the ticket-stamping machine, surrounded with piles
+of forms, invoices, notices, letters, and the endless documents
+inseparable from railway business, all printed on a peculiar paper
+with a faint shade of yellow.</p>
+<p>Somebody says 'A' be coming,' and the young farmer walks out to
+watch the white steam now just visible far away over the trees. The
+train runs round the curve on to the straight, and the engine in
+front grows gradually larger and larger as it comes nearer, visibly
+vibrating till the brake draws it up at the platform.</p>
+<p>Master Jack has no difficulty in identifying the passenger he
+has come to meet. His sister, a governess, coming home for a
+holiday, is the only person that alights, and the labourer, dressed
+for the occasion, is the only one who gets in. No sooner is he in
+than he gapes out of the window open-mouthed at Miss
+S&mdash;&mdash;. She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress from
+the dust and dirt of travel. Her fashionable hat has an air of the
+West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as
+those must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots.
+Up goes her parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from
+the glaring sun. Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss
+her; he looks her up and down with a kind of contemptuous
+admiration, nods, and asks how much luggage? He has, you see, been
+repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions. Mademoiselle points to
+her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already taken out. He
+worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon her
+with cheerful alacrity. She gives him a small coin, but looks the
+other way, without a sign of recognition. The luggage is placed in
+the pony cart.</p>
+<p>Mademoiselle gets in without so much as patting the beautiful
+little creature in the shafts. Her ticket is the only first-class
+ticket that has been given up at that lonely station all the week.
+'Do make haste,' she remarks petulantly as her brother pauses to
+speak to a passing man who looks like a dealer. Master Jack turns
+the pony cart, and away they go rattling down the road. The porter,
+whilom an agricultural labourer, looks after them with a long and
+steady stare. It is not the first time he has seen this, but he can
+hardly take it in yet.</p>
+<p>'She do come the lady grandish, don't her?' the dealer remarks
+meditatively. 'Now her father&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+<p>'Ay,' interrupts the porter, 'he be one of the old sort; but
+she&mdash;&mdash;' he cannot get any further for lack of an
+appropriate illustration. The arrival of mademoiselle periodically
+takes their breath away at that little place.</p>
+<p>As the pair rattle along in the pony trap there is for a time a
+total silence. Mademoiselle looks neither to the right nor the
+left, and asks after nobody. She does not note the subtle tint of
+bronze that has begun to steal over the wheat, nor the dark
+discoloured hay, witness of rough weather, still lying in the
+meadows. Her face&mdash;it is a very pretty face&mdash;does not
+light up with any enthusiasm as well-remembered spots come into
+sight. A horseman rides round a bend of the road, and meets
+them&mdash;he stares hard at her&mdash;she takes no heed. It is a
+young farmer, an old acquaintance, anxious for some sign of
+recognition. After he has passed he lifts his hat, like a true
+countryman, unready at the moment. As for the brother, his features
+express gathering and almost irrepressible disgust. He kicks with
+his heavy boots, he whistles, and once now and then gives a species
+of yell. Mademoiselle turns up her pretty nose, and readjusts her
+chevron gloves.</p>
+<p>'Have you not got any cuffs, Jack?' she asks, 'your wrists look
+so bare without them.'</p>
+<p>Jack makes no reply. Another silence. Presently he points with
+an expression meant to be sardonic at a distant farmhouse with his
+whip.</p>
+<p>'Jenny's married,' he says, full well aware that this
+announcement will wake her up, for there had been of old a sort of
+semi-feud or rivalry between the two girls, daughters of
+neighbouring farmers, and both with pretensions to good looks.</p>
+<p>'Who to?' she asks eagerly.</p>
+<p>'To old Billy L&mdash;&mdash;; lots of tin.'</p>
+<p>'Pshaw!' replies mademoiselle. 'Why, he's sixty, a nasty, dirty
+old wretch.'</p>
+<p>'He has plenty of money,' suggests Jack.</p>
+<p>'What you think plenty of money, perhaps. He is nothing but a
+farmer,' as if a farmer was quite beneath her notice.</p>
+<p>Just then a farmer rode out into the road from the gateway of a
+field, and Jack pulled up the pony. The farmer was stout, elderly,
+and florid; he appeared fairly well-to-do by his dress, but was
+none too particular to use his razor regularly. Yet there was a
+tenderness&mdash;almost a pathos&mdash;in the simple words he
+used:&mdash;'Georgie, dear, come home?' 'Yes, papa,' and she kissed
+his scrubby chin as he bent down from his horse. He would not go to
+the station to meet her; but he had been waiting about behind the
+hedge for an hour to see her come along. He rode beside the pony
+cart, but Georgie did not say anything more, or ask after any one
+else.</p>
+<p>As they turned a corner the farmer pointed ahead. 'There's your
+mother, Georgie, looking over the garden wall.' The yearning mother
+had been there these two hours, knowing that her darling could not
+arrive before a certain time, and yet unable in her impatience to
+stay within. Those old eyes were dim with tears under the
+spectacles as Georgie quietly kissed her forehead, and then
+suddenly, with something like generous feeling, her lips.</p>
+<p>They went in, an old pointer, whose days in the stubble were
+nearly over, following close at Georgie's heels, but without
+obtaining a pat for his loving memory. The table was spread for
+tea&mdash;a snowy cloth, the whitest of bread, the most delicious
+golden butter, the ham fresh cooked, as Georgie might be hungry,
+the thick cream, the silver teapot, polished for Georgie, and the
+bright flowers in the vase before her plate. The window was open,
+with its view of the old, old hills, and a breath of summer air
+came in from the meadow. The girl glanced round, frowned, and went
+upstairs to her room without a word, passing on the landing the
+ancient clock in its tall case, ticking loud and slow.</p>
+<p>And this was 'home.' The whole place jarred upon her, fresh as
+she was from a fine house in Belgravia. The sitting-room beneath,
+which she had so quickly left, looked cheerful and homely, but it
+was that very homeliness that jarred upon her. The teapot was real
+silver, but it was of old-fashioned shape. Solid as the furniture
+was, and still after so many years of service worth money, yet it
+was chipped by kicks from iron-shod boots, which had also worn the
+dingy carpet bare. There was an absence of the nick-nacks that
+strew the rooms of people in 'Society.' There was not even a
+bell-handle to pull; if you wanted the maid of all work, you must
+open the door and call to her. These little things, trifles as they
+may be, repelled her. It was a bitter cup to her to come
+'home.'</p>
+<p>Mr. S&mdash;&mdash; was a farmer of fair means, and, compared
+with many of his neighbours, well-to-do, and well connected. But he
+was still a yeoman only, and personally made pretensions to nothing
+more. Though he himself had received little or no education, he
+quite saw the value of it, and was determined that his children
+should be abreast of the times. Accordingly, so soon as Georgie
+grew old enough, a governess with high recommendations, and who
+asked what the farmer then thought a high price (he knows more
+about such things now!) was had down from London. Of course the
+rudimentary A B C of learning could just as well have been imparted
+by an ordinary person, but Mr. and Mrs. S&mdash;&mdash; had a
+feeling which they could not perhaps have expressed in words, that
+it was not so much the actual reading and writing, and French and
+music, and so on, as a social influence that was needed to
+gradually train the little country girl into a young lady fit to
+move in higher society.</p>
+<p>The governess did her work thoroughly. Georgie was not allowed
+to walk in the wet grass, to climb up the ladder on to the
+half-completed hayrick, and romp under the rick-cloth, to paddle
+with naked feet in the shallow brook, or any other of the things
+that country children have done from time immemorial. Such things
+she was taught were not ladylike, and, above all, she was kept away
+from the cottage people. She was not permitted to enter their
+doors, to converse with the women, or to watch the carter with his
+horses. Such vulgar folk and their vulgar dialect were to be
+carefully avoided. Nor must she get into a hedge after a
+bird's-nest, lest she should tear her frock.</p>
+<p>It was not long before the governess really ruled the house. The
+farmer felt himself totally unable to interfere in these matters;
+they were outside his experience altogether. His wife did not like
+it, but for Georgie's sake she gave up her former habits, and
+endeavoured to order the house according to the ideas of the
+governess from London. The traditions, as it were, of the place
+were upset. It was not a solitary instance, the same thing has
+happened in scores of farmhouses to a more or less degree. Mr.
+S&mdash;&mdash; all his life had ridden on horseback, or driven a
+gig, which did very well for him and his wife. But the governess
+thought Georgie ought to learn to ride and drive, and gigs were so
+much out of fashion. So the pony cart and pony were purchased for
+her, and in this she went into the distant market town twice or
+more weekly. Sometimes it was for shopping, sometimes to fetch
+household goods, sometimes to see friends; any excuse answered very
+well. The governess said, and really believed, that it was better
+for Georgie to be away from the farm as much as possible, to see
+town people (if only a country town), and to learn their ways.</p>
+<p>The many cheap illustrated papers giving the last details of
+fashionable costumes were, of course, brought home to be carefully
+read in the evenings. These publications have a large circulation
+now in farmhouses. Naturally Georgie soon began to talk about, and
+take an interest&mdash;as girls will do&mdash;in the young
+gentlemen of the town, and who was and who was not eligible. As for
+the loud-voiced young farmers, with their slouching walk, their
+ill-fitting clothes, and stupid talk about cows and wheat, they
+were intolerable. A banker's clerk at least&mdash;nothing could be
+thought of under a clerk in the local banks; of course, his salary
+was not high, but then his 'position.' The retail grocers and
+bakers and such people were quite beneath one's notice&mdash;low,
+common persons. The 'professional tradesmen' (whatever that may be)
+were decidedly better, and could be tolerated. The solicitors, bank
+managers, one or two brewers (wholesale&mdash;nothing retail),
+large corn factors or coal merchants, who kept a carriage of some
+kind&mdash;these formed the select society next under, and, as it
+were, surrounding the clergy and gentry. Georgie at twelve years
+old looked at least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be
+avoided above all things.</p>
+<p>As she grew older her mind was full of the local assembly ball.
+The ball had been held for forty years or more, and had all that
+time been in the hands of the exclusive upper circles of the market
+town. They only asked their own families, relations (not the poor
+ones), and visitors. When Georgie was invited to this ball it was
+indeed a triumph. Her poor mother cried with pleasure over her ball
+dress. Poor woman, she was a good, a too good, mother, but she had
+never been to a ball. There were, of course, parties, picnics, and
+so on, to which Georgie, having entered the charmed circle, was now
+asked; and thus her mind from the beginning centred in the town.
+The sheep-fold, the cattle-pen, the cheese-tub, these were thrust
+aside. They did not interest her, she barely understood the meaning
+when her father took the first prize at an important cattle show.
+What So-and-so would wear at the flower show, where all the select
+would come, much more nearly concerned her.</p>
+<p>At the high-class academy where her education was finished the
+same process went on. The other girls quickly made her thoroughly
+understand (a bitter knowledge) that the great people in the little
+market town, the very richest of them, were but poor in comparison
+with their papas. Their papas were in the 'City,' or on ''Change,'
+and had as many thousands a year as the largest farmer she knew
+could reckon hundreds. Georgie felt ashamed of her papa,
+recollecting his crumpled old hat, and his scrubby chin. Being
+really a nice girl, under the veneer that was so industriously
+placed upon her, she made friends among her fellow scholars, and
+was invited to more than one of their grand homes in Kensington and
+the suburbs of London. There she learned all the pomp of villa
+life, which put into the shade the small incomes which displayed
+their miserable vanities in the petty market town. Footmen,
+butlers, late dinners, wines, carriages, the ceaseless gossip of
+'Society' were enough to dazzle the eyes of a girl born so near the
+cowshed. The dresses she had to wear to mix with these grand
+friends cost a good deal&mdash;her parents sacrificing their own
+comforts for her advantage&mdash;and yet, in comparison with the
+beautiful costumes she saw, they seemed shabby.</p>
+<p>Georgie was so far fortunate as to make friends of some of the
+elder people, and when she had passed her examinations, and
+obtained the diplomas and certificates which are now all essential,
+through their interest she obtained at starting a very high salary.
+It was not long before she received as much as sixty or seventy
+pounds a year. It was not only that she really was a clever and
+accomplished girl, but her recommendations were influential. She
+was employed by wealthy people, who really did not care what they
+paid so long as their children were in good hands. Now to the old
+folk at home, and to the neighbours, this seemed an immense salary
+for a girl, especially when the carriage, the footmen, the wines,
+and late dinners, and so on, were taken into consideration. The
+money, however, was of very little use to her. She found it
+necessary to dress equal to her place. She had to have several
+dresses to wear, according to the time of day, and she had to have
+new ones very often, or she might be told petulantly and pointedly
+by her mistress that 'one gets so weary of seeing the same dresses
+every day.' Instead of the high salary leaving a handsome profit,
+her father had occasionally to pay a stiff bill for her. But then
+the 'position'&mdash;look at the 'position' and the society.</p>
+<p>Georgie, in process of time, went to Scotland, to Paris, the
+South of France, to Rome, and Naples. Being a discreet girl, and
+having a winning manner, she became as much a companion to her
+mistress as governess, and thus saw and heard more of the world
+than she would otherwise have done. She saw some very grand people
+indeed occasionally. After this, after the Continent, and, above
+all, London in the season, the annual visit to the old farmhouse
+came to be a bitter time of trial. Georgie had come home now for a
+few days only, to ask for money, and already before she had
+scarcely spoken had rushed upstairs to hide her feeling of
+repulsion in the privacy of her room.</p>
+<p>Her welcome had been warm, and she knew that under the rude
+exterior it was more than warm; but the absence of refinement
+jarred upon her. It all seemed so uncouth. She shrank from the
+homely rooms; the very voice of her mother, trembling with emotion,
+shocked her ear, unaccustomed to country pronunciation. She missed
+the soft accents of the drawing-room. From her window she could see
+nothing but the peaceful fields&mdash;the hateful green trees and
+hedges, the wheat, and the hateful old hills. How miserable it was
+not to be born to Grosvenor Square!</p>
+<p>Georgie's case was, of course, exceptional in so far as her
+'success' was concerned. She possessed good natural parts,
+discretion, and had the advantage of high-class recommendations.
+But apart from her 'success,' her case was not exceptional. The
+same thing is going on in hundreds of farmhouses. The daughters
+from the earliest age are brought up under a system of education
+the practical tendency of which is to train their minds out of the
+associations of farming. When later on they go out to teach they
+are themselves taught by the social surroundings of the households
+into which they enter to still more dislike the old-fashioned ways
+of agriculture. Take twenty farmers' families, where there are
+girls, and out of that twenty fifteen will be found to be preparing
+for a scholastic life. The farmer's daughter does not like the
+shop-counter, and, as she cannot stay at home, there is nothing
+left to her but the profession of governess. Once thoroughly imbued
+with these 'social' ideas, and a return to the farm is almost
+impossible. The result is a continuous drain of women out of
+agriculture&mdash;of the very women best fitted in the beginning to
+be the helpmate of the farmer. In no other calling is the
+assistance of the wife so valuable; it is not too much to say that
+part at least of the decadence of agriculture is owing to the lack
+of women willing to devote themselves as their mothers did before
+them. It follows that by degrees the farming caste is dying out.
+The sons go to the city, the daughters go to the city; in a
+generation, or little more, a once well-known farming family
+becomes extinct so far as agriculture is concerned.</p>
+<p>How could such a girl as poor Georgie, looking out of window at
+the hateful fields, and all at discord with the peaceful scene,
+settle down as the mistress of a lonely farmhouse?</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap11" id="chap11">CHAPTER XI</a></h3>
+<h3>FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'</h3>
+An agricultural district, like a little kingdom, has its own
+capital city. The district itself is as well defined as if a
+frontier line had been marked out around it, with sentinels and
+barriers across the roads, and special tolls and duties. Yet an
+ordinary traveller, upon approaching, fails to perceive the
+difference, and may, perhaps, drive right through the territory
+without knowing it. The fields roll on and rise into the hills, the
+hills sink again into a plain, just the same as elsewhere; there
+are cornfields and meadows; villages and farmsteads, and no visible
+boundary. Nor is it recognised upon the map. It does not fit into
+any political or legal limit; it is neither a county, half a
+county, a hundred, or police division. But to the farmer it is a
+distinct land. If he comes from a distance he will at once notice
+little peculiarities in the fields, the crops, the stock, or
+customs, and will immediately inquire if it be not such and such a
+place that he has heard of. If he resides within thirty miles or so
+he will ever since boyhood have heard 'the uplands' talked of as if
+it were a separate country, as distinct as France. Cattle from the
+uplands, sheep, horses, labourers, corn or hay, or anything and
+anybody from thence, he has grown up accustomed to regard almost as
+foreign.
+<p>There is good reason, from an agricultural point of view, for
+this. The district, with its capital city, Fleeceborough, really is
+distinct, well marked, and defined. The very soil and substrata are
+characteristic. The products are wheat, and cattle, and sheep, the
+same as elsewhere, but the proportions of each, the kind of sheep,
+the traditionary methods and farm customs are separate and marked.
+The rotation of crops is different, the agreements are on a
+different basis, the very gates to the fields have peculiar
+fastenings, not used in other places. Instead of hedges, the
+fields, perhaps, are often divided by dry stone walls, on which,
+when they have become old, curious plants may sometimes be found.
+For the flora, too, is distinct; you may find herbs here that do
+not exist a little way off, and on the other hand, search how you
+will, you will not discover one single specimen of a simple flower
+which strews the meadows elsewhere.</p>
+<p>Here the very farmhouses are built upon a different plan, and
+with different materials; the barns are covered with old stone
+slates, instead of tiles or thatch. The people are a nation amongst
+themselves. Their accent is peculiar and easily recognised, and
+they have their own folklore, their own household habits,
+particular dainties, and way of life. The tenant farmers, the
+millers, the innkeepers, and every Hodge within 'the uplands' (not
+by any means all hills)&mdash;in short, every one is a citizen of
+Fleeceborough. Hodge may tend his flock on distant pastures, may
+fodder his cattle in far-away meadows, and dwell in little hamlets
+hardly heard of, but all the same he is a Fleeceborough man. It is
+his centre; thither he looks for everything.</p>
+<p>The place is a little market town, the total of whose population
+in the census records sounds absurdly small; yet it is a complete
+world in itself; a capital city, with its kingdom and its ruler,
+for the territory is practically the property of a single family.
+Enter Fleeceborough by whichever route you will, the first object
+that fixes the attention is an immensely high and endless wall. If
+you come by carriage one way, you skirt it for a long distance; if
+you come the other, you see it as you pass through the narrow
+streets every now and then at the end of them, closing the prospect
+and overtopping the lesser houses. By railway it is conspicuous
+from the windows; and if you walk about the place, you continually
+come upon it. It towers up perpendicular and inaccessible, like the
+curtain wall of an old fortification: here and there the upper
+branches of some great cedar or tall pine just show above it. One
+or more streets for a space run conterminous with it&mdash;the wall
+on one side, the low cottage-houses on the other, and their
+chimneys are below the coping. It does not really encircle the
+town, yet it seems everywhere, and is the great fact of the
+place.</p>
+<p>If you wander about examining this wall, and wondering where it
+begins and where it ends, and what is inside, you may perchance
+come upon a gateway of noble proportions. It is open, but one
+hesitates to pass through, despite the pleasant vista of trees and
+green sward beyond. There is a watchman's wooden hut, and the aged
+sentinel is reading his newspaper in the shadow, his breast
+decorated with medal and clasp, that tell of honourable service. A
+scarlet-coated soldier may, too, be strolling thereabout, and the
+castellated top of a barrack-like building near at hand is
+suggestive of military force. You hesitate, but the warden invites
+you to walk at your leisure under the old trees, and along the
+endless glades. If you enter, you pass under the metal scrollwork
+of the iron gates, and, above, the gilded circle of a coronet
+glistens in the sunshine. These are the private demesnes of a
+prince and ruler of Hodge&mdash;the very highest and most powerful
+of his masters in that part of the country. The vast wall encloses
+his pleasure-grounds and mansion; the broad iron gates give access
+to mile after mile of park and wood, and the decorated warden or
+pensioner has but to open them for the free entry of all
+Fleeceborough and her citizens. Of course the position of the
+barrack is a mere accident, yet it gives an air of power and
+authority&mdash;the place is really as open, the beautiful park as
+common and accessible as the hill-top under the sky. A peer only at
+Westminster, here he is a prince, whose dominions are almost
+co-extensive with the horizon; and this, the capital city, is for
+the most part his.</p>
+<p>Far away stretches that little kingdom, with its minor towns of
+villages, hamlets, and farms. Broad green meadows, where the cattle
+graze beside the streams and in the plains; rolling uplands,
+ploughed and sown, where the barley nourishes; deep rich
+wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey church towers; new
+glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient farmhouses
+tenanted for generations by the same families.</p>
+<p>Farmers have long since discovered that it is best to rent under
+a very large owner, whether personal as in this case, or impersonal
+as a college or corporation. A very large owner like this can be,
+and is, more liberal. He puts up sheds, and he drains, and
+improves, and builds good cottages for the labourers. Provided, of
+course, that no serious malpractice comes to light, he, as
+represented by his steward, never interferes, and the tenant is
+personally free. No one watches his goings out and comings in; he
+has no sense of an eye for ever looking over the park wall. There
+is a total absence of the grasping spirit sometimes shown. The
+farmer does not feel that he will be worried to his last shilling.
+In case of unfavourable seasons the landlord makes no difficulty in
+returning a portion of the rent; he anticipates such an
+application. Such immense possessions can support losses which
+would press most heavily upon comparatively small properties. At
+one side of the estate the soil perchance is light and porous, and
+is all the better for rain; on the other, half across the county,
+or quite, the soil is deep and heavy and naturally well watered and
+flourishes in dry summers. So that there is generally some one
+prospering if another suffers, and thus a balance is
+maintained.</p>
+<p>A reserve of wealth has, too, slowly accumulated in the family
+coffers, which, in exceptional years, tides the owner over with
+little or no appreciable inconvenience. With an income like this,
+special allowances, even generous allowances, can be and are made,
+and so the tenants cease to feel that their landlord is living out
+of their labour. The agreements are just; there is no rapacity.
+Very likely the original lease or arrangement has expired half a
+century since; but no one troubles to renew it. It is well
+understood that no change will be effected. The tenure is as steady
+as if the tenant had an Act of Parliament at his back.</p>
+<p>When men have once settled, they and their descendants remain,
+generation after generation. By degrees their sons and sons'
+descendants settle too, and the same name occurs perhaps in a dozen
+adjacent places. It is this fixed unchangeable character of the
+district which has enabled the mass of the tenants not indeed to
+become wealthy, but to acquire a solid, substantial standing. In
+farming affairs money can be got together only in the slow passage
+of years; experience has proved that beyond a doubt. These people
+have been stationary for a length of time, and the moss of the
+proverb has grown around them. They walk sturdily, and look all men
+in the face; their fathers put money in the purse. Times are hard
+here as everywhere, but if they cannot, for the present season, put
+more in that purse, its contents are not, at all events, much
+diminished, and enable them to maintain the same straightforward
+manliness and independence. By-and-by, they know there will come
+the chink of the coin again.</p>
+<p>When the tenant is stationary, the labourer is also. He stays in
+the same cottage on the same farm all his life, his descendants
+remain and work for the same tenant family. He can trace his
+descent in the locality for a hundred years. From time immemorial
+both Hodge and his immediate employers have looked towards
+Fleeceborough as their capital. Hodge goes in to the market in
+charge of his master's sheep, his wife trudges in for household
+necessaries. All the hamlet goes in to the annual fairs. Every
+cottager in the hamlet knows somebody in the town; the girls go
+there to service, the boys to get employment. The little village
+shops obtain their goods from thence. All the produce&mdash;wheat,
+barley, oats, hay, cattle, and sheep&mdash;is sent into the capital
+to the various markets held there. The very ideas held in the
+villages by the inhabitants come from Fleeceborough; the local
+papers published there are sold all round, and supply them with
+news, arguments, and the politics of the little kingdom. The
+farmers look to Fleeceborough just as much or more. It is a
+religious duty to be seen there on market days. Not a man misses
+being there; if he is not visible, his circle note it, and guess at
+various explanations.</p>
+<p>Each man has his own particular hostelry, where his father, and
+his grandfather, put up before him, and where he is expected to
+dine in the same old room, with the pictures of famous rams, that
+have fetched fabulous prices, framed against the walls, and ram's
+horns of exceptional size and peculiar curve fixed up above the
+mantelpiece. Men come in in groups of two or three, as dinner time
+approaches, and chat about sheep and wool, and wool and sheep; but
+no one finally settles himself at the table till the chairman
+arrives. He is a stout, substantial farmer, who has dined there
+every market day for the last thirty or forty years.</p>
+<p>Everybody has his own particular seat, which he is certain to
+find kept for him. The dinner itself is simple enough, the waiters
+perhaps still more simple, but the quality of the viands is beyond
+praise. The mutton is juicy and delicious, as it should be where
+the sheep is the very idol of all men's thoughts; the beef is short
+and tender of grain; the vegetables, nothing can equal them, and
+they are all here, asparagus and all, in profusion. The landlord
+grows his own vegetables&mdash;every householder in Fleeceborough
+has an ample garden&mdash;and produces the fruit from his own
+orchards for the tarts. Ever and anon a waiter walks round with a
+can of ale and fills the glasses, whether asked or not. Beef and
+mutton, vegetables and fruit tarts, and ale are simple and plain
+fare, but when they are served in the best form, how will you
+surpass them? The real English cheese, the fresh salads, the
+exquisite butter&mdash;everything on the table is genuine, juicy,
+succulent, and rich. Could such a dinner be found in London, how
+the folk would crowd thither! Finally, comes the waiter with his
+two clean plates, the upper one to receive the money, the lower to
+retain what is his. If you are a stranger, and remember what you
+have been charged elsewhere in smoky cities for tough beef, stringy
+mutton, waxy potatoes, and the very bread black with smuts, you
+select half a sovereign and drop it on the upper plate. In the
+twinkling of an eye eight shillings are returned to you; the charge
+is a florin only.</p>
+<p>They live well in Fleeceborough, as every fresh experience of
+the place will prove; they have plentiful food, and of the best
+quality; poultry abounds, for every resident having a great garden
+(many, too, have paddocks) keeps fowls; fresh eggs are common; as
+for vegetables and fruit, the abundance is not to be described. A
+veritable cornucopia&mdash;a horn of plenty&mdash;seems to forever
+pour a shower of these good things into their houses. And their
+ale! To the first sight it is not tempting. It is thick, dark, a
+deep wine colour; a slight aroma rises from it like that which
+dwells in bonded warehouses. The first taste is not pleasing; but
+it induces a second, and a third. By-and-by the flavour grows upon
+the palate; and now beware, for if a small quantity be thrown upon
+the fire it will blaze up with a blue flame like pure alcohol. That
+dark vinous-looking ale is full of the strength of malt and hops;
+it is the brandy of the barley. The unwary find their heads
+curiously queer before they have partaken, as it seems to them, of
+a couple of glasses. The very spirit and character of Fleeceborough
+is embodied in the ale; rich, strong, genuine. No one knows what
+English ale is till he has tried this.</p>
+<p>After the market dinner the guests sit still&mdash;they do not
+hurry away to counter and desk; they rest awhile, and dwell as it
+were on the flavour of their food. There is a hum of pleasant talk,
+for each man is a right boon companion. The burden of that talk has
+been the same for generations&mdash;sheep and wool, wool and sheep.
+Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to 'he,' what 'he' will
+do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support such and such a
+movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view will 'he'
+take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
+special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that
+favoured man is an object of the deepest interest, and is
+cross-questioned all round the table till his small item of
+authentic intelligence has been thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the
+resident within those vast and endless walls, with the metal gates
+and the gilded coronet above&mdash;the prince of this kingdom and
+its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally hastening
+hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.</p>
+<p>It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads
+converging on the town are visible. The province lies stretched out
+beneath. There is the gleam of water&mdash;the little river, with
+its ancient mills&mdash;that flows beside the town; there are the
+meadows, with their pleasant footpaths. Yonder the ploughed fields
+and woods, and yet more distant the open hills. Along every road,
+and there are many, the folk are hastening to their capital city,
+in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or sturdily
+trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
+hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the
+chest as you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend
+themselves in mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force.
+For how many years, how many centuries, has this little town and
+this district around it been distinct and separate? In the days
+before the arrival of the Roman legions it was the country of a
+distinct tribe, or nation, of the original Britons. But if we speak
+of history we shall never have done, for the town and its antique
+abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled more or
+less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
+camp yonder on the hills to to-day&mdash;down to the last puff of
+the locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs
+in with passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and
+the latest novel from London.</p>
+<p>Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous
+in the town here. Men marry in the place, find their children
+employment in the place, and will not move, if they can help it.
+Their families&mdash;well-to-do and humble alike&mdash;have been
+there for so many, many years. The very carter, or the little
+tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you (and prove to you
+by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade with pike or
+matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case may be,
+besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
+pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people
+believe in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit&mdash;when
+the young man seeks his fortune in New Zealand or America&mdash;he
+writes home the fullest information, and his letters published in
+the local print read curiously to an outsider, so full are they of
+local inquiries, and answers to friends who wished to know this or
+that. In the end he comes back&mdash;should he succeed in getting
+the gold which tempted him away&mdash;to pass his latter days
+gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
+Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
+narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and
+they have the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes
+in the world. They have a town council held now and then in an
+ancient wainscoted hall, with painted panels and coats of arms,
+carved oaken seats black with age, and narrow windows from which
+men once looked down into the street, wearing trunk hose and
+rapier.</p>
+<p>But they have at least two other councils that meet much more
+often, and that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when
+his shop is shut, after he has strolled round his garden, and taken
+his supper, the tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and
+there finds his circle assembled. They are all there, the rich and
+the moderately well-to-do, the struggling, and the poor. Each
+delivers his opinion over the social glass, or between the
+deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is extremely
+moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the glass
+nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common
+hall&mdash;the informal place of meeting.</p>
+<p>It is here that, the real government of the town is
+planned&mdash;the mere formal resolutions voted in the ancient
+council-room are the outcome of the open talk, and the quiet
+whisper here. No matter what subject is to the front, the question
+is always heard&mdash;What will 'he' do? What will 'he' say to it?
+The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The cottage
+hospital; the flower show; the cattle show, or agricultural
+exhibition; the new market buildings arose through his
+subscriptions and influence; the artesian well, sunk that the town
+might have the best of water, was bored at his expense; and so on
+through the whole list of town affairs. When 'he' takes the lead
+all the lesser gentry&mdash;many of whom, perhaps, live in his
+manor houses&mdash;follow suit, and with such powerful support to
+back it a movement is sure to succeed, yet 'he' is rarely seen; his
+hand rarely felt; everything is done, but without obtrusiveness. At
+these nightly councils at the chief hostelries the farmers of the
+district are almost as numerous as the townsmen. They ride in to
+hear the news and exchange their own small coin of gossip. They
+want to know what 'he' is going to do, and little by little of
+course it leaks out.</p>
+<p>But the town is not all so loyal. There is a section which is
+all the more vehemently rebellious because of the spectacle of its
+staid and comfortable neighbours. This section is very small, but
+makes a considerable noise. It holds meetings and utters
+treasonable speeches, and denounces the 'despot' in fiery language.
+It protests against a free and open park; it abhors artesian wells;
+it detests the throwing open of nut woods that all may go forth
+a-nutting; it waxes righteously indignant at every gift, be it
+prizes for the flower show or a new market site. It scorns those
+mean-spirited citizens that cheer these kindly deeds. It asks why?
+Why should we wait till the park gates are open? Why stay till the
+nut woods are declared ready? Why be thankful for pure water? Why
+not take our own? This one man has no right to these parks and
+woods and pleasure grounds and vast walls; these square miles of
+ploughed fields, meadows and hills. By right they should all be
+split up into little plots to grow our potatoes. Away with gilded
+coronet and watchman, batter down these walls, burn the ancient
+deeds and archives, put pick and lever to the tall church tower;
+let us have the rights of man! These violent ebullitions make not
+the least different. All the insults they can devise, all the petty
+obstructions they can set up, the mud they can fling, does not
+alter the calm course of the 'despot' one jot. The artesian well is
+bored, and they can drink pure water or not, as pleases them. The
+prizes are offered, and they can compete or stand aloof.
+Fleeceborough smiles when it meets at night in its council-rooms,
+with its glass and pipe; Fleeceborough knows that the traditional
+policy of the Hall will continue, and that policy is acceptable to
+it.</p>
+<p>What manner of man is this 'despot' and prince behind his vast
+walls? Verily his physique matters nothing; whether he be old or of
+middle age, tall or short, infirm or strong. The policy of the
+house keeps the actual head and owner rather in the background. His
+presence is never obtruded; he is rarely seen; you may stay in his
+capital for months and never catch a glimpse of him. He will not
+appear at meetings, that every man may be free, nor hesitate to say
+his say, and abuse what he lists to abuse. The policy is simply
+perfect freedom, with support and substantial assistance to any and
+to every movement set on foot by the respectable men of
+Fleeceborough, or by the tenant farmers round about. This has been
+going on for generations; so that the personnel of the actual owner
+concerns little. His predecessors did it, he does it, and the next
+to come will do it. It is the tradition of the house. Nothing is
+left undone that a true princely spirit could do to improve, to
+beautify, or to preserve.</p>
+<p>The antiquities of the old, old town are kept for it, and not
+permitted to decay; the ancient tesselated pavements of Roman
+villas carefully protected from the weather; the remnants of the
+enclosing walls which the legions built for their defence saved
+from destruction; the coins of the emperors and of our own early
+kings collected; the spurs, swords, spearheads, all the fragments
+of past ages arranged for inspection and study by every one who
+desires to ponder over them. Chipped flints and arrowheads, the
+bones of animals long extinct, and the strange evidences of yet
+more ancient creatures that swam in the seas of the prehistoric
+world, these too are preserved at his cost and expense.
+Arch&aelig;ologists, geologists, and other men of science come from
+afar to see these things and to carry away their lessons. The
+memories of the place are cherished. There was a famous poet who
+sang in the woods about the park; his hermitage remains, and
+nothing is lost that was his. Art-treasures there are, too,
+heirlooms to be seen behind those vast walls by any who will be at
+the trouble of asking.</p>
+<p>Such is the policy of Hodge's own prince, whose silent influence
+is felt in every household for miles about, and felt, as all must
+admit, however prejudiced against the system, in this case for
+good. His influence reaches far beyond the bounds even of that
+immense property. The example communicates itself to others, and
+half the county responds to that pleasant impulse. It is a
+responsible position to hold; something, perhaps, a little like
+that of the Medici at Florence in the olden times. But here there
+is no gonfalon, no golden chain of office, no velvet doublet,
+cloak, and rapier, no guards with arquebuss or polished crossbow.
+An entire absence of state and ceremony marks this almost unseen
+but powerful sway. The cycle of the seasons brings round times of
+trial here as over the entire world, but the conditions under which
+the trial is sustained could scarcely in our day, and under our
+complicated social and political system, be much more
+favourable.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap12" id="chap12">CHAPTER XII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'</h3>
+A cock pheasant flies in frantic haste across the road, beating the
+air with wide-stretched wings, and fast as he goes, puts on yet a
+faster spurt as the shot comes rattling up through the boughs of
+the oak beneath him. The ground is, however, unfavourable to the
+sportsman, and the bird escapes. The fir copse from which the
+pheasant rose covers a rather sharp descent on one side of the
+highway. On the level above are the ploughed fields, but the slope
+itself is too abrupt for agricultural operations, and the soil
+perhaps thin and worthless. It is therefore occupied by a small
+plantation. On the opposite side of the road there grows a fine row
+of oaks in a hedge, under whose shade the dust takes long to dry
+when once damped by a shower. The sportsman who fired stands in the
+road; the beaters are above, for they desire the game to fly in a
+certain direction; and what with the narrow space between the firs
+and the oaks, the spreading boughs, and the uncertainty of the spot
+where the pheasant would break cover, it is not surprising that he
+missed.
+<p>The shot, after tearing through the boughs, rises to some height
+in the air, and, making a curve, falls of its own weight only, like
+pattering hail&mdash;and as harmless&mdash;upon an aged woman,
+just then trudging slowly round the corner. She is a cottager, and
+has been to fetch the weekly dole of parish bread that helps to
+support herself and infirm husband. She wears a long cloak that
+nearly sweeps the ground on account of her much-bowed back, and
+carries a flag basket full of bread in one hand, and a bulging
+umbrella, which answers as a walking stick, in the other. The poor
+old body, much startled, but not in the least injured, scuttles
+back round the corner, exclaiming, 'Lor! it be Filbard a-shooting:
+spose a'had better bide a bit till he ha' done.' She has not long
+to wait. The young gentleman standing in the road gets a shot at
+another cock; this time the bird flies askew, instead of straight
+across, and so gives him a better opportunity. The pheasant falls
+crash among the nettles and brambles beside the road. Then a second
+and older gentleman emerges from the plantation, and after a time a
+keeper, who picks up the game.</p>
+<p>The party then proceed along the road, and coming round the
+corner the great black retriever runs up to the old woman with the
+most friendly intentions, but to her intense confusion, for she is
+just in the act of dropping a lowly curtsey when the dog rubs
+against her. The young gentleman smiles at her alarm and calls the
+dog; the elder walks on utterly indifferent. A little way up the
+road the party get over the gate into the meadows on that side, and
+make for another outlying plantation. Then, and not till then, does
+the old woman set out again, upon her slow and laborious journey.
+'Filbard be just like a gatepost,' she mutters; 'a' don't take no
+notice of anybody.' Though she had dropped the squire so lowly a
+curtsey, and in his presence would have behaved with profound
+respect, behind his back and out of hearing she called him by his
+family name without any prefix. The cottagers thereabout almost
+always did this in speaking among themselves of their local
+magnate. They rarely said 'Mr.'; it was generally 'Filbard,' or,
+even more familiarly, 'Jim Filbard.' Extremes meet. They hardly
+dared open their mouths when they saw him, and yet spoke of him
+afterwards as if he sat with them at bacon and cabbage time.</p>
+<p>Squire Filbard and one of his sons were walking round the
+outlying copses that October day with the object of driving the
+pheasants in towards the great Filbard wood, rather than of making
+a bag. The birds were inclined to wander about, and the squire
+thought a little judicious shooting round the outskirts would do
+good, and at the same time give his son some sport without
+disturbing the head of game he kept up in the wood itself. The
+squire was large made, tall, and well proportioned, and with a
+bearded, manly countenance. His neck was, perhaps, a little thick
+and apoplectic-looking, but burnt to a healthy brick-dust colour by
+exposure to the sun. The passing years had drawn some crows'-feet
+round the eyes, but his step was firm, his back straight, and he
+walked his ancestral acres every inch the master. The defect of his
+features was the thinness of the lips, and a want of character in a
+nose which did not accord with a good forehead. His hands, too,
+were very large and puffy; his finger-nails (scrupulously clean)
+were correspondingly large, and cut to a sharp point, that seemed
+to project beyond the tip of the finger, and gave it a scratchy
+appearance.</p>
+<p>The chimneys of Filbard Hall showed for some distance above the
+trees of the park, for the house stood on high ground. It was of
+red brick, somewhat square in style, and had little of the true
+Elizabethan character&mdash;it was doubtless later in date, though
+not modern. The chimneys, however, had a pleasing appearance over
+the trees; they were in stacks, and rather larger, or broader
+apparently at the top than where they rose from the roof. Such
+chimneys are not often seen on recent buildings. A chimney seems a
+simple matter, and yet the aspect of a house from a distance much
+depends upon its outline. The mansion was of large size, and stood
+in an extensive park, through which carriage drives swept up to the
+front from different lodge gates. Each of the drives passed under
+avenues of trees&mdash;the park seemed to stretch on either hand
+without enclosure or boundary&mdash;and the approach was not
+without a certain stateliness. Within the apartments were
+commodious, and from several there were really beautiful views.
+Some ancient furniture, handed down generation after generation,
+gave a character to the rooms; the oak staircase was much admired,
+and so was the wainscoating of one part.</p>
+<p>The usual family portraits hung on the walls, but the present
+squire had rather pushed them aside in favour of his own peculiar
+hobby. He collected antique Italian pictures&mdash;many on
+panels&mdash;in the pre-Raphaelite style. Some of these he had
+picked up in London, others he had found and purchased on the
+Continent. There were saints with glories or <i>nimbi</i> round
+their heads, Madonnas and kneeling Magi, the manger under a kind of
+penthouse, and similar subjects&mdash;subjects the highest that
+could be chosen. The gilding of the <i>nimbi</i> seemed well done
+certainly, and was still bright, but to the ordinary eye the
+stiffness of the figures, the lack of grace, the absence of soul in
+the composition was distressingly apparent. It was, however, the
+squire's hobby, and it must be admitted that he had very high
+authority upon his side. Some sensitive persons rather shrank from
+seeing him handle these painted panels with those peculiar scratchy
+finger-nails; it set their teeth on edge. He gave considerable sums
+of money for many of these paintings, the only liberality he
+permitted himself, or was capable of.</p>
+<p>His own room or study was almost bare, and the solitary window
+looked on a paved passage that led to the stables. There was
+nothing in it but a large table, a bookcase, and two or three of
+the commonest horsehair chairs; the carpet was worn bare. He had
+selected this room because there was a door close by opening on the
+paved passage. Thus the bailiff of the Home Farm, the steward, the
+gamekeeper, the policeman, or any one who wished to see him on
+business, could come to the side door from the back and be shown in
+to him without passing through the mansion. This certainly was a
+convenient arrangement; yet one would have thought that he would
+have had a second and more private study in which to follow his own
+natural bent of mind. But the squire received the gardener and gave
+him directions about the cucumbers&mdash;for he descended even to
+such minuti&aelig; as that&mdash;sitting at the same table on which
+he had just written to an Italian art collector respecting a
+picture, or to some great friend begging him to come and inspect a
+fresh acquisition. The bookcase contained a few law books, a manual
+for the direction of justices&mdash;the squire was on the
+commission&mdash;a copy of Burke, and in one corner of a shelf a
+few musty papers referring to family history. These were of some
+value, and the squire was proud of showing them to those who took
+an interest in arch&aelig;ology; yet he kept them much as if they
+had been receipts for the footman's livery, or a dozen bottles of
+stable medicine. He wrote with a quill pen, and as it went up and
+down it scratched the paper as if it had been those sharp
+projecting finger-nails.</p>
+<p>In this study he spent many hours when at home&mdash;he rose
+late, and after breakfast repaired hither. The steward was usually
+in attendance. He was a commonplace man, but little above the
+description of a labourer. He received wages not much superior to
+those a labourer takes in summer time, but as he lived at the Home
+Farm (which was in hand) there were of course some perquisites. A
+slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he pottered about and
+looked after things in general. One morning perhaps he would come
+in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going to
+cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been
+paid for. Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the
+Home Farm, or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which
+was decaying. A cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft. One of
+the tenants wanted a new shed put up, but it did not seem
+necessary; the old one would do very well if people were not so
+fidgety. The wife or daughter of one of the cottage people was
+taking to drink and getting into bad ways. This or that farmer had
+had some sheep die. Another farmer had bought some new
+silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village
+gossip.</p>
+<p>Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in
+or was sent for. The squire kept a large head of pheasants for
+certain reasons, but he was not over-anxious to pay for them. The
+keeper grumbled about his wages, that he had no perquisites, and
+that the shooting season never brought him any fees&mdash;unless
+the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every year.
+This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.
+He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs,
+and to give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted
+renewing. The steward had seen it, and thought it might be
+repaired; why did the keeper think it ought to be renewed
+altogether? And was there not plenty of larch timber lying about,
+that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a very good
+spar-gate, without purchasing one? Why couldn't old Hooker, the
+hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?</p>
+<p>Next came the coachman&mdash;the squire did not keep up anything
+of a stud, just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary
+riding horses and a pony for the children. The coachman had to
+explain why a new lock was wanted on the stable door; why the
+blacksmith's bill was so much for shoes; after which there was a
+long gossip about the horses of a gentleman who had come down and
+rented a place for the season. The gardener sometimes had an
+interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold from the
+orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire
+delighted. As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear
+with patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty
+bottles.</p>
+<p>The squire would have had the cook in and discussed the
+stock-pot with her for a full hour, but the cook set up her back.
+She wouldn't, no, that she wouldn't; and the squire found that the
+cook was mistress of the situation. She was the only personage who
+did not pass him with deference. She tossed her head, and told her
+fellow-servants audibly that he was a poor, mean-spirited man; and
+as for missis, she was a regular Tartar&mdash;there! In this they
+thoroughly agreed. The coachman and footman, when out with the
+carriage, and chancing to get a talk with other coachmen and
+footmen, were full of it. He was the meanest master they had ever
+known; yet they could not say that he paid less wages, or that they
+were ill-fed&mdash;it was this meddling, peddling interference they
+resented. The groom, when he rode into town for the letter-bag,
+always stopped to tell Ills friends some fresh instance of it. All
+the shopkeepers and tradesmen, and everybody else, had heard of it.
+But they were none the less obsequious when the squire passed up
+the street. The servants were never so glad as when young master
+came home with the liberal views imbibed in modern centres of
+learning, and with a free, frank mode of speech. But miss, the sole
+daughter, they simply hated; she seemed to have ten times the
+meanness of her papa, and had been a tell-tale from childhood. The
+kitchen said she saved her curl papers to sell as waste paper.</p>
+<p>The 'missis' was as haughty, as unapproachable, and disdainful
+as the master was inquisitive; she never spoke to, looked at, nor
+acknowledged any one&mdash;except the three largest tenants and
+their wives. To these, who paid heavily, she was gracious. She
+dressed in the very extreme and front of fashion&mdash;the squire
+himself quite plainly, without the least pretence of dandyism.
+Hateful as the village folk thought her <i>hauteur</i> and open
+contempt for them, they said she was more the lady than the squire
+was the gentleman.</p>
+<p>The squire's time, when at home, like everything else, was
+peddled away. He rode into market one day of the week; he went to
+church on Sundays with unfailing regularity, and he generally
+attended the petty sessional bench on a third day. Upon the bench,
+from the long standing of his family, he occupied a prominent
+position. His mind invariably seized the minuti&aelig; of the
+evidence, and never seemed to see the point or the broad bearings
+of the case. He would utterly confuse a truthful witness, for
+instance, who chanced to say that he met the defendant in the road.
+'But you said just now that you and he were both going the same
+way; how, then, could you meet him?' the squire would ask, frowning
+sternly. Whether the witness overtook or met the defendant mattered
+nothing to the point at issue; but the squire, having got a
+satisfactory explanation, turned aside, with an aggravating air of
+cleverness. For the rest of the week the squire could not account
+for his time. He sometimes, indeed, in the hunting season, rode to
+the meet; but he rarely followed. He had none of the enthusiasm
+that makes a hunter; besides, it made the horse in such a heat, and
+would work him out too quick for economy.</p>
+<p>He went out shooting, but not in regular trim. He would carry
+his gun across to the Home Farm, and knock over a rabbit on the
+way; then spend two hours looking at the Alderney cow, the roof of
+the pig-sty, and the poultry, and presently stroll across a corner
+of the wood, and shoot a pheasant. The head of game was kept up for
+the purpose of letting the mansion from time to time when the
+squire or his lady thought it desirable to go on the Continent,
+that the daughter might acquire the graces of travel. A visit to
+London in the season, a visit to the seaside, and then home in the
+autumn to peddle about the estate, made up the year when they did
+not go abroad. There was a broad park, noble trees, a great
+mansion, a stately approach; but within it seemed all littleness of
+spirit.</p>
+<p>The squire's own private study&mdash;the morning-room of the
+owner of this fine estate&mdash;was, as previously observed, next
+the passage that led to the stables, and the one window looked out
+on a blank wall. It was in this room that he conducted his business
+and pleasure, and his art researches. It was here that he received
+the famous 'Round Robin' from his tenants. The estate was not very
+large&mdash;something between 3,000 and 4,000 acres&mdash;but much
+of it was good and fertile, though heavy land, and highly rented.
+Had the squire received the whole of his rents for his own private
+use he would have been well off as squires go. But there was a flaw
+or hitch somewhere in the right, or title, or succession. No one
+knew the precise circumstances, because, like so many similar
+family disputes, when the lawyers were ready, and the case had come
+before the tribunal, a compromise was arrived at, the terms of
+which were only known to the tribunal and the parties directly
+concerned.</p>
+<p>But everybody knew that the squire had to pay heavy pensions to
+various members of another branch of the family; and it was
+imagined that he did not feel quite fixed in the tenure&mdash;that
+possibly the case might, under certain circumstances, be heard of
+again&mdash;since it was noticed that he did not plant trees, or
+make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase the permanent
+attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was only
+lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
+place&mdash;without absolute damage&mdash;and to invest or spend
+nothing. After all these payments had been made the squire's income
+was much reduced, and thus, with all these broad acres, these
+extensive woods, and park, and mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and
+so forth, he was really a poor man. Not poor in the sense of actual
+want, but a man in his position had, of course, a certain
+appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages&mdash;even cooks&mdash;are
+not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to those
+who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with
+liberal ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who
+insists on dressing in the fashion is expensive.</p>
+<p>Now, taking all those things into consideration, and
+remembering, too, that the squire as a good father (which he was
+admittedly) wished to make provision for the future of his
+children, it may perhaps, after all, be questioned whether he
+really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared. Under the
+circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him was
+to be careful in little things. Even his hobby&mdash;the
+pre-Raphaelite pictures&mdash;was not without its advantage in this
+sense; the collection was certainly worth more than he gave for it,
+for he got it all by careful bargaining, and it could be sold again
+at a profit. The careful superintendence of the Alderney cow, the
+cucumber frames, and the rabbits, might all be carried out for the
+very best of objects, the good of his children.</p>
+<p>Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles
+of agriculture, the wetness of the seasons&mdash;which played havoc
+with the game&mdash;the low prices, and the loud talk that was
+going on around him. But he made no sign. He might have been deaf,
+dumb, and blind. He walked by the wheat, but did not see the
+deficiency of the crop, nor the extraordinary growth of weeds.
+There were voices in the air like the mutterings of a coming storm,
+but he did not hear them. There were paragraphs in the
+papers&mdash;how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
+returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did not
+understand. Rent days came and went, and no sign was made. His
+solicitor received the rents, but nothing could be got out of him
+by the farmers. The little farmers hardly liked to take the lead:
+some of them did not dare. The three largest farmers looked at each
+other and wondered which would speak first. They were awkwardly
+situated. The squire's wife acknowledged their wives and daughters,
+and once now and then deigned to invite them to the mansion. The
+squire himself presented them with specimens of a valuable breed of
+poultry he was bringing up at the Home Farm. It was difficult to
+begin unpleasant business.</p>
+<p>Meantime the solicitor gathered up the cheques, wished them good
+afternoon and departed. Another rent day came round, and still no
+sign. The squire's policy was, in fact, to ignore. He ignored the
+depression altogether&mdash;could not see that it existed in that
+county at all. Recollect, it was the only policy open to him.
+Whether the rents paid to him were large or small, his expenses
+would be the same. There were the members of the other branch of
+the family to be paid in full. There were the carriages, the
+servants, the gamekeepers, and so on. He could reduce nothing; no
+wonder that he was slow to acknowledge that he must be himself
+reduced. The fatal day&mdash;so long dreaded&mdash;came at
+last.</p>
+<p>A large letter lay on the table in the study one morning, along
+with the other letters. He did not recognise the handwriting, and
+naturally opened it first. It was a 'Round Robin' from the tenants.
+All had signed a memorial, setting forth the depression, and
+respectfully, even humbly, asking that their case be taken into
+consideration, and that a percentage be returned, or the rent
+reduced. Their heavy land, they pointed out, had been peculiarly
+difficult to work in such seasons. They had suffered exceptionally,
+and they trusted he would take no offence. But there was an
+unmistakable hint that they were in earnest. All signed
+it&mdash;from the ungrateful largest tenants, who had had presents
+of fancy poultry, and whose wives had been smiled upon, down to the
+smallest working farmer, who could hardly be distinguished from his
+own labourers.</p>
+<p>The squire read the names over twice, pointing to each with his
+sharp, scratchy finger-nail. There were other letters from the
+members of the other branch of the family whose pensions were just
+due in full. Suppose he returned ten per cent. of the rents to the
+tenants, that would not be like ten per cent. upon the entire
+rental, but perhaps twenty-five or thirty per cent, upon that
+portion of the rental which actually went into his own pocket. A
+man can hardly be expected to cheerfully tender other people a
+third of his income. But sprawling and ill-written as many of the
+signatures were to the 'Round Robin'&mdash;the pen held by heavy
+hands&mdash;yet they were genuine, and constituted a very
+substantial fact, that must be yielded to.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap13" id="chap13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h3>
+<h3>AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE</h3>
+Perhaps the magistrate most regular in his attendance at a certain
+country Petty Sessional Court is young Squire Marthorne. Those who
+have had business to transact at such Courts know the difficulty
+that often arises from the absence of a second magistrate, there
+being a numerous class of cases with which one justice of the peace
+is not permitted to deal. There must be two, and it sometimes
+happens that only one is forthcoming. The procedure adopted varies
+much in different divisions, according to the population and the
+percentage of charges brought up. Usually a particular day is
+appointed when it is understood that a full bench will be present,
+but it not unfrequently happens that another and less formal
+meeting has to be held, at which the attendance is uncertain. The
+district in which Mr. Marthorne resides chances to be somewhat
+populous, and to include one or two turbulent places that furnish a
+steady supply of offenders. The practice therefore is to hold two
+Courts a week; at one of these, on the Saturday, the more important
+cases are arranged to be heard, when there are always plenty of
+magistrates. At the other, on the Tuesday, remands and smaller
+matters are taken, and there then used to be some delay.
+<p>One justice thought his neighbour would go, another thought the
+same of his neighbour, and the result was nobody went. Having
+tacitly bound themselves to attend once a week, the justices, many
+of whom resided miles away, did not care formally to pledge
+themselves to be invariably present on a second day. Sometimes the
+business on that second day was next to nothing, but occasionally
+serious affairs turned up, when messengers had to be despatched to
+gather a quorum.</p>
+<p>But latterly this uncertainty has been put an end to through the
+regular attendance of young Squire Marthorne, of Marthorne House.
+The Marthornes are an old family, and one of the best connected in
+the county, though by no means rich, and, whether it was the lack
+of great wealth or a want of energy, they had until recently rather
+dropped out of the governing circle. When, however, the young
+squire, soon after his accession to the property, in the natural
+course of events, was nominated to the Commission of the Peace, he
+began to exhibit qualities calculated to bring him to the front. He
+developed an aptitude for business, and at the same time showed a
+personal tact and judgment which seemed to promise a future very
+different from the previous stagnation of his family.</p>
+<p>These qualities came first into play at the Petty Sessions,
+which, apart from the criminal business, is practically an informal
+weekly Parliament of local landowners. Marthorne, of course, was
+well known to the rest long before his appearance among them as a
+colleague. He had gained some reputation at college; but that had
+long since been forgotten in the prestige he had attained as a
+brilliant foxhunter. Even in the days before his accession, when
+his finances were notoriously low, he had somehow contrived to ride
+a first-rate horse. Everybody likes a man who rides a good horse.
+At the same time there was nothing horsey about him; he was always
+the gentleman. Since his succession the young squire, as he was
+familiarly described&mdash;most of the others being
+elderly&mdash;-had selected his horses with such skill that it was
+well known a very great man had noticed them, so that when he came
+to the Bench, young as he was, Marthorne escaped the unpleasant
+process of finding his level&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> being thoroughly put
+down.</p>
+<p>If not received quite as an equal by that assemblage of elderly
+gentlemen, he was made to feel that at all events they would listen
+to what he had to say. That is a very great point gained. Marthorne
+used his advantage with judgment. He displayed a modesty highly
+commendable in a young man. He listened, and only spoke for the
+purpose of acquiring information. Nothing is so pleasing as to find
+a man of intelligence willingly constituting himself your pupil.
+They were all anxious to teach him the business of the county, and
+the more he endeavoured to learn from them the cleverer they
+thought him.</p>
+<p>Now, the business of the county was not very intricate; the
+details were innumerable, but the general drift was easy to
+acquire. Much more complicated to see through were all the little
+personal likings, dislikings, petty spites, foibles, hobbies,
+secret understandings, family jars, and so forth, which really
+decide a man's vote, or the scale into which he throws his
+influence. There were scores of squires dotted over the county,
+each of whom possessed local power more or less considerable, and
+each of whom might perchance have private relations with men who
+held high office in the State. Every family had its history and its
+archives containing records of negotiations with other families.
+People who met with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the
+same party, might have grudges half a century old, but not yet
+forgotten. If you made friends with one, you might mortally offend
+the other. The other would say nothing, but another day a whisper
+to some great authority might destroy the hopes of the aspirant.
+Those who would attain to power must study the inner social life,
+and learn the secret motives that animate men. But to get at the
+secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote,
+would occupy one for years.</p>
+<p>Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle,
+knew the main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to
+work, he quickly felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment
+he might irritate some one's hidden prejudice. He looked round for
+an older man who knew all about it, and could inform him. This man
+he found in the person of the Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions.
+The nominal Chairman, like many other unpaid officials, held the
+place because of old family greatness, not from any personal
+ability&mdash;family greatness which was in reality a mere
+tradition. The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the
+circle.</p>
+<p>A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for
+its own sake, and understood every technicality. With little or no
+personal ambition, he had assisted in every political and social
+movement in the county for half a century, and knew the secret
+motives of every individual landowner. With large wealth, nothing
+to do, and childless, he took a liking to young Marthorne. The old
+man wished for nothing better than to talk; the young squire
+listened attentively. The old man was delighted to find some one
+who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty Sessional
+business. Thus it was that the people who had to attend the Local
+Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it
+was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their
+business facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates. The
+Vice-Chairman was always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there.
+It sometimes happened that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or
+Hodge the recent pugilist, was stolidly waiting for his sentence,
+the two justices in the retiring room were convulsed with laughter;
+the one recounting, the other imbibing, some curious racy anecdote
+concerning the family history of a local magnate.</p>
+<p>Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for
+solid qualities, for work and application. Not only at the Bench,
+but at the Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice
+of the peace is <i>ex officio</i> a member, he steadily worked at
+details, sat patiently upon committees, audited endless accounts,
+read interminable reports, and was never weary of work. The farmers
+began to talk about him, and to remark to each other what a
+wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a
+pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was. The applause was well
+earned, for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work
+than that of attending Boards which never declare dividends. He
+next appeared at the farmers' club, at first as a mere spectator,
+and next, though with evident diffidence, as a speaker.</p>
+<p>Marthorne was no orator; he felt when he stood up to speak an
+odd sensation in the throat, as if the glottis had contracted. He
+was, in fact, very nervous, and for the first two or three
+sentences had not the least idea what he had said. But he forced
+himself to say it&mdash;his will overruled his physical weakness.
+When said it was not much&mdash;only a few safe
+platitudes&mdash;but it was a distinct advance. He felt that next
+time he should do better, and that his tongue would obey his mind.
+His remarks appeared in the local print, and he had started as a
+speaker. He was resolved to be a speaker, for it is evident to all
+that, without frequent public speech, no one can now be a
+representative man. Marthorne, after this, never lost an
+opportunity of speaking&mdash;if merely to second a resolution, to
+propose a toast, he made the most of it. One rule he laid down for
+himself, namely, never to say anything original. He was not
+speaking to propound a new theory, a new creed, or view of life.
+His aim was to become the mouthpiece of his party. Most probably
+the thought that seemed to him so clever might, if publicly
+expressed, offend some important people. He, therefore, carefully
+avoided anything original. High authorities are now never silent;
+when Parliament closes they still continue to address the public,
+and generally upon more or less stirring questions of the time.</p>
+<p>In those addresses, delivered by the very leaders of his own
+party, Marthorne found the material, and caught from their diligent
+perusal the spirit in which to use it. In this way, without
+uttering a single original idea of his own, and with very little
+originality of expression, the young orator succeeded perfectly in
+his aim. First, he became recognised as a speaker, and, therefore,
+extremely useful; secondly, he was recognised as one of the
+soundest exponents of politics in the county. Marthorne was not
+only clever, but 'safe.' His repute for the latter quality was of
+even more service to him than for talent; to be 'safe' in such
+things is a very great recommendation. Personal reputation is of
+slow growth, but it does grow. The Vice-Chairman, Marthorne's
+friend and mentor, had connections with very high people indeed. He
+mentioned Marthorne to the very high people. These, in their turn,
+occasionally cast a glance at what Marthorne was doing. Now and
+then they read a speech of his, and thought it extremely good,
+solid, and well put. It was understood that a certain M.P. would
+retire at the next election; and they asked themselves whom they
+had to take his place?</p>
+<p>While this important question was exercising the minds of those
+in authority, Marthorne was energetically at work gaining the
+social suffrage. The young squire's lady&mdash;he had married in
+his minority for beauty and intelligence, and not for
+money&mdash;was discovered to be a very interesting young person.
+Her beauty and intelligence, and, let it be added, her true
+devotion to her husband's cause, proved of fifty times more value
+to him than a dowry of many manors. Her tact smoothed the way
+everywhere; she made friends for him in all directions, especially
+perhaps during the London season. Under the whirl and glitter of
+that fascinating time there are latent possibilities of important
+business. Both Marthorne and his lady had by birth and connections
+the <i>entr&eacute;e</i> into leading circles; but many who have
+that <i>entr&eacute;e</i> never attain to more influence in society
+than the furniture of the drawing-room.</p>
+<p>These two never for a moment lost sight of the country while
+they enjoyed themselves in town. Everything they said or did was
+said and done with a view to conciliate people who might have
+direct or indirect influence in the country. In these matters,
+ladies of position still retain considerable power in their hands.
+The young squire and his wife put themselves to immense trouble to
+get the good-will of such persons, and being of engaging manners
+they in time succeeded. This was not effected at once, but three or
+four years are a very short time in which to develop personal
+influence, and their success within so brief a period argues
+considerable skill.</p>
+<p>At home again in the autumn the same efforts were diligently
+continued. The mansion itself was but of moderate size and by no
+means convenient, but the squire's lady transformed it from a
+gaunt, commonplace country house into an elegant and charming
+residence. This she contrived without great expense by the exercise
+of good taste and a gift of discriminating between what was and
+what was not. The exterior she left alone&mdash;to alter an
+exterior costs a heavy sum and often fails. But the interior she
+gradually fitted in a novel fettle, almost entirely after her own
+design. The gardens, too, under her supervision, became equally
+inviting. The house got talked about, and was itself a social
+success.</p>
+<p>On his part, the squire paid as much attention to the estate. It
+was not large, far from sufficient of itself, indeed, to support
+any social or political pretensions without the most rigid economy.
+And the pair were rigidly economical. The lady dressed in the
+height of the fashion, and drove the most beautiful horses, and yet
+she never wasted a shilling upon herself. Her own little private
+whims and fancies she resolutely refused to gratify. Every coin was
+spent where it would produce effect. In like manner, the squire
+literally never had half a sovereign in his pocket. He selected the
+wines in his cellar with the greatest care, and paid for them
+prices which the wine merchant, in these days of cheap wines, was
+unaccustomed to receive from men of thrice his income. The squire
+paid for the very best wine, and in private drank a cheap claret.
+But his guests, many of them elderly gentlemen, when once they had
+dined with him never forgot to come again. His bins became known
+throughout the county; very influential people indeed spoke of them
+with affection. It was in this way that the squire got a high value
+out of his by no means extensive rents.</p>
+<p>He also looked after the estate personally. Hodge, eating his
+luncheon under the hedge in October, as he slowly munched his
+crust, watched the squire strolling about the fields, with his gun
+under his arm, and wondered why he did not try the turnips. The
+squire never went into the turnip field, and seemed quite oblivious
+that he carried a gun, for when a covey rose at his feet he did not
+fire, but simply marked them down. His mind, in fact, was busy with
+more important matters, and, fond as he was of shooting, he wanted
+the birds for some one else's delectation. After he had had the
+place a little while, there was not a square inch of waste ground
+to be found. When the tenants were callous to hints, the squire
+gave them pretty clearly to understand that he meant his land to be
+improved, and improved it was. He himself of his own free motive
+and initiative ordered new buildings to be erected where he, by
+personal inspection, saw that they would pay. He drained to some
+extent, but not very largely, thinking that capital sunk in drains,
+except in particular soils, did not return for many years.</p>
+<p>Anxious as he was to keep plenty of game, he killed off the
+rabbits, and grubbed up many of the small covers at the corners and
+sides of arable fields which the tenants believed injurious to
+crops. He repaired labourers' cottages, and added offices to
+farmsteads. In short, he did everything that could be done without
+too heavy an expenditure. To kill off the rabbits, to grub the
+smaller coverts, to drain the marshy spots, to thatch the cottages,
+put up cattle sheds, and so on, could be effected without burdening
+the estate with a loan. But, small as these improvements were in
+themselves, yet, taken together, they made an appreciable
+difference.</p>
+<p>There was a distinct increase in the revenue of the estate after
+the first two years. The increase arose in part from the diminished
+expenses, for it has been found that a tumble-down place is more
+costly to maintain than one in good repair. The tenants at first
+were rather alarmed, fearing lest the change should end in a
+general rise of rents. It did not. The squire only asked an
+increase when he had admittedly raised the value of the land, and
+then only to a moderate amount. By degrees he acquired a reputation
+as the most just of landlords. His tenantry were not only
+satisfied, but proud of him; for they began to foresee what was
+going to happen.</p>
+<p>Yet all these things had been done for his own interest&mdash;so
+true is it that the interest of the landlord and the tenant are
+identical. The squire had simply acted judiciously, and from
+personal inspection. He studied his estate, and attended to it
+personally. Of course he could not have done these things had he
+not succeeded to a place but little encumbered with family
+settlements. He did them from interested motives, and not from mere
+sentiment. But, nevertheless, credit of a high order was justly
+accorded to him. So young a man might naturally have expended his
+income on pleasure. So young a wife might have spent his rents in
+frivolity. They worked towards an end, but it was a worthy
+end&mdash;for ambition, if not too extravagant, is a virtue. Men
+with votes and influence compared this squire in their minds with
+other squires, whose lives seemed spent in a slumberous
+donothingness.</p>
+<p>Thus, by degrees, the young squire's mansion and estate added to
+his reputation. The labour which all this represented was immense.
+Both the squire and his wife worked harder than a merchant in his
+office. Attending Boards and farmers' clubs, making speeches,
+carrying on correspondence, looking after the estate, discharging
+social duties, filled up every moment of his time. Superintending
+the house, the garden, corresponding, and a hundred other labours,
+filled up every moment of hers. They were never idle; to rise
+socially and politically requires as great or greater work than for
+a poor man to achieve a fortune.</p>
+<p>Ultimately the desired result began to be apparent. There grew
+up a general feeling that the squire was the best man for the place
+in Parliament which, in the course of events, must ere long be
+vacant. There was much heartburning and jealousy secretly felt
+among men twice his age, who had waited and hoped for years for
+such an opening, till at last they had rusted and become incapable
+of effort. But, cynical as they might be in private, they were too
+wise to go openly against the stream. A few friendly words spoken
+in season by a great man whose goodwill had been gained decided the
+matter. At an informal meeting of the party&mdash;how much more is
+effected at informal than at formal assemblies!&mdash;Marthorne was
+introduced as the successor to the then representative. The young
+squire's estate could not, of course, bear the heavy pecuniary
+strain which must arise; but before those who had the control of
+these things finally selected him they had ascertained that there
+would be no difficulty with respect to money. Marthorne's old
+friend and mentor, the wealthy Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions,
+who had inducted him into the county business, announced that he
+should bear the larger part of the expense. He was not a little
+proud of his <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i>.</p>
+<p>The same old friend and mentor, wise with the knowledge and
+experience which long observation of men had given him, advised the
+young squire what to do when the depression first came upon
+agriculture. The old man said, 'Meet it; very likely it will not
+last two years. What is that in the life of an estate?' So the
+young squire met it, and announced at once that he should return a
+percentage of his rents. 'But not too high a percentage,' said the
+old man; 'let us ascertain what the rest of the landowners think,
+else by a too liberal reduction you may seem to cast a reflection
+upon them.' The percentage was returned, and continued, and the
+young squire has tided over the difficulty.</p>
+<p>His own tenantry and the farming interest generally are proud of
+him. Hodge, who, slow as he is, likes a real man, says, 'He beant
+such a bad sort of a veller, you; a' beant above speaking to we!'
+When the time comes the young squire will certainly be
+returned.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap14" id="chap14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h3>
+<h3>THE PARSON'S WIFE</h3>
+It is pleasant, on a sunny day to walk through a field of wheat
+when the footpath is bordered on either side by the ripening crop,
+without the intervention of hedge or fence. Such a footpath,
+narrow, but well kept, leads from a certain country churchyard to
+the highway road, and passes on the way a wicket gate in a thick
+evergreen shrubbery which surrounds the vicarage lawn and gardens.
+This afternoon the wheat stands still and upright, without a
+motion, in the burning sunshine, for the sun, though he has sloped
+a little from his highest meridian altitude, pours an even fiercer
+beam than at the exact hour of noon. The shadeless field is exposed
+to the full glare of the brilliant light. There are no trees in the
+field itself, the hedges are cut low and trimmed to the smallest
+proportions, and are devoid of timber; and, as the ground is high
+and close to the hills, all the trees in sight are beneath, and can
+be overlooked. Whether in sunshine or storm there is no
+shelter&mdash;no medium; the wind rushes over with its utmost fury,
+or the heat rests on it undisturbed by the faintest current. Yet,
+sultry as it is, the footpath is a pleasant one to follow.
+<p>The wheat ears, all but ripe&mdash;to the ordinary eye they are
+ripe, but the farmer is not quite satisfied&mdash;rise to the waist
+or higher, and tempt the hand to pluck them. Butterflies flutter
+over the surface, now descending to some flower hidden beneath, now
+resuming their joyous journey. There is a rich ripe feeling in the
+very atmosphere, the earth is yielding her wealth, and a delicate
+aroma rises from her generous gifts. Far as the eye can see, the
+rolling plains and slopes present various tints of
+yellow&mdash;wheat in different stages of ripeness, or of different
+kinds; oats and barley&mdash;till the hedges and woods of the vale
+conceal the farther landscape on the one hand and the ridge of the
+hills upon the other.</p>
+<p>Nothing conveys so strong an impression of substantial wealth as
+the view of wheat-fields. A diamond ornament in a window may be
+ticketed as worth so many hundreds of pounds; but the glittering
+gem, and the sum it represents, seem rather abstract than real. But
+the wheat, the golden wheat, is a great fact that seizes hold of
+the mind; the idea comes of itself that it represents solid
+wealth.</p>
+<p>The tiles of the vicarage roof&mdash;all of the house visible
+above the shrubbery&mdash;look so hot and dry in the glaring
+sunshine that it does not seem possible for vegetation to exist
+upon them; yet they are tinted with lichen. The shrubbery has an
+inviting coolness about it&mdash;the thick evergreens, the hollies
+on which the berries are now green, the cedars and ornamental trees
+planted so close together that the passer-by cannot see through,
+must surely afford a grateful shade&mdash;a contrast with the heat
+of the wheat-field and the dust of the highway below. Just without
+the wicket gate a goat standing upon his hind legs, his fore legs
+placed against the palings, is industriously nibbling the tenderest
+leaves of the shrubs and trees which he can reach. Thus extended to
+his full length he can reach considerably higher than might be
+supposed, and is capable of much destruction. Doubtless he has got
+out of bounds.</p>
+<p>Inside the enclosure the reverend gentleman himself reclines in
+an arm-chair of cane-work placed under the shade of the verandah,
+just without the glass door or window opening from the drawing-room
+upon the lawn. His head has fallen back and a little to one side,
+and an open book lies on his knee; his soft felt hat is bent and
+crumpled; he has yielded to the heat and is slumbering. The blinds
+are partly down the window, but a glimpse can be obtained of a
+luxurious carpet, of tables in valuable woods and inlaid, of a fine
+piano, of china, and the thousand and one nicknacks of highly
+civilised life. The reverend gentleman's suit of black, however, is
+not new; it is, on the contrary, decidedly rusty, and the sole of
+one of his boots, which is visible, is much worn. Over his head the
+roses twine round the pillars of the verandah, and there is a
+<i>parterre</i> of brilliant flowers not far from his feet.</p>
+<p>His wife sits, a few yards distant, under a weeping ash, whose
+well-trained boughs make a perfect tent, and shield her from the
+sun. She has a small table before her, and writing materials, and
+is making notes with the utmost despatch from some paper or
+journal. She is no longer young, and there are marks of much care
+and trouble on her forehead; but she has still a pleasing
+expression upon her features, her hands are exquisitely white, and
+her figure, once really good, retains some of the outline that
+rendered it beautiful. Wherever you saw her you would say, That is
+a lady. But her dress, tasteful though it be, is made of the
+cheapest material, and looks, indeed, as if it had been carefully
+folded away last summer, and was now brought out to do duty a
+second time.</p>
+<p>The slow rumble of waggon wheels goes down the road, close to
+the lawn, but concealed by the trees, against whose boughs the
+sheaves of the load rustle as they go past. Wealth rolling by upon
+the waggon, wealth in the well-kept garden, in the smart lawn, in
+the roses, the bright flowers, the substantial well-furnished
+house, the luxurious carpet, and the china; wealth, too, all around
+in the vast expanse of ripening wheat. He has nothing to do but to
+slumber in the cane chair and receive his tithe of the harvest. She
+has nothing to do but to sit under the shadow of the weeping ash
+and dream dreams, or write verses. Such, at least, might be the
+first impression.</p>
+<p>The publication from which she is so earnestly making notes is
+occupied with the management of bees, and she is so busy because
+the paper is only borrowed, and has to be returned. Most of the
+papers and books that come to the vicarage have to be hastily read
+for the same reason. Mrs. F&mdash;&mdash; is doing her very best
+and hardest to increase the Rev. F&mdash;&mdash;'s income&mdash;she
+has tried to do so for some years, and despite repeated failures is
+bravely, perhaps a little wearily, still trying. There is not much
+left for her to experiment with. The goat surreptitiously nibbling
+the valuable shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that
+once seemed to promise fair. Goats at one time (she was persuaded)
+were the means of ready wealth&mdash;they could live anywhere, on
+anything (the shrubs to wit), and yielded such rich milk; it far
+surpassed that of the shorthorn; there was the analysis to prove
+it! Such milk must of course be worth money, beside which there
+were the kids, and the cheese and butter.</p>
+<p>Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse
+than that of the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation,
+that no one would have them on the land. The milk was all the
+analysis declared it, but in that outlying village, which did not
+contain two houses above the quality of a farmstead, there was no
+one to buy it. There was a prejudice against the butter which could
+not be got over; and the cheese&mdash;well, the cheese resembled a
+tablet of dark soap. Hodge would not eat it at a gift; he smelt it,
+picked a morsel off on the tip of his clasp knife, and threw it
+aside in contempt. One by one the goats were got rid of, and now
+but two or three remained; she could not make up her mind to part
+with all, for living creatures, however greatly they have
+disappointed, always enlist the sympathies of women.</p>
+<p>Poultry was the next grand discovery&mdash;they ate their heads
+off, refused to lay eggs, and, when by frequent purchase they
+became numerous and promised to pay, quietly died by the score,
+seized with an epidemic. She learnt in visiting the cottagers how
+profitable their allotment gardens were to them, and naturally
+proceeded to argue that a larger piece of ground would yield
+proportionately larger profit if cultivated on the same principle.
+If the cottagers could pay a rent for an acre which, in the
+aggregate, was three times that given by the ordinary farmer, and
+could even then make a good thing of it, surely intelligence and
+skill might do the same on a more extended scale. How very foolish
+the farmers were! they might raise at least four times the produce
+they did, and they might pay three times the rent. As the vicar had
+some hundred and fifty acres of glebe let at the usual agricultural
+rent, if the tenants could be persuaded or instructed to farm on
+the cottager's system, what an immense increase it would be to his
+income! The tenants, however, did not see it. They shrugged their
+shoulders, and made no movement The energetic lady resolved to set
+an example, and to prove to them that they were wrong.</p>
+<p>She rented an acre of arable land (at the side of the field),
+giving the tenant a fair price for it. First it had to be enclosed
+so as to be parted off from the open field. The cost of the palings
+made the vicar wince; his lady set it duly down to debit. She
+planted one-half potatoes, as they paid thirty pounds per acre, and
+on the rest put in hundreds of currant bushes, set a strawberry bed
+and an asparagus bed, on the principle that luxuries of that kind
+fetch a high price and occupy no more space than cabbages. As the
+acre was cultivated entirely by the spade, the cost of the labour
+expended upon it ran up the figures on the debit side to an amount
+which rather startled her. But the most dispiriting part of the
+commencement was the length of time to wait before a crop came.
+According to her calculations that represented so much idle capital
+sunk, instead of being rapidly turned over. However, she consoled
+herself with the pig-sty, in which were half a dozen animals, whose
+feeding she often personally superintended.</p>
+<p>The potatoes failed, and did not pay for the digging; the
+currant bushes were blighted; the strawberries were eaten by
+snails, and, of course, no asparagus could be cut for three years;
+a little item, this last, quite overlooked. The pigs returned
+exactly the sum spent upon them; there was neither profit nor loss,
+and there did not appear any chance of making a fortune out of
+pork. The lady had to abandon the experiment quite disheartened,
+and found that, after all her care and energy, her books showed a
+loss of fifteen pounds. It was wonderful it was not more; labour
+was so expensive, and no doubt she was cheated right and left.</p>
+<p>She next tried to utilise her natural abilities, and to turn her
+accomplishments to account. She painted; she illuminated texts; she
+undertook difficult needlework of various kinds, in answer to
+advertisements which promised ample remuneration for a few hours'
+labour. Fifteen hours' hard work she found was worth just
+threepence, and the materials cost one shilling: consequently she
+laboriously worked herself poorer by ninepence.</p>
+<p>Finally, she was studying bees, which really seemed to hold out
+some prospect of success. Yonder were the hills where they could
+find thyme in abundance; the fields around supplied clover; and the
+meadows below were full of flowers. So that hot summer day, under
+the weeping ash, she was deep in the study of the 'Ligurian queen,'
+the 'super' system, the mysteries of 'driving,' and making sketches
+of patent hives. Looking up from her sketch she saw that her
+husband had fallen asleep, and stayed to gaze at him
+thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>He looked worn, and older than he really was; as if rest or
+change would do him good; as if he required luxuries and petting.
+She sighed, and wondered whether the bees would enable her to buy
+him such things, for though the house was well furnished and
+apparently surrounded with wealth, they were extremely poor. Yet
+she did not care for money for their own household use so much as
+to give him the weight in parish affairs he so sadly needed. She
+felt that he was pushed aside, treated as a cipher, and that he had
+little of the influence that properly belonged to him. Her two
+daughters, their only children, were comfortably, though not
+grandly, married and settled; there was no family anxiety. But the
+work, the parish, the people, all seemed to have slipped out of her
+husband's hands. She could not but acknowledge that he was too
+quiet and yielding, that he lacked the brazen voice, the personal
+force that imposes upon men. But surely his good intentions, his
+way of life, his gentle kindness should carry sway. Instead of
+which the parish seemed to have quite left the Church, and the
+parson was outside the real modern life of the village. No matter
+what he did, even if popular, it soon seemed to pass out of his
+hands.</p>
+<p>There was the school, for instance. He could indeed go across
+and visit it, but he had no control, no more than the veriest
+stranger that strolled along the road. He had always been anxious
+for a good school, and had done the best he could with means so
+limited before the new Acts came into operation. When they were
+passed he was the first to endeavour to carry them out and to save
+the village the cost and the possible quarrelling of a school
+board. He went through all the preliminary work, and reconciled, as
+far as possible, the jarring interests that came into play. The two
+largest landlords of the place were unfortunately not on good
+terms. Whatever the one did the other was jealous of, so that when
+one promised the necessary land for the school, and it was
+accepted, the other withdrew his patronage, and declined to
+subscribe. With great efforts the vicar, nevertheless, got the
+school erected, and to all appearance the difficulty was
+surmounted.</p>
+<p>But when the Government inspection took place it was found that,
+though not nearly filled with scholars, there was not sufficient
+cubic space to include the children of a distant outlying hamlet,
+which the vicar had hoped to manage by a dame school. These poor
+children, ill fed and young, could hardly stand walking to and from
+the village school&mdash;a matter of some five miles daily, and
+which in winter and wet weather was, in itself, a day's work for
+their weary little limbs. As the vicar could not raise money enough
+to pay a certificated teacher at the proposed branch or dame
+school, the scheme had to be abandoned. Then, according to red
+tape, it was necessary to enlarge the village school to accommodate
+these few children, and this notwithstanding that the building was
+never full. The enlargement necessitated a great additional
+expenditure The ratepayers did, indeed, after much bickering and
+much persuasion, in the end pay off the deficiency; but in the
+meantime, the village had been brought to the verge of a school
+board.</p>
+<p>Religious differences came to the front&mdash;there was, in
+fact, a trial of force between the denominations. Till then for
+many years these differences had slumbered and been almost
+forgotten; they were now brought into collision, and the social
+quiet of the place was upset. A council of the chief farmers and
+some others was ultimately formed, and, as a matter of fact, really
+did represent the inhabitants fairly well. But while it represented
+the parish, it left the vicar quite outside. He had a voice, but
+nothing more. He was not the centre&mdash;the controlling
+spirit.</p>
+<p>He bore it meekly enough, so far as he was personally concerned;
+but he grieved about it in connection with his deep religious
+feelings and his Church. The Church was not in the front of all, as
+it should be. It was hard after all his labour; the rebuffs, the
+bitter remarks, the sneers of those who had divergent views, and,
+perhaps worse than all, the cold indifference and apathy of those
+who wished things to remain in the old state, ignoring the fact
+that the law would not suffer it. There were many other things
+besides the school, but they all went the same way. The modern
+institution was introduced, championed by the Church, worked for by
+the Church, but when at last it was successful, somehow or other it
+seemed to have severed itself from the Church altogether. The vicar
+walked about the village, and felt that, though nominally in it, he
+was really out of it.</p>
+<p>His wife saw it too, still more clearly than he did. She saw
+that he had none of the gift of getting money out of people. Some
+men seem only to have to come in contact with others to at once
+receive the fruits of their dormant benevolent feelings. The rich
+man writes his cheque for 100<i>l</i>., the middle-class well-to-do
+sends his bank notes for 20<i>l</i>., the comfortable middle-class
+man his sovereigns. A testimonial is got up, an address engrossed
+on vellum, speeches are made, and a purse handed over containing a
+draft for so many hundreds, 'in recognition, not in reward, of your
+long continued and successful ministrations.' The art of causing
+the purse-strings to open is an art that is not so well understood,
+perhaps, among the orthodox as by the unorthodox. The Rev.
+F&mdash;&mdash; either could not, or would not, or did not know how
+to ask, and he did not receive.</p>
+<p>Just at present his finances were especially low. The tenants
+who farmed the glebe land threatened to quit unless their rents
+were materially reduced, and unless a considerable sum was expended
+upon improvements. To some very rich men the reduction of rents has
+made a sensible difference; to the Rev. F&mdash;&mdash; it meant
+serious privations. But he had no choice; he had to be satisfied
+with that or nothing. Then the vicarage house, though substantial
+and pleasant to look at, was not in a good state within. The rain
+came through in more places than one, and the ancient woodwork of
+the roof was rotten. He had already done considerable repairing,
+and knew that he must soon do more. The nominal income of the
+living was but moderate; but when the reductions were all made,
+nothing but a cheese-paring seemed left. From this his
+subscriptions to certain ecclesiastical institutions had to be
+deducted.</p>
+<p>Lastly, he had received a hint that a curate ought to be kept
+now that his increasing age rendered him less active than before.
+There was less hope now than ever of anything being done for him in
+the parish. The landowners complained of rent reductions, of farms
+idle on their hands, and of increasing expenses. The farmers
+grumbled about the inclement seasons, their continual losses, and
+the falling markets. It was not a time when the churlish are almost
+generous, having such overflowing pockets. There was no
+testimonial, no address on vellum, no purse with banker's draft for
+the enfeebled servant of the Church slumbering in the cane chair in
+the verandah.</p>
+<p>Yet the house was exquisitely kept, marvellously kept
+considering the class of servants they were obliged to put up with.
+The garden was bright and beautiful with flowers, the lawn smooth;
+there was an air of refinement everywhere. So the clergyman slept,
+and the wife turned again to her sketch of the patent hive, hoping
+that the golden honey might at last bring some metallic gold. The
+waggon rumbled down the road, and Hodge, lying at full length on
+the top of the load, could just see over the lowest part of the
+shrubbery, and thought to himself what a jolly life that parson
+led, sleeping the hot hours away in the shade.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap15" id="chap15">CHAPTER XV</a></h3>
+<h3>A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE</h3>
+'He can't stroddle thuck puddle, you: can a'?'
+<p>'He be going to try: a' will leave his shoe in it.'</p>
+<p>Such were the remarks that passed between two agricultural women
+who from behind the hedge were watching the approach of the curate
+along a deep miry lane. Where they stood the meadow was high above
+the level of the lane, which was enclosed by steep banks thickly
+overgrown with bramble, briar, and thorn. The meadows each side
+naturally drained into the hollow, which during a storm was filled
+with a rushing torrent, and even after a period of dry weather was
+still moist, for the overhanging trees prevented evaporation. A row
+of sarsen stones at irregular intervals were intended to afford
+firm footing to the wayfarer, but they were nothing more than traps
+for the unwary. Upon placing the foot on the smooth rounded surface
+it immediately slipped, and descended at an angle into a watery
+hole. The thick, stiff, yellow clay held the water like a basin;
+the ruts, quite two feet deep, where waggon wheels had been drawn
+through by main force, were full to the brim. In summer heats they
+might have dried, but in November, though fine, they never
+would.</p>
+<p>Yet if the adventurous passenger, after gamely struggling,
+paused awhile to take breath, and looked up from the mud, the view
+above was beautiful. The sun shone, and lit up the oaks, whose
+every leaf was brown or buff; the gnats played in thousands in the
+mild air under the branches. Through the coloured leaves the blue
+sky was visible, and far ahead a faintly bluish shadow fell athwart
+the hollow. There were still blackberries on the bramble, beside
+which the brown fern filled the open spaces, and behind upon the
+banks the mosses clothed the ground and the roots of the trees with
+a deep green. Two or more fieldfares were watching in an elm some
+distance down; the flock to which they belonged was feeding, partly
+in the meadow and partly in the hedge. Every now and then the larks
+flew over, uttering their call-note. Behind a bunch of rushes a
+young rabbit crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the
+hole hard by, doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to
+enter the burrow.</p>
+<p>It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not
+the least current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the
+exertion. His boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at
+every step; they came out with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the
+marks of footsteps, planting his step where the weight of some
+carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down firm. Where these
+failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a few inches
+wide, between two sets of ruts. In a minute he felt the ridge
+giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts. Next
+he crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked
+in the tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting
+bough quietly lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it
+suspended, instead of dropping it in the mud. Still he made
+progress, though slow; now with a giant stride across an
+exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from side to side. The
+lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance. But there
+was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any other
+obstacle. It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or
+wrong, in these cynical days. He was too young to have acquired
+much worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which
+arises from thorough conviction and the sense of personal
+consecration conferred by the mission on the man. He pushed on
+steadily till brought to a stop by a puddle, broad, deep, and
+impassable, which extended right across the lane, and was some six
+or eight yards long. He tried to slip past at the side, but the
+banks were thick with thorns, and the brambles overhung the water;
+the outer bushes coated with adhesive mud. Then he sounded the
+puddle with his stick as far as he could reach, and found it deep
+and the bottom soft, so that the foot would sink into it. He
+considered, and looked up and down the lane.</p>
+<p>The two women, of whose presence he was unconscious, watched him
+from the high and dry level of the meadow, concealed behind the
+bushes and the oaks. They wore a species of smock frock gathered in
+round the waist by a band over their ordinary dress; these smock
+frocks had once been white, but were now discoloured with dirt and
+the weather. They were both stout and stolid-looking, hardy as the
+trees under which they stood. They were acorn picking, searching
+for the dropped acorns in the long rank grass by the hedge, under
+the brown leaves, on the banks, and in the furrows. The boughs of
+the oak spread wide&mdash;the glory of the tree is its
+head&mdash;and the acorns are found in a circle corresponding with
+the outer circumference of the branches. Some are still farther
+afield, because in falling they strike the boughs and glance aside.
+A long slender pole leaning against the hedge was used to thrash
+the boughs within reach, and so to knock down any that
+remained.</p>
+<p>A sack half filled was on the ground close to the trunk of the
+oak, and by it was a heap of dead sticks, to be presently carried
+home to boil the kettle. Two brown urchins assisted them, and went
+where the women could not go, crawling under the thorns into the
+hedge, and creeping along the side of the steep bank, gathering
+acorns that had fallen into the mouths of the rabbit holes, or that
+were lying under the stoles. Out of sight under the bushes they
+could do much as they liked, looking for fallen nuts instead of
+acorns, or eating a stray blackberry, while their mothers rooted
+about among the grass and leaves of the meadow. Such continual
+stooping would be weary work for any one not accustomed to it. As
+they worked from tree to tree they did not observe the colours of
+the leaves, or the wood-pigeons, or the pheasant looking along the
+edge of the ditch on the opposite side of the field. If they paused
+it was to gossip or to abuse the boys for not bringing more acorns
+to the sack.</p>
+<p>But when the boys, hunting in the hedge, descried the curate in
+the distance and came back with the news, the two women were
+suddenly interested. The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the
+coloured leaves were not worthy of a glance. To see a gentleman up
+to his ankles in mud was quite an attraction. The one stood with
+her lap half-full of acorns; the other with a basket on her arm.
+The two urchins lay down on the ground, and peered from behind a
+thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely distinguishable from the
+brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes. The puddle was too
+wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was there any way
+round it.</p>
+<p>The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go
+back. He tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee&mdash;he wore
+them short always&mdash;and stepped into the water. At this the
+urchins could barely suppress a shout of delight&mdash;they did,
+however, suppress it&mdash;and craned forward to see him splash.
+The curate waded slowly to the middle, getting deeper and deeper,
+and then suddenly found firmer footing, and walked the rest of the
+way with the water barely over his boots. After he was through he
+cleansed his boots on a wisp of grass and set off at a good pace,
+for the ground past the pool began to rise, and the lane was
+consequently drier. The women turned again to their acorns,
+remarking, in a tone with something like respect in it, 'He didn't
+stop for the mud, you: did a'?'</p>
+<p>Presently the curate reached the highway with its hard surface,
+and again increased his pace. The hedges here were cut each side,
+and as he walked rapidly, leaning forward, his shovel-hat and
+shoulders were visible above them, and his coat tails floated in
+the breeze of his own progress. His heavy boots&mdash;they were
+extremely thick and heavy, though without nails&mdash;tramped,
+tramped, on the hard road. With a stout walking-stick in one hand,
+and in the other a book, he strode forward, still more swiftly as
+it seemed at every stride. A tall young man, his features seemed
+thin and almost haggard; out of correspondence with a large frame,
+they looked as if asceticism had drawn and sharpened them. There
+was earnestness and eagerness&mdash;almost feverish
+eagerness&mdash;in the expression of his face. He passed the
+meadows, the stubble fields, the green root crops, the men at
+plough, who noticed his swift walk, contrasting with their own slow
+motion; and as he went his way now and then consulted a little slip
+of paper, upon which he had jotted memoranda of his engagements.
+Work, work, work&mdash;ceaseless work. How came this? What could
+there be to do in a sparely-populated agricultural district with,
+to appearance, hardly a cottage to a mile?</p>
+<p>After nearly an hour's walking he entered the outskirts of a
+little country town, slumbering outside the railway system, and,
+turning aside from the street, stopped at the door of the ancient
+vicarage. The resident within is the ecclesiastical head of two
+separate hamlets lying at some miles' distance from his own parish.
+Each of these hamlets possesses a church, though the population is
+of the very sparsest, and in each he maintains a resident curate. A
+third curate assists him in the duties of the home parish, which is
+a large one, that is, in extent. From one of these distant hamlets
+the curate, who struggled so bravely through the mire, has walked
+in to consult with his superior. He is shown into the library, and
+sinks not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who is
+engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.</p>
+<p>This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval
+times. Some have conjectured that the present library and the
+adjoining rooms (the partitions being modern) originally formed the
+refectory of a monastic establishment. Others assign it to another
+use; but all agree that it is monastic and antique. The black oak
+rafters of the roof, polished as it were by age, meet overhead
+unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one place a figure seems
+at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth like a spectre
+from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
+colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy
+when first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat
+or two of plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was
+carelessly laid on, the tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted
+woman in a flowing robe, with upraised arm, stands ever in the act
+to bless. Only half one of the windows of the original hall is in
+this apartment&mdash;the partition wall divides it. There yet
+remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as they are and
+small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems to
+tone the room.</p>
+<p>The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a
+gaunt severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the
+wide expanse of wall. On the table are a few books and some
+letters, with foreign postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed
+handwriting of Continental scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp
+hangs suspended by a slender chain. In a corner are some fragments
+of stone mouldings and wood carvings like the panel of an ancient
+pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides those on the
+table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet or
+covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
+fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are
+the works of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the
+fireplace and the hearth restored; for in that outlying district
+there is plenty of wood. Though of modern make, the heavy brass
+fire-irons are of ancient shape. The fire has gone out&mdash;the
+logs are white with the ash that forms upon decaying embers; it is
+clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called a library, but
+really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal comfort.
+If examined closely the floor yonder bears the marks of feet that
+have walked monotonously to and fro in hours of thought. When the
+eye has taken in these things, as the rustle of the brown leaves
+blown against the pane without in the silence is plainly audible,
+the mind seems in an instant to slip back four hundred years.</p>
+<p>The weary curate has closed his eyes, and starts as a servant
+enters bringing him wine, for the vicar, utterly oblivious of his
+own comfort, is ever on the watch for that of others. His
+predecessor, a portly man, happy in his home alone, and, as report
+said, loving his ease and his palate, before he was preferred to a
+richer living, called in the advice of architects as to converting
+the ancient refectory to some use. In his time it was a mere
+lumber-room, into which all the odds and ends of the house were
+thrown. Plans were accordingly prepared for turning one part of it
+into a cosy breakfast parlour, and the other into a conservatory.
+Before any steps, however, were taken he received his
+preferment&mdash;good things flow to the rich&mdash;and departed,
+leaving behind him a favourable memory. If any inhabitant were
+asked what the old vicar did, or said, and what work he
+accomplished, the reply invariably was, 'Oh! hum! he was a very
+good sort of man: he never interfered with anybody or
+anything!'</p>
+<p>Accustomed to such an even tenour of things, all the <i>vis
+inerti&aelig;</i> of the parish revolted when the new vicar
+immediately evinced a determination to do his work thoroughly. The
+restless energy of the man alone set the stolid old folk at once
+against him. They could not 'a-bear to see he a-flying all over the
+parish: why couldn't he bide at home?' No one is so rigidly opposed
+to the least alteration in the conduct of the service as the old
+farmer or farmer's wife, who for forty years and more has listened
+to the same old hymn, the same sing-song response, the same style
+of sermon. It is vain to say that the change is still no more than
+what was&mdash;contemplated by the Book of Common Prayer. They
+naturally interpret that book by what they have been accustomed to
+from childhood. The vicar's innovations were really most
+inoffensive, and well within even a narrow reading of the rubric.
+The fault lay in the fact that they were innovations, so far as the
+practice of that parish was concerned. So the old folk raised their
+voices in a chorus of horror, and when they met gossiped over the
+awful downfall of the faith. All that the vicar had yet done was to
+intone a part of the service, and at once many announced that they
+should stay away.</p>
+<p>Next he introduced a choir. The sweet voices of the white-robed
+boys rising along the vaulted roof of the old church melted the
+hearts of those who, with excuses for their curiosity to their
+neighbours, ventured to go and hear them. The vicar had a natural
+talent, almost a genius, for music. There was a long struggle in
+his mind whether he might or might not permit himself an organ in
+his library. He decided it against himself, mortifying the spirit
+as well as the flesh, but in the service of the Church he felt that
+he might yield to his inclination. By degrees he gathered round him
+the best voices of the parish; the young of both sexes came gladly
+after awhile to swell the volume of song. How powerful is the
+influence of holy music upon such minds as are at all inclined to
+serious devotion! The church filled more and more every Sunday, and
+people came from the farthest corners of the parish, walking miles
+to listen. The young people grew enthusiastic, and one by one the
+old folk yielded and followed them.</p>
+<p>At the same time the church itself seemed to change. It had been
+cold and gloomy, and gaunt within, for so many generations, that no
+one noticed it. A place of tombs, men hurried away from it as
+quickly as possible. Now, little touches here and there gradually
+gave it the aspect of habitation. The new curtains hung at the door
+of the vestry, and drawn, too, across the main entrance when
+service began, the <i>fleur-de-lys</i> on the crimson ground gave
+an impression of warmth. The old tarnished brazen fittings of the
+pews were burnished up, a new and larger stove (supplied at the
+vicar's expense) diffused at least some little heat in winter. A
+curate came, one who worked heart and soul with the vicar, and the
+service became very nearly choral, the vicar now wearing the
+vestment which his degree gave him the strict right to assume.
+There were brazen candlesticks behind the altar, and beautiful
+flowers. Before, the interior was all black and white. Now there
+was a sense of colour, of crimson curtains, of polished brass, of
+flowers, and rich-toned altar cloth. The place was lit up with a
+new light. After the first revolt of the old folk there was little
+opposition, because the vicar, being a man who had studied human
+nature and full of practical wisdom as well as learning, did all
+things gradually. One thing as introduced at a time, and the
+transition&mdash;after the first start&mdash;was effected
+imperceptibly. Nor was any extravagant ritual thrust upon the
+congregation; nor any suspicious doctrine broached.</p>
+<p>In that outlying country place, where men had no knowledge of
+cathedrals, half the offices of the Church had been forgotten. The
+vicar brought them back again. He began early morning services; he
+had the church open all day for private prayer. He reminded the
+folk of Lent and Eastertide, which, except for the traditional
+pancakes, had almost passed out of their lives. Festivals, saints'
+days, midnight service, and, above all, the Communion, were
+insisted upon and brought home to them. As in many other country
+districts, the Communion had nearly dropped into disuse. At first
+he was alone, but by-and-by a group of willing lay helpers grew up
+around him. The churchwardens began to work with him; then a few of
+the larger tenant farmers. Of the two great landed proprietors, one
+was for him from the first, the other made no active opposition,
+but stood aloof. When, in the autumn, the family of the one that
+was for him came home, a fresh impetus was given. The ladies of the
+mansion came forward to join in the parish and Church work, and
+then other ladies, less exalted, but fairly well-to-do, who had
+only been waiting for a leader, crowded after.</p>
+<p>For the first time in the memory of man the parish began to be
+'visited.' Lay sisters accepted the charge of districts; and thus
+there was not a cottage, nor an old woman, but had the change
+brought home to her. Confirmation, which had been almost forgotten,
+was revived, and it was surprising what a number of girls came
+forward to be prepared. The Bishop, who was not at all predisposed
+to view the 'movement' with favour, when he saw the full church,
+the devotional congregation, and after he had visited the vicarage
+and seen into what was going on personally, expressed openly a
+guarded approval, and went away secretly well pleased. Rightly or
+wrongly, there was a 'movement' in the parish and the outlying
+hamlets: and thus it was that the curate, struggling through the
+mire, carried in his face the expression of hard work. Work, work,
+work; the vicar, his three curates and band of lay helpers, worked
+incessantly.</p>
+<p>Besides his strictly parochial duties, the vicar wrote a manual
+for use in the schools, he attended the Chambers of Agriculture,
+and supported certain social movements among the farmers; he
+attended meetings, and, both socially and politically, by force of
+character, energy, and the gift of speech, became a power in the
+country side. Still striving onwards, he wrote in London
+periodicals, he published a book, he looked from the silence of his
+gaunt study towards the great world, and sometimes dreamed of what
+he might have done had he not been buried in the country, and of
+what he might even yet accomplish. All who came in contact with him
+felt the influence of his concentrated purpose: one and all, after
+they had worked their hardest, thought they had still not done so
+much as he would have done.</p>
+<p>The man's charm of manner was not to be resisted; he believed
+his office far above monarchs, but there was no personal
+pretension. That gentle, pleasing manner, with the sense of
+intellectual power behind it, quite overcame the old folk. They all
+spoke with complacent pride of 'our vicar'; and, what was more,
+opened their purses. The interior of the church was restored, and a
+noble organ built. When its beautiful notes rose and fell, when
+sweet voices swelled the wave of sound, then even the vicar's
+restless spirit was soothed in the fulfilment of his hope. A large
+proportion of the upper and middle class of the parish was, without
+a doubt, now gathered around him; and there was much sympathy
+manifested from adjacent parishes with his objects, sympathy which
+often took the form of subscriptions from distant people.</p>
+<p>But what said Hodge to it all? Hodge said nothing. Some few
+young cottage people who had good voices, and liked to use them,
+naturally now went to church. So did the old women and old men, who
+had an eye to charity. But the strong, sturdy men, the carters and
+shepherds, stood aloof; the bulk and backbone of the agricultural
+labouring population were not in the least affected. They viewed
+the movement with utter indifference. They cleaned their boots on a
+Sunday morning while the bells were ringing, and walked down to
+their allotments, and came home and ate their cabbage, and were as
+oblivious of the vicar as the wind that blew. They had no present
+quarrel with the Church; no complaint whatever; nor apparently any
+old memory or grudge; yet there was a something, a blank space as
+it were, between them and the Church. If anything, the 'movement'
+rather set them against going.</p>
+<p>Agricultural cottagers have a strong bias towards Dissent in one
+form or another; village chapels are always well filled. Dissent,
+of course, would naturally rather dislike a movement of the kind.
+But there was no active or even passive opposition. The cottage
+folk just ignored the Church; nothing more and nothing less. No
+efforts were spared to obtain their good-will and to draw them into
+the fold, but there was absolutely no response. Not a labourer's
+family in that wide district was left unvisited. The cottages were
+scattered far apart, dotted here and there, one or two down in a
+narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green wall of the
+hills. Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree or
+hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet
+elevated fields. A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring
+red brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible
+miles away. An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half
+a mile from the highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army
+might have ravaged the country and never found it. How many, many
+miles of weary walking such rounds as these required!</p>
+<p>Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it
+was wonderful with what skill the cottage women
+especially&mdash;the men being often away at work&mdash;adapted
+themselves to the new <i>r&eacute;gime</i>. Each time they told a
+more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and
+exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe. In the art
+of encouraging attentions of this sort no one excels the cottage
+women; the stories they will relate, with the smallest details
+inserted in the right place, are something marvellous. At first you
+would exclaim with the deepest commiseration, such a case of
+suffering and privation as this cannot possibly be equalled by any
+in the parish; but calling at the next cottage, you are presented
+with a yet more moving relation, till you find the whole population
+are plunged in misery and afflicted with incredible troubles. They
+cannot, surely, be the same folk that work so sturdily at harvest.
+But when the curate has administered words of consolation and
+dropped the small silver dole in the palm, when his shovel-hat and
+black frock-coat tails have disappeared round the corner of the
+copse, then in a single second he drops utterly out of mind. No one
+comes to church the more. If inquiries are made why they did not
+come, a hundred excuses are ready; the rain, a bad foot, illness of
+the infant, a cow taken ill and requiring attention, and so on.</p>
+<p>After some months of such experience the curate's spirits
+gradually decline; his belief in human nature is sadly shaken. Men
+who openly oppose, who argue and deny, are comparatively easy to
+deal with; there is the excitement of the battle with evil. But a
+population that listens, and apparently accepts the message, that
+is so thankful for little charities, and always civil, and yet
+turns away utterly indifferent, what is to be done with it? Might
+not the message nearly as well be taken to the cow at her crib, or
+the horse at his manger? They, too, would receive a wisp of sweet
+hay willingly from the hand.</p>
+<p>But the more bitter the experience, the harder the trial, the
+more conscientiously the curate proceeds upon his duty, struggling
+bravely through the mire. He adds another mile to his daily
+journey: he denies himself some further innocent recreation. The
+cottages in the open fields are comparatively pleasant to visit,
+the sweet fresh air carries away effluvia. Those that are so
+curiously crowded together in the village are sinks of foul smell,
+and may be of worse&mdash;places where, if fever come, it takes
+hold and quits not. His superior requests him earnestly to refrain
+awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a
+holiday&mdash;even orders him to desist from overmuch labour. The
+man's mind is in it, and he cannot obey. What is the result?</p>
+<p>Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance
+be strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people
+on the one side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats
+are passing to and fro. A bath-chair approaches, and a young man
+clad in black gets out of it, where some friendly iron railings
+afford him a support for his hand. There, step by step, leaning
+heavily on the rails, he essays to walk as a child. The sockets of
+his joints yield beneath him, the limbs are loose, the ankle twists
+aside; each step is an enterprise, and to gain a yard a task. Thus
+day by day the convalescent strives to accustom the sinews to their
+work. It is a painful spectacle; how different, how strangely
+altered, from the upright frame and the swift stride that struggled
+through the miry lane, perhaps even then bearing the seeds of
+disease imbibed in some foul village den, where duty called
+him!</p>
+<p>His wan, white face seems featureless; there is nothing but a
+pair of deep-set eyes. But as you pass, and momentarily catch their
+glance, they are bright and burning still with living faith.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap16" id="chap16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h3>
+<h3>THE SOLICITOR</h3>
+In glancing along the street of a country town, a house may
+sometimes be observed of a different and superior description to
+the general row of buildings. It is larger, rises higher, and
+altogether occupies more space. The fa&ccedil;ade is stylish, in
+architectural fashion of half a century since. To the modern eye it
+may not perhaps look so interesting as the true old gabled roofs
+which seem so thoroughly English, nor, on the other hand, so bright
+and cheerful as the modern suburban villa. But it is substantial
+and roomy within. The weather has given the front a sombre hue, and
+the windows are dingy, as if they rarely or never knew the care of
+a housemaid. On the ground floor the windows that would otherwise
+look on to the street are blocked to almost half their height with
+a wire blind so closely woven that no one can see in, and it is not
+easy to see out. The doorway is large, with stone steps and
+porch&mdash;the doorway of a gentleman's house. There is business
+close at hand&mdash;shops and inns, and all the usual offices of a
+town&mdash;but, though in the midst, this house wears an air of
+separation from the rest of the street.
+<p>When it was built&mdash;say fifty years ago, or more&mdash;it
+was, in fact, the dwelling-house of an independent gentleman.
+Similar houses may be found in other parts of the place, once
+inhabited by retired and wealthy people. Such persons no longer
+live in towns of this kind&mdash;they build villas with lawns and
+pleasure grounds outside in the environs, or, though still
+retaining their pecuniary interest, reside at a distance. Like
+large cities, country towns are now almost given over to offices,
+shops, workshops, and hotels. Those who have made money get away
+from the streets as quickly as possible. Upon approaching nearer to
+this particular building the street door will be found to be wide
+open to the public, and, if you venture still closer, a name may be
+seen painted in black letters upon the side of the passage wall,
+after the manner of the brokers in the courts off Throgmorton
+Street, or of the lawyers in the Temple. It is, in fact, the office
+of a country solicitor&mdash;most emphatically one of Hodge's many
+masters&mdash;and is admirably suited for his purpose, on account
+of its roomy interior.</p>
+<p>The first door within opens on the clerks' room, and should you
+modestly knock on the panels instead of at once turning the handle,
+a voice will invite you to 'Come in.' Half of the room is
+partitioned off for the clerks, who sit at a long high desk, with a
+low railing or screen in front of them. Before the senior is a
+brass rail, along which he can, if he chooses, draw a red curtain.
+He is too hard at work and intent upon some manuscript to so much
+as raise his head as you enter. But the two younger men, eager for
+a change, look over the screen, and very civilly offer to attend to
+your business. When you have said that you wish to see the head of
+the firm, you naturally imagine that your name will be at once
+shouted up the tube, and that in a minute or two, at farthest, you
+will be ushered into the presence of the principal. In that small
+country town there cannot surely be much work for a lawyer, and a
+visitor must be quite an event. Instead, however, of using the tube
+they turn to the elder clerk, and a whispered conversation takes
+place, of which some broken sentences may be caught&mdash;'He can't
+be disturbed,' 'It's no use,' 'Must wait.' Then the elder clerk
+looks over his brass rail and says he is very sorry, but the
+principal is engaged, the directors of a company are with him, and
+it is quite impossible to say exactly when they will leave. It may
+be ten minutes, or an hour. But if you like to wait (pointing with
+his quill to a chair) your name shall be sent up directly the
+directors leave.</p>
+<p>You glance at the deck, and elect to wait. The older clerk nods
+his head, and instantly resumes his writing. The chair is old and
+hard&mdash;the stuffing compressed by a generation of weary
+suitors; there are two others at equal distances along the wall.
+The only other furniture is a small but solid table, upon which
+stands a brass copying-press. On the mantelpiece there are scales
+for letter-weighing, paper clips full of papers, a county
+Post-office directory, a railway time-table card nailed to the
+wall, and a box of paper-fasteners. Over it is a map, dusty and
+dingy, of some estate laid out for building purposes, with a
+winding stream running through it, roads passing at right angles,
+and the points of the compass indicated in an upper corner.</p>
+<p>On the other side of the room, by the window, a framed
+advertisement hangs against the wall, like a picture, setting forth
+the capital and reserve and the various advantages offered by an
+insurance company, for which the firm are the local agents. Between
+the chairs are two boards fixed to the wall with some kind of hook
+or nail for the suspension of posters and printed bills. These
+boards are covered with such posters, announcing sales by auction,
+farms to be let, houses to be had on lease, shares in a local bank
+or gasworks for sale, and so on, for all of which properties the
+firm are the legal representatives. Though the room is of fair size
+the ceiling is low, as in often the case in old houses, and it has,
+in consequence, become darkened by smoke and dust, therein, after
+awhile, giving a gloomy, oppressive feeling to any one who has
+little else to gaze at. The blind at the window rises far too high
+to allow of looking out, and the ground glass above it was designed
+to prevent the clerks from wasting their time watching the
+passers-by in the street. There is, however, one place where the
+glass is worn and transparent, and every now and then one of the
+two younger clerks mounts on his stool and takes a peep through to
+report to his companion.</p>
+<p>The restraint arising from the presence of a stranger soon wears
+off; the whisper rises to a buzz of talk; they laugh, and pelt each
+other with pellets of paper. The older clerk takes not the least
+heed. He writes steadily on, and never lifts his head from the
+paper&mdash;long hours of labour have dimmed his sight, and he has
+to stoop close over the folio. He may be preparing a brief, he may
+be copying a deposition, or perhaps making a copy of a deed; but
+whatever it is, his whole mind is absorbed and concentrated on his
+pen. There must be no blot, no erasure, no interlineation. The hand
+of the clock moves slowly, and the half-heard talk and jests of the
+junior clerks&mdash;one of whom you suspect of making a pen-and-ink
+sketch of you&mdash;mingle with the ceaseless scrape of the
+senior's pen, and the low buzz of two black flies that circle for
+ever round and round just beneath the grimy ceiling. Occasionally
+noises of the street penetrate; the rumble of loaded waggons, the
+tramp of nailed shoes, or the sharp quick sound of a trotting
+horse's hoofs. Then the junior jumps up and gazes through the
+peephole. The directors are a very long time upstairs. What can
+their business be? Why are there directors at all in little country
+towns?</p>
+<p>Presently there are heavy footsteps in the passage, the door
+slowly opens, and an elderly labourer, hat in hand, peers in. No
+one takes the least notice of him. He leans on his stick and blinks
+his eyes, looking all round the room; then taps with the stick and
+clears his throat&mdash;'Be he in yet?' he asks, with emphasis on
+the 'he.' 'No, he be not in,' replies a junior, mocking the old
+man's accent and grammar. The senior looks up, 'Call at two
+o'clock, the deed is not ready,' and down goes his head again. 'A
+main bit o' bother about this yer margidge' (mortgage), the
+labourer remarks, as he turns to go out, not without a complacent
+smile on his features for the law's delays seem to him grand, and
+he feels important. He has a little property&mdash;a cottage and
+garden&mdash;upon which he is raising a small sum for some purpose,
+and this 'margidge' is one of the great events of his life. He
+talked about it for two or three years before he ventured to begin
+it; he has been weeks making up his mind exactly what to do after
+his first interview with the solicitor&mdash;he would have been
+months had not the solicitor at last made it plain that he could
+waste no more time&mdash;and when it is finally completed he will
+talk about it again to the end of his days. He will be in and out
+asking for 'he' all day long at intervals, and when the interview
+takes place it will be only for the purpose of having everything
+already settled explained over to him for the fiftieth time. His
+heavy shoes drag slowly down the passage&mdash;he will go to the
+street corner and talk with the carters who come in, and the old
+women, with their baskets, a-shopping, about 'this yer law
+job.'</p>
+<p>There is a swifter step on the lead-covered staircase, and a
+clerk appears, coming from the upper rooms. He has a telegram and a
+letter in one hand, and a bundle of papers in the other. He shows
+the telegram and the letter to his fellow clerks&mdash;even the
+grave senior just glances at the contents silently, elevates his
+eyebrows, and returns to his work. After a few minutes' talk and a
+jest or two the clerk rushes upstairs again.</p>
+<p>Another caller comes. It is a stout, florid man, a young farmer
+or farmer's son, riding-whip in hand, who produces a red-bound
+rate-book from a pocket in his coat made on purpose to hold the
+unwieldy volume. He is a rate-collector for his parish, and has
+called about some technicalities. The grave senior clerk examines
+the book, but cannot solve the difficulties pointed out by the
+collector, and, placing it on one side, recommends the inquirer to
+call in two hours' time. Steps again on the stairs, and another
+clerk comes down leisurely, and after him still another. Their only
+business is to exchange a few words with their friends, for
+pastime, and they go up again.</p>
+<p>As the morning draws on, the callers become more numerous, and
+it is easy to tell the positions they occupy by the degree of
+attention they receive from the clerks. A tradesman calls three or
+four times, with short intervals between&mdash;he runs over from
+his shop; the two juniors do not trouble to so much as look over
+the screen, and barely take the trouble to answer the anxious
+inquiry if the principal is yet disengaged. They know, perhaps, too
+much about his bills and the state of his credit. A builder looks
+in&mdash;the juniors are tolerably civil and explain to him that it
+is no use calling for yet another hour at least. The builder
+consults his watch, and decides to see the chief clerk (who is
+himself an attorney, having passed the examination), and is
+forthwith conducted upstairs. A burly farmer appears, and the grave
+senior puts his head up to answer, and expresses his sorrow that
+the principal is so occupied. The burly farmer, however, who is
+evidently a man of substance, thinks that the chief clerk can also
+do what he wants, and he, too, is ushered upstairs. Another farmer
+enters&mdash;a rather rougher-looking man&mdash;and, without saying
+a word, turns to the advertisement boards on which the posters of
+farms to be let, &amp;c., are displayed. These he examines with the
+greatest care, pointing with his forefinger as he slowly reads, and
+muttering to himself. Presently he moves to go. 'Anything to suit
+you, sir?' asks the senior clerk. 'Aw, no; I knows they be too much
+money,' he replies, and walks out.</p>
+<p>A gentleman next enters, and immediately the juniors sink out of
+sight, and scribble away with eager application; the senior puts
+down his pen and comes out from his desk. It is a squire and
+magistrate. The senior respectfully apologises for his employer
+being so occupied. The gentleman seems a little impatient. The
+clerk rubs his hands together deprecatingly, and makes a desperate
+venture. He goes upstairs, and in a few minutes returns; the papers
+are not ready, but shall be sent over that evening in any case.
+With this even the squire must fain be satisfied and depart. The
+burly farmer and the builder come downstairs together amicably
+chatting, and after them the chief clerk himself. Though young, he
+has already an expression of decision upon his features, an air of
+business about him; in fact, were he not thoroughly up to his work
+he would not remain in that office long. To hold that place is a
+guarantee of ability. He has a bundle of cheques, drafts, &amp;c.,
+in his hand, and after a few words with the grave senior at the
+desk, strolls across to the bank.</p>
+<p>No sooner has the door closed behind him than a shoal of clerks
+come tripping down on tip-toe, and others appear from the back of
+the house. They make use of the opportunity for a little gossip.
+Voices are heard in the passage, and an aged and infirm labouring
+man is helped in by a woman and a younger man. The clerks take no
+notice, and the poor old follow props himself against the wall, not
+daring to take a chair. He is a witness. He can neither read nor
+write, but he can recollect 'thuck ould tree,' and can depose to a
+fact worth perhaps hundreds of pounds. He has come in to be
+examined; he will be driven in a week or two's time from the
+village to the railway station in a fly, and will talk about it and
+his visit to London till the lamp of life dies out.</p>
+<p>A footman calls with a note, a groom brings another, the letters
+are carelessly cast aside, till one of the juniors, who has been
+watching from the peephole, reports that the chief clerk is coming,
+and everybody scuttles back to his place. Callers come still more
+thickly; another solicitor, well-to-do, and treated with the utmost
+deference; more tradesmen; farmers; two or three auctioneers, in
+quick succession; the well-brushed editor of a local paper; a
+second attorney, none too well dressed, with scrubby chin and face
+suspiciously cloudy, with an odour of spirits and water and tobacco
+clinging to his rusty coat. He belongs to a disappearing type of
+country lawyer, and is the wreck, perhaps, of high hopes and good
+opportunities. Yet, wreck as he is, when he gets up at the Petty
+Sessions to defend some labourer, the bench of magistrates listen
+to his maundering argument as deferentially as if he were a Q.C.
+They pity him, and they respect his cloth. The scrubby attorney
+whistles a tune, and utters an oath when he learns the principal is
+engaged. Then he marches out, with his hat on one side of his head,
+to take another 'refresher.'</p>
+<p>Two telegrams arrive, and are thrown aside; then a gentleman
+appears, whom the senior goes out to meet with an air of deference,
+and whom he actually conducts himself upstairs to the principal's
+room. It is a local banker, who is thus admitted to the directors'
+consultation. The slow hand of the clock goes round, and, sitting
+wearily on the hard chair, you wonder if ever it will be possible
+to see this much-sought man. By-and-by a door opens above, there is
+a great sound of voices and chatting, and half a dozen
+gentlemen&mdash;mostly landed proprietors from their
+appearance&mdash;come downstairs. They are the directors, and the
+consultation is over. The senior clerk immediately goes to the
+principal, and shortly afterwards reappears and asks you to come
+up.</p>
+<p>As you mount the lead-covered stairs you glance down and observe
+the anxious tradesman, the ancient labourer, and several others who
+have crowded in, all eyeing you with jealous glances. But the
+senior is holding the door open&mdash;you enter, and it closes
+noiselessly behind you. A hand with a pen in it points to a chair,
+with a muttered 'Pardon&mdash;half a moment' and while the
+solicitor just jots down his notes you can glance round the
+apartment. Shelves of calf-bound law books; piles of japanned
+deed-boxes, some marked in white letters 'Trustees of,' or
+'Executors of' and pigeon-holes full of papers seem to quite hide
+the walls. The floor is covered with some material noiseless to
+walk on (the door, too, is double, to exclude noise and draught);
+the furniture is solid and valuable; the arm-chair you occupy
+capacious and luxurious. On the wall hangs a section of the
+Ordnance map of the district. But the large table, which almost
+fills the centre of the room, quickly draws the attention from
+everything else.</p>
+<p>It is on that table that all the business is done; all the
+energies of the place are controlled and directed from thence. At
+the first glance it appears to support a more chaotic mass of
+papers. They completely conceal it, except just at the edge.
+Bundles of letters tied with thin red tape, letters loose, letters
+unopened; parchment deeds with the seals and signature just
+visible; deeds with the top and the words, 'This indenture,' alone
+glowing out from the confusion; deeds neatly folded; broad
+manuscript briefs; papers fastened with brass fasteners; papers
+hastily pinned together; old newspapers marked and underlined in
+red ink; a large sectional map, half unrolled and hanging over the
+edge; a small deed-box, the lid open, and full of blue paper in
+oblong strips; a tall porcupine-quill pen sticking up like a
+spire; pocket-books; books open; books with half a dozen papers in
+them for markers; altogether an utter chaos. But the confusion is
+only apparent; the master mind knows the exact position of every
+document, and can lay his hand on it the moment it is wanted.</p>
+<p>The business is such that even the master mind can barely keep
+pace with it. This great house can hardly contain it; all the
+clerks we saw rushing about cannot get through the work, and much
+of the mechanical copying or engrossing goes to London to be done.
+The entire round of country life comes here. The rolling hills
+where the shepherd watches his flock, the broad plains where the
+ploughman guides the share, the pleasant meadows where the roan
+cattle chew the cud, the extensive parks, the shady woods, sweet
+streams, and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle, all have their
+written counterpart in those japanned deed-boxes. Solid as is the
+land over which Hodge walks stolid and slow, these mere written
+words on parchment are the masters of it all. The squire comes here
+about intricate concerns of family settlements which in their
+sphere are as hard to arrange as the diplomatic transactions of
+Governments. He comes about his tenants and his rent; he comes to
+get new tenants.</p>
+<p>The tenants resort to the solicitor for farms, for improvements,
+reductions, leases, to negotiate advances, to insure for the
+various affairs of life. The clergyman comes on questions that
+arise out of his benefice, the churchyard, ecclesiastical
+privileges, the schools, and about his own private property. The
+labourer comes about his cottage and garden&mdash;an estate as
+important to him as his three thousand acres to the squire&mdash;or
+as a witness. The tradesman, the builder, the banker come for
+financial as well as legal objects. As the town develops, and plots
+are needed for houses and streets, the resort to the solicitor
+increases tenfold. Companies are formed and require his advice.
+Local government needs his assistance. He may sit in an official
+position in the County Court, or at the bench of the Petty
+Sessions. Law suits&mdash;locally great&mdash; are carried through
+in the upper Courts of the metropolis; the counsel's name appears
+in the papers, but it is the country solicitor who has prepared
+everything for him, and who has marshalled that regiment of
+witnesses from remote hamlets of the earth. His widening circle of
+landlord clients have each their attendant circles of tenants, who
+feel confidence in their leader's legal adviser. Parochial officers
+come to him; overseer, rate-collector, church warden, tithing-man.
+The all-important work of registering voters fills up the space
+between one election and another. At the election his offices are
+like the head-quarters of an army. He may represent some ancient
+college, or corporation with lands of vast extent. Ladies with a
+little capital go home content when he has invested their money in
+mortgage of real property. Still the work goes on increasing;
+additional clerks have to be employed; a fresh wing has to be built
+to the old house. He has, too, his social duties; he is, perhaps,
+the head or mainspring of a church movement&mdash;this is not for
+profit, but from conviction. His lady is carried to and fro in the
+brougham, making social visits. He promotes athletic clubs,
+reading-rooms, shows, exhibitions. He is eagerly seized upon by
+promoters of all kinds, because he possesses the gift of
+organisation. It becomes a labour merely to catalogue his
+engagements like this. Let the rain rain, or the sun shine, the pen
+never stays work.</p>
+<p>Personally he is the very antithesis is of what might be
+predicated of the slow, comfortable, old-fashioned lawyer. He is in
+the prime of life, physically full of vigour, mentally persevering
+with untiring perseverance, the embodiment of energy, ever anxious
+to act, to do rather than to delay. As you talk with him you find
+his leading idea seems to be to arrange your own half-formed views
+for you; in short, to show you what you really do want, to put your
+desire into shape. He interprets you. Many of the clients who come
+to him are the most impracticable men in the world. A farmer, for
+instance, with a little money, is in search of a farm. Find him
+twenty farms just the size for his capital, he will visit them all
+and discover a fault in each, and waver and waver till the proper
+season for entering on possession is past. The great problem with
+country people is how to bring them to the point. You may think you
+have got all your witnesses ready for the train for London, and, as
+the bell rings, find that one has slipped away half a mile to talk
+with the blacksmith about the shoeing of his mare. Even the squire
+is trying when, he talks of this or that settlement. Of course, as
+he is educated, no lengthy and oft-repeated explanations are
+needed; but the squire forgets that time is valuable, and lingers
+merely to chat. He has so much time to spare, he is apt to overlook
+that the solicitor has none. The clergyman will talk, talk, talk in
+rounded periods, and nothing will stop him; very often he drives
+his wife in with him from the village, and the wife must have her
+say. As for Hodge and his mortgage, ten years would not suffice for
+his business, were he allowed to wander on. The problem is to bring
+these impracticable people to the point with perfect courtesy. As
+you talk with him yourself, you feel tempted to prolong the
+interview&mdash;so lucid an intellect exercises an indefinable
+charm.</p>
+<p>Keen and shrewd as he is, the solicitor has a kindly reputation.
+Men say that he is slow to press them, that he makes allowances for
+circumstances; that if the tenant is honestly willing to discharge
+his obligation he need fear no arbitrary selling up. But he is
+equally reputed swift of punishment upon those who would take
+shelter behind more shallow pretence, or attempt downright deceit.
+Let a man only be straightforward, and the solicitor will wait
+rather than put the law in force. Therefore, he is popular, and
+people have faith in him. But the labour, the incessant
+supervision, the jotting down of notes, the ceaseless interviews,
+the arguments, the correspondence, the work that is never finished
+when night comes, tell even upon that physical vigour and mental
+elasticity. Hodge sleeps sound and sees the days go by with calm
+complacency. The man who holds that solid earth, as it were, in the
+japanned boxes finds a nervous feeling growing upon him despite his
+strength of will. Presently nature will have her way; and, weary
+and hungry for fresh air, he rushes off for awhile to distant
+trout-stream, moor, or stubble.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap17" id="chap17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h3>
+<h3>'COUNTY-COURT DAY'</h3>
+The monthly sitting of the County Court in a country market town is
+an event of much interest in all the villages around, so many of
+the causes concerning agricultural people. 'County-Court Day' is
+looked upon as a date in the calendar by which to recollect when a
+thing happened, or to arrange for the future.
+<p>As the visitor enters the doorway of the Court, at a distance
+the scene appears imposing. Brass railings and red curtains
+partition off about a third of the hall, and immediately in the
+rear of this the Judge sits high above the rest on a raised and
+carpeted dais. The elevation and isolation of the central figure
+adds a solemn dignity to his office. His features set, as it were,
+in the wig, stand out in sharp relief&mdash;they are of a keenly
+intellectual cast, and have something of the precise clearness of
+an antique cameo. The expression is that of a mind in continuous
+exercise&mdash;of a mind accustomed not to slow but to quick
+deliberation, and to instant decision. The definition of the face
+gives the eyes the aspect of penetration, as if they saw at once
+beneath the surface of things.</p>
+<p>If the visitor looks only at the Judge he will realise the
+dignity of the law; the law which is the outcome and result of so
+many centuries of thought. But if he glances aside from the central
+figure the impression is weakened by the miserable, hollow, and
+dingy framing. The carpet upon the da&iuml;s and the red curtains
+before it ill conceal the paltry substructure. It is composed of
+several large tables, heavy and shapeless as benches, placed side
+by side to form a platform. The curtains are dingy and threadbare
+the walls dingy; the ceiling, though lofty, dingy; the boxes on
+either side for Plaintiff and Defendant are scratched and defaced
+by the innumerable witnesses who have blundered into them, kicking
+their shoes against the woodwork. The entire apparatus is movable,
+and can be taken to pieces in ten minutes, or part of it employed
+for meetings of any description. There is nothing appropriate or
+convenient; it is a makeshift, and altogether unequal to the
+pretensions of a Court now perhaps the most useful and most
+resorted to of any that sit in the country.</p>
+<p>Quarter sessions and assizes come only at long intervals, are
+held only in particular time-honoured places, and take cognisance
+only of very serious offences which happily are not numerous. The
+County Court at the present day has had its jurisdiction so
+enlarged that it is really, in country districts, the leading
+tribunal, and the one best adapted to modern wants, because its
+procedure is to a great extent free from obsolete forms and
+technicalities. The Plaintiff and the Defendant literally face
+their Judge, practically converse with him, and can tell their
+story in their own simple and natural way. It is a fact that the
+importance and usefulness of the country County Court has in most
+places far outgrown the arrangements made for it. The Judges may
+with reason complain that while their duties have been enormously
+added to, their convenience has not been equally studied, nor their
+salaries correspondingly increased.</p>
+<p>In front, and below the Judge's desk, just outside the red
+curtain, is a long and broad table, at which the High Bailiff sits
+facing the hall. By his side the Registrar's clerk from time to
+time makes notes in a ponderous volume which contains a minute and
+exact record of every claim. Opposite, and at each end, the lawyers
+have their chairs and strew the table with their papers.</p>
+<p>As a rule a higher class of lawyers appear in the County Court
+than before the Petty Sessional Bench. A local solicitor of ability
+no sooner gets a 'conveyancing' practice than he finds his time too
+valuable to be spent arguing in cases of assault or petty larceny.
+He ceases to attend the Petty Sessions, unless his private clients
+are interested or some exceptional circumstances induce him. In the
+County Court cases often arise which concern property, houses and
+lands, and the fulfilment of contracts. Some of the very best
+lawyers of the district may consequently be seen at that table, and
+frequently a barrister or two of standing specially retained is
+among them.</p>
+<p>A low wooden partition, crossing the entire width of the hall,
+separates the 'bar' from the general public, Plaintiff and
+Defendant being admitted through a gangway. As the hall is not
+carpeted, nor covered with any material, a new-comer must walk on
+tip-toe to avoid raising the echo of hollow boards, or run the risk
+of a reproof from the Judge, anxiously endeavouring to catch the
+accents of a mumbling witness. Groups of people stand near the
+windows whispering, and occasionally forgetting, in the eagerness
+of the argument, that talking is prohibited. The room is already
+full, but will be crowded when the 'horse case' comes on again.
+Nothing is of so much interest as a 'horse case.' The issues raised
+concern almost every countryman, and the parties are generally well
+known. All the idlers of the town are here, and among them many a
+rascal who has been, through the processes, and comes again to
+listen and possibly learn a dodge by which to delay the execution
+of judgment. Some few of the more favoured and respectable persons
+have obtained entrance to the space allotted to the solicitors, and
+have planted themselves in a solid circle round the fire,
+effectually preventing the heat from benefiting anyone else.
+Another fire, carefully tended by a bailiff, burns in the grate
+behind the Judge, but, as his seat is so far from it, without
+adding much to his comfort. A chilly draught sweeps along the
+floor, and yet at the same time there is a close and somewhat fetid
+atmosphere at the height at which men breathe. The place is ill
+warmed and worse ventilated; altogether without convenience, and
+comfortless.</p>
+<p>To-day the Judge, to suit the convenience of the solicitors
+engaged in the 'horse case,' who have requested permission to
+consult in private, has asked for a short defended cause to fill up
+the interval till they are ready to resume. The High Bailiff calls
+'Brown <i>v</i>. Jones,' claim 8<i>s</i>. for goods supplied. No
+one at first answers, but after several calls a woman in the body
+of the Court comes forward. She is partly deaf, and until nudged by
+her neighbours did not hear her husband's name. The Plaintiff is a
+small village dealer in tobacco, snuff, coarse groceries, candles,
+and so on. His wife looks after the little shop and he works with
+horse and cart, hauling and doing odd jobs for the farmers. Instead
+of attending himself he has sent his wife to conduct the case. The
+Defendant is a labourer living in the same village, who, like so
+many of his class, has got into debt. He, too, has sent his wife to
+represent him. This is the usual course of the cottagers, and of
+agricultural people who are better off than cottagers. The men
+shirk out of difficulties of this kind by going off in the morning
+early to their work with the parting remark, 'Aw, you'd better see
+about it; I don't knaw nothing about such jobs.'</p>
+<p>The High Bailiff has no easy task to swear the Plaintiff's
+representative. First, she takes the book and kisses it before the
+formula prescribed has been repeated. Then she waits till the
+sentence is finished and lifts the book with the left hand instead
+of the right. The Registrar's clerk has to go across to the box and
+shout an explanation into her ear. 'Tell the truth,' says the old
+lady, with alacrity; 'why, that's what I be come for.' The Judge
+asks her what it is she claims, and she replies that that man, the
+Registrar's clerk, has got it all written down in his book. She
+then turns to the Defendant's wife, who stands in the box opposite,
+and shouts to her, 'You knows you ain't paid it.'</p>
+<p>It is in vain that the Judge endeavours to question her, in vain
+that the High Bailiff tries to calm her, in vain that the clerk
+lays his hand on her arm&mdash;she is bent on telling the Defendant
+a bit of her mind. The Court is perforce compelled to wait till it
+is over, when the Judge, seeing that talking is of no avail, goes
+at once to the root of the matter and asks to see her books. A
+dirty account-book, such as may be purchased for threepence, is
+handed up to him; the binding is broken, and some of the leaves are
+loose. It is neither a day-book, a ledger, nor anything
+else&mdash;there is no system whatever, and indeed the Plaintiff
+admits that she only put down about half of it, and trusted to
+memory for the rest. Here is a date, and after it some figures, but
+no articles mentioned, neither tea nor candles. Next come some
+groceries, and the price, but no one's name, so that it is
+impossible to tell who had the goods. Then there are pages with
+mysterious dots and strokes and half-strokes, which ultimately turn
+out to mean ounces and half-ounces of tobacco. These have neither
+name nor value attached. From end to end nothing is crossed off, so
+that whether an account be paid or not cannot be ascertained.</p>
+<p>While the Judge laboriously examines every page, trying by the
+light of former experience to arrive at some idea of the meaning,
+the Defendant's wife takes up her parable. She chatters in return
+at the Plaintiff, then she addresses the High Bailiff, who orders
+her to remain quiet, and, finally, turns round and speaks to the
+crowd. The Judge, absorbed in the attempt to master the
+account-book, does not for the moment notice this, till, as he
+comes to the conclusion that the book is utterly valueless, he
+looks up and finds the Defendant with her back turned gesticulating
+and describing her wrongs to the audience. Even his command of
+silence is with reluctance obeyed, and she continues to mutter to
+herself. When order is restored the Judge asks for her defence,
+when the woman immediately produces a receipt, purporting to be for
+this very eight shillings' worth. At the sight of this torn and
+dirty piece of paper the Plaintiff works herself into a fury, and
+speaks so fast and so loud (as deaf people will) that no one else
+can be heard. Till she is made to understand that she will be sent
+out of Court she does not desist. The Judge looks at the receipt,
+and finds it correct; but still the Plaintiff positively declares
+that she has never had the money. Yet she admits that the receipt
+is in her handwriting. The Judge asks the Defendant who paid over
+the cash, and she replies that it was her husband. The account-book
+contains no memorandum of any payment at all. With difficulty the
+Judge again obtains silence, and once more endeavours to understand
+a page of the account-book to which the Plaintiff persists in
+pointing. His idea is now to identify the various articles
+mentioned in the receipt with the articles put down on that
+particular page.</p>
+<p>After at least three-quarters of an hour, during which the book
+is handed to and fro by the clerk from Judge to Plaintiff, that she
+may explain the meaning of the hieroglyphics, some light at last
+begins to dawn. By dint of patiently separating the mixed entries
+the Judge presently arrives at a partial comprehension of what the
+Plaintiff has been trying to convey. The amount of the receipted
+bill and the amount of the entries in the page of the account-book
+are the same; but the articles entered in the book and those
+admitted to be paid for are not. The receipt mentions candles; the
+account-book has no candles. Clearly they are two different debts,
+which chanced to come to the same figure. The receipt, however, is
+not dated, and whether it is the Defendant who is wilfully
+misrepresenting, or whether the Plaintiff is under a mistaken
+notion, the Judge for the time cannot decide. The Defendant
+declares that she does not know the date and cannot fix it&mdash;it
+was a 'main bit ago,' and that is all she can say.</p>
+<p>For the third time the Judge, patient to the last degree, wades
+through the account-book. Meanwhile the hands of the clock have
+moved on. Instead of being a short case, this apparently simple
+matter has proved a long one, and already as the afternoon advances
+the light of the dull winter's day declines. The solicitors engaged
+in the 'horse case,' who retired to consult, hoping to come to a
+settlement, returned into Court fully an hour ago, and have since
+been sitting at the table waiting to resume. Besides these some
+four or five other lawyers of equal standing are anxiously looking
+for a chance of commencing their business. All their clients are
+waiting, and the witnesses; they have all crowded into the Court,
+the close atmosphere of which is almost intolerable.</p>
+<p>But having begun the case the Judge gives it his full and
+undivided attention. Solicitors, clients, witnesses, cases that
+interest the public, causes that concern valuable property, or
+important contracts must all be put aside till this trifling matter
+is settled. He is as anxious as any, or more so, to get on, because
+delay causes business to accumulate&mdash;the adjourned causes, of
+course, having to be heard at next Court, and thus swelling the
+list to an inordinate length. But, impatient as he may be,
+especially as he is convinced that one or other of the parties is
+keeping back a part of the truth, he is determined that the subject
+shall be searched to the bottom. The petty village shopkeeper and
+the humble cottager obtain as full or fuller attention than the
+well-to-do Plaintiffs and Defendants who can bring down barristers
+from London.</p>
+<p>'What have you there?' the Registrar's clerk demands of the
+Plaintiff presently. She has been searching in her pocket for a
+snuff-box wherewith to refresh herself, and, unable to immediately
+discover it, has emptied the contents of the pocket on the ledge of
+the witness-box. Among the rest is another little account-book.</p>
+<p>'Let me see that,' demands the Judge, rather sharply, and no
+wonder. 'Why did you not produce it before?'</p>
+<p>'Aw, he be last year's un; some of it be two years ago,' is the
+reply.</p>
+<p>Another long pause. The Judge silently examines every page of
+the account-book two years old. Suddenly he looks up. 'This
+receipt,' he says, 'was given for an account rendered eighteen
+months ago. Here in this older book are the entries corresponding
+with it. The present claim is for a second series of articles which
+happened to come to the same amount, and the Defendant, finding
+that the receipt was not dated, has endeavoured to make it do duty
+for the two.'</p>
+<p>'I tould you so,' interrupts the Plaintiff. 'I tould you so, but
+you wouldn't listen to I.'</p>
+<p>The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit
+the Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws
+down his pen and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask
+the High Bailiff if there are any other judgments out against the
+Defendant. So many years' experience of the drifts, subterfuges,
+paltry misrepresentations and suppressions&mdash;all the mean and
+despicable side of poor humanity&mdash;have indeed wearied him,
+but, at the same time, taught forbearance. He hesitates to be
+angry, and delays to punish. The people are poor, exceedingly poor.
+The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they are
+ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in
+better circumstances. There are two other judgments against the
+Defendant, who is earning about 12s. a week, and the verdict is 1s.
+a month, first payment that day three weeks.</p>
+<p>Then the solicitor for the Plaintiff in the 'horse case' rises
+and informs the Judge that the parties cannot settle it, and the
+case must proceed. The Plaintiff and Defendant take their places,
+and some thirty witnesses file through the gangway to the
+witness-room to be out of Court. The bailiffs light the gas as the
+gloom deepens, and the solicitor begins his opening speech. The
+Judge has leant back in his chair, closed his eyes, and composed
+himself to listen. By the time two witnesses have been examined the
+hour has arrived when the Judge can sit no longer. He must leave,
+because on the morrow he has to hold a Court in another part of the
+county. The important 'horse case' and the other causes must wait a
+month.. He sits to the very last moment, then hastily stuffs deeds,
+documents, papers of all descriptions into a portmanteau already
+overflowing, and rushes to his carriage.</p>
+<p>He will go through much the same work to-morrow; combating the
+irritating misrepresentations, exposing suppressors, discovering
+the truth under a mountain of crass stupidity and wilful deceit.
+Next day he will be again at work; and the same process will go on
+the following week. In the month there are perhaps about five
+days&mdash;exclusive of Sundays&mdash;upon which he does not sit.
+But those days are not holidays. They are spent in patiently
+reading a mass of deeds, indentures, contracts, vouchers,
+affidavits, evidence of every description and of the most
+voluminous character. These have been put in by solicitors, as part
+of their cases, and require the most careful attention. Besides
+causes that are actually argued out in open Court, there are others
+which, by consent of both parties, are placed in his hands as
+arbitrator. Many involve nice points of law, and require a written
+judgment in well-chosen words.</p>
+<p>The work of the County Court Judge at the present day is simply
+enormous; it is ceaseless and never finished, and it demands a
+patience which nothing can ruffle. No matter how much falsehood may
+annoy him, a Judge with arbitrary power entrusted to him must not
+permit indignation alone to govern his decision. He must make
+allowances for all.</p>
+<p>For the County Court in country districts has become a tribunal
+whose decisions enter, as it were, into the very life of the
+people. It is not concerned with a few important cases only; it has
+to arrange and finally settle what are really household affairs.
+Take any village, and make inquiries how many householders there
+are who have not at one time or other come under the jurisdiction
+of the County Court? Either as Plaintiff, or Defendant, or as
+witness, almost every one has had such experience, and those who
+have not have been threatened with it. Beside those defended cases
+that come before the Judge, there are hundreds upon hundreds of
+petty claims, to which no defence is offered, and which are
+adjudicated upon by the Registrar at the same time that the Judge
+hears the defended causes.</p>
+<p>The labourer, like so many farmers in a different way, lives on
+credit and is perpetually in debt. He purchases his weekly goods on
+the security of hoeing, harvest, or piece work, and his wages are
+continually absorbed in payment of instalments, just as the
+tenant-farmer's income is too often absorbed in the payment of
+interest and instalments of his loans. No one seems ever to pay
+without at least a threat of the County Court, which thus occupies
+a position like a firm appointed to perpetually liquidate a vast
+estate. It is for ever collecting shillings and half-crowns.</p>
+<p>This is one aspect of the County Court; the other is its
+position with respect to property. It is the great arbitrator of
+property&mdash;of houses and land, and deeds and contracts. Of
+recent years the number of the owners of land has immensely
+increased&mdash;that is, of small pieces&mdash;and the litigation
+has correspondingly grown. There is enough work for a man of high
+legal ability in settling causes of this character alone, without
+any 'horse case' with thirty witnesses, or any dispute that
+involves the conflict of personal testimony.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap18" id="chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER</h3>
+The most imposing building in a certain country market town is the
+old Bank, so called familiarly to distinguish it from the new one.
+The premises of the old Bank would be quite unapproached in
+grandeur, locally, were it not for the enterprise of the new
+establishment. Nothing could be finer than the fa&ccedil;ade of the
+old Bank, which stands out clear and elegant in its fresh paint
+among the somewhat dingy houses and shops of the main street. It is
+rather larger in size, more lofty, and has the advantage of being a
+few yards nearer to the railway station. But the rival institution
+runs it very close. It occupies a corner on the very verge of the
+market-place&mdash;its door facing the farmer as he concludes his
+deal&mdash;and it is within a minute of the best hotels, where much
+business is done. It is equally white and clean with fresh paint,
+and equally elegant in design.
+<p>A stranger, upon a nice consideration of the circumstances,
+might find a difficulty in deciding on which to bestow his
+patronage; and perhaps the chief recommendation of the old
+establishment lies in the fact that it is the older of the two. The
+value of antiquity was never better understood than in these modern
+days. Shrewd men of business have observed that the quality of
+being ancient is the foundation of credit. Men believe in that
+which has been long established. Their fathers dealt there, they
+deal themselves, and if a new-comer takes up his residence he is
+advised to do likewise.</p>
+<p>A visitor desirous of looking on the outside, at least of
+country banking, would naturally be conducted to the old Bank. If
+it were an ordinary day, <i>i.e.</i> not a market or fair, he might
+stand on the pavement in front sunning himself without the least
+inconvenience from the passenger traffic. He would see, on glancing
+Up and down the street, one or two aged cottage women going in or
+out of the grocer's, a postman strolling round, and a distant
+policeman at the farthest corner. A sprinkling of boys playing
+marbles at the side of the pavement, and two men loading a waggon
+with sacks of flour from a warehouse, complete the scene as far as
+human life is concerned. There are dogs basking on doorsteps,
+larger dogs rambling with idleness in the slow sway of their tails,
+and overhead black swifts (whose nests are in the roofs of the
+higher houses) dash to and fro, uttering their shrill screech.</p>
+<p>The outer door of the bank is wide open&mdash;fastened
+back&mdash;ostentatiously open, and up the passage another mahogany
+door, closed, bears a polished brazen plate with the word 'Manager'
+engraved upon it. Everything within is large and massive. The swing
+door itself yields with the slow motion of solidity, and unless you
+are agile as it closes in the rear, thrusts you forward like a
+strong gale. The apartment is large and lofty: there is room for a
+crowd, but at present there is no one at the counter. It is long
+enough and broad enough for the business of twenty customers at
+once; so broad that the clerks on the other side are beyond arm's
+reach. But they have shovels with which to push the gold towards
+you, and in a small glass stand is a sponge kept constantly damp,
+across which the cashier draws his finger as he counts the silver,
+the slight moisture enabling him to sort the coin more swiftly.</p>
+<p>The fittings are perfect, as perfect as in a London bank, and
+there is an air of extreme precision. Yonder open drawers are full
+of pass-books; upon the desks and on the broad mantelpiece are
+piles of cheques, not scattered in disorder but arranged in exact
+heaps. The very inkstands are heavy and vast, and you just catch a
+glimpse round the edge of the semi-sentry box which guards the desk
+of the chief cashier, of a ledger so huge that the mind can hardly
+realise the extent of the business which requires such ponderous
+volumes to record it. Then beyond these a glass door, half open,
+apparently leads to the manager's room, for within it is a table
+strewn with papers, and you can see the green-painted iron wall of
+a safe.</p>
+<p>The clerks, like the place, are somewhat imposing; they are in
+no hurry, they allow you time to look round you and imbibe the
+sense of awe which the magnificent mahogany counter and the brazen
+fittings, all the evidences of wealth, are so calculated to
+inspire. The hollow sound of your footstep on the floor does not
+seem heard; the slight 'Ahem!' you utter after you have waited a
+few moments attracts no attention, nor the rustling of your papers.
+The junior clerks are adding up column after column of figures, and
+are totally absorbed; the chief cashier is pondering deeply over a
+letter and annotating it. By-and-by he puts it down, and slowly
+approaches. But after you have gone through the preliminary
+ceremony of waiting, which is an institution of the place, the
+treatment quite changes. Your business is accomplished with
+practised ease, any information you may require is forthcoming on
+the instant, and deft fingers pass you the coin. In brief, the
+whole machinery of banking is here as complete as in Lombard
+Street. The complicated ramifications of commercial transactions
+are as well understood and as closely studied as in the 'City.' No
+matter what your wishes, provided, of course, that your credentials
+are unimpeachable, they will be conducted for you satisfactorily
+and without delay.</p>
+<p>Yet the green meadows are within an arrow shot, and standing on
+the threshold and looking down a cross street you can see the elms
+of the hedgerows closing in the prospect. It is really wonderful
+that such conveniences should he found in so apparently
+insignificant a place. The intelligence and courtesy of the
+officials is most marked. It is clear, upon reflection, that such
+intelligence, such manners, and knowledge not only of business but
+of men (for a banker and a banker's agent has often to judge at a
+moment's notice whether a man be a rogue or honest), cannot be had
+for nothing. They must be paid for, and, in so far at least as the
+heads are concerned, paid liberally. It is known that the old Bank
+has often paid twenty and twenty-five per cent, to its
+shareholders. Where does all this money come from? From Hodge,
+toiling in the field and earning his livelihood in the sweat of his
+brow? One would hardly think so at first, and yet there are no
+great businesses or manufactories here. Somehow or other the money
+that pays for this courtesy and commercial knowledge, for these
+magnificent premises and furniture, that pays the shareholders
+twenty-five per cent., must be drawn from the green meadows, the
+cornfields, and the hills where the sheep feed.</p>
+<p>On an ordinary day the customers that come to the bank's counter
+may be reckoned on the fingers. Early in the morning the
+Post-Office people come for their cash and change; next, some of
+the landlords of the principal inns with their takings; afterwards,
+such of the tradesmen as have cheques to pay in. Later on the
+lawyers' clerks, or the solicitors themselves drop in; in the
+latter case for a chat with the manager. A farmer or two may call,
+especially on a Friday, for the cash to pay the labourers next day,
+and so the morning passes. In the afternoon one or more of the
+local gentry or clergy may drive up or may not&mdash;it is a chance
+either way&mdash;and as the hour draws near for closing some of the
+tradesmen come hurrying in again. Then the day, so far as the
+public are concerned, is over. To-morrow sees the same event
+repeated.</p>
+<p>On a market-day there is a great bustle; men hustle in and out,
+with a bluff disregard of conventional politeness, but with no
+intention of rudeness. Through the open doors comes the lowing of
+cattle, and the baaing of sheep; the farmers and dealers that crowd
+in and out bring with them an odour of animals that exhales from
+their garments. The clerks are now none too many, the long broad
+counter none too large; the resources of the establishment are
+taxed to the utmost. The manager is there in person, attending to
+the more important customers.</p>
+<p>In the crush are many ladies who would find their business
+facilitated by coming on a different day. But market-day is a
+tradition with all classes; even the gentry appear in greater
+numbers. If you go forth into the Market-place you will find it
+thronged with farmers. If you go into the Corn Hall or Exchange,
+where the corndealers have their stands, and where business in
+cereals and seeds is transacted; if you walk across to the auction
+yard for cattle, or to the horse depository, where an auction of
+horses is proceeding; everywhere you have to push your way through
+groups of agriculturists. The hotels are full of them (the
+stable-yards full of their various conveyances), and the
+restaurant, the latest innovation in country towns, is equally
+filled with farmers taking a chop, and the inner rooms with ladies
+discussing coffee and light refreshments.</p>
+<p>Now every farmer of all this crowd has his cheque-book in the
+breast pocket of his coat. Let his business be what it may, the
+purchase of cattle, sheep, horses, or implements, seed, or any
+other necessary, no coin passes. The parties, if the transaction be
+private, adjourn to their favourite inn, and out comes the
+cheque-book. If a purchase be effected at either of the auctions
+proceeding it is paid for by cheque, and, on the other hand, should
+the farmer be the vendor, his money comes to him in the shape of a
+cheque. With the exception of his dinner and the ostler, the farmer
+who comes to market carries on all his transactions with paper. The
+landlord of the hotel takes cash for the dinner, and the ostler
+takes his shilling. For the rest, it is all cheques cheques,
+cheques; so that the whole business of agriculture, from the
+purchase of the seed to the sale of the crop, passes through the
+bank.</p>
+<p>The toll taken by the bank upon such transactions as simple
+buying and selling is practically <i>nil</i>; its profit is
+indirect. But besides the indirect profit there is the direct
+speculation of making advances at high interest, discounting bills,
+and similar business. It might almost be said that the crops are
+really the property of the local banks, so large in the aggregate
+are the advances made upon them. The bank has, in fact, to study
+the seasons, the weather, the probable market prices, the import of
+grain and cattle, and to keep an eye upon the agriculture of the
+world. The harvest and the prices concern it quite as much as the
+actual farmer who tills the soil. In good seasons, with a crop
+above the average, the business of the bank expands in
+corresponding ratio. The manager and directors feel that they can
+advance with confidence; the farmer has the means to pay. In bad
+seasons and with short crops the farmer is more anxious than ever
+to borrow; but the bank is obliged to contract its sphere of
+operations.</p>
+<p>It usually happens that one or more of the directors of a
+country bank are themselves farmers in a large way&mdash;gentlemen
+farmers, but with practical knowledge. They are men whose entire
+lives have been spent in the locality, and who have a very wide
+circle of acquaintances and friends among agriculturists. Their
+forefathers were stationed there before them, and thus there has
+been an accumulation of local knowledge. They not only thoroughly
+understand the soil of the neighbourhood, and can forecast the
+effect of particular seasons with certainty, but they possess an
+intimate knowledge of family history, what farmer is in a bad way,
+who is doubtful, or who has always had a sterling reputation. An
+old-established country bank has almost always one or more such
+confidential advisers. Their assistance is invaluable.</p>
+<p>Since agriculture became in this way, through the adoption of
+banking, so intimately connected with commerce, it has responded,
+like other businesses, to the fluctuations of trade. The value of
+money in Threadneedle Street affects the farmer in an obscure
+hamlet a hundred miles away, whose fathers knew nothing of money
+except as a coin, a token of value, and understood nothing of the
+export or import of gold. The farmer's business is conducted
+through the bank, but, on the other hand, the bank cannot restrict
+its operations to the mere countryside. It is bound up in every
+possible manner with the vast institutions of the metropolis. Its
+private profits depend upon the rate of discount and the tone of
+the money market exactly in the same way as with those vast
+institutions. A difficulty, a crisis there is immediately felt by
+the country bank, whose dealings with its farmer customers are in
+turn affected.</p>
+<p>Thus commerce acts upon agriculture. <i>Per contra</i>, the
+tradesmen of the town who go to the bank every morning would tell
+you with doleful faces that the condition of agriculture acts upon
+trade in a most practical manner. Neither the farmer, nor the
+farmer's wife and family expend nearly so much as they did at their
+shops, and consequently the sums they carry over to the bank are
+much diminished in amount. The local country tradesman probably
+feels the depression of agriculture all but as much as the farmer
+himself. The tradesman is perhaps supported by the bank; if he
+cannot meet his liabilities the bank is compelled to withdraw that
+support.</p>
+<p>Much of this country banking seems to have grown up in very
+recent times. Any elderly farmer out yonder in the noisy market
+would tell you that in his young days when he first did business he
+had to carry coin with him, especially if at a distance from home.
+It was then the custom to attend markets and fairs a long way off,
+such markets being centres where the dealers and drovers brought
+cattle. The dealers would accept nothing but cash; they would not
+have looked at a cheque had such a thing been proffered them. This
+old Bank prides itself upon the reputation it enjoyed, even in
+those days. It had the power of issuing notes, and these notes were
+accepted by such men, even at a great distance, the bank having so
+good a name. They were even preferred to the notes of the Bank of
+England, which at one time, in outlying country places, were looked
+on with distrust, a state of things which seems almost incredible
+to the present generation.</p>
+<p>In those days men had no confidence. That mutual business
+understanding, the credit which is the basis of all commerce of the
+present time, did not exist. Of course this only applies to the
+country and to country trading; the business men of cities were
+years in advance of the agriculturists in this respect. But so good
+was the reputation of the old Bank, even in those times, that its
+notes were readily accepted. It is, indeed, surprising what a
+reputation some of the best of the country banks have achieved.
+Their names are scarcely seen in the money articles of the daily
+press. But they do a solid business of great extent, and their
+names in agricultural circles are names of power. So the old Bank
+here, though within an arrow shot of the green meadows, though on
+ordinary days a single clerk might attend to its customers, has
+really a valuable <i>client&egrave;le.</i></p>
+<p>Of late years shrewd men of business discovered that the ranks
+of the British farmer offered a wonderful opportunity for
+legitimate banking. The farmer, though he may not be rich, must of
+necessity be the manager, if not the actual owner, of considerable
+capital. A man who farms, if only a hundred acres, must have some
+capital. It may not be his own&mdash;it may be borrowed; still he
+has the use of it. Here, then, a wide field opened itself to
+banking enterprise. Certainly there has been a remarkable extension
+of banking institutions in the country. Every market town has its
+bank, and in most cases two&mdash;branches of course, but banks to
+all intents and purposes. Branches are started everywhere.</p>
+<p>The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new.
+It is simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose
+original centre may perhaps be in another county. It is every whit
+as respectable as the other, and as well conducted. Its branch as
+yet lacks local antiquity, but that is the only difference. The
+competition for the farmer's business between these branches,
+scattered all over the length and breadth of the country, must of
+necessity be close. When the branch, or new Bank, came here, it was
+started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the most
+convenient situation that could be secured.</p>
+<p>Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a
+small and dingy basement. The room was narrow, badly lit, and still
+worse ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the
+customers complained of the stuffy atmosphere. The ancient fittings
+had become worn and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the
+conveniences in every way defective. When it was known that a new
+branch was to be opened the directors of the old Bank resolved that
+the building, which had so long been found inadequate, should be
+entirely renovated. They pulled it down, and the present
+magnificent structure took its place.</p>
+<p>Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose
+fa&ccedil;ades could hardly be surpassed in a city. There is
+perhaps a little rivalry between the managers of the two
+institutions, in social as well as in business matters. Being so
+long established there the old Bank numbers among its customers
+some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and
+solicitors. The manager coming into contact with these, and being
+himself a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain
+position. If any public movement is set on foot, the banks strive
+as to which shall be most to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity,
+the old Bank, perhaps, secures a social precedence. Both managers
+belong to the 'carriage people' of the town.</p>
+<p>Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or
+sheep, or jolting in on a waggon. His wife comes, too, on foot,
+through the roughest weather, to fetch her household goods. His
+daughter comes into the hiring fair, and stands waiting for
+employment on the pavement in the same spot used for the purpose
+from time immemorial, within sight of the stately fa&ccedil;ades of
+the banks. He himself has stood in the market-place with reaping
+hook or hoe looking for a master. Humble as he may be, it is clear
+that the wealth in those cellars&mdash;the notes and the gold
+pushed over the counters in shovels&mdash;must somehow come from
+the labour which he and his immediate employer&mdash;the
+farmer&mdash;go through in the field.</p>
+<p>It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or
+shepherd, who desires a new situation, to advertise. Instead of
+waiting for the chance of the hiring fair, he trudges into the
+market town and calls at the office of the oldest established local
+paper. There his wishes are reduced to writing for him, he pays his
+money, and his advertisement appears. If there is an farmer
+advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the same time
+takes the address, and goes over to offer his services. The farmer
+and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the
+medium between them.</p>
+<p>The vitality and influence of the old-fashioned local newspaper
+is indeed a remarkable feature of country life. It would be thought
+that in these days of cheap literature, these papers, charging
+twopence, threepence, and even fourpence per copy, could not
+possibly continue to exist. But, contrary to all expectation, they
+have taken quite a fresh start, and possess a stronger hold than
+ever upon the agricultural population. They enter into the old
+homesteads, and every member of the farmer's family carefully scans
+them, certain of finding a reference to this or that subject or
+person in whom he takes an interest.</p>
+<p>Some such papers practically defy competition. In the outlying
+towns, where no factories have introduced a new element, it is vain
+for the most enterprising to start another. The squire, the
+clergyman, the lawyer, the tenant-farmer, the wayside innkeeper
+stick to the old weekly paper, and nothing can shake it. It is one
+of the institutions of agriculture.</p>
+<p>The office is, perhaps, in a side street of the quiet
+market-town, and there is no display to catch the casual purchaser.
+No mystery surrounds the editor's sanctum; the visitor has but to
+knock, and is at once admitted to his presence. An office could
+scarcely be more plainly furnished. A common table, which has,
+however, one great virtue&mdash;it does not shake when written
+on&mdash;occupies the centre. Upon one side is a large desk or
+bureau; the account-books lying open show that the editor, besides
+his literary labour, has to spend much time in double entry. Two
+chairs are so completely hidden under 'exchanges' that no one can
+sit upon them. Several of these 'exchanges' are from the United
+States or Australia, for the colonists are often more interested
+and concerned about local affairs in the old country than they are
+with the doings in the metropolis. Against the wall, too, hangs a
+picture of a fine steamer careering under sail and steam, and near
+it a coloured sectional map of some new township marked out in
+squares. These are the advertisements of an Atlantic or Australian
+line, or of both; and the editor is their agent. When the young
+ploughman resolves to quit the hamlet for the backwoods of America
+or the sheepwalks of Australia, he comes here to engage his berth.
+When the young farmer wearies of waiting for dead men's
+shoes&mdash;in no other way can he hope to occupy an English
+farm&mdash;he calls here and pays his passage-money, and his broad
+shoulders and willing hands are shipped to a land that will welcome
+him. A single shelf supports a few books, all for reference, such
+as the 'Clergy List,' for the Church is studied, and the slightest
+change that concerns the district carefully recorded.</p>
+<p>Beneath this, the ponderous volumes that contain the file of the
+paper for the last forty years are piled, their weight too great
+for a shelf resting on the floor. The series constitutes a complete
+and authentic local history. People often come from a distance to
+consult it, for it is the only register that affords more than the
+simple entry of birth and death.</p>
+<p>There is a life in the villages and hamlets around, in the
+little places that are not even hamlets, which to the folk who
+dwell in them is fully as important as that of the greatest city.
+Farmhouses are not like the villas of cities and city suburbs. The
+villa has hardly any individuality; it is but one of many, each
+resembling the other, and scarcely separated. To-day one family
+occupies it, tomorrow another, next year perhaps a third, and
+neither of these has any real connection with the place. They are
+sojourners, not inhabitants, drawn thither by business or pleasure;
+they come and go, and leave no mark behind. But the farmhouse has a
+history. The same family have lived in it for, perhaps, a hundred
+years: they have married and intermarried, and become identified
+with the locality. To them all the petty events of village life
+have a meaning and importance: the slow changes that take place and
+are chronicled in the old newspaper have a sad significance, for
+they mark that flux of time which is carrying them, too, onwards to
+their rest.</p>
+<p>These columns of the file, therefore, that to a stranger seem a
+blank, to the old folk and their descendants are like a mirror, in
+which they can see the faces of the loved ones who passed away a
+generation since. They are the archives of the hamlets round about:
+a farmer can find from them when his grandfather quitted the old
+farm, and read an account of the sale. Men who left the village in
+their youth for the distant city or the still more distant
+colonies, as they grow in years often feel an irresistible desire
+to revisit the old, old place. The home they so fondly recollect is
+in other hands, and yet in itself but little changed. A few lines
+in the plainest language found in the file here tell to such a
+greybeard a story that fills his eyes with tears. But even a
+stranger who took the trouble to turn over the folios would now and
+then find matter to interest him: such as curious notes of
+arch&aelig;ological discovery, accounts of local customs now fallen
+into disuse, and traditions of the past. Many of these are worthy
+of collection in more accessible form.</p>
+<p>There is hardly anything else in the room except the waste
+basket under the table. As the visitor enters, a lad goes out with
+a roll of manuscript in his hand, and the editor looks up from his
+monotonous task of proof-reading, for he has that duty also to
+perform. Whatever he is doing, some one is certain to call and
+break off the thread of his thought. The bailiff or farm-steward of
+a neighbouring estate comes in to insert an advertisement of timber
+for sale, or of the auction of the ash-poles annually felled. A
+gamekeeper calls with a notice not to sport or trespass on certain
+lands. The editor has to write out the advertisement for these
+people, and for many of the farmers who come, for countrymen have
+the greatest dislike to literary effort of any kind, and can hardly
+be persuaded to write a letter. Even when they have written the
+letter they get the daughter to address the envelope, lest the Post
+Office should smile at their rude penmanship. The business of
+preparing the advertisement is not quickly concluded, for just as
+it is put down to their fancy, they recollect another item which
+has to be added. Then they stand and gossip about the family at the
+mansion and the affairs of the parish generally, totally oblivious
+of the valuable time they are wasting. Farmers look in to advertise
+a cottage or a house in the village to let, and stay to explain the
+state of the crops, and the why and the wherefore of So-and-so
+leaving his tenancy.</p>
+<p>The largest advertisers invariably put off their orders till the
+morning of the paper going to press, from sheer inattention. On
+that busy morning, auctioneers' clerks rush in with columns of
+auction sales of cattle, sheep, horses, hay, or standing crops
+(according to the season of the year), and every species of farm
+produce. After them come the solicitors' clerks, with equally
+important and lengthy notices of legal matters concerning the
+effects of farmers who have fallen into difficulties, of parochial
+or turnpike affairs, or 'Pursuant to an Act intitled "An Act to
+further amend the Law and to Relieve Trustees."' These notices have
+been lying on their desks for days, but are perversely sent down at
+the last moment, and upset the entire make-up of the paper.</p>
+<p>Just as the editor has arranged for these, and is in the act to
+rush up into the press-room, a timid knock announces a poor cottage
+girl, who has walked in from a hamlet six or seven miles away to
+inquire the address of a lady who wants a servant. This
+advertisement appeared at least three weeks since, for country folk
+could in no wise make up their minds to apply under three weeks,
+and necessitates a search back through the file, and a reference to
+divers papers. He cannot in common courtesy leave the poor girl to
+wait his convenience, and meantime the steam is up and the machine
+waiting. When the address is discovered, the girl thinks she cannot
+remember it, and so he has to write it down on a piece of paper for
+her.</p>
+<p>He has no highly organised staff to carry on the routine work;
+he has to look after every department as well as the purely
+editorial part. Almost every one who has a scrap of news or gossip
+looks in at the office to chat about it with him. Farmers, who have
+driven in to the town from distant villages, call to tell him of
+the trouble they are having over the new schools, and the conflict
+in the parish as to whether they shall or shall not have a school
+board. Clergymen from outlying vicarages come to mention that a
+cottage flower show, a penny reading, a confirmation, or some such
+event, is impending, and to suggest the propriety of a full and
+special account. Occasionally a leading landed proprietor is
+closeted with him, for at least an hour, discussing local politics,
+and ascertaining from him the tone of feeling in the district.</p>
+<p>Modern agricultural society insists upon publicity. The smallest
+village event must be chronicled, or some one will feel
+dissatisfied, and inquire why it was not put in the paper. This
+continual looking towards the paper for everything causes it to
+exercise a very considerable amount of influence. Perhaps the
+clergy and gentry are in some things less powerful than the local
+newspaper, for, from a variety of causes, agricultural society has
+become extremely sensitive to public opinion. The temperate and
+thoughtful arguments put forward by a paper in which they have
+confidence directly affect the tenant-farmers. On the other hand,
+as expressing the views of the tenant-farmers, the paper materially
+influences the course taken by the landed proprietors.</p>
+<p>In country districts the mere numerical circulation of a weekly
+publication is no measure of its importance. The position of the
+subscribers is the true test. These old-established papers, in
+fact, represent property. They are the organs of all who possess
+lands, houses, stock, produce; in short, of the middle class. This
+is evident from the advertising columns. The lawyer, the
+auctioneer, the land agent, the farmer, all who have any substance,
+publish their business in this medium. Official county
+advertisements appear in it. The carter and the shepherd look down
+the column of situations vacant as they call at the village inn for
+a glass of ale, or, if they cannot read, ask some one to read for
+them. But they do not purchase this kind of newspaper. The cottager
+spells over prints advocating the disestablishment of the Church,
+the division of great estates, and the general subversion of the
+present order of things. Yet when the labourer advertises, he goes
+to the paper subscribed to by his master. The disappearance of such
+an obsolete and expensive paper is frequently announced as
+imminent; but the obsolete and expensive print, instead of
+disappearing, nourishes with renewed vitality. Solid matter,
+temperate argument, and genuine work, in the long ran, pay the
+best. An editor who thus conducts his paper is highly appreciated
+by the local chiefs of his party, and may even help to contribute
+to the success of an Administration.</p>
+<p>The personal labour involved in such editing must be great from
+the absence of trained assistance, and because the materials must
+be furnished by incompetent hands. Local news must be forwarded by
+local people, perhaps by a village tailor with literary tastes.
+Such correspondents often indulge in insinuations, or fulsome
+flattery, which must be carefully eliminated. From another village
+an account of some event comes from the schoolmaster&mdash;quite an
+important person nowadays!&mdash;who writes in a fair, round hand
+and uses the finest language and the longest words. He invariably
+puts 'hebdomadal' for 'weekly.' A lawyer's clerk writes a narrative
+of some case, on blue foolscap, and, after the manner of legal
+documents, without a single stop from beginning to end.</p>
+<p>Once a year comes the labour of preparing the sheet almanac.
+This useful publication is much valued by the tenants of the
+district, and may be found pinned against the wall for ready
+reference in most farmhouses. Besides the calendar it contains a
+list of county and other officials, dates of quarter sessions and
+assizes, fair days and markets, records of the prices obtained at
+the annual sales of rams or shorthorns on leading farms, and
+similar agricultural information.</p>
+<p>The editor has very likely been born in the district, and has
+thus grown up to understand the wants and the spirit of the farming
+class. He is acquainted with the family history of the
+neighbourhood, a knowledge which is of much advantage in enabling
+him to avoid unnecessarily irritating personal susceptibilities.
+His private library is not without interest. It mainly consists of
+old books picked up at the farmhouse sales of thirty years. At such
+disposals of household effects volumes sometimes come to light that
+have been buried for generations among lumber. Many of these books
+are valuable and all worth examination. A man of simple and
+retiring habits, his garden is perhaps his greatest solace, and
+next to that a drive or stroll through the green meadows around.
+Incessant mental labour has forced him to wear glasses before his
+time, and it is a relief and pleasure to the eyes to dwell on green
+sward and leaf. Such a man performs a worthy part in country life,
+and possesses the esteem of the country side.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap19" id="chap19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h3>
+<h3>THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK</h3>
+In the daytime the centre of a certain village may be said to be
+the shop of the agricultural machinist. The majority of the
+cottagers are away in the fields at work, and the place is
+elsewhere almost quiet. A column of smoke and a distant din guide
+the visitor to the spot where the hammers are clattering on the
+anvils.
+<p>Twisted iron, rusty from exposure, lies in confusion on the
+blackened ground before the shed. Coal-dust and the carbon
+deposited from volumes of thick smoke have darkened the earth, and
+coated everything with a black crust. The windows of the shed are
+broken, probably by the accidental contact of long rods of iron
+carelessly cast aside, and some of the slates of the roof appear
+gone just above the furnace, as if removed for ventilation and the
+escape of the intense heat. There is a creaking of stiff leather as
+the bellows rise and fall, and the roar of the blast as it is
+forced up through the glowing coals.</p>
+<p>A ceaseless hum of wheels in motion comes from the rear, and the
+peculiar crackling sound of a band in rapid revolution round the
+drum of the engine and the shaft. Then the grinding scrape of sharp
+steel on iron as the edge of the tool cuts shavings from the solid
+metal rotating swiftly in the lathe. As blow follows blow the
+red-hot 'scale,' driven from the surface of the iron on the anvil
+by the heavy sledge, flies rattling against the window in a spray
+of fire. The ring of metal, the clatter, the roaring, and hissing
+of steam, fill the air, and through it rises now and then the
+shrill quick calls of men in command.</p>
+<p>Outside, and as it seems but a stone's throw distant, stands the
+old grey church, and about it the still, silent, green-grown mounds
+over those who once followed the quiet plough.</p>
+<p>Bound the corner of the village street comes a man with a grimy
+red flag, and over the roofs of the cottages rises a cloud of
+smoke, and behind it yet another. Two steam ploughing engines are
+returning from their work to their place beside the shed to wait
+fresh orders. The broad wheels of the engines block up the entire
+width of the street, and but just escape overthrowing the feeble
+palings in front of the cottage doors. Within those palings the
+children at play scarcely turn to look; the very infants that can
+hardly toddle are so accustomed to the ponderous wonder that they
+calmly gnaw the crusts that keep them contented. It requires a full
+hour to get the unwieldy engines up the incline and round the sharp
+turns on to the open space by the workshop. The driver has to
+'back,' and go-a-head, and 'back' again, a dozen times before he
+can reach the place, for that narrow bye-way was not planned out
+for such traffic. A mere path leading to some cottages in the rear,
+it was rarely used even by carts before the machinist came, and it
+is a feat of skill to get the engines in without, like a conqueror,
+entering by a breach battered in the walls. When, at last, they
+have been piloted into position, the steam is blown off, and the
+rushing hiss sounds all over the village. The white vapour covers
+the ground like a cloud, and the noise re-echoes against the old
+grey church, but the jackdaws do not even rise from the
+battlements.</p>
+<p>These engines and their corresponding tackle are the chief
+stock-in-trade of the village machinist. He lets them out to the
+farmers of the district, which is principally arable; that is, he
+contracts to do their ploughing and scarifying at so much per acre.
+In the ploughing seasons the engines are for ever on the road, and
+with their tackle dragging behind them take up the highway like a
+train. One day you may hear the hum and noise from a distant field
+on the left; in a day or two it comes from another on the right;
+next week it has shifted again, and is heard farther off
+northwards, and so all round the compass.</p>
+<p>The visitor, driving about the neighbourhood, cannot but notice
+the huge and cumbrous-looking plough left awhile on the sward by
+the roadside. One-half of the shares stand up high in the air, the
+other half touch the ground, and it is so nicely balanced that boys
+sometimes play at see-saw on it. He will meet the iron monster
+which draws this plough by the bridge over the brook, pausing while
+its insatiable thirst is stayed from the stream. He will see it
+patiently waiting, with a slight curl of steam over the boiler, by
+the wayside inn while its attendants take their lunch.</p>
+<p>It sometimes happens in wet weather that the engines cannot be
+moved from the field where they have been ploughing. The soil
+becomes so soft from absorbing so much water that it will not bear
+up the heavy weight. Logs and poles are laid down to form a
+temporary way, but the great wheels sink too deeply, and the
+engines have to be left covered with tarpaulins. They have been
+known to remain till the fresh green leaves of spring on the hedges
+and trees almost hid them from sight.</p>
+<p>The machinist has another and lighter traction engine which does
+not plough, but travels from farm to farm with a threshing machine.
+In autumn it is in full work threshing, and in winter drives
+chaff-cutters for the larger farmers. Occasionally it draws a load
+of coal in waggons or trucks built for the purpose. Hodge's
+forefathers knew no rival at plough time; after the harvest they
+threshed the corn all the winter with the flail. Now the iron horse
+works faster and harder than he.</p>
+<p>Some of the great tenant-farmers have sets of ploughing-engines
+and tackle of their own, and these are frequently at the
+machinist's for repairs. The reaping, mowing, threshing, haymaking,
+hoeing, raking, and other machines and implements also often
+require mending. Once now and then a bicyclist calls to have his
+machine attended to, something having given way while on a tour.
+Thus the village factory is in constant work, but has to encounter
+immense competition.</p>
+<p>Country towns of any size usually possess at least one
+manufactory of agricultural implements, and some of these factories
+have acquired a reputation which reaches over sea. The visitor to
+such a foundry is shown medals that have been granted for
+excellence of work exhibited in Vienna, and may see machines in
+process of construction which will be used upon the Continent; so
+that the village machinist, though apparently isolated, with
+nothing but fields around him, has in reality competitors upon
+every side.</p>
+<p>Ploughing engines, again, travel great distances, and there are
+firms that send their tackle across a county or two. Still the
+village factory, being on the spot, has plenty of local work, and
+the clatter of hammers, the roar of the blast, and the hum of
+wheels never cease at the shed. Busy workmen pass to and fro, lithe
+men, quick of step and motion, who come from Leeds, or some similar
+manufacturing town, and whose very step distinguishes them in a
+moment from the agricultural labourer.</p>
+<p>A sturdy ploughboy comes up with a piece of iron on his
+shoulder; it does not look large, but it is as much as he can
+carry. One edge of it is polished by the friction of the earth
+through which it has been forced; it has to be straightened, or
+repaired, and the ploughboy waits while it is done. He sits down
+outside the shed on a broken and rusty iron wheel, choosing a spot
+where the sun shines and the building keeps off the wind. There,
+among the twisted iron, ruins and fragments of machines, he takes
+out his hunch of bread and cheese, and great clasp knife, and
+quietly enjoys his luncheon. He is utterly indifferent to the noise
+of the revolving wheels, the creak of the bellows, the hiss of
+steam; he makes no inquiry about this or that, and shows no desire
+to understand the wonders of mechanics. Something in his
+attitude&mdash;in the immobility, the almost animal repose of limb;
+something in the expression of his features, the self-contained
+oblivion, so to say, suggests an Oriental absence of aspiration.
+Only by negatives and side-lights, as it were, can any idea be
+conveyed of his contented indifference. He munches his crust; and,
+when he has done, carefully, and with vast deliberation, relaces
+his heavy shoe. The sunshine illumines the old grey church before
+him, and falls on the low green mounds, almost level with the
+sward, which cover his ancestors.</p>
+<p>These modern inventions, this steam, and electric telegraph, and
+even the printing-press have but just skimmed the surface of
+village life. If they were removed&mdash;if the pressure from
+without, from the world around, ceased, in how few years the
+village and the hamlet would revert to their original
+condition!</p>
+<p>On summer afternoons, towards five or six o'clock, a four-wheel
+carriage&mdash;useful, but not pretentious&mdash;comes slowly up
+the hill leading to the village. The single occupant is an elderly
+man, the somewhat wearied expression of whose features is caused by
+a continuous application to business. The horse, too well fed for
+work, takes his own time up the hill, and when at the summit the
+reins are gently shaken, makes but an idle pretence to move faster,
+for he knows that his master is too good-natured and forbearing to
+use the whip, except to fondly stroke his back. The reins are
+scarcely needed to guide the horse along the familiar road to a
+large farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where at the gate
+two or more children are waiting to welcome 'papa.'</p>
+<p>Though a farmhouse, the garden is laid out in the style so often
+seen around detached villas, with a lawn for tennis and croquet,
+parterres bright with summer flowers, and seats under the pleasant
+shade of the trees. Within it is furnished in villa fashion, and is
+in fact let to a well-to-do tradesman of the market town a few
+miles distant. He has wisely sent his family for the summer months
+to inhale the clear air of the hills, as exhilarating as that of
+the sea. There they can ride the pony and donkeys over the open
+sward, and romp and play at gipsying. Every evening he drives out
+to join them, and every morning returns to his office. The house
+belongs to some large tenant-farmer, who has a little freehold
+property, and thus makes a profit from it.</p>
+<p>This practice of hiring a village home for the summer has become
+common of recent years among the leading tradesmen of country
+towns. Such visitors are welcome to the cottage folk. They require
+the service of a labourer now and then; they want fresh eggs, and
+vegetables from the allotment gardens. The women have the family
+washing to do, and a girl is often needed to assist indoors, or a
+boy to clean the knives and shoes. Many perquisites fall to the
+cottage people&mdash;cast aside dresses, and so on; besides which
+there are little gifts and kindnesses from the lady and her
+children.</p>
+<p>Towards November, again, the congregation in the old church one
+Sunday morning find subject for speculation concerning a stranger
+who enters a certain well-appointed pew appropriated to The
+Chestnuts. He is clearly the new tenant who has taken it for the
+hunting season. The Chestnuts is a mansion built in modern style
+for a former landowner. As it is outside the great hunting centres
+it is let at a low rental compared with its accommodation. The
+labourers are glad to see that the place is let again, for although
+the half-pay officer&mdash;the new occupant&mdash;who has retired,
+wounded and decorated, from the service of a grateful country, has
+probably not a third the income of the tradesman, and five times
+the social appearance to maintain, still there will be profit to be
+got from him.</p>
+<p>What chance has such a gentleman in bargaining with the
+cottagers? How should he know the village value of a cabbage? How
+should he understand the farmyard value of a fowl? It may possibly
+strike him as odd that vegetables should be so dear when, as he
+rides about, he sees whole fields green with them. He sees plenty
+of fowls, and geese, and turkeys, gobbling and cackling about the
+farmyards, and can perhaps after awhile faintly perceive that they
+are the perquisites of the ladies of the tenants' households, who
+drive him a very hard bargain. He, too, has cast aside suits,
+shoes, hats, and so forth, really but little worn, to give away to
+the poor. If married, his family require some help from the cottage
+women; and there are odd jobs, well paid for, on the place for the
+men. Thus the cottagers are glad of the arrival of their new
+masters, the one in the summer, the other in the winter months.</p>
+<p>The 'chapel-folk' of the place have so increased in numbers and
+affluence that they have erected a large and commodious building in
+the village. Besides the cottagers, many farmers go to the chapel,
+driving in from the ends of the parish. It is a curious
+circumstance that many of the largest dealers in agricultural
+produce, such as cheese, bacon, and corn, and the owners of the
+busiest wharves where coal and timber, slate, and similar materials
+are stored, belong to the Dissenting community. There are some
+agricultural districts where this class of business is quite
+absorbed by Dissenters&mdash;almost as much as money-changing and
+banking business is said to be the exclusive property of Jews in
+some Continental countries. Such dealers are often substantial and,
+for the country, even wealthy men. Then there are the Dissenting
+tradesmen of the market town. All these together form a species of
+guild. The large chapel in the village was built by their united
+subscriptions. They support each other in a marked manner in times
+of difficulty, so that it is rare for a tenant-farmer of the
+persuasion to lose his position unless by wilful misconduct. This
+mutual support is so very marked as to be quite a characteristic
+fact.</p>
+<p>The cottagers and their families go to chapel with these
+masters. But sometimes the cottager, as he approaches the chapel
+door, finds upon it (as in the church porch) a small printed notice
+affixed there by the overseers. If the labourer is now recognised
+as a person whose opinion is to be consulted, on the other hand he
+finds that he is not without responsibilities. The rate-collector
+knocks at the cottage door as well as at the farmer's. By gradual
+degrees village rates are becoming a serious burden, and though
+their chief incidence may be upon the landlord and the tenant,
+indirectly they begin to come home to the labourer. The school rate
+is voluntary, but it is none the less a rate; the cemetery, the
+ancient churchyard being no more available, has had to be paid for,
+and, as usual, probably cost twice what was anticipated. The
+highways, the sanitary authority, not to speak of poor relief, all
+demand a share. Each in itself may be only a straw, but accumulated
+straws in time fill a waggon.</p>
+<p>One side of the stable of the village inn, which faces the road,
+presents a broad surface for the country bill-sticker. He comes out
+from the market town, and travels on foot for a whole day together,
+from hamlet to hamlet. posting up the contents of his bag in the
+most outlying and lonely districts. Every villager as he passes by
+reads the announcements on the wall: the circus coming to the
+market town, some jeweller's marvellous watches, the selling off of
+spring or summer goods by the drapers at an immense reduction, once
+now and then a proclamation headed V.R., and the sales of farm
+stock (the tenants leaving) and of large freehold properties.</p>
+<p>These latter are much discussed by the callers at the inn. A
+carter comes along perhaps with a loaded waggon from some distance,
+and as he stays to drink his quart talks of the changes that are
+proceeding or imminent in his locality. Thus the fact that changes
+are contemplated is often widely known before the actual
+advertisement is issued. The labourers who hear the carter's story
+tell it again to their own employer next time they see him, and the
+farmer meeting another farmer gossips over it again.</p>
+<p>There has grown up a general feeling in the villages and
+agricultural districts that the landed estates around them are no
+longer stable and enduring. A feeling of uncertainty is abroad, and
+no one is surprised to hear that some other place, or person, is
+going. It is rumoured that this great landlord is about to sell as
+many farms as the family settlements will let him. Another is only
+waiting for the majority of his son to accomplish the same object.
+Others, it is said, are proceeding abroad to retrench. Properties
+are coming into the market in unexpected directions, and others are
+only kept back because the price of land has fallen, and there is a
+difficulty in selling a large estate. If divided into a number of
+lots, each of small size, land still fetches its value, and can be
+readily sold; but that is not always convenient, and purchasers
+hesitate to invest in extensive estates. But though kept back,
+efforts are being made to retrench, and, it is said, old mansions
+that have never been let before can now be hired for the season.
+Not only the tenant-farmers, but the landowners are pacing through
+a period of depression, and their tenure too is uncertain. Such is
+the talk of the country side as it comes to the village inn.</p>
+<p>Once a week the discordant note of a horn or bugle, loudly blown
+by a man who does not understand his instrument, is heard at
+intervals. It is the newspaper vendor, who, like the bill-sticker,
+starts from the market town on foot, and goes through the village
+with a terrible din. He stops at the garden gate in the palings
+before the thatched cottage, delivers his print to the old woman or
+the child sent out with the copper, and starts again with a
+flourish of his trumpet. His business is chiefly with the
+cottagers, and his print is very likely full of abuse of the landed
+proprietors as a body. He is a product of modern days, almost the
+latest, and as he goes from cottage door to cottage door, the
+discordant uproar of his trumpet is a sign of the times.</p>
+<p>In some districts the osier plantations give employment to a
+considerable number of persons. The tall poles are made into posts
+and rails; the trunks of the pollard trees when thrown are cut into
+small timber that serves many minor purposes; the brushwood or tops
+that are cut every now and then make thatching sticks and faggots;
+sometimes hedges are made of a kind of willow wicker-work for
+enclosing gardens. It is, however, the plantations of withy or
+osier that are most important. The willow grows so often in or near
+to water that in common opinion the association cannot be too
+complete. But in the arrangement of an osier-bed water is utilised,
+indeed, but kept in its place&mdash;i.e. at the roots, and not over
+the stoles. The osier should not stand in water, or rise, as it
+were, out of a lake&mdash;the water should be in the soil
+underneath, and the level of the ground higher than the surface of
+the adjacent stream.</p>
+<p>Before planting, the land has to be dug or ploughed, and
+cleared; the weeds collected in the same way as on an arable field.
+The sticks are then set in rows eighteen inches apart, each stick
+(that afterwards becomes a stole) a foot from its neighbours of the
+same row. At first the weeds require keeping down, but after awhile
+the crop itself kills them a good deal. Several willows spring from
+each planted stick, and at the end of twelve months the first crop
+is ready for cutting. Next year the stick or stole will send up
+still more shoots, and give a larger yield.</p>
+<p>The sorts generally planted are called Black Spanish and Walnut
+Leaf. The first has a darker bark, and is a tough wood; the other
+has a light yellow bark, and grows smoother and without knots,
+which is better for working up into the manufactured article.
+Either will grow to nine feet high&mdash;the average height is six
+or seven feet. The usual time for cutting is about Good
+Friday&mdash;that is, just before the leaf appears. After cutting,
+the rods are stacked upright in water, in long trenches six inches
+deep prepared for the purpose, and there they remain till the leaf
+comes out. The power of growth displayed by the willow is
+wonderful&mdash;a bough has only to be stuck in the earth, or the
+end of a pole placed in the brook, for the sap to rise and shoots
+to push forth.</p>
+<p>When the leaf shows the willows are carried to the 'brakes,' and
+the work of stripping off the bark commences. A 'brake' somewhat
+resembles a pair of very blunt scissors permanently fixed open at a
+certain angle, and rigidly supported at a convenient height from
+the ground. The operator stands behind it, and selecting a long
+wand from the heap beside him places it in the 'brake,' and pulls
+it through, slightly pressing it downwards. As he draws it towards
+him, the edges of the iron tear the bark and peel it along the
+whole length of the stick. There is a knack in the operation, of
+course, but when it is acquired the wand is peeled in a moment by a
+dexterous turn of the wrist, the bark falls to the ground on the
+other side of the brake, and the now white stick is thrown to the
+right, where a pile soon accumulates. The peel is handy for tying
+up, and when dried makes a capital material for lighting fires.
+This stripping of the osiers is a most busy time in the
+neighbourhood of the large plantations&mdash;almost like
+hop-picking&mdash;for men, women, and children can all help. It
+does not require so much strength as skill and patience.</p>
+<p>After the peeling the sticks have to be dried by exposure to the
+sun; they are then sorted into lengths, and sold in bundles. If it
+is desired to keep them any time they must be thoroughly dried, or
+they will 'heat' and rot and become useless. This willow harvest is
+looked forward to by the cottagers who live along the rivers as an
+opportunity for earning extra money. The quantity of osier thus
+treated seems immense, and yet the demand is said to be steady, and
+as the year advances the price of the willow rises. It is
+manufactured into all kinds of baskets&mdash;on farms, especially
+arable farms, numbers of baskets are used. Clothes baskets, market
+baskets, chaff baskets, bassinettes or cradles, &amp;c., are some
+few of the articles manufactured from it. Large quantities of
+willow, too, are worked up unpeeled into hampers of all kinds. The
+number of hampers used in these days is beyond computation, and as
+they are constantly wearing out, fresh ones have to be made. An
+advantage of the willow is that it enables the farmer to derive a
+profit from land that would otherwise be comparatively valueless.
+Good land, indeed, is hardly fitted for osier; it would grow rank
+with much pith in the centre, and therefore liable to break. On
+common land, on the contrary, it grows just right, and not too
+coarse. Almost any scrap or corner does for willow, and if properly
+tended it speedily pays for the labour.</p>
+<p>The digging and preparation of the ground gives employment, and
+afterwards the weeding and the work required to clean the channels
+that conduct water round and through the beds. Then there is the
+cutting and the peeling, and finally the basket-making; and thus
+the willow, though so common as to be little regarded, finds work
+for many hands.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap20" id="chap20">CHAPTER XX</a></h3>
+<h3>HODGE'S FIELDS</h3>
+The labourer working all the year round in the open air cannot but
+note to some degree those changes in tree and plant which coincide
+with the variations of his daily employment. Early in March, as he
+walks along the southern side of the hedge, where the dead oak
+leaves still cumber the trailing ivy, he can scarcely avoid seeing
+that pointed tongues of green are pushing up. Some have widened
+into black-spotted leaves; some are notched like the many-barbed
+bone harpoons of savage races. The hardy docks are showing, and the
+young nettles have risen up. Slowly the dark and grey hues of
+winter are yielding to the lively tints of spring. The blackthorn
+has white buds on its lesser branches, and the warm rays of the sun
+have drawn forth the buds on one favoured hawthorn in a sheltered
+nook, so that the green of the coming leaf is visible. Bramble
+bushes still retain their forlorn, shrivelled foliage; the hardy
+all but evergreen leaves can stand cold, but when biting winds from
+the north and east blow for weeks together even these curl at the
+edge and die.
+<p>The remarkable power of wind upon leaves is sometimes seen in
+May, when a strong gale, even from the west, will so beat and
+batter the tender horse-chestnut sprays that they bruise and
+blacken. The slow plough traverses the earth, and the white dust
+rises from the road and drifts into the field. In winter the
+distant copse seemed black; now it appears of a dull reddish brown
+from the innumerable catkins and buds. The delicate sprays of the
+birch are fringed with them, the aspen has a load of brown, there
+are green catkins on the bare hazel boughs, and the willows have
+white 'pussy-cats.' The horse-chestnut buds&mdash;the hue of dark
+varnish&mdash;have enlarged, and stick to the finger if touched;
+some are so swollen as to nearly burst and let the green appear.
+Already it is becoming more difficult to look right through the
+copse. In winter the light could be seen on the other side; now
+catkin, bud, and opening leaf have thickened and check the view.
+The same effect was produced not long since by the rime on the
+branches in the frosty mornings; while each smallest twig was thus
+lined with crystal it was not possible to see through. Tangled
+weeds float down the brook, catching against projecting branches
+that dip into the stream, or slowly rotating and carried apparently
+up the current by the eddy and back-water behind the bridge. In the
+pond the frogs have congregated in great numbers; their constant
+'croo-croo' is audible at some distance.</p>
+<p>The meadows, so long bound by frost and covered with snow, are
+slowly losing their wan aspect, and assuming a warmer green as the
+young blades of grass come upwards. Where the plough or harrow has
+passed over the clods they quickly change from the rich brown of
+fresh-turned soil to a whiter colour, the dryness of the atmosphere
+immediately dissipating the moisture in the earth. So, examine what
+you will, from the clod to the tiniest branch, the hedge, the
+mound, the water&mdash;everywhere a step forward has been taken.
+The difference in a particular case may be minute; but it is there,
+and together these faint indications show how closely spring is
+approaching.</p>
+<p>As the sun rises the chaffinch utters his bold challenge on the
+tree; the notes are so rapid that they seem to come all at once.
+Welcome, indeed, is the song of the first finch. Sparrows are busy
+in the garden&mdash;the hens are by far the most numerous now, half
+a dozen together perch on the bushes. One suddenly darts forth and
+seizes a black insect as it flies in the sunshine. The bee, too, is
+abroad, and once now and then a yellow butterfly. From the copse on
+the warmer days comes occasionally the deep hollow bass of the wood
+pigeon. On the very topmost branch of an elm a magpie has perched;
+now he looks this way, and then turns that, bowing in the oddest
+manner, and jerking his long tail up and down. Then two of them
+flutter across the field&mdash;feebly, as if they had barely
+strength to reach the trees in the opposite hedge. Extending their
+wings they float slowly, and every now and then the body undulates
+along its entire length. Rooks are building&mdash;they fly and feed
+now in pairs; the rookery is alive with them. To the steeple the
+jackdaws have returned and fly round and round; now one holds his
+wings rigid and slides down at an angle of sixty degrees at a
+breakneck pace, as if about to dash himself in fragments on the
+garden beneath.</p>
+<p>Sometimes there come a few days which are like summer. There is
+an almost cloudless sky, a gentle warm breeze, and a bright sun
+filling the fields with a glow of light. The air, though soft and
+genial, is dry, and perhaps it is this quality which gives so
+peculiar a definition to hedge, tree, and hill. A firm, almost
+hard, outline brings copse and wood into clear relief; the distance
+across the broadest fields appears sensibly diminished. Such
+freedom from moisture has a deliciously exhilarating effect on
+those who breathe so pure an atmosphere. The winds of March differ,
+indeed, in a remarkable manner from, the gales of the early year,
+which, even when they blow from a mild quarter, compel one to keep
+in constant movement because of the aqueous vapour they carry. But
+the true March wind, though too boisterous to be exactly genial,
+causes a joyous sense of freshness, as if the very blood in the
+veins were refined and quickened upon inhaling it. There is a
+difference in its roar&mdash;the note is distinct from the harsh
+sound of the chilly winter blast. On the lonely highway at night,
+when other noises are silent, the March breeze rushes through the
+tall elms in a wild cadence. The white clouds hasten over,
+illuminated from behind by a moon approaching the full; every now
+and then a break shows a clear blue sky and a star shining. Now a
+loud roar resounds along the hedgerow like the deafening boom of
+the surge; it moderates, dies away, then an elm close by bends and
+sounds as the blast comes again. In another moment the note is
+caught up and repeated by a distant tree, and so one after another
+joins the song till the chorus reaches its highest pitch. Then it
+sinks again, and so continues with pauses and deep inspirations,
+for March is like a strong man drawing his breath full and long as
+he starts to run a race.</p>
+<p>The sky, too, like the earth, whose hedges, trees, and meadows
+are acquiring fresher colours, has now a more lovely aspect. At
+noon-day, if the clouds be absent, it is a rich azure; after sunset
+a ruddy glow appears almost all round the horizon, while the
+thrushes sing in the wood till the twilight declines. At night,
+when the moon does not rise till late, the heavens are brilliant
+with stars. In the east Arcturus is up; the Great Bear, the Lesser
+Bear, and Cassiopeia are ranged about the Pole. Procyon goes before
+the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches broad across
+the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries droops
+towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the
+Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike,
+nebulous Cancer. Largest of all, great Sirius is flaming in the
+south, quivering with the ebb and flow of his light, sometimes with
+an emerald scintillation like a dewdrop on which a sunbeam
+glances.</p>
+<p>The busy summer, with its haymaking, reaping, and continuous
+succession of harvest work, passes too swiftly for reflection both
+for masters and men. But in the calm of autumn there is time again
+to look round. Then white columns of smoke rise up slowly into the
+tranquil atmosphere, till they overtop the tallest elms, and the
+odour of the burning couch is carried across the meadows from the
+lately-ploughed stubble, where the weeds have been collected in
+heaps and fired. The stubble itself, short and in regular lines,
+affords less and less cover every year. As the seed is now drilled
+in, and the plants grow in mathematically straight lines, of course
+when the crop is reaped, if you stand at one side of the field you
+can see right across between the short stubbs, so that a mouse
+could hardly find shelter. Then quickly come the noisy steam
+ploughing engines, after them the couch collectors, and finally the
+heaps are burnt, and the strong scent of smoke hangs over the
+ground. Against these interruptions of their haunts and quiet ways
+what are the partridges to do? Even at night the place is scarcely
+their own, for every now and then as the breeze comes along, the
+smouldering fires are fanned into bright flame, enough to alarm the
+boldest bird.</p>
+<p>In another broad arable field, where the teams have been
+dragging the plough, but have only just opened a few furrows and
+gone home, a flock of sheep are feeding, or rather picking up a
+little, having been, turned in, that nothing might be lost. There
+is a sense of quietness&mdash;of repose; the trees of the copse
+close by are still, and the dying leaf as it drops falls straight
+to the ground. A faint haze clings to the distant woods at the foot
+of the hills; it is afternoon, the best part of an autumn day, and
+sufficiently warm to make the stile a pleasant resting-place. A
+dark cloud, whose edges rise curve upon curve, hangs in the sky,
+fringed with bright white light, for the sun is behind it, and
+long, narrow streamers of light radiate from the upper part like
+the pointed rays of an antique crown. Across an interval of blue to
+the eastward a second massive cloud, white and shining as if beaten
+out of solid silver, fronts the sun, and reflects the beams passing
+horizontally through the upper ether downwards on the earth like a
+mirror.</p>
+<p>The sparrows in the stubble rise in a flock and settle down
+again. Yonder a solitary lark is singing. Then the sun emerges, and
+the yellow autumn beams flood the pale stubble and the dark red
+earth of the furrow. On the bushes in the hedge hang the vines of
+the bryony, bearing thick masses of red berries. The hawthorn
+leaves in places have turned pale, and are touched, too, towards
+the stalk with a deep brown hue. The contrast of the two tints
+causes an accidental colour resembling that of bronze, which
+catches the eye at the first glance, but disappears on looking
+closer. Spots of yellow on the elms seem the more brilliant from
+the background of dull green. The drooping foliage of the birch
+exhibits a paler yellow; the nut-tree bushes shed brown leaves upon
+the ground. Perhaps the beech leaves are the most beautiful; two or
+three tints are blended on the topmost boughs. There is a ruddy
+orange hue, a tawny brown, and a bright green; the sunlight comes
+and mingles these together. The same leaf will sometimes show two
+at least of these colours&mdash;green shading into brown, or into a
+ruddy gold. Later on, the oaks, in a monochrome of buff, will rival
+the beeches. Now and then an acorn drops from the tree overhead,
+with a smart tap on the hard earth, and rebounds some inches high.
+Some of these that fall are already dark&mdash;almost
+black&mdash;but if opened they will be found bored by a grub. They
+are not yet ripe as a crop; the rooks are a good guide in that
+respect, and they have not yet set steadily to work upon this their
+favourite autumn food. Others that have fallen and been knocked out
+of the cup are a light yellow at the base and green towards the
+middle and the point; the yellow part is that which has been
+covered by the cup. In the sward there is a small hole from out of
+which creeps a wasp at intervals; it is a nest, and some few of
+them are still at work. But their motions are slow and lack
+vivacity; before long, numbers must die, and already many have
+succumbed after crawling miserably on the ground which they spurned
+a short while since, when with a brisk buzz they flew from apple to
+plum.</p>
+<p>In the quiet woodland lane a covey of partridges are running to
+and fro on the short sward at the side, and near them two or three
+pheasants are searching for food. The geometrical
+spiders&mdash;some of them look almost as big as a nut&mdash;hang
+their webs spun to a regular pattern on the bushes. The fungi
+flourish; there is a huge specimen on the elm there, but the
+flowers are nearly gone.</p>
+<p>A few steps down the lane, upon looking over a gate into a large
+arable field where the harrow has broken up the clods, a faint
+bluish tinge may be noticed on the dull earth in the more distant
+parts. A second glance shows that it is caused by a great flock of
+woodpigeons. Some more come down out of the elms and join their
+companions; there must be a hundred and fifty or two hundred of
+them. The woodpigeon on the ground at a distance is difficult to
+distinguish, or rather to define individually&mdash;the pale blue
+tint seems to confuse the eye with a kind of haze. Though the flock
+take little notice now&mdash;knowing themselves to be far out of
+gunshot&mdash;yet they would be quickly on the alert if an attempt
+were made to approach them.</p>
+<p>Already some of the elms are becoming bare&mdash;there are gaps
+in the foliage where the winds have carried away the leaves. On the
+bramble bushes the blackberries cluster thickly, unseen and
+ungathered in this wild spot. The happy hearts that go
+a-blackberrying think little of the past: yet there is a deep, a
+mournful significance attached to that joyous time. For how many
+centuries have the blackberries tempted men, women, and children
+out into the fields, laughing at scratched hands and nettles, and
+clinging burrs, all merrily endured for the sake of so simple a
+treasure-trove. Under the relics of the ancient pile-dwellings of
+Switzerland, disinterred from the peat and other deposits, have
+been found quantities of blackberry seeds, together with traces of
+crabs and sloes; so that by the dwellers in those primeval villages
+in the midst of the lakes the wild fruits of autumn were sought for
+much as we seek them now; the old instincts are strong in us
+still.</p>
+<p>The fieldfares will soon be here now, and the redwings, coming
+as they have done for generations about the time of the sowing of
+the corn. Without an almanack they know the dates; so the old
+sportsmen used to declare that their pointers and setters were
+perfectly aware when September was approaching, and showed it by
+unusual restlessness. By the brook the meadows are green and the
+grass long still; the flags, too, are green, though numbers of dead
+leaves float down on the current. There is green again where the
+root crops are flourishing; but the brown tints are striving hard,
+and must soon gain the mastery of colour. From the barn comes the
+clatter of the winnowing machine, and the floor is covered with
+heaps of grain.</p>
+<p>After the sun has gone down and the shadows are deepening, it is
+lighter in the open stubbles than in the enclosed meadows&mdash;the
+short white stubbs seem to reflect what little light there is. The
+partridges call to each other, and after each call run a few yards
+swiftly, till they assemble at the well-known spot where they
+roost. Then comes a hare stealing by without a sound. Suddenly he
+perceives that he is watched, and goes off at a rapid pace, lost in
+the brooding shadow across the field. Yonder a row of
+conical-roofed wheat-ricks stand out boldly against the sky, and
+above them a planet shines.</p>
+<p>Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse
+and heath, and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades,
+bowed by their own weight, are white beads of dew. Wherever the eye
+seeks an object to dwell on, there the cloud-like mist seems to
+thicken as though to hide it. The bushes and thickets are swathed
+in the vapour; yonder, in the hollow, it clusters about the oaks
+and hangs upon the hedge looming in the distance. There it no
+sky&mdash;a motionless, colourless something spreads above; it is,
+of course, the same mist, but looking upwards it apparently recedes
+and becomes indefinite. The glance finds no point to rest
+on&mdash;as on the edges of clouds&mdash;it is a mere opaque
+expanse. But the air is dry, the moisture does not deposit itself,
+it remains suspended, and waits but the wind to rise and depart.
+The stillness is utter: not a bird calls or insect buzzes by. In
+passing beneath the oaks the very leaves have forgotten to fall.
+Only those already on the sward, touched by the frost, crumble
+under the footstep. When green they would have yielded to the
+weight, but now stiffened they resist it and are crushed, breaking
+in pieces.</p>
+<p>A creaking and metallic rattle, as of chains, comes across the
+arable field&mdash;a steady gaze reveals the dim outline of a team
+of horses slowly dragging the plough, their shapes indistinctly
+seen against the hedge. A bent figure follows, and by-and-by
+another distinct creak and rattle, and yet a third in another
+direction, show that there are more teams at work, plodding to and
+fro. Watching their shadowy forms, suddenly the eye catches a
+change in the light somewhere. Over the meadow yonder the mist is
+illuminated; it is not sunshine, but a white light, only visible by
+contrast with the darker mist around. It lasts a few moments, and
+then moves, and appears a second time by the copse. Though hidden
+here, the disk of the sun must be partly visible there, and as the
+white light does not remain long in one place, it is evident that
+there is motion now in the vast mass of vapour. Looking upwards
+there is the faintest suspicion of the palest blue, dull and dimmed
+by mist, so faint that its position cannot be fixed, and the next
+instant it is gone again.</p>
+<p>But the teams at plough are growing momentarily distinct&mdash;a
+breath of air touches the cheek, then a leaf breaks away from the
+bough and starts forth as if bent on a journey, but loses the
+impetus and sinks to the ground. Soon afterwards the beams of the
+sun light up a distant oak that glows in the hedge&mdash;a rich
+deep buff&mdash;and it stands out, clear, distinct, and beautiful,
+the chosen and selected one, the first to receive the ray. Rapidly
+the mist vanishes&mdash;disappearing rather than floating away; a
+circle of blue sky opens overhead, and, finally, travelling slowly,
+comes the sunshine over the furrows. There is a perceptible sense
+of warmth&mdash;the colours that start into life add to the
+feeling. The bare birch has no leaf to reflect it, but its white
+bark shines, and beyond it two great elms, the one a pale green and
+the other a pale yellow, stand side by side. The brake fern is dead
+and withered; the tip of each frond curled over downwards by the
+frost, but it forms a brown background to the dull green furze
+which is alight here and there with scattered blossom, by contrast
+so brilliantly yellow as to seem like flame. Polished holly leaves
+glisten, and a bunch of tawny fungus rears itself above the
+grass.</p>
+<p>On the sheltered sunny bank lie the maple leaves fallen from the
+bushes, which form a bulwark against the north wind; they have
+simply dropped upon the ivy which almost covers the bank. Standing
+here with the oaks overhead and the thick bushes on the northern
+side it is quite warm and genial; so much so that if is hard to
+realise that winter is at hand. But even in the shortest days,
+could we only get rid of the clouds and wind, we should find the
+sunshine sufficiently powerful to make the noontide pleasant. It is
+not that the sun is weak or low down, nor because of the sharp
+frosts, that winter with us is dreary and chill. The real cause is
+the prevalence of cloud, through which only a dull light can
+penetrate, and of moisture-laden winds.</p>
+<p>If our winter sun had fair play we should find the climate very
+different. Even as it is, now and then comes a break in the masses
+of vapour streaming across the sky, and if you are only sheltered
+from the wind (or stand at a southern window), the temperature
+immediately rises. For this reason the temperatures registered by
+thermometers are often far from being a correct record of the real
+weather we have had. A bitter frost early in the morning sends the
+mercury below zero, but perhaps, by eleven o'clock the day is warm,
+the sky being clear and the wind still. The last register
+instituted&mdash;that of the duration of sunshine, if taken in
+connection with the state of the wind&mdash;is the best record of
+the temperature that we have actually felt. These thoughts
+naturally arise under the oaks here as the bright sunlight streams
+down from a sky the more deeply blue from contrast with the brown,
+and buff, and yellow leaves of the trees.</p>
+<p>Hark! There comes a joyous music over the fields&mdash;first one
+hound's, note, then two, then three, and then a chorus; they are
+opening up a strong scent. It rises and falls&mdash;now it is
+coming nearer, in a moment I shall see them break through the hedge
+on the ridge&mdash;surely that was a shout! Just in the very moment
+of expectation the loud tongues cease; I wait, listening
+breathlessly, but presently a straggling cry or two shows that the
+pack has turned and are spread wide trying to recover. By degrees
+the sounds die away; and I stroll onwards.</p>
+<p>A thick border of dark green firs bounds the copse&mdash;the
+brown leaves that have fallen from the oaks have lodged on the
+foliage of the firs and are there supported. In the sheltered
+corner some of the bracken has partly escaped the frost, one frond
+has two colours. On one side of the rib it is green and on the
+other yellow. The grass is strewn with the leaves of the aspen,
+which have turned quite black. Under the great elms there seems a
+sudden increase of light&mdash;it is caused by the leaves which
+still remain on the branches; they are all of the palest yellow,
+and, as you pass under, give the impression of the tree having been
+lit up&mdash;illuminated with its own colour. From the bushes hang
+the red berries of the night shade, and the fruit on the briars
+glistens in the sun. Inside the copse stand innumerable thistles
+shoulder high, dead and gaunt; and a grey border running round the
+field at the bottom of the hedge shows where the tall, strong weeds
+of summer have withered up. A bird flutters round the topmost
+boughs of the elm yonder and disappears with a flash of
+blue&mdash;it is a jay. Here the grass of the meadow has an
+undertone of grey; then an arable field succeeds, where six strong
+horses are drawing the heavy drill, and great bags of the precious
+seed are lying on the furrows.</p>
+<p>Another meadow, where note a broken bough of elder, the leaves
+on which have turned black, while still on its living branches they
+are green, and then a clump of beeches. The trunks are full of
+knot-holes, after a dead bough has fallen off and the stump has
+rotted away, the bark curls over the orifice and seemingly heals
+the wound more smoothly and completely than with other trees. But
+the mischief is proceeding all the same, despite that flattering
+appearance; outwardly the bark looks smooth and healthy, but probe
+the hole and the rottenness is working inwards. A sudden gap in the
+clump attracts the glance, and there&mdash;with one great beech
+trunk on this side and another on that&mdash;is a view opening down
+on the distant valley far below. The wood beneath looks dwarfed,
+and the uneven tops of the trees, some green, some tinted, are
+apparently so close together as to hide aught else, and the shadows
+of the clouds move over it as over a sea. A haze upon the horizon
+brings plain and sky together there; on one side, in the far
+distance a huge block, a rude vastness stands out dusky and dimly
+defined&mdash;it is a spur of the rolling hills.</p>
+<p>Out in the plain, many a mile away, the sharp, needle-like point
+of a steeple rises white above the trees, which there shade and
+mingle into a dark mass&mdash;so brilliantly white as to seem
+hardly real. Sweeping the view round, there is a strange and total
+absence of houses or signs of habitation, other than the steeple,
+and now that, too, is gone. It has utterly vanished&mdash;where,
+but a few moments before it glowed with whiteness, is absolutely
+nothing. The disappearance is almost weird in the broad daylight,
+as if solid stone could sink into the earth. Searching for it
+suddenly a village appears some way on the right&mdash;the white
+walls stand out bright and clear, one of the houses is evidently of
+large size, and placed on a slight elevation is a prominent object.
+But as we look it fades, grows blurred and indistinct, and in
+another moment is gone. The whole village has vanished&mdash;in its
+place is nothing; so swift is the change that the mind scarcely
+credits the senses.</p>
+<p>A deep shadow creeping towards us explains it. Where the
+sunlight falls, there steeple or house glows and shines; when it
+has passed, the haze that is really there, though itself invisible,
+instantly blots out the picture. The thing may be seen over and
+over again in the course of a few minutes; it would be difficult
+for an artist to catch so fleeting an effect. The shadow of the
+cloud is not black&mdash;it lacks several shades of
+that&mdash;there is in it a faint and yet decided tint of blue.
+This tone of blue is not the same everywhere&mdash;here it is
+almost distinct, there it fades; it is an aerial colour which
+rather hints itself than shows. Commencing the descent the view is
+at once lost, but we pass a beech whose beauty is not easily
+conveyed. The winds have scarcely rifled it; being in a sheltered
+spot on the slope, the leaves are nearly perfect. All those on the
+outer boughs are a rich brown&mdash;some, perhaps, almost orange.
+But there is an inner mass of branches of lesser size which droop
+downwards, something after the manner of a weeping willow; and the
+leaves on these are still green and show through. Upon the whole
+tree a flood of sunshine pours, and over it is the azure sky. The
+mingling, shading, and contrast of these colours give a lovely
+result&mdash;the tree is aglow, its foliage ripe with colour.</p>
+<p>Farther down comes the steady sound of deliberate blows, and the
+upper branches of the hedge falls beneath the steel. A sturdy
+labourer, with a bill on a pole, strikes slow and strong and cuts
+down the hedge to an even height. A dreadful weapon that simple
+tool must have been in the old days before the advent of the
+arquebus. For with the exception of the spike, which is not needed
+for hedge work, it is almost an exact copy of the brown bill of
+ancient warfare; it is brown still, except where sharpened. Wielded
+by a sinewy arm, what, gaping gashes it must have slit through helm
+and mail and severed bone! Watch the man there&mdash;he slices off
+the tough thorn as though it were straw. He notes not the beauty of
+the beech above him, nor the sun, nor the sky; but on the other
+hand, when the sky is hidden, the sun gone, and the beautiful beech
+torn by the raving winds neither does he heed that. Rain and
+tempest affect him not; the glaring heat of summer, the bitter
+frost of winter are alike to him. He is built up like an oak.
+Believe it, the man that from his boyhood has stood ankle-deep in
+the chill water of the ditch, patiently labouring with axe and
+bill; who has trudged across the furrow, hand on plough, facing
+sleet and mist; who has swung the sickle under the summer
+sun&mdash;this is the man for the trenches. This is the man whom
+neither the snows of the North nor the sun of the South can
+vanquish; who will dig and delve, and carry traverse and covered
+way forward in the face of the fortress, who will lie on the bare
+ground in the night. For they who go up to battle must fight the
+hard earth and the tempest, as well as face bayonet and ball. As of
+yore with the brown bill, so now with the rifle&mdash;the muscles
+that have been trained about the hedges and fields will not fail
+England in the hour of danger.</p>
+<p>Hark!&mdash;a distant whoop&mdash;another, a blast of a horn,
+and then a burst of chiding that makes the woods ring. Down drops
+the bill, and together, heedless of any social difference in the
+common joy, we scramble to the highest mound, and see the pack
+sweep in full cry across the furrows. Crash&mdash;it is the bushes
+breaking, as the first foam-flecked, wearied horse hardly rises to
+his leap, and yet crushes safely through, opening a way, which is
+quickly widened by the straggling troop behind. Ha! down the lane
+from the hill dashes another squadron that has eroded the chord of
+the arc and comes in fresher. Ay, and a third is entering at the
+bottom there, one by one, over the brook. Woods, field, and paths,
+but just before an empty solitude, are alive with men and horses.
+Up yonder, along the ridge, gallops another troop in single file,
+well defined against the sky, going parallel to the hounds. What a
+view they must have of the scene below! Two ladies who ride up with
+torn skirts cannot lift their panting horses at the double mound.
+Well, let us defy 'wilful damage' for once. The gate, jealously
+padlocked, is swiftly hoisted off its hinges, and away they go with
+hearty thanks. We slip the gate on again just as some one hails to
+us across the field to wait a minute, but seeing it is only a man
+we calmly replace the timber and let him take his chance. He is
+excited, but we smile stolidly. In another minute the wave of life
+is gone; it has swept over and disappeared as swiftly as it came.
+The wood, the field, and lane seem painfully&mdash;positively
+painfully&mdash;empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher goes back to
+his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the dew
+lingers.</p>
+<p>So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused
+November. And when the wind rises and the storm is near, if you get
+under the lee of a good thick copse there is a wild pleasure in the
+frenzy that passes over. With a rush the leaves stream outwards,
+thickening the air, whirling round and round; the tree-tops bend
+and sigh, the blast strikes them, and in an instant they are
+stripped and bare. A spectral rustling, as the darkness falls and
+the black cloud approaches, is the fallen leaves in the copse,
+lifted up from their repose and dashed against the underwood. Then
+a howl of wrath descends and fills the sense of hearing, so that
+for the moment it is hard to tell what is happening. A rushing hiss
+follows, and the rain hurtles through the branches, driving so
+horizontally as to pass overhead. The sheltering thorn-thicket
+stirs, and a long, deep, moaning roar rises from the fir-trees.
+Another howl that seems to stun&mdash;to so fill the ears with
+sound that they cannot hear&mdash;the aerial host charges the
+tree-ranks, and the shock makes them tremble to the root. Still
+another and another; twigs and broken boughs fly before it and
+strew the sward; larger branches that have long been dead fall
+crashing downwards; leaves are forced right through the
+thorn-thicket, and strike against the face. Fortunately, so fierce
+a fury cannot last; presently the billows of wind that strike the
+wood come at longer intervals and with less vigour; then the rain
+increases, and yet a little while and the storm has swept on. The
+very fury&mdash;the utter <i>abandon</i>&mdash;of its rage is its
+charm; the spirit rises to meet it, and revels in the roar and
+buffeting. By-and-by they who have faced it have their reward. The
+wind sinks, the rain ceases, a pale blue sky shows above, and then
+yonder appears a majesty of cloud&mdash;a Himalaya of vapour. Crag
+on crag rises the vast pile&mdash;such jagged and pointed rocks as
+never man found on earth, or, if he found, could climb&mdash;topped
+with a peak that towers to the heavens, and leans&mdash;visibly
+leans&mdash;and threatens to fall and overwhelm the weak world at
+its feet. A gleam as of snow glitters on the upper rocks, the
+passes are gloomy and dark, the faces of the precipice are lit up
+with a golden gleam from the rapidly-sinking sun. So the magic
+structure stands and sees the great round disk go down. The night
+gathers around those giant mounts and dark space receives them.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap21" id="chap21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h3>
+<h3>A WINTER'S MORNING</h3>
+The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the
+cottage, when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's
+morning. Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his
+thick 'water-tights'&mdash;which are stiff and hard, having been
+wet over night&mdash;by no other light than this. If the household
+is comparatively well managed, however, he strikes a match, and his
+'dip' shows at the window. But he generally prefers to save a
+candle, and clatters down the narrow steep stairs in the
+semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps forth
+into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered
+with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath
+is hard under foot. In the furrows is a little ice&mdash;white
+because the water has shrunk from beneath it, leaving it
+hollow&mdash;and on the stile is a crust of rime, cold to the
+touch, which he brushes off in getting over. Overhead the sky is
+clear&mdash;cloudless but pale&mdash;and the stars, though not yet
+fading, have lost the brilliant glitter of midnight. Then, in all
+their glory, the idea of their globular shape is easily accepted;
+but in the morning, just as the dawn is breaking, the absence of
+glitter comes the impression of flatness&mdash;circular rather than
+globular. But yonder, over the elms, above the cowpens, the great
+morning star has risen, shining far brighter, in proportion, than
+the moon; an intensely clear metallic light&mdash;like incandescent
+silver.
+<p>The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the
+footpath winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the
+blackbird roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies
+across the field. There is more rime on the posts and rails around
+the rickyard, and the thatch on the haystack is white with it in
+places. He draws out the broad hay-knife&mdash;a vast blade, wide
+at the handle, the edge gradually curving to a point&mdash;and then
+searches for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in the side
+of the rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the
+cattle in the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and
+there is a stir among them. Mounting the ladder he forces the knife
+with both hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends
+outwards, opening from the main mass till it appears on the point
+of parting and letting him fall with it to the ground. But long
+practice has taught him how to balance himself half on the ladder,
+half on the hay. Presently, with a truss unbound and loose on his
+head, he enters the yard, and passes from crib to crib, leaving a
+little here and a little there, for if he fills one first, there
+will be quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too
+liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot.
+The cattle that are in the sheds fattening for Christmas have cake
+as well, and this must be supplied in just proportion.</p>
+<p>The hour of milking, which used to be pretty general everywhere,
+varies now in different places, to suit the necessities of the milk
+trade. The milk has, perhaps, to travel three or four miles to the
+railway station; near great towns, where some of the farmers
+deliver milk themselves from house to house, the cows are milked
+soon after noonday. What would their grandfathers have said to
+that? But where the old customs have not much altered, the milker
+sits down in the morning to his cow with the stars still visible
+overhead, punching his hat well into her side&mdash;a hat well
+battered and thickly coated with grease, for the skin of the cow
+exudes an unctuous substance. This hat he keeps for the purpose. A
+couple of milking pails&mdash;they are of large size&mdash;form a
+heavy load when filled. The milker, as he walks back to the
+farmhouse, bends his head under the yoke&mdash;whence so many men
+are round-shouldered&mdash;and steps slowly with a peculiar swaying
+motion of the body, which slight swing prevents it from
+spilling.</p>
+<p>Another man who has to be up while the moon casts a shadow is
+the carter, who must begin to feed his team very early in order to
+get them to eat sufficient. If the manger be over-filled they spill
+and waste it, and at the same time will not eat so much. This is
+tedious work. Then the lads come and polish up the harness, and so
+soon as it is well light get out to plough. The custom with the
+horses is to begin to work as early as possible, but to strike off
+in the afternoon some time before the other men, the lads riding
+home astride. The strength of the carthorse has to be husbanded
+carefully, and the labour performed must be adjusted to it and to
+the food, i.e. fuel, consumed. To manage a large team of horses, so
+as to keep them in good condition, with glossy coats and willing
+step, and yet to get the maximum of work out of them, requires long
+experience and constant attention. The carter, therefore, is a man
+of much importance on a farm. If he is up to his duties he is a
+most valuable servant; if he neglects them he is a costly nuisance,
+not so much from his pay, but because of the hindrance and
+disorganisation of the whole farm-work which such neglect
+entails.</p>
+<p>Foggers and milkers, if their cottages are near at hand, having
+finished the first part of the day's work, can often go back home
+to breakfast, and, if they have a good woman in the cottage, find a
+fire and hot tea ready. The carter can rarely leave his horses for
+that, and, therefore, eats his breakfast in the stable; but then he
+has the advantage that up to the time of starting forth he is under
+cover. The fogger and milker, on the other hand, are often exposed
+to the most violent tempests. A gale of wind, accompanied with
+heavy rain, often readies its climax just about the dawn. They find
+the soil saturated, and the step sinks into it&mdash;the furrows
+are full of water; the cow-yard, though drained, is a pool, no
+drain being capable of carrying it off quick enough. The thatch of
+the sheds drips continually; the haystack drips; the thatch of the
+stack, which has to be pulled off before the hay-knife can be used,
+is wet; the old decaying wood of the rails and gates is wet. They
+sit on the three-legged milking-stool (whose rude workmanship has
+taken a dull polish from use) in a puddle; the hair of the cow,
+against which the head is placed, is wet; the wind blows the rain
+into the nape of the neck behind, the position being stooping.
+Staggering under the heavy yoke homewards, the boots sink deep into
+the slush and mire in the gateways, the weight carried sinking them
+well in. The teams do not usually work in very wet weather, and
+most of the out-door work waits; but the cattle must be attended
+to, Sundays and holidays included. Even in summer it often happens
+that a thunderstorm bursts about that time of the morning. But in
+winter, when the rain is driven by a furious wind, when the lantern
+is blown out, and the fogger stumbles in pitchy darkness through
+mud and water, it would be difficult to imagine a condition of
+things which concentrates more discomfort.</p>
+<p>If, as often happens, the man is far from home&mdash;perhaps he
+has walked a mile or two to work&mdash;of course he cannot change
+his clothes, or get near a fire, unless in the farmer's kitchen. In
+some places the kitchen is open to the men, and on Sundays, at all
+events, they get a breakfast free. But the kindly old habits are
+dying out before the hard-and-fast money system and the abiding
+effects of Unionism, which, even when not prominently displayed,
+causes a silent, sullen estrangement.</p>
+<p>Shepherds, too, sometimes visit the fold very early in the
+morning, and in the lambing season may be said to be about both day
+and night. They come, however, under a different category to the
+rest of the men, because they have no regular hours, but are guided
+solely by the season and the work. A shepherd often takes his ease
+when other men are busily labouring. On the other hand, he is
+frequently anxiously engaged when they are sleeping. His sheep rule
+his life, and he has little to do with the artificial divisions of
+time.</p>
+<p>Hedgers and ditchers often work by the piece, and so take their
+own time for meals; the ash woods, which are cut in the winter, are
+also usually thrown by the piece. Hedging and ditching, if done
+properly, is hard work, especially if there is any grubbing. Though
+the arms get warm from swinging the grub-axe or billhook, or
+cleaning out the ditch and plastering and smoothing the side of the
+mound with the spade, yet feet and ankles are chilled by the water
+in the ditch. This is often dammed up and so kept back partially,
+but it generally forces its way through. The ditcher has a board to
+stand on; there is a hole through it, and a projecting stick
+attached, with which to drag it into position. But the soft soil
+allows the board to sink, and he often throws it aside as more
+encumbrance than use. He has some small perquisites: he is allowed
+to carry home a bundle of wood or a log every night, and may gather
+up the remnants after the faggoting is finished. On the other hand,
+he cannot work in bad weather.</p>
+<p>Other men come to the farm buildings to commence work about the
+time the carter has got his horses fed, groomed, and harnessed, and
+after the fogger and milker have completed their early duties. If
+it is a frosty morning and the ground firm, so as to bear up a cart
+without poaching the soil too much, the manure is carried out into
+the fields. This is plain, straightforward labour, and cannot be
+looked upon as hard work. If the cattle want no further attention,
+the foggers and milkers turn their hands after breakfast to
+whatever may be going on. Some considerable time is taken up in
+slicing roots with the machine, or chaff-cutting&mdash;monotonous
+work of a simple character, and chiefly consisting in turning a
+handle.</p>
+<p>The general hands&mdash;those who come on when the carter is
+ready, and who are usually young men, not yet settled down to any
+particular branch&mdash;seem to get the best end of the stick. They
+do not begin so early in the morning by some time as the fogger,
+milker, carter, or shepherd; consequently, if the cottage
+arrangements are tolerable, they can get a comfortable breakfast
+first. They have no anxieties or trouble whatever; the work may be
+hard in itself, but there is no particular hurry (in their
+estimation) and they do not distress themselves. They receive
+nearly the same wages as the others who have the care of valuable
+flocks, herds, and horses; the difference is but a shilling or two,
+and, to make up for that, they do not work on Sundays. Now, the
+fogger must feed his cows, the carter his horse, the shepherd look
+to his sheep every day; consequently their extra wages are
+thoroughly well earned. The young labourer&mdash;who is simply a
+labourer, and professes no special branch&mdash;is, therefore, in a
+certain sense, the best off. He is rarely hired by the
+year&mdash;he prefers to be free, so that when harvest comes he may
+go where wages chance to be highest. He is an independent person,
+and full of youth, strength, and with little experience of life, is
+apt to be rough in his manners and not overcivil. His wages too
+often go in liquor, but if such a young man keeps steady (and there
+are a few that do keep steady) he does very well indeed, having no
+family to maintain.</p>
+<p>A set of men who work very hard are those who go with the
+steam-ploughing tackle. Their pay is so arranged as to depend in a
+measure on the number of acres they plough. They get the steam up
+as early as possible in the morning, and continue as late as they
+can at night. Just after the harvest, when the days are long, and,
+indeed, it is still summer, they work for extremely long hours.
+Their great difficulty lies in getting water. This must be
+continually fetched in carts, and, of course, requires a horse and
+man. These are not always forthcoming in the early morning, but
+they begin as soon as they can get water for the boiler, and do not
+stop till the field be finished or it is dark.</p>
+<p>The women do not find much work in the fields during the winter.
+Now and then comes a day's employment with the threshing-machine
+when the farmer wants a rick of corn threshed out. In pasture or
+dairy districts some of them go out into the meadows and spread the
+manure. They wear gaiters, and sometimes a kind of hood for the
+head. If done carefully, it is hard work for the
+arms&mdash;knocking the manure into small pieces by striking it
+with a fork swung to and fro smartly.</p>
+<p>In the spring, when the great heaps of roots are
+opened&mdash;having been protected all the winter by a layer of
+straw and earth&mdash;it is necessary to trim them before they are
+used. This is often done by a woman. She has a stool or log of wood
+to sit on, and arranges a couple of sacks or something of the kind,
+so as to form a screen and keep off the bitter winds which are then
+so common&mdash;colder than those of the winter proper. With a
+screen one side, the heap of roots the other, and the hedge on the
+third, she is in some sense sheltered, and, taking her food with
+her, may stay there the whole day long, quite alone in the solitude
+of the broad, open, arable fields.</p>
+<p>From a variety of causes, the number of women working in the
+fields is much less than was formerly the case; thus presenting
+precisely the reverse state of things to that complained of in
+towns, where the clerks, &amp;c., say that they are undersold by
+female labour. The contrast is rather curious. The price of women's
+labour has, too, risen; and there does not appear to be any
+repugnance on their part to field-work. Whether the conclusion is
+to be accepted that there has been a diminution in the actual
+number of women living in rural places, it is impossible to decide
+with any accuracy. But there are signs that female labour has
+drifted to the towns quite as much as male&mdash;especially the
+younger girls. In some places it seems rare to see a young girl
+working in the field (meaning in winter)&mdash;those that are to be
+found are generally women well advanced in life. Spring and summer
+work brings forth more, but not nearly so many as used to be the
+case.</p>
+<p>Although the work of the farm begins so soon in the morning, it
+is, on the other hand, in the cold months, over early. 'The night
+cometh when no man can work' was, one would think, originally meant
+in reference to agricultural labour. It grows dusk before half-past
+four on a dull winter's day, and by five is almost, if not quite,
+dark. Lanterns may be moving in the cowyards and stables; but
+elsewhere all is quiet&mdash;the hedger and ditcher cannot see to
+strike his blow, the ploughs have ceased to move for some time, the
+labourer's workshop&mdash;the field&mdash;is not lighted by gas as
+the rooms of cities.</p>
+<p>The shortness of the winter day is one of the primary reasons
+why, in accordance with ancient custom, wages are lowered at that
+time. In summer, on the contrary, the hours are long, and the pay
+high&mdash;which more than makes up for the winter reduction. A
+labourer who has any prudence can, in fact, do very well by putting
+by a portion of his extra summer wages for the winter; if he does
+not choose to exercise common sense, he cannot expect the farmer
+(or any manufacturer) to pay the same price for a little work and
+short time as for much work and long hours. Reviewing the work the
+labourer actually does in winter, it seems fair and just to state
+that the foggers, or milkers, i.e. the men who attend on cattle,
+the carters, and the shepherds, work hard, continuously, and often
+in the face of the most inclement weather. The mere labourers, who,
+as previously remarked, are usually younger and single men, do not
+work so hard, nor so long. And when they are at it&mdash;whether
+turning the handle of a winnowing machine in a barn, cutting a
+hedge, spreading manure, or digging&mdash;it must be said that they
+do not put the energy into it of which their brawny arms are
+capable.</p>
+<p>'The least work and the most money,' however, is a maxim not
+confined to the agricultural labourer. Recently I had occasion to
+pass through a busy London street in the West-end where the macadam
+of the roadway was being picked up by some score of men, and, being
+full of the subject of labour, I watched the process. Using the
+right hand as a fulcrum and keeping it stationary, each navvy
+slowly lifted his pick with the left half-way up, about on a level
+with his waistcoat, when the point of the pick was barely two feet
+above the ground. He then let it fall&mdash;simply by its own
+weight&mdash;producing a tiny indentation such as might be caused
+by the kick of one's heel It required about three such strokes, if
+they could so called strokes, to detach one single small stone.
+After that exhausting labor the man stood at ease for a few
+minutes, so that there were often three or four at once staring
+about them, while several others lounged against the wooden railing
+placed to keep vehicles back.</p>
+<p>A more irritating spectacle it would be hard to imagine. Idle as
+much agricultural labour is, it is rarely so lazy as that. How
+contractors get their work done, if that is a sample, it is a
+puzzle to understand. The complaint of the poor character of the
+work performed by the agricultural labourer seems also true of other
+departments, where labour&mdash;pure and simple labour of thews and
+sinews&mdash;is concerned. The rich city merchant, who goes to his
+office daily, positively works harder, in spite of all his money.
+So do the shopmen and assistants behind their counters; so do the
+girls in drapers' shops, standing the whole day and far into the
+evening when, as just observed, the fields have been dark for
+hours; so, indeed, do most men and women who earn their bread by
+any other means than mere bodily strength.</p>
+<p>But the cattle-men, carters, and shepherds, men with families
+and settled, often seem to take an interest in their charges, in
+the cows, horses, or sheep; some of them are really industrious,
+deserving men. The worst feature of unionism is the lumping of all
+together, for where one man is hardly worth his salt, another is a
+good workman. It is strange that such men as this should choose to
+throw in their lot with so many who are idle&mdash;whom they must
+know to be idle&mdash;thus jeopardising their own position for the
+sake of those who are not worth one-fifth the sacrifice the
+agricultural cottager must be called upon to make in a strike. The
+hard-working carter or cattle-man, according to the union theory,
+is to lose his pay, his cottage, his garden, and get into bad odour
+with his employer, who previously trusted him, and was willing to
+give him assistance, in order that the day labourer who has no
+responsibilities either of his own or his master's, and who has
+already the best end of the stick, should enjoy still further
+opportunities for idleness.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap22" id="chap22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN. COTTAGE GIRLS</h3>
+In the coldest weather one or more of the labourer's children are
+sure to be found in the farmyard somewhere. After the mother has
+dressed her boy (who may be about three or four years old) in the
+morning, he is at once turned out of doors to take care of himself,
+and if, as is often the case, the cottage is within a short
+distance of the farmyard, thither he toddles directly. He stands
+about the stable door, watching the harnessing of the great
+carthorses, which are, from the very first, the object of his
+intense admiration. But he has already learnt to keep out of the
+way, knowing that his presence would not otherwise be tolerated a
+moment, and occupies a position which enables him to dart quickly
+behind a tree, or a rick.
+<p>When the horses are gone he visits the outhouse, where the
+steam-engine is driving the chaff-cutter, or peers in at the huge
+doors of the barn, where with wide wooden shovel the grain is being
+moved. Or he may be met with round the hay-ricks, dragging a log of
+wood by a piece of tar cord, the log representing a plough. As you
+come upon him suddenly he draws up to the rick as if the hay was
+his natural protector, and looks up at you with half-frightened,
+half-curious gaze, and mouth open. His hat is an old one of his
+father's, a mile too big, coming down over his ears to his
+shoulders, well greased from ancient use&mdash;a thing not without
+its advantage, since it makes it impervious to rain. He wears what
+was a white jacket, but is now the colour of the prevailing soil of
+the place; a belt; and a pair of stumping boots, the very picture
+in miniature of his father's, heeled and tipped with iron. His
+naked legs are red with the cold, but thick and strong; his cheeks
+are plump and firm, his round blue eyes bright, his hair almost
+white, like bleached straw.</p>
+<p>An hour or two ago his skin was clean enough, for he was sent
+out well washed, but it is now pretty well grimed, for he has been
+making himself happy in the dirt, as a boy should do if he be a
+boy. For one thing it is clean dirt, nothing but pure mother earth,
+and not the nasty unctuous filth of city courts and back lanes. If
+you speak to him he answers you sturdily&mdash;if you can catch the
+meaning of his words, doubly difficult from accent and imperfect
+knowledge of construction. But he means well, and if you send him
+on an errand will run off to find 'measter' as fast as his short
+stature will allow. He will potter about the farmyard the whole
+morning, perhaps turning up at home for a lunch of a slice of bread
+well larded. His little sister, not so old as himself, is there,
+already beginning her education in the cares of maternity, looking
+after the helpless baby that crawls over the wooden threshold of
+the door with bare head, despite the bitter cold. Once during the
+day he may perhaps steal round the farmhouse, and peer wistfully
+from behind the tubs or buckets into the kitchen, when, if the
+mistress chances to be about, he is pretty certain to pick up some
+trifle in the edible line.</p>
+<p>How those prosperous parents who dwell in highly-rented suburban
+villas, and send out their children for a walk with a couple of
+nurses, and a 'bow-wow' to run beside the perambulator, would be
+eaten up with anxiety did their well-dressed boys or girls play
+where this young son of toil finds his amusement! Under the very
+hoofs of the carthorses&mdash;he will go out to them when they are
+loose in the field, three or four in a group, under a tree, when it
+looks as if the slightest movement on their part must crush him;
+down to the side of the deep broad brook to swim sticks in it for
+boats, where a slip on the treacherous mud would plunge him in, and
+where the chance of rescue&mdash;everybody being half a mile away
+at work&mdash;would be absolutely <i>nil</i>. The cows come
+trampling through the yard; the bull bellows in the meadow; great,
+grunting sows, savage when they have young, go by, thrusting their
+noses into and turning up the earth for food; steam ploughing
+engines pant and rumble about; carts are continually coming and
+going; and he is all day in the midst of it without guardian of any
+kind whatsoever. The fog, and frost, and cutting winter winds make
+him snivel and cry with the cold, and yet there he is out in
+it&mdash;in the draughts that blow round the ricks, and through the
+hedge bare of leaves. The rain rushes down pitilessly&mdash;he
+creeps inside the barn or shed, and with a stick splashes the
+puddles. The long glaring days of summer see him exposed to the
+scorching heat in the hay, or the still hotter harvest field.
+Through it all he grows stout and strong, and seems happy
+enough.</p>
+<p>He is, perhaps, more fortunate than his sister, who has to take
+part in the household work from very early age. But the village
+school claims them both after awhile; and the greater number of
+such schools are well filled, taking into consideration the long
+distances the children have to come and the frequent bad state of
+the roads and lanes. Both the employers and the children's own
+parents get them to school as much as possible; the former put on a
+mild compulsion, the latter for the most part are really anxious
+for the schooling, and have even an exaggerated idea of the value
+of education. In some cases it would seem as if the parents
+actually educated themselves in some degree from their own
+children, questioning them as to what they have been told. But, on
+the other hand, the labourer objects to paying for the teaching,
+and thinks the few coppers he is charged a terrible extortion.</p>
+<p>The lads, as they grow older and leave school, can almost always
+find immediate employment with their father on the same farm, or on
+one close by. Though they do not now go out to work so soon, yet,
+on the other hand, when they do commence they receive higher weekly
+wages. The price paid for boys' labour now is such that it becomes
+a very important addition to the aggregate income of the cottager.
+When a man has got a couple of boys out, bringing home so much per
+week, his own money, of course, goes very much farther.</p>
+<p>The girls go less and less into the field. If at home, they
+assist their parents at harvest time when work is done by the acre,
+and the more a man can cut the better he is off; but their aim is
+domestic service, and they prefer to be engaged in the towns. They
+shirk the work of a farmhouse, especially if it is a dairy, and so
+it has come to be quite a complaint among farmers' wives, in many
+places, that servants are not to be obtained. Those that are
+available are mere children, whose mothers like them to go out
+anywhere at first, just to obtain an insight into the duties of a
+servant. The farmer's wife has the trouble and annoyance of
+teaching these girls the rudiments of household work, and then, the
+moment they are beginning to be useful, they leave, and almost
+invariably go to the towns. Those that remain are the slow-witted,
+or those who are tied in a measure by family difficulties&mdash;as
+a bedridden mother to attend to; or, perhaps, an illegitimate child
+of her own may fetter the cottage girl. Then she goes out in the
+daytime to work at the farmhouse, and returns to sleep at home.</p>
+<p>Cottage girls have taken to themselves no small airs of recent
+years&mdash;they dress, so far as their means will go, as flashily
+as servants in cities, and stand upon their dignity. This
+foolishness has, perhaps, one good effect&mdash;it tends to
+diminish the illegitimate births. The girls are learning more
+self-respect&mdash;if they could only achieve that and eschew the
+other follies it would be a clear gain. It may be questioned
+whether purely agricultural marriages are as common as formerly.
+The girl who leaves her home for service in the towns sees a class
+of men&mdash;grooms, footmen, artisans, and workmen
+generally&mdash;not only receiving higher wages than the labourers
+in her native parish, but possessing a certain amount of
+comparative refinement. It is not surprising that she prefers, if
+possible, to marry among these.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, the young labourer, who knows that he can get
+good wages wherever he likes to go, has become somewhat of a
+wanderer. He roams about, not only from village to village, but
+from county to county; perhaps works for a time as a navvy on some
+distant railway, and thus associates with a different class of men,
+and picks up a sort of coarse cynicism. He does not care to marry
+and settle and tie himself down to a routine of labour&mdash;he
+despises home pleasures, preferring to spend his entire earnings
+upon himself. The roaming habits of the rising generation of
+labourers is an important consideration, and it has an effect in
+many ways. Statistics are not available; but the impression left on
+the mind is that purely rural marriages are not so frequent,
+notwithstanding that wages at large have risen. When a young man
+does marry, he and his wife not uncommonly live for a length of
+time with his parents, occupying a part of the cottage.</p>
+<p>Had any one gone into a cottage some few years back and inquired
+about the family, most probably the head of the house could have
+pointed out all his sons and daughters engaged in or near the
+parish. Most likely his own father was at work almost within hail.
+Uncles, cousins, various relations, were all near by. He could tell
+where everybody was. To-day if a similar inquiry wore made, the
+answer would often be very different. The old people might be about
+still, but the younger would be found scattered over the earth.
+One, perhaps, went to the United States or Canada in the height of
+the labourers' agitation some years ago, when agents were busy
+enlisting recruits for the Far West. Since then another has
+departed for Australia, taking with him his wife. Others have
+migrated northwards, or to some other point of the
+compass&mdash;they are still in the old country, but the exact
+whereabouts is not known. The girls are in service a hundred miles
+away&mdash;some married in the manufacturing districts. To the
+middle-aged, steady, stay-at-home labourer, the place does not seem
+a bit like it used to. Even the young boys are restless, and
+talking of going somewhere. This may not be the case with every
+single individual cottage family, but it is so with a great number.
+The stolid phalanx of agricultural labour is slowly
+disintegrating.</p>
+<p>If there yet remains anything idyllic in the surroundings of
+rural cottage life, it may be found where the unmarried but
+grown-up sons&mdash;supposing these, of course, to be
+steady&mdash;remain at home with their parents. The father and head
+of the house, having been employed upon one farm for the last
+thirty years or more, though nominally carter, is really a kind of
+bailiff. The two young men work on at the same place, and lodge at
+home, paying a small weekly sum for board and lodging. Their sister
+is probably away in service; their mother manages the cottage. She
+occasionally bears a hand in indoor work at the farmhouse, and in
+the harvest time aids a little in the field, but otherwise does not
+labour. What is the result? Plenty to eat, good beds, fairly good
+furniture, sufficient fuel, and some provision for contingencies,
+through the benefit club. As the wages are not consumed in drink,
+they have always a little ready money, and, in short, are as
+independent as it is possible for working men to be, especially if,
+as is often the case, the cottage and garden is their own, or is
+held on a small quit-rent. If either of the sons in time desires to
+marry, he does not start utterly unprovided. His father's influence
+with the farmer is pretty sure to procure him a cottage; he has
+some small savings himself, and his parents in the course of years
+have accumulated some extra furniture, which is given to him.</p>
+<p>If a cottage, where the occupants are steady like this, be
+visited in the evening, say towards seven o'clock, when dinner is
+on the table (labourers dining or supping after the conclusion of
+the day's work), the fare will often be found of a substantial
+character. There may be a piece of mutton&mdash;not, of course, the
+prime cut, but wholesome meat&mdash;cabbages, parsnips, carrots
+(labourers like a profusion of vegetables), all laid out in a
+decent manner. The food is plain, but solid and plentiful. If the
+sister out in service wishes to change her situation, she has a
+home to go to meanwhile. Should any dispute occur with the employer
+the cottage is still there, and affords a shelter till the
+difficulty is settled or other work obtained. In towns the workman
+who has been earning six or even ten shillings a day, and paying a
+high rent (carefully collected every week), no sooner gets his
+discharge than he receives notice to quit his lodgings, because the
+owner knows he will not be paid. But when the agricultural labourer
+has a quit-rent cottage, or one of his own, he has a permanent
+resource, and can look round for another engagement.</p>
+<p>The cooking in the best cottages would not commend itself to the
+student of that art: in those where the woman is shiftless it would
+be deemed simply intolerable. Evidence of this is only too apparent
+on approaching cottages, especially towards the evening. Coming
+from the fresh air of the fields, perhaps from the sweet scent of
+clover or of new-mown grass, the odour which arises from the
+cottages is peculiarly offensive. It is not that they are dirty
+inside&mdash;the floor may be scrubbed, the walls brushed, the
+chairs clean, and the beds tidy; it is from outside that all the
+noisome exhalations taint the breeze. The refuse vegetables, the
+washings, the liquid and solid rubbish generally is cast out into
+the ditch, often open to the highway road, and there festers till
+the first storm sweeps it away. The cleanest woman indoors thinks
+nothing disgusting out of doors, and hardly goes a step from her
+threshold to cast away indescribable filth. Now, a good deal of
+this refuse is the remains of imperfect cooking&mdash;masses of
+soddened cabbage, part of which only is eaten, and the rest stored
+for the pig or thrown into the ditch. The place smells of soaking,
+saturated cabbage for yards and yards round about.</p>
+<p>But it is much easier to condemn the cottage cook than to show
+her how to do better. It is even doubtful whether professed
+scientific cooks could tell her what to do. The difficulty arises
+from the rough, coarse taste of the labourer, and the fact, which
+it is useless to ignore, that he must have something solid, and
+indeed, bulky. Thin clear soups&mdash;though proved to abound with
+nourishment and of delicious flavour&mdash;are utterly beside his
+wants. Give him the finest soup; give him
+<i>p&acirc;t&eacute;s</i>, or even more meaty
+<i>entr&eacute;es</i>, and his remark will be that it is very nice,
+but he wants 'summat to eat.' His teeth are large, his jaws strong,
+his digestive powers such as would astonish a city man; he likes
+solid food, bacon, butcher's meat, cheese, or something that gives
+him a sense of fulness, like a mass of vegetables. This is the
+natural result of his training and work in the fields. The
+materials used by the cottage cook are often quite capable of being
+made into agreeable dishes, but then those dishes would not suit
+the man. All the soups and kickshaws&mdash;though excellent in
+themselves&mdash;in the world are not, for his purpose, equal to a
+round of beef or a side of bacon. Let any one go and labour daily
+in the field, and they will come quickly to the same opinion. Yet
+something might certainly be done in the way of preventing waste.
+The real secret lies in the education of the women when
+young&mdash;that is, for the future. But, taking the present day,
+looking at things as they actually exist, it is no use abusing or
+lecturing the cottage cook. She might, perhaps, be persuaded to
+adopt a systematic plan of disposing of the refuse.</p>
+<p>The Saturday half-holiday is scarcely so closely observed in
+rural labour as in urban. The work closes earlier, that is, so far
+as the day labourer is concerned, for he gets the best of this as
+of other things. But, half-holiday or not, cows have to be fed and
+milked, sheep must be looked after, and the stable attended to, so
+that the regular men do not get off much sooner. In winter, the
+days being short, they get little advantage from the short time; in
+summer they do. Compensation is, however, as much as possible
+afforded to the settled men who have gardens, by giving them a
+half-day now and then when work is slack to attend to them.</p>
+<p>On Sunday morning the labourer cleans and polishes his boots
+(after digging the potatoes for dinner), puts on a black or dark
+coat, put his hands in his pockets&mdash;a marked feature
+this&mdash;and rambles down to his garden or the allotment. There,
+if it be spring or summer, he is sure to find some acquaintances
+likewise 'looking round.' This seems to be one of the greatest
+pleasures of the labourer, noting the growth of a cabbage here, and
+the promise of potatoes yonder; he does not work, but strolls to
+and fro, discussing the vegetable prospect. Then back home in time
+for dinner&mdash;the great event of Sunday, being often the only
+day in the week that he can get a hot dinner in the middle of the
+day. It is his day at home, and though he may ramble out he never
+goes far.</p>
+<p>Ladies residing in the country are accustomed to receive
+periodical appeals from friends in town asking their assistance in
+procuring servants. So frequent are such appeals that there would
+seem to be a popular belief that the supply is inexhaustible. The
+villages are supposed to be full of girls, all ready to enter
+service, and, though a little uncouth in manner, possessed
+nevertheless of sterling good qualities. The letter is usually
+couched in something like the following terms:&mdash;'Do you happen
+to know of a really good girl that would suit us? You are aware of
+the scale on which our household is conducted, and how very modest
+our requirements are. All we want is a strong, healthy, honest
+girl, ready and willing to work and to learn, and who will take an
+interest in the place, and who will not ask too extravagant a
+price. She can have a good home with us as long as ever she likes
+to stay. My dear, you really cannot tell what a difficulty we
+experience in getting servants who are not "uppish," and who are
+trustworthy and do not mind working, and if you can find us one in
+those pretty villages round you, we shall be so much obliged,'
+&amp;c.</p>
+<p>The fact that a servant from the country is supposed, in the
+nature of things, to be honest and willing, hardworking, strong,
+and healthy, and almost everything else, speaks well for the
+general character of the girls brought up in agricultural cottages.
+It is, however, quite a mistake to suppose the supply to be
+limitless; it is just the reverse; the really good servants from
+any particular district are quickly exhausted, and then, if the
+friends in town will insist upon a girl from the country, they
+cannot complain if they do not get precisely what they want. The
+migration, indeed, of servants from the villages to the towns has,
+for the time being, rather overdone itself. The best of those who
+responded to the first demand were picked out some time since; many
+of those now to be had are not of the first class, and the young
+are not yet grown up. After awhile, as education
+progresses&mdash;bringing with it better manners&mdash;there may be
+a fresh supply; meantime, really good country girls are difficult
+to obtain. But the demand is as great as ever. From the squire's
+lady down to the wife of the small tenant-farmer, one and all
+receive the same requests from friends in town. The character of
+the true country servant stands as high as ever.</p>
+<p>Let us hope that the polish of progress may not too much overlay
+the solid if humble virtues which procured that character for her
+class. Some efforts are being made here and there to direct the
+course of young girls after leaving the village schools&mdash;to
+put them in the right way and give them the benefit of example. As
+yet such efforts are confined to individuals. The object is
+certainly worth the formation of local organisations, for, too
+often, on quitting the school, the young village girl comes in
+contact with anything but elevating influences, and, unfortunately,
+her own mother is not always the best guide. The position of a
+servant in town is well known, the antecedents of a girl before she
+reaches town perhaps not so thoroughly, while the lives of those
+who remain in the villages drop out of sight of the great
+world.</p>
+<p>As a child, the cottage girl 'roughs' it in the road and in the
+fields. In winter she learns to slide, and to endure the cold and
+rain, till she often becomes what, to any one accustomed to a more
+delicate life, seems positively impervious to weather. The servants
+in old-fashioned farmhouses really did not seem to know what it was
+to feel cold. Even nowadays, a servant fresh from an outlying
+hamlet, where her parents probably could procure but little fuel
+beyond what was necessary for cooking, at first cares not an atom
+whether there be a fire in the kitchen or not. Such girls are as
+hardy as the men of their native place. After a time, hot rooms and
+a profusion of meat and good living generally saps and undermines
+this natural strength. Then they shiver like town-bred people.</p>
+<p>The cottage child is often locked out by her parents, who go to
+work and leave her in charge of her still smaller brothers and
+sisters. They play about the hedges and ditches, and very rarely
+come to any harm. In autumn their little fingers are employed
+picking up the acorns fallen from the oaks, for which the formers
+pay so much per bushel. In spring is their happiest time. The joy
+of life&mdash;the warm sunshine and pleasant breeze of
+spring&mdash;is not wholly lost upon them, despite their hard fare,
+and the not very affectionate treatment they receive at home. Such
+a girl may then be seen sitting under a willow beside the brook,
+with her charges around her&mdash;the little brother that can just
+toddle, the baby that can but crawl and crow in the green fresh
+grass. Between them lies a whole pile of flowers&mdash;dandelion
+stems made into rings, and the rings joined together so as to form
+a chain, rushes plaited, blue-bells, cowslips tied up in balls, and
+cowslips loose, their yellow petals scattered over the sward.</p>
+<p>The brook flows murmuring by, with an occasional splash, as a
+water-rat dives from the bank or a fish rises to an insect. The
+children weave their flowers and chant some old doggrel rhymes with
+little or no meaning. Long afterwards that girl will retain an
+unconscious memory of the scene, when, wheeling her employer's
+children out on some suburban road, she seeks a green meadow and
+makes a cowslip ball for the delighted infants. In summer they go
+down to the hay-field, but dare not meddle with the hay, which the
+bailiff does not like to see disturbed; they remain under the
+shadow of the hedge. In autumn they search for the berries, like
+the birds, nibbling the hips and haws, tasting crabs and sloes, or
+feasting on the fruit of a hazel-bush.</p>
+<p>Be it spring or summer, autumn or winter, wherever the child may
+be, her eyes are ever on the watch to find a dead stick or a broken
+branch, too heavy to lift, but which may be dragged behind, in
+order to feed the cottage fire at night. That is her first duty as
+a child; if she remains in the hamlet that will be her duty through
+life, and to the last, as an aged woman. So in London, round the
+purlieus of buildings in the course of erection&mdash;even in the
+central thoroughfares, in busy Fleet Street&mdash;children hang
+about the temporary hoardings, and pick up the chips and splinters
+of deal. But the latter have not the pleasure of the blue-bells and
+cowslips, nor even of the hips and haws, nor does the fresh pure
+breeze play upon their foreheads.</p>
+<p>Rough though it be, the childhood of the cottage girl is not
+without its recompenses, the most valuable of which is sturdy
+health. Now that good schools are open to every village, so soon as
+the children are old enough to walk the distance, often
+considerable, they are sent off every morning. At all events, if it
+does nothing else, it causes the mothers to give them a daily
+tidying up, which is in itself an advantage. They travel under the
+charge of the girl; often two or three such small parties join
+company, coming from as many cottages. In the warmer months, the
+lanes and fields they cross form a long playground for them, and
+picking flowers and searching for birds'-nests pass away the time.
+In winter they have to face the mire and rain.</p>
+<p>When the girl leaves school she is hardly old enough to enter
+service, and too often in the year or so that elapses before she
+'goes out' much mischief is done. She is then at an age when the
+mind is peculiarly receptive, and the ways of the young labourers
+with whom she is thrown into contact are not very refined. Her
+first essay at 'service' is often as day-nursemaid at some adjacent
+farmhouse, taking care of the younger children in the day, and
+returning home to sleep. She then wanders with the children about
+the same fields she visited long before. This system used to be
+common enough, but latterly it has not worked well, because the
+parents expect the girl to progress so rapidly. She must be a woman
+and receive a woman's wages almost before she has ceased to be a
+girl. If she does not disdain to enter a farmhouse as kitchen-maid
+her wages will probably be about six pounds a year at first. Of
+course the exact sum varies very much in different localities and
+in different cases. It is but a small sum of money, yet it is often
+all she is worth.</p>
+<p>The cottage is a poor preparation even for the humblest
+middle-class home. Those ladies in towns who have engaged country
+servants are well aware of the amount of teaching they require
+before they can go through the simplest duties in a satisfactory
+manner. But most of these girls have already been out several times
+before reaching town. What a difficulty, then, the first farmer's
+wife must have had in drilling the rudiments of civilised life into
+them! Indeed, the vexations and annoyances connected with servants
+are no light weight upon the patience of the tenant-farmer. His
+wife is perpetually preparing servant girls for the service of
+other people.</p>
+<p>She is a kind of unpaid teacher, for ever shaping the rough
+material which, so soon as it is worth higher wages than a
+tenant-farmer can usually pay, is off, and the business has to be
+begun over again. No one who had not seen it would believe how
+clumsy and unthinking such girls are on first 'going out.' It is,
+too, the flightiest and giddiest period of their
+existence&mdash;before the girl sobers down into the woman. In the
+houses of the majority of tenant-farmers the mistress herself has
+to be a good deal in the kitchen, and therefore comes into close
+personal contact with the servants, and feels these things acutely.
+Except in the case of gentleman-farmers it may, perhaps, be said
+that almost all the wives of farmers have had experience of this
+kind.</p>
+<p>The girls are not nearly so tractable as formerly&mdash;they are
+fully aware of their own value and put it extremely high; a word is
+sufficient, and if not pleased they leave immediately. Wages rise
+yearly to about the limit of twelve pounds. In mentioning that sum
+it is not set down as an exact figure, for circumstances of course
+vary in every case. But it is seldom that servants in farmhouses of
+the middle class receive more than that. Until recently few
+obtained so much. Most of them that are worth anything never rest
+till they reach the towns, and take service in the villas of the
+wealthy suburban residents. Some few, however, remain in the
+country from preference, feeling a strong affection for their
+native place, for their parents and friends. Notwithstanding the
+general tendency to roam, this love of home is by no means extinct,
+but shows itself very decidedly in some of the village girls.</p>
+<p>The fogger, or milker, who comes to the farmhouse door in the
+morning may not present a very attractive appearance in the eyes of
+those accustomed to see well-dressed people; but it may be quite
+different with the young girl whose early associations have made
+her oblivious of dirt. She does not notice the bits of hay clinging
+to the smockfrock, the greasy hat and begrimed face, or the clumsy
+boots thickly coated with mud. A kiss may be quite as sweet,
+despite these mere outside accidents. In her way she is full of
+imagination and fancy&mdash;what her mistress would call 'giddy.'
+Within doors an eye may be on her, so she slips out to the
+wood-stack in the yard, ostensibly to fetch a log for the fire, and
+indulges in a few moments of flirtation behind the shelter of the
+faggots. In the summer she works doubly hard in the morning, and
+gets everything forward, so that she may go out to the field
+haymaking in the afternoon, when she may meet her particular
+friend, and also, perhaps, his rival.</p>
+<p>On Sundays she gladly walks two or more miles across the fields
+to church, knowing full well that some one will be lounging about a
+certain stile, or lying on the sward by a gate waiting for her. The
+practice of coquetry is as delightful in the country lane as in the
+saloons of wealth, though the ways in which it exhibits itself may
+be rude in comparison. So that love is sometimes the detaining
+force which keeps the girl in the country. Some of the young
+labourers are almost heirs to property in their eyes. One is
+perhaps the son of the carrier, who owns a couple of cottages let
+out to tenants; or the son of the blacksmith, at whom several caps
+are set, and about whom no little jealousy rages. On the whole,
+servants in the country, at least at farmhouses, have much more
+liberty than they could possibly get in town.</p>
+<p>The work is hard in the morning, but generally much less for the
+rest of the day; in the evening there is often scarcely anything to
+do. So that the farmhouse servant has much time to herself, and is
+not too strictly confined indoors when not at work. There is a good
+deal of 'company,' too; men coming to the door, men in the
+rick-yards and cattle-yards, men in the barn, labourers passing to
+their work, and so on. It is not so dull a life as might appear.
+Indeed, a farmhouse servant probably sees twice as many of her own
+class in the course of a week as a servant in town.</p>
+<p>Vanity, of course, is not to be shut out even from so simple an
+existence: the girl must have a 'fashionable' bonnet, and a pair of
+thin tight boots, let the lanes be never so dirty or the fields
+never so wet. In point of education they have much improved of
+late, and most can now read and write. But when they write home the
+letter is often read to the mother by some friend; the girl's
+parents being nearly or quite illiterate. Tenant-farmers' wives are
+often asked to act as notaries in such cases by cottage women on
+the receipt of letters from their children.</p>
+<p>When such a girl marries in the village she usually finds the
+work of the cottage harder than that of the farmhouse. It is more
+continuous, and when children arrive the trouble of nursing has to
+be added to the other duties, and to occasional work in the fields.
+The agricultural labourer's wife, indeed, has a harder lot than her
+husband. His toil is for the most part over when he leaves the
+field, but the woman's is never finished. When the man reaches home
+he does not care, or will not turn his hand to anything, except,
+perhaps, to fetch a pail of water, and he is not well pleased if
+asked to do that. The want of conveniences like an accessible water
+supply is severely felt by the women in many villages and hamlets;
+whilst in others there is a quantity running to waste. Many of the
+men obtain a more than liberal amount of beer, while the women
+scarcely get any at all. While working in the field they are
+allowed a small quantity by some farmers; at home they have
+none.</p>
+<p>Very few cottage women are inclined to drink, and they are
+seldom seen at 'public' or intoxicated. On Saturdays most of them
+walk into the nearest town, perhaps five or more miles distant, in
+order to buy household stuff. Often a whole bevy of neighbours then
+meet and return home together, and that is about the only time when
+they call at the roadside inn. Laden with heavy parcels, with a
+long walk yet before them, and after a hard week's work, it is not
+surprising that they should want some refreshment, but the quantity
+of ale then purchased is very small. When there are a number of
+young children, and the parents endeavour to keep them decent, the
+woman works very hard indeed. Many farmers' wives take much
+interest in such families, where there is an evident endeavour to
+go straight, and assist the women in various ways, as with cast-off
+clothing for the children. A basketful of apples even from the
+farmer's orchard is a treat to the children, for, though better fed
+than formerly, their diet is necessarily monotonous, and such fruit
+as may be grown in the cottage garden is, of course, sold.</p>
+<p>With the exception of vegetables the cottager now buys almost
+everything and produces nothing for home use; no home-spun
+clothing&mdash;not even a home-baked loaf. Instances have been
+observed where cottagers have gone to much expense (for them) to
+build ovens, and after baking a few batches abandoned the project.
+Besides the cheap outfitters in the towns, the pack-drapers come
+round visiting every cottage. Such drapers have no shop-window, and
+make no display, but employ several men carrying packs, who work
+through the villages on foot and range over a wide stretch of
+country.</p>
+<p>Agricultural women, other than those belonging to the families
+of tenant-farmers, may be summed up as employed in the following
+manner. Bailiff's wives and daughters: these are not supposed, on
+extensive farms, to work in the field. The wife frequently has
+charge of the small home dairy, and the daughter assists at the
+house. Sometimes they also attend to the poultry, now occasionally
+kept in large numbers. A bailiff's daughter sometimes becomes
+housekeeper to a farmer. Dairymaids of the ordinary class&mdash;not
+competent to make special cheese&mdash;are becoming rarer, on
+account of the demand for their services decreasing&mdash;the milk
+trade and cheap foreign cheese having rendered common sorts of
+cheese unprofitable. They are usually cottagers. Of the married
+labouring women and the indoor servants something has already been
+said. In most villages a seamstress or two may be found, and has
+plenty of work to do for the farmers' families. The better class of
+housekeepers, and those professional dairymaids who superintend the
+making of superior cheese, are generally more or less nearly
+related to the families of tenant-farmers.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap23" id="chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS</h3>
+The wise old saw that good wine needs no bush does not hold true in
+the case of the labourer; it would require a very large bush indeed
+to attract him to the best of beer offered for sale under
+legitimate conditions. In fact, he cares not a rap about good
+beer&mdash;that is, intrinsically good, a genuine product of malt
+and hops. He would rather grumble at it, unless, perchance, it was
+a gift; and even then would criticise it behind the donor's back,
+holding the quart cup aslant so as to see the bottom in one place,
+and get a better view of the liquor. The great breweries whose
+names are household words in cities, and whose interest it is to
+maintain a high standard of quality for the delectation of their
+million consumers, do not exalt their garish painted advertisements
+in gilded letters as tall as Tom Thumb over the doors of village
+alehouses. You might call for Bass at Cairo, Bombay, Sydney, or San
+Francisco, and Bass would be forthcoming. But if you knocked the
+trestle-table with the bottom of a tankard (the correct way) in a
+rural public, as a signal to the cellar you might call for Bass in
+vain.
+<p>When the agricultural labourer drops in on his way home from his
+work of a winter evening&mdash;heralding his approach by casting
+down a couple of logs or bundle of wood which he has been carrying
+with a thud outside the door&mdash;he does not demand liquor of
+that character. When in harvest time, after sundown&mdash;when the
+shadows forbid farther cutting with the fagging hook at the tall
+wheat&mdash;he sits on the form without, under the elm tree, and
+feels a whole pocketful of silver, flush of money like a
+gold-digger at a fortunate rush, he does not indulge in Allsopp or
+Guinness. He hoarsely orders a 'pot' of some local brewer's
+manufacture&mdash;a man who knows exactly what he likes, and
+arranges to meet the hardy digestion of the mower and the reaper.
+He prefers a rather dark beer with a certain twang faintly
+suggestive of liquorice and tobacco, with a sense of 'body,' a
+thickness in it, and which is no sooner swallowed than a clammy
+palate demands a second gulp to wash away the relics of the first.
+Ugh! The second requires a third swig, and still a fourth, and
+appetite increasing with that it feeds on, the stream rushes down
+the brazen throat that burns for more.</p>
+<p>Like the Northern demi-god who drank unwittingly at the ocean
+from a horn and could not empty it, but nevertheless caused the ebb
+of the sea, so our toper, if he cannot contain the cask, will bring
+it down to the third hoop if time and credit will but serve. It
+would require a ganger's staff to measure his capacity&mdash;in
+fact, the limit of the labourer's liquor-power, especially in
+summer, has never yet been reached. A man will lie on his back in
+the harvest field, under a hedge sweet with the June roses that
+smile upon the hay, and never move or take his lips away till a
+gallon has entered into his being, for it can hardly be said to be
+swallowed. Two gallons a day is not an uncommon consumption with
+men who swing the scythe or reaping-hook.</p>
+<p>This of course is small beer; but the stuff called for at the
+low public in the village, or by the road just outside, though
+indescribably nauseous to a non-vitiated palate, is not 'small.' It
+is a heady liquid, which if anyone drinks, not being accustomed to
+it, will leave its effects upon him for hours afterwards. But this
+is what the labourer likes. He prefers something that he can feel;
+something that, if sufficiently indulged in, will make even his
+thick head spin and his temples ache next morning. Then he has had
+the value of his money. So that really good ale would require a
+very large bush indeed before it attracted his custom.</p>
+<p>It is a marked feature of labouring life that the respectable
+inn of the village at which the travelling farmer, or even persons
+higher in rank, occasionally call, which has a decent stable, and
+whose liquors are of a genuine character, is almost deserted by the
+men who seek the reeking tap of the ill-favoured public which forms
+the clubhouse of all the vice of the village. While the farmer or
+passing stranger, calling at the decent house really for
+refreshment, drinks but a glass or two and departs, the frequenters
+of the low place never quit their seats till the law compels them,
+so that for sixpence spent in the one by men with cheque-books in
+their pockets, five shillings are spent in the other by men who
+have not got a loaf of bread at home for their half-starving
+children and pinched wife. To an unprincipled landlord clearly this
+sort of custom is decidedly preferable, and thus it is that these
+places are a real hardship to the licensed victualler whose effort
+it is to keep an orderly house.</p>
+<p>The influence of the low public upon the agricultural labourer's
+life is incalculable&mdash;it is his club, almost his home. There
+he becomes brutalised; there he spends his all; and if he awakes to
+the wretched state of his own family at last, instead of
+remembering that it is his own act, he turns round, accuses the
+farmer of starvation wages, shouts for what is really Communism,
+and perhaps even in his sullen rage descends to crime. Let us go
+with him into such a rural den.</p>
+<p>Beware that you do not knock your head against the
+smoke-blackened beams of the low ceiling, and do not put your elbow
+carelessly on the deal table, stained with spilled ale, left
+uncleaned from last night, together with little heaps of ashes,
+tapped out from pipes, and spots of grease from the tallow candles.
+The old-fashioned settles which gave so cosy an air in the olden
+time to the inn room, and which still linger in some of the houses,
+are not here&mdash;merely forms and cheap chairs. A great pot hangs
+over the fire, for the family cooking is done in the public
+apartment; but do not ask to join in the meal, for though the food
+may be more savoury than is dreamed of in your philosophy, the
+two-grained forks have not been cleaned these many a day. Neither
+is the butcher's wooden skewer, just extracted from the meat, an
+elegant toothpick if you are fastidious.</p>
+<p>But these things are trifles when the dish is a plump pheasant,
+jugged hare, brown partridges, or trout&mdash;perhaps not exactly
+in season&mdash;as the chance may be; or a couple of boiled fowls,
+or a turkey, or some similar toothsome morsel. Perhaps it is the
+gamey taste thus induced that enables them to enjoy joints from the
+butcher which are downright tainted, for it is characteristic of
+the place and people on the one hand to dine on the very best, as
+above, and yet to higgle over a halfpenny a pound at the shop.
+Nowhere else in all the parish, from the polished mahogany at the
+squire's mansion to the ancient solid oaken table at the
+substantial old-fashioned farmer's, can there be found such a
+constant supply of food usually considered as almost the privilege
+of the rich. Bacon, it is true, they eat of the coarsest kind; but
+with it eggs new laid and delicious. In brief, it is the strangest
+hodge-podge of pheasant and bread and cheese, asparagus and
+cabbage. But somehow, whatever is good, whatever is held in
+estimation, makes its appearance in that grimy little back room on
+that ragged, dirty table-cloth.</p>
+<p>Who pays for these things? Are they paid for at all? There is no
+licensed dealer in game in the village nor within many miles, and
+it seems passing strange. But there are other things almost as
+curious. The wood pile in the back yard is ever high and bulky; let
+the fire burn never so clear in the frosty days there is always a
+regular supply of firewood. It is the same with coal. Yet there is
+no copse attached to the place, nor is the landlord ever seen
+chopping for himself, nor are the farmers in the habit of receiving
+large orders for logs and faggots. By the power of some magic spell
+all things drift hitherward. A magnet which will draw logs of
+timber and faggots half across the parish, which will pull
+pheasants off their perch, extract trout from the deep, and stay
+the swift hare in midst of her career, is a power indeed to be
+envied. Had any enchanter of medi&aelig;val days so potent a
+charm?</p>
+<p>Perhaps it is the engaging and attractive character of the
+landlord himself. He is a tall, lanky man, usually seen in
+slippers, and trousers too short for his limbs; he 'sloppets' about
+in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, hands in pockets, and shoulders
+forward almost in a hump. He hangs about the place, now bringing in
+a log, now carrying a bucket, now spinning a mop, now slouching
+down the garden to feed the numerous fowls that scratch around the
+stumps of cabbages. Anything, in short, but work. Sometimes,
+however, he takes the trap and horse, and is supposed to be gone on
+a dealing expedition. Sometimes it is only to carry a jar of beer
+up to the men in the field, and to mouch a good armful of fresh-cut
+clover for provender from the swathe. He sips gin the live-long
+day&mdash;weak gin always&mdash;every hour from morn till a cruel
+Legislature compels the closing of the shutters. He is never
+intoxicated&mdash;it is simply a habit, a sort of fuel to feed the
+low cunning in which his soul delights. So far from intoxication is
+he, that there is a fable of some hard knocks and ill usage, and
+even of a thick head being beaten against the harder stones of the
+courtyard behind, when the said thick head was helpless from much
+ale. Such matters are hushed up in the dark places of the earth. So
+far from intoxication is he, that he has the keenest eye to
+business.</p>
+<p>There is a lone rick-yard up in the fields yonder to which the
+carters come from the farm far away to fetch hay, and straw, and so
+forth. They halt at the public, and are noticed to enjoy good
+living there, nor are they asked for their score. A few trusses of
+hay, or bundles of straw, a bushel of corn, or some such trifle is
+left behind merely out of good-fellowship. Waggons come up laden
+with tons of coal for the farms miles above, far from a railway
+station; three or four teams, perhaps, one after the other. Just a
+knob or two can scarcely be missed, and a little of the small in a
+sack-bag. The bundles of wood thrown down at the door by the
+labourers as they enter are rarely picked up again; they disappear,
+and the hearth at home is cold. The foxes are blamed for the geese
+and the chickens, and the hunt execrated for not killing enough
+cubs, but Reynard is not always guilty. Eggs and poultry vanish.
+The shepherds have ample opportunities for disposing of a few spare
+lambs to a general dealer whose trap is handy. Certainly,
+continuous gin does not chill the faculties.</p>
+<p>If a can of ale is left in the outhouse at the back and happens
+to be found by a few choice spirits at the hour when the vicar is
+just commencing his sermon in church on Sunday, it is by the purest
+accident. The turnip and swede greens left at the door, picked
+wholesale from the farmers' fields; the potatoes produced from coat
+pockets by fingers which have been sorting heaps at the farmstead;
+the apples which would have been crushed under foot if the
+labourers had not considerately picked them up&mdash;all these and
+scores of other matters scarce worth naming find their way over
+that threshold. Perhaps the man is genial, his manners enticing,
+his stories amusing, his jokes witty? Not at all. He is a silent
+fellow, scarce opening his mouth except to curse the poor scrub of
+a maid servant, or to abuse a man who has not paid his score. He
+slinks in and lights his pipe, smokes it silently, and slinks out
+again. He is the octopus of the hamlet, fastening on the cottage
+homes and sucking the life-blood from them. He misses nothing, and
+nothing comes amiss to him.</p>
+<p>His wife, perhaps, then, may be the centre of attraction? She is
+a short, stout woman, whose cheeks as she walks wobble with fat,
+whose face is ever dirty, and dress (at home) slatternly. But
+mayhap her heart is in the right place, and when Hodge is missed
+from his accustomed seat by the fire of an evening, when it is
+bruited abroad that he is down with illness, hurriedly slips on her
+bonnet, and saying nothing, carries a basket of good things to
+cheer the inner man? Or, when his wife is confined, perhaps she
+brings some little delicacies, a breast of pheasant, a bottle of
+port wine, and strengthens her with motherly counsel in the hour of
+her travail. Is this so? Hodge's wife could tell you that the
+cottage door has never been darkened by her presence: that she
+indeed would not acknowledge her if passed by chance on the road.
+For the landlady sails forth to the adjacent town in all the glory
+of those fine feathers that proverbially make the fine bird.</p>
+<p>It is a goodly spectacle to see her in rustling ample silk, in
+costly sealskin, in a bonnet 'loud' but rich, shading a countenance
+that glows ruddy red as a furnace. A gold chain encircles her
+portly neck, with a gold watch thereto attached; gold rings upon
+her fingers, in one of which sparkles a brilliant diamond; gold
+earrings, gold brooch, kid gloves bursting from the fatness of the
+fingers they encase. The dingy trap and limping rawboned hack which
+carry her to the outskirts of the town scarcely harmonise with so
+much glory. But at the outskirts she alights, and enters the street
+in full dignity. By some potent alchemy the sweat of Hodge's brow
+has become condensed into that sparkling diamond, which is
+disclosed when the glove is drawn off in the shops, to the
+admiration of all beholders.</p>
+<p>Or, if not the wife, perhaps it may be the daughter who is the
+magnet that draws the very timber across the parish? She is not
+ill-looking, and might pass muster in her best dress were it not
+for a squareness of build, like the set of a man rather than the
+full curves associated with woman. She is rarely seen in the house
+at all, and neither talks to the men nor the women who enter. She
+sallies forth at night, and her friends are the scampish among the
+sons of the lower class of tenant-farmers.</p>
+<p>This is the family. How strange and yet how undeniable is it
+that such a house should attract the men whose self-interest, one
+would imagine, would lead them to shun it, and if they must spend
+their hard-won earnings, at least to get a good article for their
+money! It proves that an appeal to reason is not always the way to
+manage the working man. Such a low house is always a nest of
+agitation: there the idle, drunken, and ill-conditioned have their
+rendezvous, there evil is hatched, and from there men take their
+first step on the road that leads to the gaol. The place is often
+crowded at night&mdash;there is scarcely room to sit or stand, the
+atmosphere is thick with smoke, and a hoarse roar of jarring voices
+fills it, above which rises the stave of a song shouted in one
+unvarying key from some corner. Money pours in apace&mdash;the
+draughts are deep, and long, and frequent, the mugs are large, the
+thirst insatiate. The takings, compared with the size and situation
+of the house, must be high, and yet, with all this custom and
+profit, the landlord and his family still grovel. And grovel they
+will in dirt, vice, low cunning, and iniquity&mdash;as the serpent
+went on his belly in the dust&mdash;to the end of their days.</p>
+<p>Why do these places exist? Because in England justice is ever
+tempered with mercy; sometimes with too much mercy. The resident
+squire and magistrate knows the extent of the evil only too well.
+He sees it with his own eyes in the village; he sees it brought
+before him on the bench; the clergyman tells him of it, so do the
+gamekeeper and the policeman. His tenants complain of it. He is
+perpetually reminded of it, and of what it may ultimately mean as
+these places become the centres of communistic propagandas. But
+though perfectly aware of the evil, to suppress it is quite another
+matter.</p>
+<p>First, you must find the power, and then, having the power, the
+question arises, is it wise to exercise it? Though the men who
+frequent such dens are often of the lowest type, or on their way to
+that condition, they are not all of that character. Men of a
+hard-working and honest stamp go there as well. All have their
+rights alike&mdash;rights and liberties which must be held sacred
+even at some disadvantage. In short, the reprobate nature of the
+place may be established, but while it is the chosen resort of the
+people, or of a section of them, unless some great and manifest
+harm arises it cannot be touched. The magistrate will willingly
+control it as far as lies in his province, but unless directly
+instructed by the Legislature he cannot go farther. The truth is,
+it lies with the labourer himself. He is not obliged to visit
+there. A respectable inn may be found in every village if he
+desires that wholesome conviviality which, when it does not
+overstep certain bounds, forms a bond between man and man. Were
+such low houses suddenly put down, what an outcry would be raised
+of favouritism, tyranny, and so on! When the labourer turns against
+them himself, he will speedily find powerful friends to assist in
+attaining the object.</p>
+<p>If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the
+agricultural labourer upon the conclusion of his day's work,
+exposed as he is to the wear and tear of the elements. After
+following the slow plough along the furrows through the mist; after
+tending the sheep on the hills where the rain beats with furious
+energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of trees, and splitting
+them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may naturally ask for
+refreshment. And it is equally natural that he should desire to
+take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can associate
+freely and speak his mind unchecked. The glass of ale would not
+hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain
+quarters to do evil for an extra quart. Nothing forms so strong a
+temptation as the knowledge that a safe receiver is near at
+hand.</p>
+<p>He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he
+can take, for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass
+of wine to the 'City' gentleman who lives delicately. He is to be
+pitied rather than condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather
+than chastised. Punishment, indeed, waits upon him only too
+doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in the shape of sorrows and
+privations at home. The evil lies not in the ale, but in the
+character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the same
+time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper. No
+one, indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, 'Save
+me from my friends!' To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice
+it must be stated that there is a certain bluff honesty and
+frankness among them, a rude candour, which entitles them to
+considerable respect as a body. There are also men here and there
+whose strength of character would certainty have obtained
+favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher rank
+of life. But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so
+innocent and free from guile&mdash;so lamblike as it suits the
+purpose of some to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may
+secure sympathy. There are very queer black sheep in the flock, and
+it rather unfortunately happens that these, in more ways than one,
+force themselves, sometimes most unpleasantly, upon the notice of
+the tenant-farmer and the landlord.</p>
+<p>A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of
+choice manhood whose head-quarters are at the low 'public.' A tall,
+well-built man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger
+might take him for a favourable example. He holds himself more
+upright than most of his class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked
+air of deference towards those who address him conveys rather a
+pleasing impression. He can read fairly well and sign his name.
+This man, who is still young, began life as carter's lad, in which
+occupation he had not been long engaged before the horse-hair
+carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared. Whipcord and
+similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new
+whip. This last, not being so easily disposed of, was traced to his
+possession and procured him a sound thrashing. Some short time
+afterwards a carthorse was found in the fields stabbed in several
+places, though, fortunately, not severely. Having already the bad
+name that hangs the dog, he was strongly suspected of this
+dastardly act in revenge for the thrashing from the carter, and
+threat of dismissal from the employer. No evidence, however, could
+be procured, and though he was sent about his business he escaped
+punishment. As he grew older he fell in with a tribe of
+semi-gipsies, and wandered in their company for a year or two,
+learning their petty pilfering tricks. He then returned to
+agriculture labour, and, notwithstanding the ill-flavour that clung
+about his doings, found no difficulty in obtaining employment.</p>
+<p>It is rare in agriculture for a man to be asked much about his
+character, unless he is to be put into a position of some trust. In
+trades and factories&mdash;on railways, too&mdash;an applicant for
+employment is not only questioned, but has to produce evidence as
+to his immediate antecedents at least. But the custom in farming
+prescribes no such checks; if the farmer requires a man, the
+applicant is put on to work at once, if he looks at all likely.
+This is especially the case in times of pressure, as when there is
+a great deal of hoeing to be done, in harvest, and when extra hands
+are wanted to assist in feeding the threshing machine. Then the
+first that comes along the road is received, and scarcely a
+question asked. The custom operates well enough in one way, since a
+man is nearly sure of procuring employment, and encounters no
+obstacles; on the other hand, there is less encouragement to
+preserve a good character. So the fellow mentioned quickly got work
+when he applied for it, and went on pretty steadily for a period.
+He then married, and speedily discovered the true use of
+women&mdash;i.e. to work for idle men. The moment he learnt that he
+could subsist upon her labour he ceased to make any effort, and
+passed his time lounging about.</p>
+<p>The wife, though neither handsome nor clever, was a hard-working
+person, and supported herself and idle husband by taking in
+washing. Indignation has often been expressed at the moral code of
+savages, which permits the man to lie in his hammock while the
+woman cultivates the maize; but, excepting the difference in the
+colour of the skin, the substitution of dirty white for coppery
+redness, there is really no distinction. Probably washing is of the
+two harder work than hoeing maize. The fellow 'hung about,' and
+doubtless occasionally put in practice the tricks he had acquired
+from his nomad friends.</p>
+<p>The only time he worked was in the height of the harvest, when
+high wages are paid. But then his money went in drink, and drink
+often caused him to neglect the labour he had undertaken, at an
+important juncture when time was of consequence. On one such
+occasion the employer lost his temper and gave him a piece of his
+mind, ending by a threat of proceedings for breach of contract. A
+night or two afterwards the farmer's rick-yard was ablaze, and a
+few months later the incendiary found himself commencing a term of
+penal servitude. There he was obliged to work, began to walk
+upright, and acquired that peculiarly marked air of deference which
+at first contrasts rather pleasantly with the somewhat gruff
+address of most labourers. During his absence the wife almost
+prospered, having plenty of employment and many kind friends. He
+signalised his return by administering a thrashing&mdash;just to
+re-assert his authority&mdash;which, however, the poor woman
+received with equanimity, remarking that it was only his way. He
+recommenced his lounging life, working occasionally when money was
+to be easily earned&mdash;for the convict stain does not prevent a
+man getting agricultural employment&mdash;and spending the money in
+liquor. When tolerably sober he is, in a sense, harmless; if
+intoxicated, his companions give him the road to himself.</p>
+<p>Now there is nothing exceptionally characteristic of the
+agricultural labourer in the career of such a man. Members of other
+classes of the working community are often sent to penal servitude,
+and sometimes men of education and social position. But it is
+characteristic of agricultural life that a man with the stigma of
+penal servitude can return and encounter no overpowering prejudice
+against him. There are work and wages, for him if he likes to take
+them. No one throws his former guilt in his face. He may not be
+offered a place of confidence, nor be trusted with money, as the
+upper labourers&mdash;carters for instance&mdash;sometimes are. But
+the means of subsistence are open to him, and he will not be driven
+by the memory of one crime to commit another.</p>
+<p>There is no school of crime in the country. Children are not
+brought up from the earliest age to beg and steal, to utter
+loquacious falsehood, or entrap the benevolent with sham suffering.
+Hoary thieves do not keep academies for the instruction of little
+fingers in the art of theft. The science of burglary is unstudied.
+Though farmhouses are often situate in the most lonely places a
+case of burglary rarely occurs, and if it does, is still more
+rarely traced to a local resident. In such houses there is
+sometimes a good deal of old silver plate, accumulated in the
+course of generations&mdash;a fact that must be perfectly well
+known to the labouring class, through the women indoor-servants.
+Yet such attempts are quite exceptional. So, too, are robberies
+from the person with violence. Serious crime is, indeed,
+comparatively scarce. The cases that come before the Petty Sessions
+are, for the most part, drunkenness, quarreling, neglect or
+absenteeism from work, affiliation, petty theft, and so on.</p>
+<p>The fact speaks well for the rural population; it speaks very
+badly for such characters as the one that has been described. If he
+will not turn into the path of honest labour, that is his own
+fault. The injury he does is this, that he encourages others to be
+idle. Labouring men quit the field under the influence of temporary
+thirst, or that desire for a few minutes' change which is not in
+itself blameworthy. They enter the low 'public,' call for their
+quart, and intend to leave again immediately. But the lazy fellow
+in the corner opens conversation, is asked to drink, more is called
+for, there is a toss-up to decide who shall pay, in which the idle
+adept, of course, escapes, and so the thing goes on. Such a man
+becomes a cause of idleness, and a nuisance to the farmers.</p>
+<p>Another individual is a huge, raw-boned, double-jointed giant of
+a man, whose muscular strength must be enormous, but whose weakness
+is beer. He is a good workman, and of a civil, obliging
+disposition. He will commence, for instance, making drains for a
+farmer with the greatest energy, and in the best of tempers. A
+drain requires some little skill. The farmer visits the work day by
+day, and notes with approval that it is being done well. But about
+the third or fourth day the clever workman, whose immense strength
+makes the employment mere child's play to him, civilly asks for a
+small advance of money. Now the farmer has no objection to that,
+but hands it to him with some misgiving. Next morning no labourer
+is to be seen. The day passes, and the next. Then a lad brings the
+intelligence that his parent is just recovering from a heavy
+drinking bout and will be back soon. There is the history of forty
+years!</p>
+<p>The same incident is repeated once or twice a month all the year
+round. Now it is a drain, now hedge-cutting, now hoeing, now
+haymaking, and now reaping. Three or four days' work excellently
+performed; then a bed in a ditch and empty pockets. The man's
+really vast strength carries him through the prostration, and the
+knocks and bangs and tumbles received in a helpless state. But what
+a life! The worst of it is the man is not a reprobate&mdash;not a
+hang-dog, lounging rascal, but perfectly honest, willing to oblige,
+harmless and inoffensive even when intoxicated, and skilful at his
+labour. What is to be done with him? What is the farmer to do who
+has only such men to rely on&mdash;perhaps in many
+cases&mdash;without this fellow's honesty and good
+temper&mdash;qualities which constantly give him a lift? It is
+simply an epitome of the difficulties too commonly met with in the
+field&mdash;bright sunshine, good weather, ripe crops, and men half
+unconscious, or quite, snoring under a hedge! There is no
+encouragement to the tenant to pay high wages in experiences like
+this.</p>
+<p>A third example is a rakish-looking lad just rising into
+manhood. Such young men are very much in demand and he would not
+have the slightest difficulty in obtaining employment, yet he is
+constantly out of work. When a boy he began by summoning the carter
+where he was engaged for cuffing him, charging the man with an
+assault. It turned out to be a trumpery case, and the Bench advised
+his parents to make him return and fulfil his contract. His parents
+thought differently of it. They had become imbued with an
+inordinate sense of their own importance. They had a high idea of
+the rights of labour; Jack, in short, was a good deal better than
+his master, and must be treated with distinguished respect. The
+doctrines of the Union countenanced the deduction; so the boy did
+not return. Another place was found for him.</p>
+<p>In the course of a few months he came again before the Bench.
+The complaint was now one of wrongful dismissal, and a claim for a
+one pound bonus, which by the agreement was to have been paid at
+the end of the year if his conduct proved satisfactory. It was
+shown that his conduct had been the reverse of satisfactory; that
+he refused to obey orders, that he 'cheeked' the carters, that he
+ran away home for a day or two, and was encouraged in these goings
+on by the father. The magistrates, always on the side of peace,
+endeavoured to procure a reconciliation, the farmer even paid down
+the bonus, but it was of no use. The lad did not return.</p>
+<p>With little variations the same game has continued ever since.
+Now it is he that complains, now it is his new master; but any way
+there is always a summons, and his face is as familiar in the court
+as that of the chairman. His case is typical. What is a farmer to
+do who has to deal with a rising generation full of this
+spirit?</p>
+<p>Then there are the regular workhouse families, who are
+perpetually applying for parochial relief. From the eldest down to
+the youngest member they seem to have no stamina; they fall ill
+when all others are well, as if afflicted with a species of
+paralysis that affects body, mind, and moral sense at once. If the
+phrase may be used without irreverence, there is no health in them.
+The slightest difficulty is sufficient to send an apparently
+strong, hale man whining to the workhouse. He localises his
+complaint in his foot, or his arm, or his shoulder; but, in truth,
+he does not know himself what is the matter with him. The real
+illness is weakness of calibre&mdash;a looseness of fibre. Many a
+labourer has an aching limb from rheumatism, and goes to plough all
+the same; many a poor cottage woman suffers from that prevalent
+agony, and bravely gets through her task, and keeps her cottage
+tidy. But these people cannot do it&mdash;they positively cannot.
+The summer brings them pain, the winter brings pain, their whole
+life is one long appeal <i>ad misericordiam</i>.</p>
+<p>The disease seems to spread with the multiplication of the
+family: the sons have it, and the sons' sons after them, so much so
+that even to bear the name is sufficient to stamp the owner as a
+miserable helpless being. All human wretchedness is, of course, to
+be deeply commiserated, and yet it is exasperating to see one man
+still doing his best under real trouble, and another eating
+contentedly the bread of idleness when there seems nothing wrong
+except a total lack of energy. The old men go to the workhouse, the
+young men go, the women and the children; if they are out one month
+the next sees their return. These again are but broken reeds to
+rely upon. The golden harvest might rot upon the ground for all
+their gathering, the grass wither and die as it stands, without the
+touch of the scythe, the very waggons and carts fall to pieces in
+the sheds. There is no work to be got out of them.</p>
+<p>The village, too, has its rookery, though not quite in the same
+sense as the city. Traced to its beginning, it is generally found
+to have originated upon a waste piece of ground, where some
+squatters settled and built their cabins. These, by the growth of
+better houses around, and the rise of property, have now become of
+some value, not so much for the materials as the site. To the
+original hovels additions have been made by degrees, and fresh huts
+squeezed in till every inch of space is as closely occupied as in a
+back court of the metropolis. Within the cottages are low pitched,
+dirty, narrow, and contracted, without proper conveniences, or even
+a yard or court.</p>
+<p>The social condition of the inhabitants is unpleasant to
+contemplate. The young men, as they grow up, arrive at an
+exaggerated idea of the value of their parents' property&mdash;the
+cottage of three rooms&mdash;and bitter animosities arise between
+them. One is accused of having had his share out in money; another
+has got into trouble and had his fine paid for him; the eldest was
+probably born before wedlock; so there are plenty of materials for
+recrimination. Then one, or even two of them bring home a wife, or
+at least a woman, and three families live beneath a single
+roof&mdash;with results it is easy to imagine, both as regards
+bickering and immorality. They have no wish to quit the place and
+enter cottages with better accommodation: they might rent others of
+the farmers, but they prefer to be independent, and, besides, will
+not move lest they should lose their rights. Very likely a few
+lodgers are taken in to add to the confusion. As regularly as
+clockwork cross summonses are taken out before the Bench, and then
+the women on either side reveal an unequalled power of abuse and
+loquacity, leaving a decided impression that it is six to one and
+half a dozen to the other.</p>
+<p>These rookeries do not furnish forth burglars and accomplished
+pickpockets, like those of cities, but they do send out a gang of
+lazy, scamping fellows and coarse women, who are almost useless. If
+their employer does not please them&mdash;if he points out that a
+waste of time has taken place, or that something has been
+neglected&mdash;off they go, for, having a hole to creep into, they
+do not care an atom whether they lose a job or not. The available
+hands, therefore, upon whom the farmers can count are always very
+much below the sum total of the able-bodied population. There must
+be deducted the idle men and women, the drunkards, the never
+satisfied, as the lad who sued every master; the workhouse
+families, the rookery families, and those who every harvest leave
+the place, and wander a great distance in search of exceptionally
+high wages. When all these are subtracted, the residue remaining is
+often insufficient to do the work of the farms in a proper manner.
+It is got through somehow by scratch-packs, so to say&mdash;men
+picked up from the roads, aged men who cannot do much, but whose
+energy puts the younger fellows to shame, lads paid far beyond the
+value of the work they actually accomplish.</p>
+<p>Work done in this way is, of course, incomplete and
+unsatisfactory, and the fact supplies one of the reasons why
+farmers seem disinclined to pay high wages. It is not because they
+object to pay well for hard work, but because they cannot get the
+hard work. There is consequently a growing reliance upon floating
+labour&mdash;upon the men and women who tramp round every
+season&mdash;rather than on the resident population. Even in the
+absence of any outward agitation&mdash;of a strike or open movement
+in that direction&mdash;the farmer has considerable difficulties to
+contend with in procuring labour. He has still further difficulties
+in managing it when he has got it. Most labourers have their own
+peculiar way of finishing a job; and however much that style of
+doing it may run counter to the farmer's idea of the matter in
+hand, he has to let the man proceed after his own fashion. If he
+corrected, or showed the man what he wanted, he would run the risk
+of not getting it done at all. There is no one so thoroughly
+obstinate as an ignorant labourer full of his own consequence.
+Giving, then, full credit to those men whose honest endeavours to
+fulfil their duty have already been acknowledged, it is a complete
+delusion to suppose that all are equally manly.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap24" id="chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h3>
+<h3>THE COTTAGE CHARTER. FOUR-ACRE FARMERS</h3>
+The songs sung by the labourer at the alehouse or the harvest home
+are not of his own composing. The tunes whistled by the ploughboy
+as he goes down the road to his work in the dawn were not written
+for him. Green meads and rolling lands of wheat&mdash;true fields
+of the cloth of gold&mdash;have never yet inspired those who dwell
+upon them with songs uprising from the soil. The solitude of the
+hills over whose tops the summer sun seems to linger so long has
+not filled the shepherd's heart with a wistful yearning that must
+be expressed in verse or music. Neither he nor the ploughman in the
+vale have heard or seen aught that stirs them in Nature. The
+shepherd has never surprised an Immortal reclining on the thyme
+under the shade of a hawthorn bush at sunny noontide; nor has the
+ploughman seen the shadowy outline of a divine huntress through the
+mist that clings to the wood across the field.
+<p>These people have no myths; no heroes. They look back on no
+Heroic Age, no Achilles, no Agamemnon, and no Homer. The past is
+vacant. The have not even a 'Wacht am Rhein' or 'Marseillaise' to
+chaunt in chorus with quickened step and flashing eye. No; nor even
+a ballad of the hearth, handed down from father to son, to be sung
+at home festivals, as a treasured silver tankard is brought out to
+drink the health of a honoured guest. Ballads there are in old
+books&mdash;ballads of days when the yew bow was in every man's
+hands, and war and the chase gave life a colour; but they are dead.
+A cart comes slowly down the road, and the labourer with it sings
+as he jogs along; but, if you listen, it tells you nothing of
+wheat, or hay, or flocks and herds, nothing of the old gods and
+heroes. It is a street ditty such as you may hear the gutter arabs
+yelling in London, and coming from a music hall.</p>
+<p>So, too, in material things&mdash;in the affairs of life, in
+politics, and social hopes&mdash;the labourer has no well-defined
+creed of race. He has no genuine programme of the future; that
+which is put forward in his name is not from him. Some years ago,
+talking with an aged labourer in a district where at that time no
+'agitation' had taken place, I endeavoured to get from him
+something like a definition of the wants of his class. He had lived
+many years, and worked all the while in the field; what was his
+experience of their secret wishes? what was the Cottage Charter? It
+took some time to get him to understand what was required; he had
+been ready enough previously to grumble about this or that detail,
+but when it came to principles he was vague. The grumbles, the
+complaints, and so forth, had never been codified. However, by
+degrees I got at it, and very simple it was:&mdash;Point 1, Better
+wages; (2) more cottages; (3) good-sized gardens; (4) 'larning' for
+the children. That was the sum of the cottager's creed&mdash;his
+own genuine aspirations.</p>
+<p>Since then every one of these points has been obtained, or
+substantial progress made towards it. Though wages are perhaps
+slightly lower or rather stationary at the present moment, yet they
+are much higher than used to be the case. At the same time vast
+importations of foreign food keep the necessaries of life at a
+lower figure. The number of cottages available has been greatly
+increased&mdash;hardly a landlord but could produce accounts of
+sums of money spent in this direction. To almost all of these large
+gardens are now attached. Learning for the children is provided by
+the schools erected in every single parish, for the most part by
+the exertions of the owners and occupiers of land.</p>
+<p>Practically, therefore, the four points of the real Cottage
+Charter have been attained, or as nearly as is possible. Why, then,
+is it that dissatisfaction is still expressed? The reply is,
+because a new programme has been introduced to the labourer from
+without. It originated in no labourer's mind, it is not the outcome
+of a genuine feeling widespread among the masses, nor is it the
+heartbroken call for deliverance issuing from the lips of the
+poet-leader of a downtrodden people. It is totally foreign to the
+cottage proper&mdash;something new, strange, and as yet scarcely
+understood in its full meaning by those who nominally support
+it.</p>
+<p>The points of the new Cottage Charter are&mdash;(1) The
+confiscation of large estates; (2) the subdivision of land; (3) the
+abolition of the laws of settlement of land; (4) the administration
+of the land by the authorities of State; (5) the confiscation of
+glebe lands for division and distribution; (6) the abolition of
+Church tithes; (7) extension of the county franchise; (8) education
+gratis, free of fees, or payment of any kind; (9) high wages,
+winter and summer alike, irrespective of season, prosperity, or
+adversity. No. 6 is thrown in chiefly for the purpose of an
+appearance of identity of interest between the labourer and the
+tenant against the Church. Of late it has rather been the cue of
+the leaders of the agitation to promote, or seem to promote, a
+coalition between the labourer and the dissatisfied tenant, thereby
+giving the movement a more colourable pretence in the eyes of the
+public. Few tenants, however dissatisfied, have been deceived by
+the shallow device.</p>
+<p>This programme emanated from no carter or shepherd, ploughman or
+fogger. It was not thought out under the hedge when the June roses
+decked the bushes; nor painfully written down on the deal table in
+the cottage while the winter rain pattered against the window, and,
+coming down the wide chimney, hissed upon the embers. It was
+brought to the cottage door from a distance; it has been iterated
+and reiterated till at last some begin to think they really do want
+all these things. But with the majority even now the propaganda
+falls flat. They do not enter into the spirit of it. No. 9 they do
+understand; that appeals direct, and men may be excused if, with a
+view which as yet extends so short a space around, they have not
+grasped the fact that wages cannot by any artificial combination
+whatever be kept at a high level. The idea of high wages brings a
+mass of labourers together; they vote for what they are instructed
+to vote, and are thus nominally pledged to the other eight points
+of the new charter Such a conception as the confiscation and
+subdivision of estates never occurred to the genuine labourers.</p>
+<p>An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new
+state of things would be like. There would be no squire, no parson,
+no woods or preserves&mdash;all grubbed for cabbage
+gardens&mdash;no parks, no farmers. 'No farmers,' said the old
+fellow, 'then who's to pay I my wages?' There he hit the blot, no
+doubt. If the first four points of the new charter were carried
+into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist. But if such
+a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a
+long time coming. The idea did not originate with him&mdash;he
+cares nothing for it&mdash;and can only be got to support it under
+the guise of an agitation for wages. Except by persistent stirring
+from without he cannot be got to move even then. The labourer, in
+fact, is not by any means such a fool as his own leaders endeavour
+to make him out. He is perfectly well aware that the farmer, or any
+person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay the
+same money in winter as in summer.</p>
+<p>Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in
+the corner of an arable field, abutting on the highway. As left by
+the builders a more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined. The
+cottages themselves were well designed and well built, but the
+surroundings were like a wilderness. Heaps of rubbish here, broken
+bricks there, the ground trampled hard as the road itself. No
+partition from the ploughed field behind beyond a mere shallow
+trench enclosing what was supposed to be the garden. Everything
+bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant. Two families went into
+these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm. The aspect
+of the place immediately began to change. The rubbish was removed,
+the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a
+quick-set hedge was planted round the enclosure. Evening after
+evening, be the weather what it might, these two men were in that
+garden at work&mdash;after a long day in the fields. In the dinner
+hour even they sometimes snatched a few minutes to trim something.
+Their spades turned over the whole of the soil, and planting
+commenced. Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for potatoes,
+onions, parsnips.</p>
+<p>Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they
+set about preparing for extras. Fruit trees&mdash;apple, plum, and
+damson&mdash;were planted; also some roses. Next beehives appeared
+and were elevated on stands and duly protected from the rain. The
+last work was the building of pigsties&mdash;rude indeed and made
+of a few slabs&mdash;but sufficient to answer the purpose. Flowers
+in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared beside the garden
+paths. The change was so complete and so quickly effected I could
+hardly realise that so short a time since there had been nothing
+there but a blank open space. Persons travelling along the road
+could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.</p>
+<p>I had often been struck with the flourishing appearance of
+cottage gardens, but then those gardens were of old date and had
+reached that perfection in course of years. But here the thing
+seemed to grow up under one's eyes. All was effected by sheer
+energy. Instead of spending their evenings wastefully at 'public,'
+these men went out into their gardens and made what was a desert
+literally bloom. Nor did they seem conscious of doing anything
+extraordinary, but worked away in the most matter-of-fact manner,
+calling no one's attention to their progress. It would be hard to
+say which garden of the two showed the better result. Their wives
+are tidy, their children clean, their cottages grow more cosy and
+homelike day by day; yet they work in the fields that come up to
+their very doors, and receive nothing but the ordinary agricultural
+wages of the district.</p>
+<p>This proves what can be done when the agricultural labourer
+really wants to do it. And in a very large number of cases it must
+further be admitted that he does want to do it, and succeeds. If
+any one when passing through a rural district will look closely at
+the cottages and gardens he will frequently find evidence of
+similar energy, and not unfrequently of something approaching very
+nearly to taste. For why does the labourer train honeysuckle up his
+porch, and the out-of-door grape up the southern end of his house?
+Why does he let the houseleek remain on the roof; why trim and
+encourage the thick growth of ivy that clothes the chimney?
+Certainly not for utility, nor pecuniary profit. It is because he
+has some amount of appreciation of the beauty of flowers, of vine
+leaf, and green ivy. Men like these are the real backbone of our
+peasantry. They are not the agitators; it is the idle hang-dogs who
+form the disturbing element in the village.</p>
+<p>The settled agricultural labourer, of all others, has the least
+inducement to strike or leave his work. The longer he can stay in
+one place the better for him in many ways. His fruit-trees, which
+he planted years ago, are coming to perfection, and bear sufficient
+fruit in favourable years not only to give him some variety of
+diet, but to bring in a sum in hard cash with which to purchase
+extras. The soil of the garden, long manured and dug, is twice as
+fertile as when he first disturbed the earth. The hedges have grown
+high, and keep off the bitter winds. In short, the place is home,
+and he sits under his own vine and fig-tree. It is not to his
+advantage to leave this and go miles away. It is different with the
+mechanic who lives in a back court devoid of sunshine, hardly
+visited by the fresh breeze, without a tree, without a yard of
+earth to which to become attached. The factory closes, the bell is
+silent, the hands are discharged; provided he can get fresh
+employment it matters little. He leaves the back court without
+regret, and enters another in a distant town. But an agricultural
+labourer who has planted his own place feels an affection for it.
+The young men wander and are restless; the middle-aged men who have
+once anchored do not like to quit. They have got the four points of
+their own genuine charter; those who would infuse further vague
+hopes are not doing them any other service than to divert them from
+the substance to the shadow.</p>
+<p>Past those two new cottages which have been mentioned there runs
+a road which is a main thoroughfare. Along this road during the
+year this change was worked there walked a mournful
+procession&mdash;men and women on tramp. Some of these were
+doubtless rogues and vagabonds by nature and choice; but many, very
+many, were poor fellows who had really lost employment, and were
+gradually becoming degraded to the company of the professional
+beggar. The closing of collieries, mines, workshops, iron furnaces,
+&amp;c., had thrown hundreds on the mercy of chance charity, and
+compelled them to wander to and fro. How men like these on tramp
+must have envied the comfortable cottages, the well-stocked
+gardens, the pigsties, the beehives, and the roses of the
+labourers!</p>
+<p>If the labourer has never gone up on the floodtide of prosperity
+to the champagne wages of the miner, neither has he descended to
+the woe which fell on South Wales when children searched the
+dust-heaps for food, nor to that suffering which forces those whose
+instinct is independence to the soup-kitchen. He has had, and still
+has, steady employment at a rate of wages sufficient, as is shown
+by the appearance of his cottage itself, to maintain him in
+comparative comfort. The furnace may be blown out, and strong men
+may ask themselves, What shall we do next? But still the plough
+turns up the earth morning after morning. The colliery may close,
+but still the corn ripens, and extra wages are paid to the harvest
+men.</p>
+<p>This continuous employment without even a fear of cessation is
+an advantage, the value of which it is difficult to estimate. His
+wages are not only sufficient to maintain him, he can even save a
+little. The benefit clubs in so many villages are a proof of
+it&mdash;each member subscribes so much. Whether conducted on a
+'sound financial basis' or not, the fact of the subscriptions
+cannot be denied, nor that assistance is derived from them. The
+Union itself is supported in the same way; proving that the wages,
+however complained of, are sufficient, at any rate, to permit of
+subscriptions.</p>
+<p>It is held out to the labourer, as an inducement to agitate
+briskly, that, in time, a state of things will be brought about
+when every man will have a small farm of four or five acres upon
+which to live comfortably, independent of a master. Occasional
+instances, however, of labourers endeavouring to exist upon a few
+acres have already been observed, and illustrate the practical
+working of the scheme. In one case a labourer occupied a piece of
+ground, about three acres in extent, at a low rental paid to the
+lord of the manor, the spot having originally been waste, though
+the soil was fairly good. He started under favourable conditions,
+because he possessed a cottage and garden and a pair of horses with
+which he did a considerable amount of hauling.</p>
+<p>He now set up as a farmer, ploughed and sowed, dug and weeded,
+kept his own hours, and went into the market and walked about as
+independent as any one. After a while the three acres began to
+absorb nearly all his time, so that the hauling, which was the
+really profitable part of the business, had to be neglected. Then,
+the ready money not coming in so fast, the horses had to go without
+corn, and pick up what they could along the roadside, on the sward,
+and out of the hedges. They had, of course, to be looked after
+while thus feeding, which occupied two of the children, so that
+these could neither go to school nor earn anything by working on
+the adjacent farms. The horses meantime grew poor in condition; the
+winter tried them greatly from want of proper fodder; and when
+called upon to do hauling they were not equal to the task. In the
+country, at a distance from towns, there is not always a good
+market for vegetables, even when grown. The residents mostly supply
+themselves, and what is raised for export has to be sold at
+wholesale prices.</p>
+<p>The produce of the three acres consequently did not come up to
+the tenant's expectation, particularly as potatoes, on account of
+the disease, could not be relied on. Meantime he had no weekly
+money coming in regularly, and his wife and family had often to
+assist him, diminishing their own earnings at the same time; while
+he was in the dilemma that if he did hauling he must employ and pay
+a man to work on the 'farm,' and if he worked himself he could not
+go out with his team. In harvest time, when the smaller farmers
+would have hired his horses, waggon, and himself and family to
+assist them, he had to get in his own harvest, and so lost the hard
+cash.</p>
+<p>He now discovered that there was one thing he had omitted, and
+which was doubtless the cause why he did not flourish as he should
+have done according to his calculations. All the agriculturists
+around kept live stock&mdash;he had none. Here was the grand
+secret&mdash;it was stock that paid: he must have a cow. So he set
+to work industriously enough, and put up a shed. Then, partly by
+his own small savings, partly by the assistance of the members of
+the sect to which he belonged, he purchased the desired animal and
+sold her milk. In summer this really answered fairly well while
+there was green food for nothing in plenty by the side of
+little-frequented roads, whither the cow was daily led. But so soon
+as the winter approached the same difficulty as with the horses
+arose, i.e., scarcity of fodder. The cow soon got miserably poor,
+while the horses fell off yet further, if that were possible. The
+calf that arrived died; next, one of the horses. The 'hat' was sent
+round again, and a fresh horse bought; the spring came on, and
+there seemed another chance. What with milking and attending to the
+cow, and working on the 'farm,' scarcely an hour remained in which
+to earn money with the horses. No provision could be laid by for
+the winter. The live stock&mdash;the cow and horses&mdash;devoured
+part of the produce of the three acres, so that there was less to
+sell.</p>
+<p>Another winter finished it. The cow had to be sold, but a third
+time the 'hat' was sent round and saved the horses. Grown wiser
+now, the 'farmer' stuck to his hauling, and only worked his plot at
+odd times. In this way, by hauling and letting out his team in
+harvest, and working himself and family at the same time for wages,
+he earned a good deal of money, and kept afloat very comfortably.
+He made no further attempt to live out of the 'farm,' which was now
+sown with one or two crops only in the same rotation as a field,
+and no longer cultivated on the garden system. Had it not been for
+the subscriptions he must have given it up entirely long before.
+Bitter experience demonstrated how false the calculations had been
+which seemed to show&mdash;on the basis of the produce of a small
+allotment&mdash;that a man might live on three or four acres.</p>
+<p>He is not the only example of an extravagant estimate being put
+upon the possible product of land: it is a fallacy that has been
+fondly believed in by more logical minds than the poor cottager.
+That more may be got out of the soil than is the case at present is
+perfectly true; the mistake lies in the proposed method of doing
+it.</p>
+<p>There was a piece of land between thirty and forty acres in
+extent, chiefly arable, which chanced to come into the possession
+of a gentleman, who made no pretence to a knowledge of agriculture,
+but was naturally desirous of receiving the highest rental. Up to
+that time it had been occupied by a farmer at thirty shillings per
+acre, which was thought the full value. He did not particularly
+want it, as it lay separated from the farm proper, and gave it up
+with the greatest alacrity when asked to do so in favour of a new
+tenant. This man turned out to be a villager&mdash;a blustering,
+ignorant fellow&mdash;who had, however, saved a small sum by
+hauling, which had been increased by the receipt of a little
+legacy. He was confident that he could show the farmers how to do
+it&mdash;he had worked at plough, had reaped, and tended cattle,
+and had horses of his own, and was quite sure that farming was a
+profitable business, and that the tenants had their land dirt
+cheap. He 'knowed' all about it.</p>
+<p>He offered three pounds an acre for the piece at once, which was
+accepted, notwithstanding a warning conveyed to the owner that his
+new tenant had scarcely sufficient money to pay a year's rent at
+that rate. But so rapid a rise in the value of his land quite
+dazzled the proprietor, and the labourer&mdash;for he was really
+nothing better, though fortunate enough to have a little
+money&mdash;entered on his farm. When this was known, it was
+triumphantly remarked that if a man could actually pay double the
+former rent, what an enormous profit the tenant-farmers must have
+been making! Yet they wanted to reduce the poor man's wages. On the
+other hand, there were not wanting hints that the man's secret idea
+was to exhaust the land and then leave it. But this was not the
+case&mdash;he was honestly in earnest, only he had got an
+exaggerated notion of the profits of farming. It is scarcely
+necessary to say that the rent for the third half year was not
+forthcoming, and the poor fellow lost his all. The land then went
+begging at the old price, for it had become so dirty&mdash;full of
+weeds from want of proper cleaning&mdash;that it was some time
+before any one would take it.</p>
+<p>In a third case the attempt of a labouring man to live upon a
+small plot of land was successful&mdash;at least for some time. But
+it happened in this way. The land he occupied, about six acres, was
+situated on the outskirts of a populous town. It was moderately
+rented and of fairly good quality. His method of procedure was to
+cultivate a small portion&mdash;as much as he could conveniently
+manage without having to pay too much for assistance&mdash;as a
+market garden. Being close to his customers, and with a steady
+demand at good prices all the season, this paid very well indeed.
+The remainder was ploughed and cropped precisely the same as the
+fields of larger farms. For these crops he could always get a
+decent price. The wealthy owners of the villas scattered about,
+some keeping as many horses as a gentleman with a country seat,
+were glad to obtain fresh fodder for their stables, and often
+bought the crops standing, which to him was especially profitable,
+because he could not well afford the cost of the labour he must
+employ to harvest them.</p>
+<p>In addition, he kept several pigs, which were also profitable,
+because the larger part of their food cost him nothing but the
+trouble of fetching it. The occupants of the houses in the town
+were glad to get rid of the refuse vegetables, &amp;c.; of these he
+had a constant supply. The pigs, too, helped him with manure. Next
+he emptied ash-pits in the town, and sifted the cinders; the better
+part went on his own fire, the other on his land. As he understood
+gardening, he undertook the care of several small gardens, which
+brought in a little money. All the rubbish, leaves, trimmings,
+&amp;c., which he swept from the gardens he burnt, and spread the
+ashes abroad to fertilise his miniature farm.</p>
+<p>In spring he beat carpets, and so made more shillings; he had
+also a small shed, or workshop, and did rough carpentering. His
+horse did his own work, and occasionally that of others; so that in
+half a dozen different ways he made money independent of the
+produce of his land. That produce, too, paid well, because of the
+adjacent town, and he was able to engage assistance now and then.
+Yet, even with all these things, it was hard work, and required
+economical management to eke it out. Still it was done, and under
+the same conditions doubtless might be done by others. But then
+everything lies in those conditions. The town at hand, the
+knowledge of gardening, carpentering, and so on, made just all the
+difference.</p>
+<p>If the land were subdivided in the manner the labourer is
+instructed would be so advantageous, comparatively few of the plots
+would be near towns. Some of the new 'farmers' would find
+themselves in the centre of Salisbury Plain, with the stern
+trilithons of Stonehenge looking down upon their efforts. The
+occupier of a plot of four acres in such a position&mdash;many
+miles from the nearest town&mdash;would experience a hard lot
+indeed if he attempted to live by it. If he grew vegetables for
+sale, the cost of carriage would diminish their value; if for food,
+he could scarcely subsist upon cabbage and onions all the year
+round. To thoroughly work four acres would occupy his whole time,
+nor would the farmers care for the assistance of a man who could
+only come now and then in an irregular manner. There would be no
+villa gardens to attend to, no ash-pits to empty, no tubs of refuse
+for the pig, no carpets to beat, no one who wanted rough
+carpentering done. He could not pay any one to assist him in the
+cultivation of the plot.</p>
+<p>And then, how about his clothes, boots and shoes, and so forth?
+Suppose him with a family, where would their boots and shoes come
+from? Without any wages&mdash;that is, hard cash received
+weekly&mdash;it would be next to impossible to purchase these
+things. A man could hardly be condemned to a more miserable
+existence. In the case of the tenant of a few acres who made a fair
+living near a large town, it must be remembered that he understood
+two trades, gardening and carpentering, and found constant
+employment at these, which in all probability would indeed have
+maintained him without any land at all. But it is not every man who
+possesses technical knowledge of this kind, or who can turn his
+hand to several things. Imagine a town surrounded by two or three
+thousand such small occupiers, let them be never so clever; where
+would the extra employment come from; where would be the ashpits to
+empty? Where one could do well, a dozen could do nothing. If the
+argument be carried still further, and we imagine the whole country
+so cut up and settled, the difficulty only increases, because every
+man living (or starving) on his own plot would be totally unable to
+pay another to help him, or to get employment himself. No better
+method could be contrived to cause a fall in the value of
+labour.</p>
+<p>The examples of France and China are continually quoted in
+support of subdivision. In the case of France, let us ask whether
+any of our stalwart labourers would for a single week consent to
+live as the French peasant does? Would they forego their white,
+wheaten bread, and eat rye bread in its place? Would they take
+kindly to bread which contained a large proportion of meal ground
+from the edible chestnut? Would they feel merry over vegetable
+soups? Verily the nature of the man must change first; and we have
+read something about the leopard and his spots. You cannot raise
+beef and mutton upon four acres and feed yourself at the same time;
+if you raise bacon you must sell it in order to buy clothes.</p>
+<p>The French peasant saves by stinting, and puts aside a franc by
+pinching both belly and back. He works extremely hard, and for long
+hours. Our labourers can work as hard as he, but it must be in a
+different way; they must have plenty to eat and drink, and they do
+not understand little economies.</p>
+<p>China, we are told, however, supports the largest population in
+the world in this manner. Not a particle is wasted, not a square
+foot of land but bears something edible. The sewage of towns is
+utilised, and causes crops to spring forth; every scrap of refuse
+manures a garden. The Chinese have attained that ideal agriculture
+which puts the greatest amount into the soil, takes the greatest
+amount out of it, and absolutely wastes nothing. The picture is
+certainly charming.</p>
+<p>There are, however, a few considerations on the other side. The
+question arises whether our labourers would enjoy a plump rat for
+supper? The question also arises why the Six Companies are engaged
+in transhipping Chinese labour from China to America? In California
+the Chinese work at a rate of wages absolutely impossible to the
+white man&mdash;hence the Chinese difficulty there. In Queensland a
+similar thing is going on. Crowds of Chinese enter, or have
+entered, the country eager for work. If the agriculture of China is
+so perfect; if the sewage is utilised; if every man has his plot;
+if the population cannot possibly become too great, why on earth
+are the Chinese labourers so anxious to get to America or
+Australia, and to take the white man's wages? And is that system of
+agriculture so perfect? It is not long since the Chinese Ambassador
+formally conveyed the thanks of his countrymen for the generous
+assistance forwarded from England during the late fearful famine in
+China. The starvation of multitudes of wretched human beings is a
+ghastly comment upon this ideal agriculture. The Chinese yellow
+spectre has even threatened England; hints have been heard of
+importing Chinese into this country to take that silver and gold
+which our own men disdained. Those who desire to destroy our land
+system should look round them for a more palatable illustration
+than is afforded by the great Chinese problem.</p>
+<p>The truth in the matter seems to be this. A labourer does very
+well with a garden; he can do very well, too, if he has an
+allotment in addition, provided it be not too far from home. Up to
+a quarter of an acre&mdash;in some cases half an acre&mdash;it
+answers, because he can cultivate it at odd times, and so receive
+his weekly wages without interruption. But when the plot exceeds
+what he can cultivate in this way&mdash;when he has to give whole
+weeks to it&mdash;then, of course, he forfeits the cash every
+Saturday night, and soon begins to lose ground. The original garden
+of moderate size yielded very highly in proportion to its extent,
+because of the amount of labour expended on it, and because it was
+well manured. But three or four acres, to yield in like degree,
+require an amount of manure which it is quite out of a labourer's
+power to purchase; and he cannot keep live stock to produce it.
+Neither can he pay men to work for him consequently, instead of
+being more highly cultivated than the large farms, such plots would
+not be kept so clean and free from weeds, or be so well manured and
+deeply ploughed as the fields of the regular agriculturist.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap25" id="chap25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h3>
+<h3>LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES. THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN
+CLERGY</h3>
+The altered tone of the labouring population has caused the
+position of the landlord, especially if resident, to be one of
+considerable difficulty. Something like diplomatic tact is
+necessary in dealing with the social and political problems which
+now press themselves upon the country gentleman. Forces are at work
+which are constantly endeavouring to upset the village equilibrium,
+and it is quite in vain to ignore their existence. However honestly
+he may desire peace and goodwill to reign, it is impossible for a
+man to escape the influence of his own wealth and property. These
+compel him to be a sort of centre around which everything revolves.
+His duties extend far beyond the set, formal lines&mdash;the easy
+groove of old times&mdash;and are concerned with matters which were
+once thought the exclusive domain of the statesman or the
+philosopher.
+<p>The growth of a public opinion among the rural population is a
+great fact which cannot be overlooked. Some analogy may be traced
+between the awaking of a large class, hitherto almost silent, and
+the strange new developments which occur in the freshly-settled
+territories of the United States. There, all kinds of social
+experiments are pushed to the extreme characteristic of American
+energy. A Salt Lake City and civilised polygamy, and a variety of
+small communities endeavouring to work out new theories of property
+and government, attest a frame of mind escaped from the control of
+tradition, and groping its way to the future. Nothing so
+extravagant, of course, distinguishes the movement among the
+agricultural labourers of this country. There have been strikes;
+indignation meetings held expressly for the purpose of exciting
+public opinion; an attempt to experimentalise by a kind of
+joint-stock farming, labourers holding shares; and a preaching of
+doctrines which savour much of Communism. There have been marches
+to London, and annual gatherings on hill tops. These are all within
+the pale of law, and outrage no social customs. But they proclaim a
+state of mind restless and unsatisfied, striving for something new,
+and not exactly knowing what.</p>
+<p>Without a vote for the most part, without an all-embracing
+organisation&mdash;for the Union is somewhat limited in
+extent&mdash;with few newspapers expressing their views, with still
+fewer champions in the upper ranks, the agricultural labourers have
+become in a sense a power in the land. It is a power that is felt
+rather individually than collectively&mdash;it affects isolated
+places, but these in the aggregate reach importance. This power
+presses on the landlord&mdash;the resident country
+gentleman&mdash;upon one side; upon the other, the dissatisfied
+tenant-farmers present a rugged front.</p>
+<p>As a body the tenant-farmers are loyal to their
+landlords&mdash;in some cases enthusiastically loyal. It cannot,
+however, be denied that this is not universal. There are men who,
+though unable to put forth a substantial grievance, are ceaselessly
+agitating. The landlord, in view of unfavourable seasons, remits a
+percentage of rent. He relaxes certain clauses in leases, he
+reduces the ground game, he shows a disposition to meet reasonable,
+and even unreasonable, demands. It is useless. There exists a class
+of tenant-farmers who are not to be satisfied with the removal of
+grievances in detail. They are animated by a
+principle&mdash;something far beyond such trifles. Unconsciously,
+no doubt, in many cases that principle approximates very nearly to
+the doctrine proclaimed in so many words by the communistic circles
+of cities. It amounts to a total abolition of the present system of
+land tenure. The dissatisfied tenant does not go so far as minute
+subdivisions of land into plots of a few acres. He pauses at the
+moderate and middle way which would make the tenant of three or
+four hundred acres the owner of the soil. In short, he would step
+into the landlord's place.</p>
+<p>Of course, many do not go so far as this; still there is a class
+of farmers who are for ever writing to the papers, making speeches,
+protesting, and so on, till the landlord feels that, do what he
+may, he will be severely criticised. Even if personally insulted he
+must betray no irritation, or desire to part with the tenant, lest
+he be accused of stifling opinion. Probably no man in England is so
+systematically browbeaten all round as the country gentleman. Here
+are two main divisions&mdash;one on each side&mdash;ever pressing
+upon him, and, besides these, there are other forces at work. A
+village, in fact, at the present day, is often a perfect
+battle-ground of struggling parties.</p>
+<p>When the smouldering labour difficulty comes to a point in any
+particular district the representatives of the labourers lose no
+time in illustrating the cottager's case by contrast with the
+landlord's position. He owns so many thousand acres, producing an
+income of so many thousand pounds. Hodge, who has just received
+notice of a reduction of a shilling per week, survives on bacon and
+cabbage. Most mansions have a small home farm attached, where, of
+course, some few men are employed in the direct service of the
+landlord. This home farm becomes the bone of contention. Here, they
+say, is a man with many thousands a year, who, in the midst of
+bitter wintry weather, has struck a shilling a week off the wages
+of his poor labourers. But the fact is that the landlord's
+representative&mdash;his steward&mdash;has been forced to this step
+by the action and opinion of the tenant-farmers.</p>
+<p>The argument is very cogent and clear. They say, 'We pay a rent
+which is almost as much as the land will bear; we suffer by foreign
+competition, bad seasons and so on, the market is falling, and we
+are compelled to reduce our labour expenditure. But then our
+workmen say that at the home farm the wages paid are a shilling or
+two higher, and therefore they will not accept a reduction. Now you
+must reduce your wages or your tenants must suffer.' It is like a
+tradesman with a large independent income giving his workmen high
+wages out of that independent income, whilst other tradesmen, who
+have only their business to rely on, are compelled by this example
+to pay more than they can afford. This is obviously an unjust and
+even cruel thing. Consequently though a landlord may possess an
+income of many thousands, he cannot, without downright injustice to
+his tenants, pay his immediate <i>employ&eacute;s</i> more than
+those tenants find it possible to pay.</p>
+<p>Such is the simple explanation of what has been described as a
+piece of terrible tyranny. The very reduction of rent made by the
+landlord to the tenant is seized as a proof by the labourer that
+the farmer, having less now to pay, can afford to give him more
+money. Thus the last move of the labour party has been to urge the
+tenant-farmer to endeavour to become his own landlord. On the one
+hand, certain dissatisfied tenants have made use of the labour
+agitation to bring pressure upon the landlord to reduce rent, and
+grant this and that privilege. They have done their best, and in
+great part succeeded, in getting up a cry that rent must come down,
+that the landlord's position must be altered, and so forth. On the
+other hand, the labour party try to use the dissatisfied tenant as
+a fulcrum by means of which to bring their lever to bear upon the
+landlord. Both together, by every possible method, endeavour to
+enlist popular sympathy against him.</p>
+<p>There exists a party in cities who are animated by the most
+extraordinary rancour against landlords without
+exception&mdash;good, bad, and indifferent&mdash;just because they
+are landlords. This party welcomes the agitating labourer and the
+discontented tenant with open arms, and the chorus swells still
+louder. Now the landlords, as a body, are quite aware of the
+difficulties under which farming has been conducted of late, and
+exhibit a decided inclination to meet and assist the tenant. But it
+by no means suits the agitator to admit this; he would of the two
+rather the landlord showed an impracticable disposition, in order
+that there might be grounds for violent declamation.</p>
+<p>Fortunately there is a solid substratum of tenants whose sound
+common sense prevents them from listening to the rather enchanting
+cry, 'Every man his own landlord.' They may desire and obtain a
+reduction of rent, but they treat it as a purely business
+transaction, and there lies all the difference. They do not make
+the shilling an acre less the groundwork of a revolution; because
+ten per cent, is remitted at the audit they do not cry for
+confiscation. But it is characteristic of common sense to remain
+silent, as it is of extravagance to make a noise. Thus the opinion
+of the majority of tenants is not heard; but the restless minority
+write and speak; the agitating labourer, through his agent, writes
+and speaks, and the anti-landlord party in cities write and speak.
+A pleasant position for the landlord this! Anxious to meet
+reasonable wishes he is confronted with unreasonable demands, and
+abused all round.</p>
+<p>Besides the labour difficulty, which has been so blazed abroad
+as to obscure the rest, there are really many other questions
+agitating the village. The school erected under the Education Act,
+whilst it is doing good work, is at the same time in many cases a
+scene of conflict. The landlord can hardly remain aloof, try how he
+will, because his larger tenants are so closely interested. He has
+probably given the land and subscribed heavily&mdash;a school board
+has been avoided; but, of course, there is a committee of
+management, which is composed of members of every party and
+religious denomination. That is fair enough, and the actual work
+accomplished is really very good. But, if outwardly peace, it is
+inwardly contention. First, the agitating labourer is strongly of
+opinion that, besides giving the land and subscribing, and paying a
+large voluntary rate, the landlord ought to defray the annual
+expenses and save him the weekly pence. The sectarian bodies,
+though neutralised by their own divisions, are ill-affected behind
+their mask, and would throw it off if they got the opportunity. The
+one thing, and the one thing only, that keeps them quiet is the
+question of expense. Suppose by a united effort&mdash;and probably
+on a poll of the parish the chapel-goers in mere numbers would
+exceed the church people&mdash;they shake off the landlord and his
+party, and proceed to a school board as provided by the Act? Well,
+then they must find the annual expenses, and these must be raised
+by a rate.</p>
+<p>Now at present the cottager loudly grumbles because he is asked
+to contribute a few coppers; but suppose he were called upon to pay
+a heavy rate? Possibly he might in such a case turn round against
+his present leaders, and throw them overboard in disgust. Seeing
+this possibility all too clearly, the sectarian bodies remain
+quiescent. They have no real grievance, because their prejudices
+are carefully respected; but it is not the nature of men to prefer
+being governed, even to their good, to governing. Consequently,
+though no battle royal takes place, it is a mistake to suppose that
+because 'education' is now tolerably quiet there is universal
+satisfaction. Just the reverse is true, and under the surface there
+is a constant undermining process proceeding. Without any downright
+collision there is a distinct division into opposing ranks.</p>
+<p>Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of
+the gradual&mdash;in some cases the rapid&mdash;filling up of the
+village churchyards. It is melancholy to think that so solemn a
+subject should threaten to become a ground for bitter controversy;
+but that much animosity of feeling has already appeared is well
+known. Already many village graveyards are overcrowded, and it is
+becoming difficult to arrange for the future. From a practical
+point of view there is really but little difficulty, because the
+landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the
+necessary ground. The contention arises in another form, which it
+would be out of place to enter upon here. It will be sufficient to
+recall the fact that such a question is approaching.</p>
+<p>Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day. The
+prevention of overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the
+supply of water&mdash;these and similar matters press upon the
+attention of the authorities. Out of consideration for the pockets
+of the ratepayers&mdash;many of whom are of the poorest
+class&mdash;these things are perhaps rather shelved than pushed
+forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether. Every now
+and then something has to be done. Whatever takes place, of course
+the landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share
+of the burden. If the rates increase, on the one hand, the
+labourers complain that their wages are not sufficient to pay them;
+and, on the other, the tenants state that the pressure on the
+agriculturist is already as much as he can sustain. The labourer
+expects the landlord to relieve him; the tenant grumbles if he also
+is not relieved. Outside and beyond the landlord's power as the
+owner of the soil, as magistrate and <i>ex-officio</i> guardian,
+and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal&mdash;a
+family&mdash;influence, which at once gives him a leading position,
+and causes everything to be expected of him. He must arbitrate
+here, persuade there, compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and
+subscribe all round.</p>
+<p>This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very
+different matter. No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance
+parties, and preserve at least an outward peace in the parish. He
+has to note the variations of public opinion, and avoid giving
+offence. In his official capacity as magistrate the same difficulty
+arises. One of the most delicate tasks that the magistracy have had
+set them of recent years has been arbitrating between tenant and
+man&mdash;between, in effect, capital and labour. That is not, of
+course, the legal, but it is the true, definition. It is a most
+invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous justice
+with which the law has been administered that a watchful and
+jealous&mdash;a bitterly inimical party&mdash;ever ready, above all
+things, to attempt a sensation&mdash;have not been able to detect a
+magistrate giving a partial decision.</p>
+<p>In cases which involve a question of wages or non-fulfilment of
+contract it has often happened that a purely personal element has
+been introduced. The labourer asserts that he has been unfairly
+treated, that implied promises have been broken, perquisites
+withheld, and abuse lavished upon him. On the opposite side, the
+master alleges that he has been made a convenience&mdash;the man
+staying with him in winter, when his services were of little use,
+and leaving in summer; that his neglect has caused injury to accrue
+to cattle; that he has used bad language. Here is a conflict of
+class against class&mdash;feeling against feeling. The point in
+dispute has, of course, to be decided by evidence, but whichever
+way evidence leads the magistrates to pronounce their verdict, it
+is distasteful. If the labourer is victorious, he and his friends
+'crow' over the farmers; and the farmer himself grumbles that the
+landlords are afraid of the men, and will never pronounce against
+them. If the reverse, the labourers cry out upon the partiality of
+the magistrates, who favour each other's tenants. In both cases the
+decision has been given according to law. But the knowledge that
+this kind of feeling exists&mdash;that he is in reality arbitrating
+between capital and labour&mdash;renders the resident landlord
+doubly careful what steps he takes at home in his private capacity.
+He hardly knows which way to turn when a question crops up,
+desiring, above all things, to preserve peace.</p>
+<p>It has been said that of late there has come into existence in
+the political world 'a power behind Parliament.' Somewhat in the
+same sense it may be said that the labourer has become a power
+behind the apparent authorities of the rural community. Whether
+directly, or through the discontented tenant, or by aid of the
+circles in cities who hold advanced views, the labourer brings a
+pressure to bear upon almost every aspect of country life. That
+pressure is not sufficient to break in pieces the existing order of
+things; but it is sufficient to cause an unpleasant tension. Should
+it increase, much of the peculiar attraction of country life will
+be destroyed. Even hunting, which it would have been thought every
+individual son of the soil would stand up for, is not allowed to
+continue unchallenged. Displays of a most disagreeable spirit must
+be fresh in the memories of all; and such instances have shown a
+disposition to multiply. Besides the more public difficulties,
+there are also social ones which beset the landowner. It is true
+that all of these do not originate with the labourer, or even
+concern him, but he it dragged into them to suit the convenience of
+others. 'Coquetting with a vote' is an art tolerably well
+understood in these days; the labourer has not got a nominal vote,
+yet he is the 'power behind,' and may be utilised.</p>
+<p>There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be
+ignored, and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy.
+This energy is exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon
+ecclesiastical questions, and concerns an inquiry into the
+position, of the labourer, because for the most part it is directed
+towards practical objects. It shows itself in matters that have no
+direct bearing upon the Church, but are connected with the everyday
+life of the people. It finds work to do outside the precincts of
+the Church&mdash;beyond the walls of the building. This work is of
+a nature that continually increases, and as it extends becomes more
+laborious.</p>
+<p>The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and
+repose. Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant
+shade, and in winter the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the
+noisy winds. Upon the one side the green meadows go down to the
+brook, upon the other the cornfields stretch away to the hills.
+Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside the hedge, where the
+wild flowers bloom&mdash;flowers to be lovingly studied, food for
+many a day-dream. The village is out of sight in the
+hollow&mdash;all is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark
+that drops from the sky. The house is old, very old; the tiles dull
+coloured, the walls grey, the calm dignity of age clings to it.</p>
+<p>A place surely this for reverie&mdash;the abode of thought. But
+the man within is busy&mdash;full of action. The edge of the great
+questions of the day has reached the village, and he must be up and
+doing. He does not, indeed, lift the latch of the cottage or the
+farmhouse door indiscreetly&mdash;not unless aware that his
+presence will not be resented. He is anxious to avoid irritating
+individual susceptibilities. But wherever people are gathered
+together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may
+go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand
+makes it felt that he is there. He does not remain a passive
+spectator in the background, but comes as prominently to the front
+as is compatible with due courtesy.</p>
+<p>When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town,
+and the farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber,
+he appears in the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from
+the chair. If the discussion be purely technical he says nothing;
+if it touch, as it frequently does, upon social topics, such as
+those that arise out of education, of the labour question, of the
+position of the farmer apart from the mere ploughing and sowing,
+then he delivers his opinion. When the local agricultural
+exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held he sits at
+the social board, and presently makes his speech. The village
+benefit club holds its f&ecirc;te&mdash;he is there too, perhaps
+presiding at the dinner, and addresses the assembled men. He takes
+part in the organisation of the cottage flower show; exerts himself
+earnestly about the allotments and the winter coal club, and
+endeavours to provide the younger people with amusements that do
+not lead to evil&mdash;supporting cricket and such games as may be
+played apart from gambling and liquor.</p>
+<p>This is but the barest catalogue of his work; there is nothing
+that arises, no part of the life of the village and the country
+side, to which he does not set his hand. All this is apart from
+abstract theology. Religion, of course, is in his heart; but he
+does not carry a list of dogmas in his hand, rather keeping his own
+peculiar office in the background, knowing that many of those with
+whom he mingles are members of various sects. He is simply
+preaching the practical Christianity of brotherhood and goodwill.
+It is a work that can never be finished, and that is ever
+extending. His leading idea is not to check the inevitable motion
+of the age, but to lone it.</p>
+<p>He is not permitted to pursue this course unmolested; there are
+parties in the village that silently oppose his every footstep. If
+the battle were open it would be easier to win it, but it is
+concealed. The Church is not often denounced from the housetop, but
+it is certainly denounced under the roof. The poor and ignorant are
+instructed that the Church is their greatest enemy, the upholder of
+tyranny, the instrument of their subjection, synonymous with
+lowered wages and privation, more iniquitous than the landowner.
+The clergyman is a Protestant Jesuit&mdash;a man of deepest guile.
+The coal club, the cricket, the flower show, the allotments, the
+village <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, everything in which he has a hand is
+simply an effort to win the good will of the populace, to keep them
+quiet, lest they arise and overthrow the property of the Church.
+The poor man has but a few shillings a week, and the clergyman is
+the friend of the farmer, who reduces his wages&mdash;the Church
+owns millions and millions sterling. How self-evident, therefore,
+that the Church is the cottager's enemy!</p>
+<p>See, too, how he is beautifying that church, restoring it,
+making it light and pleasant to those who resort to it; see how he
+causes sweeter music and singing, and puts new life into the
+service. This a lesson learnt from the City of the Seven
+Hills&mdash;this is the mark of the Beast. But the ultimate aim may
+be traced to the same base motive&mdash;the preservation of that
+enormous property.</p>
+<p>Another party is for pure secularism. This is not so numerously
+represented, but has increased of recent years. From political
+motives both of these silently oppose him. Nor are the poor and
+ignorant alone among the ranks of his foes. There are some
+tenant-farmers among them, but their attitude is not so coarsely
+antagonistic. They take no action against, but they do not assist,
+him. So that, although, as he goes about the parish, he is not
+greeted with hisses, the clergyman is full well aware that his
+activity is a thorn in the side of many. They once reproached him
+with a too prolonged reverie in the seclusion of the parsonage; now
+they would gladly thrust him back again.</p>
+<p>It may be urged, too, that all his efforts have not produced
+much visible effect. The pews are no more crowded than formerly; in
+some cases the absence of visible effect is said to be extremely
+disheartening. But the fact is that it is yet early to expect much;
+neither must it be expected in that direction. It is almost the
+first principle of science that reaction is equal to action; it may
+be safely assumed, then, that after awhile these labours will bear
+fruit. The tone of the rising generation must perforce be softened
+and modified by them.</p>
+<p>There exists at the present day a class that is morally
+apathetic. In every village, in every hamlet, every detached group
+of cottages, there are numbers of labouring men who are simply
+indifferent to church and to chapel alike. They neither deny nor
+affirm the primary truths taught in all places of worship; they are
+simply indifferent. Sunday comes and sees them lounging about the
+cottage door. They do not drink to excess, they are not more given
+to swearing than others, they are equally honest, and are not of
+ill-repute. But the moral sense seems extinct&mdash;the very idea
+of anything beyond gross earthly advantages never occurs to them.
+The days go past, the wages are paid, the food is eaten, and there
+is all.</p>
+<p>Looking at it from the purely philosophic point of view there is
+something sad in this dull apathy. The most pronounced materialist
+has a faith in some form of beauty&mdash;matter itself is capable
+of ideal shapes in his conception. These people know no ideal. It
+seems impossible to reach them, because there is no chord that will
+respond to the most skilful touch. This class is very numerous
+now&mdash;a disheartening fact. Yet perhaps the activity and energy
+of the clergyman may be ultimately destined to find its reaction,
+to produce its effect among these very people. They may slowly
+learn to appreciate tangible, practical work, though utterly
+insensible to direct moral teaching and the finest eloquence of the
+pulpit. Finding by degrees that he is really endeavouring to
+improve their material existence, they may in time awake to a sense
+of something higher.</p>
+<p>What is wanted is a perception of the truth that progress and
+civilisation ought not to end with mere
+material&mdash;mechanical&mdash;comfort or wealth. A cottager ought
+to learn that when the highest wages of the best paid artisan are
+readied it is <i>not</i> the greatest privilege of the man to throw
+mutton chops to dogs and make piles of empty champagne bottles. It
+might almost be said that one cause of the former extravagance and
+the recent distress and turbulence of the working classes is the
+absence of an ideal from their minds.</p>
+<p>Besides this moral apathy, the cottager too often assumes an
+attitude distinctly antagonistic to every species of authority, and
+particularly to that <i>prestige</i> hitherto attached to property.
+Each man is a law to himself, and does that which seems good in his
+own eyes. He does not pause to ask himself, What will my neighbour
+think of this? He simply thinks of no one but himself, takes
+counsel of no one, and cares not what the result may be. It is the
+same in little things as great. Respect for authority is extinct.
+The modern progressive cottager is perfectly certain that he knows
+as much as his immediate employer, the squire, and the parson put
+together with the experience of the world at their back. He is now
+the judge&mdash;the infallible authority himself. He is wiser far
+than all the learned and the thoughtful, wiser than the prophets
+themselves. Priest, politician, and philosopher must bow their
+heads and listen to the dictum of the ploughman.</p>
+<p>This feeling shows itself most strikingly in the disregard of
+property. There used to be a certain tacit agreement among all men
+that those who possessed capital, rank, or reputation should be
+treated with courtesy. That courtesy did not imply that the
+landowner, the capitalist, or the minister of religion, was
+necessarily in himself superior. But it did imply that those who
+administered property really represented the general order in which
+all were interested. So in a court of justice, all who enter remove
+their hats, not out of servile adulation of the person in
+authority, but from respect for the majesty of the law, which it is
+every individual's interest to uphold. But now, metaphorically
+speaking, the labourer removes his hat for no man. Whether in the
+case of a manufacturer or of a tenant of a thousand-acre farm the
+thing is the same. The cottager can scarcely nod his employer a
+common greeting in the morning. Courtesy is no longer practised.
+The idea in the man's mind appears to be to express contempt for
+big employer's property. It is an unpleasant symptom.</p>
+<p>At present it is not, however, an active, but a passive force; a
+moral <i>vis inerti&aelig;</i>. Here again the clergyman meets with
+a cold rebuff. No eloquence, persuasion, personal influence even,
+can produce more than a passing impression. But here again,
+perhaps, his practical activity may bring about its reaction. In
+time the cottager will be compelled to admit that, at least, coal
+club, benefit society, cricket, allotment, &amp;c., have done him
+no harm. In time he may even see that property and authority are
+not always entirely selfish&mdash;that they may do good, and be
+worthy, at all events, of courteous acknowledgment.</p>
+<p>These two characteristics, moral apathy and contempt of
+property&mdash;i.e., of social order&mdash;are probably exercising
+considerable influence in shaping the labourer's future. Free of
+mental restraint, his own will must work its way for good or evil.
+It is true that the rise or fall of wages may check or hasten the
+development of that future. In either case it is not, however,
+probable that he will return to the old grooves; indeed, the
+grooves themselves are gone, and the logic of events must force him
+to move onwards. That motion, in its turn, must affect the rest of
+the community. Let the mind's eye glance for a moment over the
+country at large. The villages among the hills, the villages on the
+plains, in the valleys, and beside the streams represent in the
+aggregate an enormous power. Separately such hamlets seem small and
+feeble&mdash;unable to impress their will upon the world. But
+together they contain a vast crowd, which, united, may shoulder
+itself an irresistible course, pushing aside all obstacles by mere
+physical weight.</p>
+<p>The effect of education has been, and seems likely to be, to
+supply a certain unity of thought, if not of action, among these
+people. The solid common sense&mdash;the law-abiding character of
+the majority&mdash;is sufficient security against any violent
+movement. But how important it becomes that that common sense
+should be strengthened against the assaults of an insidious
+Socialism! A man's education does not come to an end when he leaves
+school. He then just begins to form his opinions, and in nine cases
+out of ten thinks what he hears and what he reads. Here, in the
+agricultural labourer class, are many hundred thousand young men
+exactly in this stage, educating themselves in moral, social, and
+political opinion.</p>
+<p>In short, the future literature of the labourer becomes a
+serious question. He will think what he reads; and what he reads at
+the present moment is of anything but an elevating character. He
+will think, too, what he hears; and he hears much of an enticing
+but subversive political creed, and little of any other. There are
+busy tongues earnestly teaching him to despise property and social
+order, to suggest the overthrow of existing institutions; there is
+scarcely any one to instruct him in the true lesson of history. Who
+calls together an audience of agricultural labourers to explain to
+and interest them in the story of their own country? There are many
+who are only too anxious to use the agricultural labourer as the
+means to effect ends which he scarcely understands. But there are
+few, indeed, who are anxious to instruct him in science or
+literature for his own sake.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap26" id="chap26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h3>
+<h3>A WHEAT COUNTRY</h3>
+The aspect of a corn-growing district in the colder months is
+perhaps more dreary than that of any other country scene. It is
+winter made visible. The very houses at the edge of the village
+stand out harsh and angular, especially if modern and slated, for
+the old thatched cottages are not without a curve in the line of
+the eaves. No trees or bushes shelter them from the bitter wind
+that rushes across the plain, and, because of the absence of trees
+round the outskirts, the village may be seen from a great distance.
+<p>The wayfarer, as he approaches along the interminable road, that
+now rises over a hill and now descends into a valley, observes it
+from afar, his view uninterrupted by wood, but the vastness of the
+plain seems to shorten his step, so that he barely gains on the
+receding roofs. The hedges by the road are cropped&mdash;cut down
+mercilessly&mdash;and do not afford the slightest protection
+against wind, or rain, or sleet. If he would pause awhile to rest
+his weary limbs no friendly bush keeps off the chilling blast.
+Yonder, half a mile in front, a waggon creeps up the hill, always
+just so much ahead, never overtaken, or seeming to alter its
+position, whether he walks slow or fast. The only apparent
+inhabitants of the solitude are the larks that every now and then
+cross the road in small flocks. Above, the sky is dull and gloomy;
+beneath, the earth, except, where some snow lingers, is of a still
+darker tint. On the northern side the low mounds are white with
+snow here and there. Mile after mile the open level fields extend
+on either hand; now brown from the late passage of the plough, now
+a pale yellow where the short stubble yet remains, divided by black
+lines; the low-cropped hedges bare of leaves. A few small fir
+copses are scattered about, the only relief to the eye; all else is
+level, dull, monotonous.</p>
+<p>When the village is reached at last, it is found to be of
+considerable size. The population is much greater than might have
+been anticipated from the desert-like solitude surrounding the
+place. In actual numbers, of course, it will not bear comparison
+with manufacturing districts, but for its situation, it is quite a
+little town. Compared with the villages situate in the midst of
+great pastures&mdash;where grass is the all-important crop&mdash;it
+is really populous. Almost all the inhabitants find employment in
+the fields around, helping to produce wheat and barley, oats and
+roots. It is a little city of the staff of life&mdash;a metropolis
+of the plough.</p>
+<p>Every single house, from that of the landowner, through the
+rent; that of the clergyman, through the tithe&mdash;down to the
+humblest cottage, is directly interested in the crop of corn. The
+very children playing about the gaps in the hedges are interested
+in it, for can they not go gleaning? If the heralds had given the
+place a coat of arms it should bear a sheaf of wheat. And the
+reason of its comparative populousness is to be found in the wheat
+also. For the stubborn earth will not yield its riches without
+severe and sustained labour. Instead of tickling it with a hoe, and
+watching the golden harvest leap forth, scarifier and plough,
+harrow and drill in almost ceaseless succession, compel the clods
+by sheer force of iron to deliver up their treasure. In another
+form it is almost like the quartz-crushing at the gold
+mines&mdash;the ore ground out from the solid rock. And here, in
+addition, the ore has to be put into the rock first in the shape of
+manure.</p>
+<p>All this labour requires hands to do it, and so&mdash;the supply
+for some time, at all events, answering the demand&mdash;the
+village teemed with men. In the autumn comes the ploughing, the
+couch-picking and burning, often second ploughing, the sowing by
+drill or hand, the threshing, &amp;c. In the spring will come more
+ploughing, sowing, harrowing, hoeing. Modern agriculture has
+increased the labour done in the fields. Crops are arranged to
+succeed crops, and each of these necessitates labour, and labour a
+second and a third time. The work on arable land is never finished.
+A slackness there is in the dead of winter; but even then there is
+still something doing&mdash;some draining, some trimming of hedges,
+carting manure for open field work. But beyond this there are the
+sheep in the pens to be attended to as the important time of
+lambing approaches, and there are the horned cattle in the stalls
+still fattening, and leaving, as they reach maturity, for the
+butcher.</p>
+<p>The arable agriculturist, indeed, has a double weight upon his
+mind. He has money invested in the soil itself, seed lying awaiting
+the genial warm rain that shall cause it to germinate, capital in
+every furrow traced by the plough. He has money, on the other hand,
+in his stock, sheep, and cattle. A double anxiety is his; first
+that his crops may prosper, next that his stock may flourish. He
+requires men to labour in the field, men to attend to the sheep,
+men to feed the bullocks; a crowd of labourers are supported by
+him, with their wives and families. In addition to these he needs
+other labour&mdash;the inanimate assistance of the steam-engine,
+and the semi-intelligent co-operation of the horse. These, again,
+must be directed by men. Thus it is that the corn village has
+become populous.</p>
+<p>The original idea was that the introduction of machinery would
+reduce all this labour. In point of fact, it has, if anything,
+increased it. The steam-plough will not work itself; each of the
+two engines requires two men to attend to it; one, and often two,
+ride on the plough itself; another goes with the water-cart to feed
+the boiler: others with the waggon for coal. The drill must have
+men&mdash;and experienced men&mdash;with it, besides horses to draw
+it, and these again want men The threshing-machine employs quite a
+little troop to feed it; and, turning to the stock in the stalls,
+roots will not pulp or slice themselves, nor will water pump itself
+up into the troughs, nor chaff cut itself. The chaff-cutter and
+pump, and so on, all depend on human hands to keep them going. Such
+is but a very brief outline of the innumerable ways in which arable
+agriculture gives employment. So the labourer and the labourer's
+family flourish exceedingly in the corn tillage. Wages rise; he
+waxes fat and strong and masterful, thinking that he holds the
+farmer and the golden grain in the hollow of his hand.</p>
+<p>But now a cloud arises and casts its shadow over the cottage. If
+the farmer depends upon his men, so do the men in equal degree
+depend upon the farmer. This they overlooked, but are now learning
+again. The farmer, too, is not independent and self-sustained, but
+is at the mercy of many masters. The weather and the seasons are
+one master; the foreign producer is another; the markets, which are
+further influenced by the condition of trade at large, form a third
+master. He is, indeed, very much more in the position of a servant
+than his labourer. Of late almost all these masters have combined
+against the corn-growing farmer. Wheat is not only low but seems
+likely to remain so. Foreign meat also competes with the
+dearly-made meat of the stalls. The markets are dull and trade
+depressed everywhere. Finally a fresh master starts up in the shape
+of the labourer himself, and demands higher wages.</p>
+<p>For some length of time the corn-grower puts a courageous face
+on the difficulties which beset him, and struggles on, hoping for
+better days. After awhile, however, seeing that his capital is
+diminishing, because he has been, as it were, eating it, seeing
+that there is no prospect of immediate relief, whatever may happen
+in the future, he is driven to one of two courses. He must quit the
+occupation or he must reduce his expenditure. He must not only ask
+the labourer to accept a reduction, but he must, wherever
+practicable, avoid employing labour at all.</p>
+<p>Now comes the pressure on the corn village. Much but not all of
+that pressure the inhabitants have brought upon themselves through
+endeavouring to squeeze the farmer too closely. If there had been
+no labour organisation whatever when the arable agriculturist began
+to suffer, as he undoubtedly has been suffering, the labourer must
+have felt it in his turn. He has himself to blame if he has made
+the pain more acute. He finds it in this way. Throughout the
+corn-producing district there has been proceeding a gradual
+shrinkage, as it were, of speculative investment. Where an
+agriculturist would have ploughed deeper, and placed extra
+quantities of manure in the soil, with a view to an extra crop, he
+has, instead, only just ploughed and cleaned and manured enough to
+keep things going. Where he would have enlarged his flock of sheep,
+or added to the cattle in the stalls, and carried as much stock as
+he possibly could, he has barely filled the stalls, and bought but
+just enough cake and foods. Just enough, indeed, of late has been
+his watchword all through&mdash;just enough labour and no more.</p>
+<p>This cutting down, stinting, and economy everywhere has told
+upon the population of the village. The difference in the
+expenditure upon a solitary farm may be but a trifle&mdash;a few
+pounds; but when some score or more farms are taken, in the
+aggregate the decrease in the cash transferred from the pocket of
+the agriculturist to that of the labourer becomes something
+considerable. The same percentage on a hundred farms would amount
+to a large sum. In this manner the fact of the corn-producing
+farmer being out of spirits with his profession reacts upon the
+corn village. There is no positive distress, but there is just a
+sense that there are more hands about than necessary. Yet at the
+same moment there are not hands enough; a paradox which may be
+explained in a measure by the introduction of machinery.</p>
+<p>As already stated, machinery in the field does not reduce the
+number of men employed. But they are employed in a different way.
+The work all comes now in rushes. By the aid of the reaping machine
+acres are levelled in a day, and the cut corn demands the services
+of a crowd of men and women all at once, to tie it up in sheaves.
+Should the self-binders come into general use, and tie the wheat
+with wire or string at the moment of cutting it, the matter of
+labour will be left much in the same stage. A crowd of workpeople
+will be required all at once to pick up the sheaves, or to cart
+them to the rick; and the difference will lie in this, that while
+now the crowd are employed, say twelve hours, then they will be
+employed only nine. Just the same number&mdash;perhaps
+more&mdash;but for less time. Under the old system, a dozen men
+worked all the winter through, hammering away with their flails in
+the barns. Now the threshing-machine arrives, and the ricks are
+threshed in a few days. As many men are wanted (and at double the
+wages) to feed the machine, to tend the 'elevator' carrying up the
+straw to make the straw rick, to fetch water and coal for the
+engine, to drive it, &amp;c. But instead of working for so many
+months, this rush lasts as many days.</p>
+<p>Much the same thing happens all throughout arable
+agriculture&mdash;from the hoeing to the threshing&mdash;a troop
+are wanted one day, scarcely anybody the next. There is, of course,
+a steady undercurrent of continuous work for a certain fixed number
+of hands; but over and above this are the periodical calls for
+extra labour, which of recent years, from the high wages paid, have
+been so profitable to the labourers. But when the agriculturist
+draws in his investments, when he retrenches his expenditure, and
+endeavours, as far as practicable, to confine it to his regular
+men, then the intermittent character of the extra work puts a
+strain upon the rest. They do not find so much to do, the pay is
+insensibly decreasing, and they obtain, less casual employment
+meantime.</p>
+<p>In the olden times a succession of bad harvests caused
+sufferings throughout the whole of England. Somewhat in like
+manner, though in a greatly modified degree, the difficulties of
+the arable agriculturist at the present day press upon the corn
+villages. In a time when the inhabitants saw the farmers, as they
+believed, flourishing and even treading on the heels of the squire,
+the corn villagers, thinking that the farmer was absolutely
+dependent upon them, led the van of the agitation for high wages.
+Now, when the force of circumstances has compressed wages again,
+they are both to submit. But discovering by slow degrees that no
+organisation can compel, or create a demand for labour at any
+price, there are now signs on the one hand of acquiescence, and on
+the other of partial emigration.</p>
+<p>Thus the comparative density of the population in arable
+districts is at once a blessing and a trouble. It is not the
+'pranks' of the farmers that have caused emigration, or threats of
+it. The farmer is unable to pay high wages, the men will not accept
+a moderate reduction, and the idle crowd, in effect, tread on each
+other's heels. Pressure of that kind, and to that extent, is
+limited to a few localities only. The majority have sufficient
+common sense to see their error. But it is in arable districts that
+agitation takes its extreme form. The very number of the population
+gives any movement a vigour and emphasis that is wanting where
+there may be as much discontent but fewer to exhibit it. That
+populousness has been in the past of the greatest assistance to the
+agriculturist, and there is no reason why it should not be so in
+the future, for it does not by any means follow that because
+agriculture is at present depressed it will always be so.</p>
+<p>Let the months roll by and then approach the same village along
+the same road under the summer sun. The hedges, though low, are
+green, and bear the beautiful flowers of the wild convolvulus.
+Trees that were scarcely observed before, because bare of leaves,
+now appear, and crowds of birds, finches and sparrows, fly up from
+the corn. The black swifts wheel overhead, and the white-breasted
+swallows float in the azure. Over the broad plain extends a still
+broader roof of the purest blue&mdash;the landscape is so open that
+the sky seems as broad again as in the enclosed
+countries&mdash;wide, limitless, very much as it does at sea. On
+the rising ground pause a moment and look round. Wheat and barley
+and oats stretch mile after mile on either hand. Here the red wheat
+tinges the view, there the whiter barley; but the prevailing hue is
+a light gold. Yonder green is the swede, or turnip, or mangold; but
+frequent as are the fields of roots, the golden tint overpowers the
+green. A golden sun looks down upon the golden wheat&mdash;the
+winds are still and the heat broods over the corn. It is pleasant
+to get under the scanty shadow of the stunted ash. Think what
+wealth all that glorious beauty represents. Wealth to the rich man,
+wealth to the poor.</p>
+<p>Come again in a few weeks' time and look down upon it. The
+swarthy reapers are at work. They bend to their labour till the
+tall corn overtops their heads. Every now and then they rise up,
+and stand breast high among the wheat. Every field is full of them,
+men and women, young lads and girls, busy as they may be. Yonder
+the reaping-machine, with its strange-looking arms revolving like
+the vast claws of an unearthly monster beating down the grain, goes
+rapidly round and round in an ever-narrowing circle till the last
+ears fall. A crowd has pounced upon the cut corn. Behind
+them&mdash;behind the reapers&mdash;everywhere abroad on the great
+plain rises an army, regiment behind regiment, the sheaves stacked
+in regular ranks down the fields. Yet a little while, and over that
+immense expanse not one single, solitary straw will be left
+standing. Then the green roots show more strongly, and tint the
+landscape. Next come the waggons, and after that the children
+searching for stray ears of wheat, for not one must be left behind.
+After that, in the ploughing time, while yet the sun shines warm,
+it is a sight to watch the teams from under the same ash tree,
+returning from their labour in the afternoon. Six horses here,
+eight horses there, twelve yonder, four far away; all in single
+file, slowly walking home, and needing no order or touch of whip to
+direct their steps to the well-known stables.</p>
+<p>If any wish to see the work of farming in its full flush and
+vigour, let them visit a corn district at the harvest time. Down in
+the village there scarcely any one is left at home; every man,
+woman, and child is out in the field. It is the day of prosperity,
+of continuous work for all, of high wages. It is, then, easy to
+understand why corn villages are populous. One cannot but feel the
+strongest sympathy with these men. The scene altogether seems so
+thoroughly, so intensely English. The spirit of it enters into the
+spectator, and he feels that he, too, must try his hand at the
+reaping, and then slake his thirst from the same cup with these
+bronzed sons of toil. Yet what a difficult problem lies underneath
+all this! While the reaper yonder slashes at the straw, huge ships
+are on the ocean rushing through the foam to bring grain to the
+great cities to whom&mdash;and to all&mdash;cheap bread is so
+inestimable a blessing. Very likely, when he pauses in his work,
+and takes his luncheon, the crust he eats is made of flour ground
+out of grain that grew in far distant Minnesota, or some vast
+Western State. Perhaps at the same moment the farmer himself sits
+at his desk and adds up figure after figure, calculating the cost
+of production, the expenditure on labour, the price of manure put
+into the soil, the capital invested in the steam-plough, and the
+cost of feeding the bullocks that are already intended for the next
+Christmas. Against these he places the market price of that wheat
+he can see being reaped from his window, and the price he receives
+for his fattened bullock. Then a vision rises before him of green
+meads and broad pastures slowly supplanting the corn; the plough
+put away, and the scythe brought out and sharpened. If so, where
+then will be the crowd of men and women yonder working in the
+wheat? Is not this a great problem, one to be pondered over and not
+hastily dismissed?</p>
+<p>Logical conclusions do not always come to pass in practice; even
+yet there is plenty of time for a change which shall retain these
+stalwart reapers amongst us, the strength and pride of the land.
+But if so, it is certain that it must be preceded by some earnest
+on their part of a desire to remove that last straw from the
+farmer's back&mdash;the last straw of extravagant labour
+demands&mdash;which have slowly been dragging him down. They have
+been doing their very best to bring about the substitution of grass
+for corn. And the farmer, too, perhaps, must look at home, and be
+content to live in simpler fashion. To do so will certainly require
+no little moral courage, for a prevalent social custom, like that
+of living fully up to the income (not solely characteristic of
+farmers), is with difficulty faced and overcome.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap27" id="chap27">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h3>
+<h3>GRASS COUNTRIES</h3>
+On the ground beside the bramble bushes that project into the field
+the grass is white with hoar frost at noon-day, when the rest of
+the meadow has resumed its dull green winter tint. Behind the
+copse, too, there is a broad belt of white&mdash;every place,
+indeed, that would be in the shadow were the sun to shine forth is
+of that colour.
+<p>The eager hunter frowns with impatience, knowing that though the
+eaves of the house may drip in the middle of the day, yet, while
+those white patches show in the shelter of the bramble bushes the
+earth will be hard and unyielding. His horse may clear the hedge,
+but how about the landing on that iron-like surface? Every old
+hoof-mark in the sward, cut out sharp and clear as if with a steel
+die, is so firm that the heaviest roller would not produce the
+smallest effect upon it. At the gateways where the passage of
+cattle has trodden away the turf, the mud, once almost impassable,
+is now hardened, and every cloven hoof that pressed it has left its
+mark as if cast in metal. Along the furrows the ice has fallen in,
+and lies on the slope white and broken, the shallow water having
+dried away beneath it. Dark hedges, dark trees&mdash;in the
+distance they look almost black&mdash;nearer at hand the smallest
+branches devoid of leaves are clearly defined against the sky.</p>
+<p>As the northerly wind drifts the clouds before it the sun shines
+down, and the dead, dry grass and the innumerable tufts of the
+'leaze' which the cattle have not eaten, take a dull grey hue.
+Sheltered from the blast behind the thick, high hawthorn hedge and
+double mound, which is like a rampart reared against Boreas, it is
+pleasant even now to stroll to and fro in the sunshine. The
+longtailed titmice come along in parties of six or eight, calling
+to each other as in turn they visit every tree. Turning from
+watching these&mdash;see, a redbreast has perched on a branch
+barely two yards distant, for, wherever you may be, there the robin
+comes and watches you. Whether looking in summer at the roses in
+the garden, or waiting in winter for the pheasant to break cover or
+the fox to steal forth, go where you will, in a minute or two, a
+redbreast appears intent on your proceedings.</p>
+<p>Now comes a discordant squeaking of iron axles that have not
+been greased, and the jolting sound of wheels passing over ruts
+whose edges are hard and frost-bound. From the lane two manure
+carts enter the meadow in slow procession, and, stopping at regular
+intervals, the men in charge take long poles with hooks at the end
+and drag down a certain quantity of the fertilising material. The
+sharp frost is so far an advantage to the tenant of meadow land
+that he can cart manure without cutting and poaching the turf, and
+even without changing the ordinary for the extra set of
+broad-wheels on the cart. In the next meadow the hedge-cutters are
+busy, their hands fenced with thick gloves to turn aside the
+thorns.</p>
+<p>Near by are the hay-ricks and cow-pen where a metallic rattling
+sound rises every now and then&mdash;the bull in the shed moving
+his neck and dragging his chain through the ring. More than one of
+the hay-ricks have been already half cut away, for the severe
+winter makes the cows hungry, and if their yield of milk is to be
+kept up they must be well fed, so that the foggers have plenty to
+do. If the dairy, as is most probably the case, sends the milk to
+London, they have still more, because then a regular supply has to
+be maintained, and for that a certain proportion of other food has
+to be prepared in addition to the old-fashioned hay. The new
+system, indeed, has led to the employment of more labour
+out-of-doors, if less within. An extra fogger has to be put on, not
+only because of the food, but because the milking has to be done in
+less time&mdash;with a despatch, indeed, that would have seemed
+unnatural to the old folk. Besides which the milk carts to and fro
+the railway station require drivers, whose time&mdash;as they have
+to go some miles twice a day&mdash;is pretty nearly occupied with
+their horses and milk tins. So much is this the case that even in
+summer they can scarcely be spared to do a few hours haymaking.</p>
+<p>The new system, therefore, of selling the milk instead of making
+butter and cheese is advantageous to the labourer by affording more
+employment in grass districts. It is steady work, too, lasting the
+entire year round, and well paid. The stock of cows in such cases
+is kept up to the very highest that the land will carry, which,
+again, gives more work. Although the closing of the cheese lofts
+and the superannuation of the churn has reduced the number of
+female servants in the house, yet that is more than balanced by the
+extra work without. The cottage families, it is true, lose the
+buttermilk which some farmers used to allow them; but wages are
+certainly better.</p>
+<p>There has been, in fact, a general stir and movement in dairy
+districts since the milk selling commenced, which has been
+favourable to labour. A renewed life and energy has been visible on
+farms where for generations things had gone on in the same sleepy
+manner. Efforts have been made to extend the area available for
+feeding by grubbing hedges and cultivating pieces of ground
+hitherto given over to thistles, rushes, and rough grasses. Drains
+have been put in so that the stagnant water in the soil might not
+cause the growth of those grasses which cattle will not touch.
+Fresh seed has been sown, and 'rattles' and similar plants
+destructive to the hay crop have been carefully eradicated. New
+gales, new carts, and traps, all exhibit the same movement.</p>
+<p>The cowyards in many districts were formerly in a very
+dilapidated condition. The thatch of the sheds was all worn away,
+mossgrown, and bored by the sparrows. Those in which the cows were
+placed at calving time were mere dark holes. The floor of the yard
+was often soft, so that the hoofs of the cattle trod deep into
+it&mdash;a perfect slough in wet weather. The cows themselves were
+of a poor character, and in truth as poorly treated, for the hay
+was made badly&mdash;carelessly harvested, and the grass itself not
+of good quality&mdash;nor were the men always very humane, thinking
+little of knocking the animals about.</p>
+<p>Quite a change has come over all this. The cows now kept are
+much too valuable to be treated roughly, being selected from
+shorthorn strains that yield large quantities of milk. No farmer
+now would allow any such knocking about. The hay itself is better,
+because the grass has been improved, and it is also harvested
+carefully. Rickcloths prevent rain from spoiling the rising rick,
+mowing machines, haymaking machines, and horse rakes enable a spell
+of good weather to be taken advantage of, and the hay got in
+quickly, instead of lying about till the rain returns. As for the
+manure, it is recognised to be gold in another shape, and instead
+of being trodden under foot by the cattle and washed away by the
+rain, it is utilised. The yard is drained and stoned so as to be
+dry&mdash;a change that effects a saving in litter, the value of
+which has greatly risen. Sheds have been new thatched, and
+generally renovated, and even new roads laid down across the farms,
+and properly macadamised, in order that the milk carts might reach
+the highway without the straining and difficulty consequent upon
+wheels sinking half up to the axles in winter.</p>
+<p>In short, dairy farms have been swept and garnished, and even
+something like science introduced upon them. The thermometer in
+summer is in constant use to determine if the milk is sufficiently
+cooled to proceed upon its journey. That cooling of the milk alone
+is a process that requires more labour to carry it out. Artificial
+manures are spread abroad on the pastures. The dairy farmer has to
+a considerable extent awakened to the times, and, like the arable
+agriculturist, is endeavouring to bring modern appliances to bear
+upon his business. To those who recollect the old style of dairy
+farmer the change seems marvellous indeed. Nowhere was the farmer
+more backward, more rude and primitive, than on the small dairy
+farms. He was barely to be distinguished from the labourers,
+amongst whom he worked shoulder to shoulder; he spoke with their
+broad accent, and his ideas and theirs were nearly identical.</p>
+<p>In ten years' time&mdash;just a short ten years only&mdash;what
+an alteration has taken place! It is needless to say that this
+could not go on without the spending of money, and the spending of
+money means the benefit of the labouring class. New cottages have
+been erected, of course on modern plans, so that many of the men
+are much better lodged than they were, and live nearer to their
+work&mdash;a great consideration where cows are the main object of
+attention. The men have to be on the farm very early in the
+morning, and if they have a long walk it is a heavy drag upon them.
+Perhaps the constant intercourse with the towns and stations
+resulting from the double daily visit of the milk carts has
+quickened the minds of the labourers thus employed. Whatever may be
+the cause, it is certain that they do exhibit an improvement, and
+are much 'smarter' than they used to be. It would be untrue to say
+that no troubles with the labourers have arisen in meadow
+districts. There has been some friction about wages, but not nearly
+approaching the agitation elsewhere. And when a recent reduction of
+wages commenced, many of the men themselves admitted that it was
+inevitable. But the average earnings throughout the year still
+continue, and are likely to continue far above the old rate of
+payment. Where special kinds of cheese are made the position of the
+labourer has also improved.</p>
+<p>Coming to the same district in summer time, the meadows have a
+beauty all their own. The hedges are populous with birds, the trees
+lovely, the brook green with flags, the luxuriantly-growing grass
+decked with flowers. Nor has haymaking lost all its ancient charm.
+Though the old-fashioned sound of the mower sharpening his scythe
+is less often heard, being superseded by the continuous rattle of
+the mowing machine, yet the hay smells as sweetly as ever. While
+the mowing machine, the haymaking machine, and horse rake give the
+farmer the power of using the sunshine, when it comes, to the best
+purpose, they are not without an effect upon the labouring
+population.</p>
+<p>Just as in corn districts, machinery has not reduced the actual
+number of hands employed, but has made the work come in spells or
+rushes; so in the meadows the haymaking is shortened. The farmer
+waits till good weather is assured for a few days. Then on goes his
+mowing machine and levels the crop of an entire field in no time.
+Immediately a whole crowd of labourers are required for making the
+hay and getting it when ready on the waggons. Under the old system
+the mowers usually got drunk about the third day of sunshine, and
+the work came to a standstill. When it began to rain they recovered
+themselves, and slashed away vigorously&mdash;when it was not
+wanted. The effect of machinery has been much the same as on corn
+lands, with the addition that fewer women are now employed in
+haymaking. Those that are employed are much better paid.</p>
+<p>The hamlets of grass districts are not, as a rule, at all
+populous. There really are fewer people, and at the same time the
+impression is increased by the scattered position of the dwellings.
+Instead of a great central village there are three or four small
+hamlets a mile or two apart, and solitary groups of cottages near
+farmhouses. One result of this is, that allotment gardens are not
+so common, for the sufficient reason that, if a field were set
+apart for the purpose, the tenants of the plots would have to walk
+so far to the place that it would scarcely pay them. Gardens are
+consequently attached to most cottages, and answer the same
+purpose; some have small orchards as well.</p>
+<p>The cottagers have also more firewood than is the case in some
+arable districts on account of the immense quantity of wood
+annually cut in copses and double-mound hedges. The rougher part
+becomes the labourers' perquisite, and they can also purchase wood
+at a nominal rate from their employers. This more than compensates
+for the absence of gleaning. In addition, quantities of wood are
+collected from hedges and ditches and under the trees&mdash;dead
+boughs that have fallen or been broken off by a gale.</p>
+<p>The aspect of a grazing district presents a general resemblance
+to that of a dairy one, with the difference that in the grazing
+everything seems on a larger scale. Instead of small meadows shut
+in with hedges and trees, the grazing farms often comprise fields
+of immense extent; sometimes a single pasture is as large as a
+small dairy farm. The herds of cattle are also more numerous; of
+course they are of a different class, but, in mere numbers, a
+grazier often has three times as many bullocks as a dairy farmer
+has cows. The mounds are quite as thickly timbered as in dairy
+districts, but as they are much farther apart, the landscape
+appears more open.</p>
+<p>To a spectator looking down upon mile after mile of such pasture
+land in summer from an elevation it resembles a park of illimitable
+extent. Great fields after great fields roll away to the
+horizon&mdash;groups of trees and small copses dot the
+slopes&mdash;roan and black cattle stand in the sheltering shadows.
+A dreamy haze hangs over the distant woods&mdash;all is large,
+open, noble. It suggests a life of freedom&mdash;the gun and the
+saddle&mdash;and, indeed, it is here that hunting is enjoyed in its
+full perfection. The labourer falls almost out of sight in these
+vast pastures. The population is sparse and scattered, the hamlets
+are few and far apart; even many of the farmhouses being only
+occupied by bailiffs. In comparison with a dairy farm there is
+little work to do. Cows have to be milked as well as foddered, and
+the milk when obtained gives employment to many hands in the
+various processes it goes through. Here the bullocks have simply to
+be fed and watched, the sheep in like manner have to be tended.
+Except in the haymaking season, therefore, there is scarcely ever a
+press for labour. Those who are employed have steady, continuous
+work the year through, and are for the most part men of experience
+in attending upon cattle, as indeed they need be, seeing the value
+of the herds under their charge.</p>
+<p>Although little direct agitation has taken place in pasture
+countries, yet wages have equally risen. Pasture districts almost
+drop out of the labour dispute. On the one hand the men are few, on
+the other the rise of a shilling or so scarcely affects the farmer
+(so far as his grass land is concerned, if he has much corn as well
+it is different), because of the small number of labourers he
+wants.</p>
+<p>The great utility of pasture is, of course, the comparatively
+cheap production of meat, which goes to feed the population in
+cities. Numbers of bullocks are fattened on corn land in stalls,
+but of late it has been stated that the cost of feeding under such
+conditions is so high that scarcely any profit can be obtained. The
+pasture farmer has by no means escaped without encountering
+difficulties; but still, with tolerably favourable seasons, he can
+produce meat much more cheaply than the arable agriculturist. Yet
+it is one of the avowed objects of the labour organisation to
+prevent the increase of pasture land, to stop the laying down of
+grass, and even to plough up some of the old pastures. The reason
+given is that corn land supports so many more agricultural
+labourers, which is so far true; but if corn farming cannot be
+carried on profitably without great reduction of the labour
+expenses the argument is not worth much, while the narrowness of
+the view is at once evident. The proportion of pasture to arable
+land must settle itself, and be governed entirely by the same
+conditions that affect other trades&mdash;i.e.. profit and
+loss.</p>
+<p>It has already been pointed out that the labourer finds it
+possible to support the Union with small payments, and also to
+subscribe to benefit-clubs. The fact suggests the idea that, if
+facilities were afforded, the labourer would become a considerable
+depositor of pennies. The Post-office Savings Banks have done much
+good, the drawback is that the offices are often too distant from
+the labourer. There is an office in the village, but not half the
+population live in the village. There are far-away hamlets and
+things, besides lonely groups of three or four farmhouses, to which
+a collective name can hardly be given, but which employ a number of
+men. A rural parish is 'all abroad'&mdash;the people are scattered.
+To go into the Post-office in the village may involve a walk of
+several miles, and it is closed, too, on Saturday night when the
+men are flush of money.</p>
+<p>The great difficulty with penny banks on the other hand is the
+receiver&mdash;who is to be responsible for the money? The
+clergyman would be only too glad, but many will have nothing to do
+with anything under his influence simply because he is the
+clergyman. The estrangement that has been promoted between the
+labourer and the tenant farmer effectually shuts the latter out.
+The landlord's agent cannot reside in fifty places at once. The
+sums are too small to pay for a bank agent to reside in the village
+and go round. There remain the men themselves; and why should not
+they be trusted with the money? Men of their own class collect the
+Union subscriptions, and faithfully pay them in.</p>
+<p>Take the case of a little hamlet two, three, perhaps more miles
+from a Post-office Savings Bank, where some thirty labourers work
+on the farms. Why should not these thirty elect one of their own
+number to receive their savings over Saturday&mdash;to be paid in
+by him at the Post-office? There are men among them who might be
+safely trusted with ten times the money, and if the Post-office
+cannot be opened on Saturday evenings for him to deposit it, it is
+quite certain that his employer would permit of his absence, on one
+day, sufficiently long to go to the office and back. If the men
+wish to be absolutely independent in the matter, all they have to
+do is to work an extra hour for their agent's employer, and so
+compensate for his temporary absence. If the men had it in their
+own hands like this they would enter into it with far greater
+interest, and it would take root among them. All that is required
+is the consent of the Post-office to receive moneys so deposited,
+and some one to broach the idea to the men in the various
+localities. The great recommendation of the Post-office is that the
+labouring classes everywhere have come to feel implicit faith in
+the safety of deposits made in it. They have a confidence in it
+that can never be attained by a private enterprise, however
+benevolent, and it should therefore be utilised to the utmost.</p>
+<p>To gentlemen accustomed to receive a regular income, a small
+lump sum like ten or twenty pounds appears a totally inadequate
+provision against old age. They institute elaborate calculations by
+professed accountants, to discover whether by any mode of
+investment a small subscription proportionate to the labourer's
+wages can be made to provide him with an annuity. The result is
+scarcely satisfactory. But, in fact, though an annuity would be, of
+course, preferable, even so small a sum as ten or twenty pounds is
+of the very highest value to an aged agricultural labourer,
+especially when he has a cottage, if not his own property, yet in
+which he has a right to reside. The neighbouring farmers, who have
+known him from their own boyhood, are always ready to give him
+light jobs whenever practicable. So that in tolerable weather he
+still earns something. His own children do a little for him. In the
+dead of the winter come a few weeks when he can do nothing, and
+feels the lack of small comforts. It is just then that a couple of
+sovereigns out of a hoard of twenty pounds will tide him over the
+interval.</p>
+<p>It is difficult to convey an idea of the value of these two
+extra sovereigns to a man of such frugal habits and in that
+position. None but those who have mixed with the agricultural poor
+can understand it. Now the wages that will hardly, by the most
+careful management, allow of the gradual purchase of an annuity,
+will readily permit such savings as these. It is simply a question
+of the money-box. When the child's money-box is at hand the penny
+is dropped in, and the amount accumulates; if there is no box handy
+it is spent in sweets. The same holds true of young and old alike.
+If, then, the annuity cannot be arranged, let the money-box, at all
+events, be brought nearer. And the money-box in which the poor man
+all over the country has the most faith is the Post-office.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap28" id="chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>HODGE'S LAST MASTERS. CONCLUSION</h3>
+After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest,
+comes the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set
+and capable of immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength
+must wear away. The limbs totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed
+sight can no longer guide the plough in a straight furrow, nor the
+weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge, who, Atlas-like,
+supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world, comes in his
+old age under the dominion of his last masters at the workhouse.
+There, indeed, he finds almost the whole array of his rulers
+assembled. Tenant farmers sit as the guardians of the poor for
+their respective parishes; the clergyman and the squire by virtue
+of their office as magistrates; and the tradesman as guardian for
+the market town. Here are representatives of almost all his
+masters, and it may seem to him a little strange that it should
+require so many to govern such feeble folk.
+<p>The board-room at the workhouse is a large and apparently
+comfortable apartment. The fire is piled with glowing coals, the
+red light from which gleams on the polished fender. A vast table
+occupies the centre, and around it are arranged seats, for each of
+the guardians. The chairman is, perhaps, a clergyman (and
+magistrate), who for years has maintained something like peace
+between discordant elements. For the board-room is often a
+battle-field where political or sectarian animosities exhibit
+themselves in a rugged way. The clergyman, by force of character,
+has at all events succeeded in moderating the personal asperity of
+the contending parties. Many of the stout, elderly farmers who sit
+round the table have been elected year after year, no one disputing
+with them that tedious and thankless office. The clerk, always a
+solicitor, is also present, and his opinion is continually
+required. Knotty points of law are for ever arising over what seems
+so simple a matter as the grant of a dole of bread.</p>
+<p>The business, indeed, of relieving the agricultural poor is no
+light one&mdash;a dozen or fifteen gentlemen often sit here the
+whole day. The routine of examining the relieving officers' books
+and receiving their reports takes up at least two hours.
+Agricultural unions often include a wide space of country, and
+getting from one village to another consumes as much time as would
+be needed for the actual relief of a much denser population. As a
+consequence, more relieving officers are employed than would seem
+at first glance necessary. Each of these has his records to
+present, and his accounts to be practically audited, a process
+naturally interspersed with inquiries respecting cottagers known to
+the guardians present.</p>
+<p>Personal applications for out-door relief are then heard. A
+group of intending applicants has been waiting in the porch for
+admission for some time. Women come for their daughters; daughters
+for their mothers; some want assistance during an approaching
+confinement, others ask for a small loan, to be repaid by
+instalments, with which to tide over their difficulties. One
+cottage woman is occasionally deputed by several of her neighbours
+as their representative. The labourer or his wife stands before the
+Board and makes a statement, supplemented by explanation from the
+relieving officer of the district. Another hour thus passes.
+Incidentally there arise cases of 'settlement' in distant parishes,
+when persons have become chargeable whose place of residence was
+recently, perhaps, half across the country. They have no parochial
+rights here and must be returned thither, after due inquiries made
+by the clerk and the exchange of considerable correspondence.</p>
+<p>The master of the workhouse is now called in and delivers his
+weekly report of the conduct of the inmates, and any events that
+have happened. One inmate, an ancient labourer, died that morning
+in the infirmary, not many hours before the meeting of the Board.
+The announcement is received with regretful exclamations, and there
+is a cessation of business for a few minutes. Some of the old
+farmers who knew the deceased recount their connection with him,
+how he worked for them, and how his family has lived in the parish
+as cottagers from time immemorial. A reminiscence of a grim joke
+that fell out forty years before, and of which the deceased was the
+butt, causes a grave smile, and then to business again. The master
+possibly asks permission to punish a refractory inmate; punishment
+is now very sparingly given in the house. A good many cases,
+however, come up from the Board to the magisterial
+Bench&mdash;charges of tearing up clothing, fighting, damaging
+property, or of neglecting to maintain, or to repay relief advanced
+on loan. These cases are, of course, conducted by the clerk.</p>
+<p>There is sometimes a report, to be read by one of the doctors
+who receive salaries from the Board and attend to the various
+districts, and occasionally some nuisance to be considered and
+order taken for its compulsory removal on sanitary grounds. The
+question of sanitation is becoming rather a difficult one in
+agricultural unions.</p>
+<p>After this the various committees of the Board have to give in
+the result of their deliberations, and the representative of tho
+ladies' boarding-out committee presents a record of the work
+accomplished. These various committees at times are burdened with
+the most onerous labours, for upon them falls the duty of verifying
+all the petty details of management. Every pound of soap, or
+candles, scrubbing-brushes, and similar domestic items, pass under
+their inspection, not only the payments for them, but the actual
+articles, or samples of them, being examined. Tenders for grocery,
+bread, wines and spirits for cases of illness, meat, coals, and so
+forth are opened and compared, vouchers, bills, receipts, invoices,
+and so forth checked and audited.</p>
+<p>The amount of detail thus attended to is something immense, and
+the accuracy required occupies hour after hour. There are whole
+libraries of account-books, ledgers, red-bound relief-books, stowed
+away, pile upon pile, in the house; archives going back to the
+opening of the establishment, and from which any trifling relief
+given or expenditure inclined years ago can be extracted. Such
+another carefully-administered institution it would be hard to
+find; nor is any proposed innovation or change adopted without the
+fullest discussion&mdash;it may be the suggested erection of
+additional premises, or the introduction of some fresh feature of
+the system, or some novel instructions sent down by the Local
+Government Board.</p>
+<p>When such matters or principles are to be discussed there is
+certain to be a full gathering of the guardians and a trial of
+strength between the parties. Those who habitually neglect to
+attend, leaving the hard labour of administration to be borne by
+their colleagues, now appear in numbers, and the board-room is
+crowded, many squires otherwise seldom seen coming in to give their
+votes. It is as much as the chairman can do to assuage the storm
+and to maintain an approach to personal politeness. Quiet as the
+country appears to the casual observer, there are, nevertheless,
+strong feelings under the surface, and at such gatherings the
+long-cherished animosities burst forth.</p>
+<p>Nothing at all events is done in a corner; everything is openly
+discussed and investigated. Every week the visiting committee go
+round the house, and enter every ward and store-room. They taste
+and test the provisions, and the least shortcoming is certain to be
+severely brought home to those who are fulfilling the contracts.
+They pass through the dormitories, and see that everything is
+clean; woe betide those responsible if a spot of dirt be visible!
+There is the further check of casual and unexpected visits from the
+guardians or magistrates. It is probable that not one crumb of
+bread consumed is otherwise than good, and that not one single
+crumb is wasted. The waste is in the system&mdash;and a gigantic
+waste it is, whether inevitable as some contend, or capable of
+being superseded by a different plan.</p>
+<p>Of every hundred pounds paid by the ratepayers how much is
+absorbed in the maintenance of the institution and its
+ramifications, and how very little reaches poor deserving Hodge!
+The undeserving and mean-spirited, of whom there are plenty in
+every village, who endeavour to live upon the parish, receive
+relief thrice as long and to thrice the amount as the hard-working,
+honest labourer, who keeps out to the very last moment. It is not
+the fault of the guardians, but of the rigidity of the law. Surely
+a larger amount of discretionary power might be vested in them with
+advantage! Some exceptional consideration is the just due of men
+who have worked from the morn to the very eve of life.</p>
+<p>The labourer whose decease was reported to the Board upon their
+assembling was born some seventy-eight or seventy-nine years ago.
+The exact date is uncertain; many of the old men can only fix their
+age by events that happened when they were growing from boys into
+manhood. That it must have been nearer eighty than seventy years
+since is known, however, to the elderly farmers, who recollect him
+as a man with a family when they were young. The thatched cottage
+stood beside the road at one end of a long, narrow garden, enclosed
+from the highway by a hedge of elder. At the back there was a ditch
+and mound with elm-trees, and green meadows beyond. A few poles
+used to lean against the thatch, their tops rising above the ridge,
+and close by was a stack of thorn faggots. In the garden three or
+four aged and mossgrown apple-trees stood among the little plots of
+potatoes, and as many plum-trees in the elder hedge. One tall
+pear-tree with scored bark grew near the end of the cottage; it
+bore a large crop of pears, which were often admired by the people
+who came along the road, but were really hard and woody. As a child
+he played in the ditch and hedge, or crept through into the meadow
+and searched in the spring for violets to offer to the passers-by;
+or he swung on the gate in the lane and held it open for the
+farmers in their gigs, in hope of a halfpenny.</p>
+<p>As a lad he went forth with his father to work in the fields,
+and came home to the cabbage boiled for the evening meal. It was
+not a very roomy or commodious home to return to after so many
+hours in the field, exposed to rain and wind, to snow, or summer
+sun. The stones of the floor were uneven, and did not fit at the
+edges. There was a beam across the low ceiling, to avoid which, as
+he grew older, he had to bow his head when crossing the apartment.
+A wooden ladder, or steps, not a staircase proper, behind the
+whitewashed partition, led to the bedroom. The steps were
+worm-eaten and worn. In the sitting-room the narrow panes of the
+small window were so overgrown with woodbine as to admit but little
+light. But in summer the door was wide open, and the light and the
+soft air came in. The thick walls and thatch kept it warm and cosy
+in winter, when they gathered round the fire. Every day in his
+manhood he went out to the field; every item, as it were, of life
+centred in that little cottage. In time he came to occupy it with
+his own wife, and his children in their turn crept through the
+hedge, or swung upon the gate. They grew up, and one by one went
+away, till at last he was left alone.</p>
+<p>He had not taken much conscious note of the changing aspect of
+the scene around him. The violets flowered year after year; still
+he went to plough. The May bloomed and scented the hedges; still he
+went to his work. The green summer foliage became brown and the
+acorns fell from the oaks; still he laboured on, and saw the ice
+and snow, and heard the wind roar in the old familiar trees without
+much thought of it. But those old familiar trees, the particular
+hedges he had worked among so many years, the very turf of the
+meadows over which he had walked so many times, the view down the
+road from the garden gate, the distant sign-post and the
+red-bricked farmhouse&mdash;all these things had become part of his
+life. There was no hope nor joy left to him, but he wanted to stay
+on among them to the end. He liked to ridge up his little plot of
+potatoes; he liked to creep up his ladder and mend the thatch of
+his cottage; he liked to cut himself a cabbage, and to gather the
+one small basketful of apples. There was a kind of dull pleasure in
+cropping the elder hedge, and even in collecting the dead branches
+scattered under the trees. To be about the hedges, in the meadows,
+and along the brooks was necessary to him, and he liked to be at
+work.</p>
+<p>Three score and ten did not seem the limit of his working days;
+he still could and would hoe&mdash;a bowed back is no impediment,
+but perhaps rather an advantage, at that occupation. He could use a
+prong in the haymaking; he could reap a little, and do good service
+tying up the cut corn. There were many little jobs on the farm that
+required experience, combined with the plodding patience of age,
+and these he could do better than a stronger man. The years went
+round again, and yet he worked. Indeed, the farther back a man's
+birth dates in the beginning of the present century the more he
+seems determined to labour. He worked on till every member of his
+family had gone, most to their last home, and still went out at
+times when the weather was not too severe. He worked on, and
+pottered round the garden, and watched the young green plums
+swelling on his trees, and did a bit of gleaning, and thought the
+wheat would weigh bad when it was threshed out.</p>
+<p>Presently people began to bestir themselves, and to ask whether
+there was no one to take care of the old man, who might die from
+age and none near. Where were his own friends and relations? One
+strong son had enlisted and gone to India, and though his time had
+expired long ago, nothing had ever been heard of him. Another son
+had emigrated to Australia, and once sent back a present of money,
+and a message, written for him by a friend, that he was doing well.
+But of late, he, too, had dropped out of sight. Of three daughters
+who grew up, two were known to be dead, and the third was believed
+to be in New Zealand. The old man was quite alone. He had no hope
+and no joy, yet he was almost happy in a slow unfeeling way
+wandering about the garden and the cottage. But in the winter his
+half-frozen blood refused to circulate, his sinews would not move
+his willing limbs, and he could not work.</p>
+<p>His case came before the Board of Guardians. Those who knew all
+about him wished to give him substantial relief in his own cottage,
+and to appoint some aged woman as nurse&mdash;a thing that is
+occasionally done, and most humanely. But there were technical
+difficulties in the way; the cottage was either his own or partly
+his own, and relief could not be given to any one possessed of
+'property' Just then, too, there was a great movement against,
+out-door relief; official circulars came round warning Boards to
+curtail it, and much fuss was made. In the result the old man was
+driven into the workhouse; muttering and grumbling, he had to be
+bodily carried to the trap, and thus by physical force was dragged
+from his home. In the workhouse there is of necessity a dead level
+of monotony&mdash;there are many persons but no individuals. The
+dining-hall is crossed with forms and narrow tables, somewhat
+resembling those formerly used in schools. On these at dinner-time
+are placed a tin mug and a tin soup-plate for each person; every
+mug and every plate exactly alike. When the unfortunates have taken
+their places, the master pronounces grace from an elevated desk at
+the end of the hall.</p>
+<p>Plain as is the fare, it was better than the old man had existed
+on for years; but though better it was not his dinner. He was not
+sitting in his old chair, at his own old table, round which his
+children had once gathered. He had not planted the cabbage, and
+tended it while it grew, and cut it himself. So it was, all through
+the workhouse life. The dormitories were clean, but the ward was
+not his old bedroom up the worm-eaten steps, with the slanting
+ceiling, where as he woke in the morning he could hear the sparrows
+chirping, the chaffinch calling, and the lark singing aloft. There
+was a garden attached to the workhouse, where he could do a little
+if he liked, but it was not his garden. He missed his plum-trees
+and apples, and the tall pear, and the lowly elder hedge. He looked
+round raising his head with difficulty, and he could not see the
+sign-post, nor the familiar red-bricked farmhouse. He knew all the
+rain that had fallen must have come through the thatch of the old
+cottage in at least one place, and he would have liked to have gone
+and rethatched it with trembling hand. At home he could lift the
+latch of the garden gate and go down the road when he wished. Here
+he could not go outside the boundary&mdash;it was against the
+regulations. Everything to appearance had been monotonous in the
+cottage&mdash;but there he did not feel it monotonous.</p>
+<p>At the workhouse the monotony weighed upon him. He used to think
+as he lay awake in bed that when the spring came nothing should
+keep him in this place. He would take his discharge and go out, and
+borrow a hoe from somebody, and go and do a bit of work again, and
+be about in the fields. That was his one hope all through his first
+winter. Nothing else enlivened it, except an occasional little
+present of tobacco from the guardians who knew him. The spring
+came, but the rain was ceaseless. No work of the kind he could do
+was possible in such weather. Still there was the summer, but the
+summer was no improvement; in the autumn he felt weak, and was not
+able to walk far. The chance for which he had waited had gone.
+Again the winter came, and he now rapidly grew more feeble.</p>
+<p>When once an aged man gives up, it seems strange at first that
+he should be so utterly helpless. In the infirmary the real benefit
+of the workhouse reached him. The food, the little luxuries, the
+attention were far superior to anything he could possibly have had
+at home. But still it was not home. The windows did not permit him
+from his bed to see the leafless trees or the dark woods and
+distant hills. Left to himself, it is certain that of choice he
+would have crawled under a rick, or into a hedge, if he could not
+have reached his cottage.</p>
+<p>The end came very slowly; he ceased to exist by imperceptible
+degrees, like an oak-tree. He remained for days in a
+semi-unconscious state, neither moving nor speaking. It happened at
+last. In the grey of the winter dawn, as the stars paled and the
+whitened grass was stiff with hoar frost, and the rime coated every
+branch of the tall elms, as the milker came from the pen and the
+young ploughboy whistled down the road to his work, the spirit of
+the aged man departed.</p>
+<p>What amount of production did that old man's life of labour
+represent? What value must be put upon the service of the son that
+fought in India; of the son that worked in Australia; of the
+daughter in New Zealand, whose children will help to build up a new
+nation? These things surely have their value. Hodge died, and the
+very grave-digger grumbled as he delved through the earth
+hard-bound in the iron frost, for it jarred his hand and might
+break his spade. The low mound will soon be level, and the place of
+his burial shall not be known.</p>
+<br>
+<hr size="5" noshade>
+<pre>
+
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11874 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #11874 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11874)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hodge and His Masters, by Richard Jefferies
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Hodge and His Masters
+
+Author: Richard Jefferies
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2004  [eBook #11874]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: iso-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HODGE AND HIS MASTERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer and Project Gutenberg Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+HODGE AND HIS MASTERS
+
+BY
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES
+
+Author of 'The Gamekeeper at Home,' 'Wild Life in a Southern County,'
+'The Amateur Poacher,' 'Round About A Great Estate,' Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The papers of which this volume is composed originally appeared in the
+_Standard_, and are now republished by permission of the Editor.
+
+In manners, mode of thought, and way of life, there is perhaps no class of
+the community less uniform than the agricultural. The diversities are so
+great as to amount to contradictions. Individuality of character is most
+marked, and, varying an old saw, it might be said, so many farmers so many
+minds.
+
+Next to the tenants the landowners have felt the depression, to such a
+degree, in fact, that they should perhaps take the first place, having no
+one to allow them in turn a 20 per cent, reduction of their liabilities.
+It must be remembered that the landowner will not receive the fruits of
+returning prosperity when it comes for some time after they have reached
+the farmer. Two good seasons will be needed before the landowner begins to
+recoup.
+
+Country towns are now so closely connected with agriculture that a
+description of the one would be incomplete without some mention of the
+other. The aggregate capital employed by the business men of these small
+towns must amount to an immense sum, and the depreciation of their
+investments is of more than local concern.
+
+Although the labourer at the present moment is a little in the background,
+and has the best of the bargain, since wages have not much fallen, if at
+all; yet he will doubtless come to the front again. For as agriculture
+revives, and the sun shines, the organisations by which he is represented
+will naturally display fresh vigour.
+
+But the rapid progress of education in the villages and outlying districts
+is the element which is most worthy of thoughtful consideration. On the
+one hand, it may perhaps cause a powerful demand for corresponding
+privileges; and on the other, counteract the tendency to unreasonable
+expectations. In any case, it is a fact that cannot be ignored. Meantime,
+all I claim for the following sketches is that they are written in a fair
+and impartial spirit.
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I. THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+    II. LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+   III. A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+    IV. GOING DOWNHILL
+
+     V. THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+    VI. AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS--OLD STYLE
+
+   VII. THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+  VIII. HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+    IX. THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+     X. MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+    XI. FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+   XII. THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'
+
+  XIII. AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+   XIV. THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+    XV. A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+   XVI. THE SOLICITOR
+
+  XVII. 'COUNTY COURT DAY'
+
+ XVIII. THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+   XIX. THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+    XX. HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+   XXI. A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+  XXII. THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN, COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+ XXIII. THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+  XXIV. THE COTTAGE CHARTER, FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+   XXV. LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES, THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+  XXVI. A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+ XXVII. GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+XXVIII. HODGE'S LAST MASTERS, CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+
+THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+
+The doorway of the Jason Inn at Woolbury had nothing particular to
+distinguish it from the other doorways of the same extremely narrow
+street. There was no porch, nor could there possibly be one, for an
+ordinary porch would reach half across the roadway. There were no steps to
+go up, there was no entrance hall, no space specially provided for crowds
+of visitors; simply nothing but an ordinary street-door opening directly
+on the street, and very little, if any, broader or higher than those of
+the private houses adjacent. There was not even the usual covered way or
+archway leading into the courtyard behind, so often found at old country
+inns; the approach to the stables and coach-houses was through a separate
+and even more narrow and winding street, necessitating a detour of some
+quarter of a mile. The dead, dull wall was worn smooth in places by the
+involuntary rubbings it had received from the shoulders of foot-passengers
+thrust rudely against it as the market-people came pouring in or out, or
+both together.
+
+Had the spot been in the most crowded district of the busiest part of the
+metropolis, where every inch of ground is worth an enormous sum, the
+buildings could not have been more jammed together, nor the inconvenience
+greater. Yet the little town was in the very midst of one of the most
+purely agricultural counties, where land, to all appearance, was
+plentiful, and where there was ample room and 'verge enough' to build
+fifty such places. The pavement in front of the inn was barely eighteen
+inches wide; two persons could not pass each other on it, nor walk
+abreast. If a cart came along the roadway, and a trap had to go by it, the
+foot-passengers had to squeeze up against the wall, lest the box of the
+wheel projecting over the kerb should push them down. If a great waggon
+came loaded with wool, the chances were whether a carriage could pass it
+or not; as for a waggon-load of straw that projected from the sides,
+nothing could get by, but all must wait--coroneted panel or plain
+four-wheel--till the huge mass had rumbled and jolted into the more open
+market-place.
+
+But hard, indeed, must have been the flag-stones to withstand the wear and
+tear of the endless iron-shod shoes that tramped to and fro these mere
+ribbons of pavements. For, besides the through traffic out from the
+market-place to the broad macadamised road that had taken the place and
+the route of an ancient Roman road, there were the customers to the shops
+that lined each side of the street. Into some of these you stepped from
+the pavement down, as it were, into a cave, the level of the shop being
+eight or ten inches below the street, while the first floor projected over
+the pavement quite to the edge of the kerb. To enter these shops it was
+necessary to stoop, and when you were inside there was barely room to turn
+round. Other shops were, indeed, level with the street; but you had to be
+careful, because the threshold was not flush with the pavement, but rose a
+couple of inches and then fell again, a very trap to the toe of the
+unwary. Many had no glass at all, but were open, like a butcher's or
+fishmonger's. Those that had glass were so restricted for space that, rich
+as they might be within in the good things of the earth, they could make
+no 'display.' All the genius of a West-end shopman could not have made an
+artistic arrangement in that narrow space and in that bad light; for,
+though so small below, the houses rose high, and the street being so
+narrow the sunshine rarely penetrated into it.
+
+But mean as a metropolitan shopman might have thought the spot, the
+business done there was large, and, more than that, it was genuine. The
+trade of a country market-town, especially when that market-town, like
+Woolbury, dates from the earliest days of English history, is hereditary.
+It flows to the same store and to the same shop year after year,
+generation after generation, century after century. The farmer who walks
+into the saddler's here goes in because his father went there before him.
+His father went in because his father dealt there, and so on farther back
+than memory can trace. It might almost be said that whole villages go to
+particular shops. You may see the agricultural labourers' wives, for
+instance, on a Saturday leave the village in a bevy of ten or a dozen, and
+all march in to the same tradesman. Of course in these latter days
+speculative men and 'co-operative' prices, industriously placarded, have
+sapped and undermined this old-fashioned system. Yet even now it retains
+sufficient hold to be a marked feature of country life. To the through
+traffic, therefore, had to be added the steady flow of customers to the
+shops.
+
+On a market-day like this there is, of course, the incessant entry and
+exit of carts, waggons, traps, gigs, four-wheels, and a large number of
+private carriages. The number of private carriages is, indeed, very
+remarkable, as also the succession of gentlemen on thoroughbred horses--a
+proof of the number of resident gentry in the neighbourhood, and of its
+general prosperity. Cart-horses furbished up for sale, with straw-bound
+tails and glistening skins; 'baaing' flocks of sheep; squeaking pigs;
+bullocks with their heads held ominously low, some going, some returning,
+from the auction yard; shouting drovers; lads rushing hither and thither;
+dogs barking; everything and everybody crushing, jostling, pushing through
+the narrow street. An old shepherd, who has done his master's business,
+comes along the pavement, trudging thoughtful and slow, with ashen staff.
+One hand is in his pocket, the elbow of the arm projecting; he is feeling
+a fourpenny-piece, and deliberating at which 'tap' he shall spend it. He
+fills up the entire pavement, and stolidly plods on, turning ladies and
+all into the roadway; not from intentional rudeness, but from sheer
+inability to perceive that he is causing inconvenience.
+
+Unless you know the exact spot it is difficult in all this crowd and
+pushing, with a nervous dread of being gored from behind by a bull, or
+thrown off your feet by a sudden charge of sheep, to discover the door of
+the Jason Inn. That door has been open every legitimate and lawful hour
+this hundred years; but you will very likely be carried past it and have
+to struggle back. Then it is not easy to enter, for half a dozen stalwart
+farmers and farmers' sons are coming out; while two young fellows stand
+just inside, close to the sliding bar-window, blocking up the passage, to
+exchange occasional nods and smiles with the barmaid.
+
+However, by degrees you shuffle along the sanded passage, and past the
+door of the bar, which is full of farmers as thick as they can stand, or
+sit. The rattle of glasses, the chink of spoons, the hum of voices, the
+stamping of feet, the calls and orders, and sounds of laughter, mingle in
+confusion. Cigar-smoke and the steam from the glasses fill the room--all
+too small--with a thick white mist, through which rubicund faces dimly
+shine like the red sun through a fog.
+
+Some at the tables are struggling to write cheques, with continual jogs at
+the elbow, with ink that will not flow, pens that scratch and splutter,
+blotting-paper that smudges and blots. Some are examining cards of an
+auction, and discussing the prices which they have marked in the margin in
+pencil. The good-humoured uproar is beyond description, and is increased
+by more farmers forcing their way in from the rear, where are their horses
+or traps--by farmers eagerly inquiring for dealers or friends, and by
+messengers from the shops loaded with parcels to place in the customer's
+vehicle.
+
+At last you get beyond the bar-room door and reach the end of the passage,
+where is a wide staircase, and at the foot a tall eight-day clock. A
+maid-servant comes tripping down, and in answer to inquiry replies that
+that is the way up, and the room is ready, but she adds with a smile that
+there is no one there yet. It is three-quarters of an hour after the time
+fixed for the reading of a most important paper before a meeting specially
+convened, before the assembled Parliament of Hodge's masters, and you
+thought you would be too late. A glance at the staircase proves the truth
+of the maid's story. It has no carpet, but it is white as well-scrubbed
+wood could well be. There is no stain, no dust, no foot-mark on it; no
+heavy shoe that has been tramping about in the mud has been up there. But
+it is necessary to go on or go back, and of the two the first is the
+lesser evil.
+
+The staircase is guarded by carved banisters, and after going up two
+flights you enter a large and vacant apartment prepared for the meeting of
+the farmers' club. At the farther end is a small mahogany table, with an
+armchair for the president, paper, pens, ink, blotting-paper, and a wax
+candle and matches, in case he should want a light. Two less dignified
+chairs are for the secretary (whose box, containing the club records,
+books of reference, &c., is on the table), and for the secretary's clerk.
+Rows of plain chairs stretch across the room, rank after rank; these are
+for the audience. And last of all are two long forms, as if for Hodge, if
+Hodge chooses to come.
+
+A gleam of the afternoon sun--as the clouds part awhile--attracts one
+naturally to the window. The thickness of the wall in which it is placed
+must be some two or three feet, so that there is a recess on which to put
+your arms, if you do not mind the dust, and look out. The window is half
+open, and the sounds of the street come up, 'baaing' and bellowing and
+squeaking, the roll of wheels, the tramp of feet, and, more distant, the
+shouting of an auctioneer in the market-place, whose stentorian tones come
+round the corner as he puts up rickcloths for sale. Noise of man and
+animal below; above, here in the chamber of science, vacancy and silence.
+Looking upwards, a narrow streak of blue sky can be seen above the ancient
+house across the way.
+
+After awhile there comes the mellow sound of bells from the church which
+is near by, though out of sight; bells with a soft, old-world tone; bells
+that chime slowly and succeed each other without haste, ringing forth a
+holy melody composed centuries ago. It is as well to pause a minute and
+listen to their voice, even in this railroad age of hurry. Over the busy
+market-place the notes go forth, and presently the hum comes back and
+dwells in the recess of the window. It is a full hour after the time
+fixed, and now at last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of
+heavy boots upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the
+landing; they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk comes,
+and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have company, boldly
+enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary arrives; finally
+the president appears, and with him the lecturer. There is a hum of
+greeting; the minutes are read; the president introduces the professor,
+and the latter stands forth to read his paper--'Science, the Remedy for
+Agricultural Depression.'
+
+Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the present
+period of distress. For many years past science had been like the voice
+crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only, had listened. Men had,
+indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone away home again, and, as the
+swine of the proverb, returned to their wallowing in the mire. One blade
+of grass still grew where two or even three might be grown; he questioned
+whether farmers had any real desire to grow the extra blades. If they did,
+they had merely to employ the means provided for them. Everything had been
+literally put into their hands; but what was the result? Why, nothing--in
+point of fact, nothing. The country at large was still undrained. The very
+A B C of progress had been neglected. He should be afraid to say what
+proportion of the land was yet undrained, for he should be contradicted,
+called ill names, and cried down. But if they would look around them they
+could see for themselves. They would see meadows full of rank, coarse
+grass in the furrows, which neither horse nor cattle would touch. They
+would see in the wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble,
+and altogether poor; that was where the water had stood and destroyed the
+natural power of the seed. The same cause gave origin to that mass of
+weeds which was the standing disgrace of arable districts.
+
+But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried out that
+the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain--it was their own intense
+dislike of making any improvement. The _vis inertiae_ of the agricultural
+class was beyond the limit of language to describe. Why, if the land had
+been drained the rain would have done comparatively little damage, and
+thus they would have been independent of the seasons. Look, again, at the
+hay crop; how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted because men would
+not believe that anything would answer which had not been done by their
+forefathers! The hay might have been saved by three distinct methods. The
+grass might have been piled against hurdles or light frame-work and so
+dried by the wind; it might have been pitted in the earth and preserved
+still green; or it might have been dried by machinery and the hot blast. A
+gentleman had invented a machine, the utility of which had been
+demonstrated beyond all doubt. But no; farmers folded their hands and
+watched their hay rotting.
+
+As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They had not
+cleaned the soil--there were horse-hoes, and every species of contrivances
+for the purpose; but they would not use them. They had not ploughed
+deeply: they had merely scratched the surface as if with a pin. How could
+the thin upper crust of the earth--the mere rind three inches thick--be
+expected to yield crop after crop for a hundred years? Deep ploughing
+could only be done by steam: now how many farmers possessed or used
+steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts where such a thing was
+unknown. They had neglected to manure the soil; to restore to it the
+chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak upon artificial manure
+was enough to drive any man who had the power of thought into temporary
+insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to see men positively turning away
+from the means of obtaining good crops, and then crying out that they were
+ruined. With drains, steam-ploughs, and artificial manure, a farmer might
+defy the weather.
+
+Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the farmer had
+good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The first he could get
+if he chose; and without the second, without capital, he had no business
+to be farming at all. He was simply stopping the road of a better man, and
+the sooner he was driven out of the way the better. The neglect of
+machinery was most disheartening. A farmer bought one machine, perhaps a
+reaping-machine, and then because that solitary article did not
+immediately make his fortune he declared that machinery was useless. Could
+the force of folly farther go? With machinery they could do just as they
+liked. They could compel the earth to yield, and smile at the most
+tropical rain, or the most continuous drought. If only the voice of
+science had been listened to, there would have been no depression at all.
+Even now it was not too late.
+
+Those who were wise would at once set to work to drain, to purchase
+artificial manure, and set up steam power, and thereby to provide
+themselves with the means of stemming the tide of depression. By these
+means they could maintain a head of stock that would be more than double
+what was now kept upon equal acreage. He knew full well one of the
+objections that would be made against these statements. It would be said
+that certain individuals had done all this, had deep ploughed, had
+manured, had kept a great head of valuable stock, had used every resource,
+and yet had suffered. This was true. He deeply regretted to say it was
+true.
+
+But why had they suffered? Not because of the steam, the machinery, the
+artificial manure, the improvements they had set on foot; but because of
+the folly of their neighbours, of the agricultural class generally. The
+great mass of farmers had made no improvements; and, when the time of
+distress came, they were beaten down at every point. It was through these
+men and their failures that the price of stock and of produce fell, and
+that so much stress was put upon the said individuals through no fault of
+their own. He would go further, and he would say that had it not been for
+the noble efforts of such individuals--the pioneers of agriculture and its
+main props and stays--the condition of farming would have been simply
+fifty times worse than it was. They, and they alone, had enabled it to
+bear up so long against calamity. They had resources; the agricultural
+class, as a rule, had none. Those resources were the manure they had put
+into the soil, the deep ploughing they had accomplished, the great head of
+stock they had got together, and so on. These enabled them to weather the
+storm.
+
+The cry for a reduction of rent was an irresistible proof of what he had
+put forth--that it was the farmers themselves who were to blame. This cry
+was a confession of their own incompetency. If you analysed it--if you
+traced the general cry home to particular people--you always found that
+those people were incapables. The fact was, farming, as a rule, was
+conducted on the hand-to-mouth principle, and the least stress or strain
+caused an outcry. He must be forgiven if he seemed to speak with unusual
+acerbity. He intended no offence. But it was his duty. In such a condition
+of things it would be folly to mince matters, to speak softly while
+everything was going to pieces. He repeated, once for all, it was their
+own fault. Science could supply the remedy, and science alone; if they
+would not call in the aid of science they must suffer, and their
+privations must be upon their own heads. Science said, Drain, use
+artificial manure, plough deeply, keep the best breed of stock, put
+capital into the soil. Call science to their aid, and they might defy the
+seasons.
+
+The professor sat down and thrust his hand through his hair. The president
+invited discussion. For some few minutes no one rose; presently, after a
+whispered conversation with his friend, an elderly farmer stood up from
+the forms at the very back of the room. He made no pretence to rounded
+periods, but spoke much better than might have been expected; he had a
+small piece of paper in his hand, on which he had made notes as the
+lecture proceeded.
+
+He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case. He had proved to
+demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers were fools. Well,
+no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for everybody thought he could
+teach the farmer. The chemist, the grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine
+merchant, the lawyer, the doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant,
+the editor, the printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the
+ironmaster, the clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and
+railway porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers--to use an
+expressive Americanism, all the whole "jing-bang"--could teach the
+ignorant jackass of a farmer.
+
+Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a parcel for
+his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with the draper himself.
+The draper said he was just going to sell off the business and go into
+dairy farming, which was the most paying thing out. That was just when
+there came over from America a patent machine for milking cows. The
+draper's idea was to milk all his cows by one of these articles, and so
+dispense with labour. He saw no more of him for a long time, but had heard
+that morning that he went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and
+was now tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back.
+Everybody thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself,
+and then he found his mistake.
+
+One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so, seemed to him,
+a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not only uncalled-for and
+priggish, but downright brutal. It was that the man with little capital
+ought to be driven out of farming, and the sooner he went to the wall the
+better. Now, how would all the grocers and other tradesmen whom he had
+just enumerated like to be told that if they had not got 10,000_l_. each
+they ought to go at once to the workhouse! That would be a fine remedy for
+the depression of trade.
+
+He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man with small
+capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial, managed to raise
+himself and get up in the world. But, oh no; nothing of the kind; the
+small man was the greatest sinner, and must be eradicated. Well, he did
+not hesitate to say that he had been a small man himself, and began in a
+very small way. Perhaps the lecturer would think him a small man still, as
+he was not a millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for
+something in the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound
+or two over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there
+was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would not
+prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should like to ask the lecturer
+if he could give the name of one single scientific farmer who had
+prospered?
+
+Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and busted
+out of the room, and several others followed him, for the rain was already
+splashing against the window-panes. Others looked at their watches, and,
+seeing it was late, rose one by one and slipped off. The president asked
+if any one would continue the discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the
+professor to reply.
+
+The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came a heavy
+rolling sound--the unmistakable boom of distant thunder. He said that the
+gentleman who had left so abruptly had quite misconstrued the tenour of
+his paper. So far from intending to describe farmers as lacking in
+intelligence, all he wished to show was that they did not use their
+natural abilities, from a certain traditionary bowing to custom. They did
+not like their neighbours to think that they were doing anything novel. No
+one respected the feelings that had grown up and strengthened from
+childhood, no one respected the habits of our ancestors, more than he did;
+no one knew better the solid virtues that adorned the homes of
+agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say aught--[Boom! and the
+rattling of rain against the window]--aught that could--but he saw that
+gentlemen were anxious to get home, and would conclude.
+
+A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke up and
+hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so blocked with
+farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that movement was impossible.
+The place was darkened by the overhanging clouds, the atmosphere thick and
+close with the smoke and the crush. Flashes of brilliant lightning seemed
+to sweep down the narrow street, which ran like a brook with the
+storm-water; the thunder seemed to descend and shake the solid walls.
+'It's rather hard on the professor,' said one farmer to another. 'What
+would science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly spoken when the hail
+suddenly came down, and the round white globules, rebounding from the
+pavement, rolled in at the open door. Each paused as he lifted his glass
+and thought of the harvest. As for Hodge, who was reaping, he had to take
+shelter how he might in the open fields. Boom! flash! boom!--splash and
+hiss, as the hail rushed along the narrow street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+
+A large white poster, fresh and glaring, is pasted on the wall of a barn
+that stands beside a narrow country lane. So plain an advertisement,
+without any colour or attempt at 'display,' would be passed unnoticed
+among the endless devices on a town hoarding. There nothing can be hoped
+to be looked at unless novel and strange, or even incomprehensible. But
+here the oblong piece of black and white contrasts sufficiently in itself
+with red brick and dull brown wooden framing, with tall shadowy elms, and
+the glint of sunshine on the streamlet that flows with a ceaseless murmur
+across the hollow of the lane. Every man that comes along stays to read
+it.
+
+The dealer in his trap--his name painted in white letters on the
+shaft--pulls up his quick pony, and sits askew on his seat to read. He has
+probably seen it before in the bar of the wayside inn, roughly hung on a
+nail, and swaying to and fro with the draught along the passage. He may
+have seen it, too, on the handing-post at the lonely cross-roads, stuck on
+in such a manner that, in order to peruse it, it is necessary to walk
+round the post. The same formal announcement appears also in the local
+weekly papers--there are at least two now in the smallest place--and he
+has read it there. Yet he pauses to glance at it again, for the country
+mind requires reiteration before it can thoroughly grasp and realise the
+simplest fact. The poster must be read and re-read, and the printer's name
+observed and commented on, or, if handled, the thickness of the paper felt
+between thumb and finger. After a month or two of this process people at
+last begin to accept it as a reality, like cattle or trees--something
+substantial, and not mere words.
+
+The carter, with his waggon, if he be an elderly man, cries 'Whoa!' and,
+standing close to the wall, points to each letter with the top of his
+whip--where it bends--and so spells out 'Sale by Auction.' If he be a
+young man he looks up at it as the heavy waggon rumbles by, turns his
+back, and goes on with utter indifference.
+
+The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose minds were
+formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in half a century,
+have so identified themselves with the order of things in the parish that
+it seems to personally affect them when a farmer leaves his place. But
+young Hodge cares nothing about his master, or his fellow's master.
+Whether they go or stay, prosperous or decaying, it matters nothing to
+him. He takes good wages, and can jingle some small silver in his pocket
+when he comes to the tavern a mile or so ahead; so 'gee-up' and let us get
+there as rapidly as possible.
+
+An hour later a farmer passes on horseback; his horse all too broad for
+his short legs that stick out at the side and show some inches of stocking
+between the bottom of his trousers and his boots. A sturdy, thick-set man,
+with a wide face, brickdust colour, fringed with close-cut red whiskers,
+and a chest so broad he seems compelled to wear his coat unbuttoned. He
+pulls off his hat and wipes his partly bald head with a coloured
+handkerchief, stares at the poster a few minutes, and walks his horse
+away, evidently in deep thought. Two boys--cottagers' children--come home
+from school; they look round to see that no one observes, and then throw
+flints at the paper till the sound of footsteps alarms them.
+
+
+Towards the evening a gentleman and lady, the first middle-aged, the
+latter very young--father and daughter--approach, their horses seeming to
+linger as they walk through the shallow stream, and the cool water
+splashes above their fetlocks. The shooting season is near at hand,
+Parliament has risen, and the landlords have returned home. Instead of the
+Row, papa must take his darling a ride through the lanes, a little dusty
+as the autumn comes on, and pauses to read the notice on the wall. It is
+his neighbour's tenant, not his, but it comes home to him here. It is the
+real thing--the fact--not the mere seeing it in the papers, or the warning
+hints in the letters of his own steward. 'Papa,' is rather quiet for the
+rest of the ride. Ever since he was a lad--how many years ago is that?--he
+has shot with his neighbour's party over this farm, and recollects the
+tenant well, and with that friendly feeling that grows up towards what we
+see year after year. In a day or two the clergyman drives by with his low
+four-wheel and fat pony, notes the poster as the pony slackens at the
+descent to the water, and tells himself to remember and get the tithe.
+Some few Sundays, and Farmer Smith will appear in church no more.
+
+Farmer Smith this beautiful morning is looking at the wheat, which is, and
+is not, his. It would have been cut in an ordinary season, but the rains
+have delayed the ripening. He wonders how the crop ever came up at all
+through the mass of weeds that choked it, the spurrey that filled the
+spaces between the stalks below, the bindweed that climbed up them, the
+wild camomile flowering and flourishing at the edge, the tall thistles
+lifting their heads above it in bunches, and the great docks whose red
+seeds showed at a distance. He sent in some men, as much to give them
+something to do as for any real good, one day, who in a few hours pulled
+up enough docks to fill a cart. They came across a number of snakes, and
+decapitated the reptiles with their hoes, and afterwards hung them all
+up--tied together by the tail--to a bough. The bunch of headless snakes
+hangs there still, swinging to and fro as the wind plays through the oak.
+Vermin, too, revel in weeds, which encourage the mice and rats, and are,
+perhaps, quite as much a cause of their increase as any acts of the
+gamekeeper.
+
+Farmer Smith a few years since was very anxious for the renewal of his
+lease, just as those about to enter on tenancies desired leases above
+everything. All the agricultural world agreed that a lease was the best
+thing possible--the clubs discussed it, the papers preached it. It was a
+safeguard; it allowed the tenant to develop his energies, and to put his
+capital into the soil without fear. He had no dread of being turned out
+before he could get it back. Nothing like a lease--the certain
+preventative of all agricultural ills. There was, to appearance, a great
+deal of truth in these arguments, which in their day made much impression,
+and caused a movement in that direction. Who could foresee that in a few
+short years men would be eager to get rid of their leases on any terms?
+Yet such was the fact. The very men who had longed so eagerly for the
+blessing of security of tenure found it the worst thing possible for their
+interest.
+
+Mr. Smith got his lease, and paid for it tolerably stiffly, for at that
+period all agricultural prices were inflated--from the price of a lease to
+that of a calf. He covenanted to pay a certain fixed rental for so many
+acres of arable and a small proportion of grass for a fixed time. He
+covenanted to cultivate the soil by a fixed rotation; not to sow this nor
+that, nor to be guided by the change of the markets, or the character of
+the seasons, or the appearance of powerful foreign competitors. There was
+the parchment prepared with all the niceties of wording that so many
+generations of lawyers had polished to the highest pitch; not a loophole,
+not so much as a _t_ left uncrossed, or a doubtful interlineation. But
+although the parchment did not alter a jot, the times and seasons did.
+Wheat fell in price, vast shipments came even from India, cattle and sheep
+from America, wool from Australia, horses from France; tinned provisions
+and meats poured in by the ton, and cheese, and butter, and bacon by the
+thousand tons. Labour at the same time rose. His expenditure increased,
+his income decreased; his rent remained the same, and rent audit came
+round with the utmost regularity.
+
+Mr. Smith began to think about his lease, and question whether it was such
+an unmixed blessing. There was no getting out of it, that was certain. The
+seasons grew worse and worse. Smith asked for a reduction of rent. He got,
+like others, ten per cent, returned, which, he said looked very liberal to
+those who knew nothing of farming, and was in reality about as useful as a
+dry biscuit flung at a man who has eaten nothing for a week. Besides
+which, it was only a gracious condescension, and might not be repeated
+next year, unless he kept on his good behaviour, and paid court to the
+clergyman and the steward. Unable to get at what he wanted in a direct
+way, Smith tried an indirect one. He went at game, and insisted on its
+being reduced in number. This he could do according to the usual terms of
+agreement; but when it came to the point he found that the person called
+in to assess the damage put it at a much lower figure than he had himself;
+and who was to decide what was or was not a reasonable head of game? This
+attack of his on the game did him no good whatever, and was not
+unnaturally borne in mind--let us not say resented.
+
+He next tried to get permission to sell straw--a permission that he saw
+granted to others in moderation. But he was then reminded of a speech he
+had made at a club, when, in a moment of temper (and sherry), he had let
+out a piece of his mind, which piece of his mind was duly published in the
+local papers, and caused a sensation. Somebody called the landlord's
+attention to it, and he did not like it. Nor can he be blamed; we none of
+us like to be abused in public, the more especially when, looking at
+precedents, we do not deserve it. Smith next went to the assessment
+committee to get his taxes reduced, on the ground of a loss of revenue.
+The committee sympathised with him, but found that they must assess him
+according to his rent. At least so they were then advised, and only did
+their duty.
+
+By this time the local bankers had scented a time of trouble approaching
+in the commercial and agricultural world; they began to draw in their more
+doubtful advances, or to refuse to renew them. As a matter of fact, Smith
+was a perfectly sound man, but he had so persistently complained that
+people began to suspect there really was something wrong with his
+finances. He endeavoured to explain, but was met with the tale that he had
+himself started. He then honestly produced his books, and laid his
+position bare to the last penny.
+
+The banker believed him, and renewed part of the advance for a short
+period; but he began, to cogitate in this wise: 'Here is a farmer of long
+experience, born of a farming family, and a hardworking fellow, and, more
+than that, honest. If this man, who has hitherto had the command of a fair
+amount of capital, cannot make his books balance better than this, what
+must be the case with some of our customers? There are many who ride about
+on hunters, and have a bin of decent wine. How much of all this is
+genuine? We must be careful; these are hard times.' In short, Smith,
+without meaning it, did his neighbours an immense deal of harm. His very
+honesty injured them. By slow degrees the bank got 'tighter' with its
+customers. It leaked out--all things leak out--that Smith had said too
+much, and he became unpopular, which did not increase his contentment.
+
+Finally he gave notice that unless the rent was reduced he should not
+apply to renew the lease, which would soon expire. He had not the least
+intention in his secret mind of leaving the farm; he never dreamed that
+his notice would be accepted. He and his had dwelt there for a hundred
+years, and were as much part and parcel of the place as the elm-trees in
+the hedges. So many farms were in the market going a-begging for tenants,
+it was not probable a landlord would let a good man go for the sake of a
+few shillings an acre. But the months went by and the landlord's agents
+gave no sign, and at last Smith realised that he was really going to
+leave.
+
+Though he had so long talked of going, it came upon him like a
+thunderbolt. It was like an attack of some violent fever that shakes a
+strong man and leaves him as weak as a child. The farmer, whose meals had
+been so hearty, could not relish his food. His breakfast dwindled to a
+pretence; his lunch fell off; his dinner grew less; his supper faded; his
+spirits and water, the old familiar 'nightcap,' did him no good. His jolly
+ringing laugh was heard no more; from a thorough gossip he became
+taciturn, and barely opened his lips. His clothes began to hang about him,
+instead of fitting him all too tight; his complexion lost the red colour
+and became sallow; his eyes had a furtive look in them, so different to
+the old straightforward glance.
+
+Some said he would take to his bed and die; some said he would jump into
+the pond one night, to be known no more in this world. But he neither
+jumped into the pond nor took to his bed. He went round his fields just
+the same as before--perhaps a little more mechanically; but still the old
+routine of daily work was gone through. Leases, though for a short period,
+do not expire in a day; after awhile time began to produce its usual
+effect. The sharpness of the pain wore off, and he set to work to make the
+best of matters. He understood the capacity of each field as well as
+others understand the yielding power of a little garden. His former study
+had been to preserve something like a balance between what he put in and
+what he took out of the soil. Now it became the subject of consideration
+how to get the most out without putting anything in. Artificial manures
+were reduced to the lowest quantity and of the cheapest quality, such as
+was used being, in fact, nothing but to throw dust, literally, in the eyes
+of other people. Times were so bad that he could not be expected, under
+the most favourable circumstances, to consume much cake in the stalls or
+make much manure in that way.
+
+One by one extra expenditures were cut off. Gates, instead of being
+repaired, were propped up by running a pole across. Labour was eschewed in
+every possible way. Hedges were left uncut; ditches were left uncleaned.
+The team of horses was reduced, and the ploughing done next to nothing.
+Cleaning and weeding were gradually abandoned. Several fields were allowed
+to become overrun with grass, not the least attention being paid to them;
+the weeds sprang up, and the grass ran over from the hedges. The wheat
+crop was kept to the smallest area. Wheat requires more previous labour
+and care as to soil than any other crop. Labour and preparation cost
+money, and he was determined not to spend a shilling more than he was
+absolutely compelled. He contrived to escape the sowing, of wheat
+altogether on some part of the farm, leaving it out of the rotation. That
+was a direct infringement of the letter of the agreement; but who was to
+prove that he had evaded it? The steward could not recollect the crops on
+several hundred acres; the neighbouring tenants, of course, knew very
+well; but although Smith had become unpopular, they were not going to tell
+tales of him. He sold everything he dared off the farm, and many things
+that he did not dare. He took everything out of the soil that it was
+possible to take out. The last Michaelmas was approaching, and he walked
+round in the warm August sunshine to look at the wheat.
+
+He sat down on an old roller that lay in the corner of the field, and
+thought over the position of things. He calculated that it would cost the
+incoming tenant an expenditure of from one thousand two hundred pounds to
+one thousand five hundred pounds to put the farm, which was a large one,
+into proper condition. It could not be got into such condition under three
+years of labour. The new tenant must therefore be prepared to lay out a
+heavy sum of money, to wait while the improvement went on, must live how
+he could meanwhile, and look forward some three years for the commencement
+of his profit. To such a state had the farm been brought in a brief time.
+And how would the landlord come off? The new tenant would certainly make
+his bargain in accordance with the state of the land. For the first year
+the rent paid would be nominal; for the second, perhaps a third or half
+the usual sum; not till the third year could the landlord hope to get his
+full rental. That full rental, too, would be lower than previously,
+because the general depression had sent down arable rents everywhere, and
+no one would pay on the old scale.
+
+Smith thought very hard things of the landlord, and felt that he should
+have his revenge. On the other hand, the landlord thought very hard things
+of Smith, and not without reason. That an old tenant, the descendant of
+one of the oldest tenant-farmer families, should exhaust the soil in this
+way seemed the blackest return for the good feeling that had existed for
+several generations. There was great irritation on both sides.
+
+Smith had, however, to face one difficulty. He must either take another
+farm at once, or live on his capital. The interest of his capital--if
+invested temporarily in Government securities--would hardly suffice to
+maintain the comfortable style of living he and his rather large family of
+grown-up sons and daughters had been accustomed to. He sometimes heard a
+faint, far off 'still small voice,' that seemed to say it would have been
+wiser to stay on, and wait till the reaction took place and farming
+recovered. The loss he would have sustained by staying on would, perhaps,
+not have been larger than the loss he must now sustain by living on
+capital till such time as he saw something to suit him. And had he been
+altogether wise in omitting all endeavours to gain his end by conciliatory
+means? Might not gentle persuasion and courteous language have ultimately
+produced an impression? Might not terms have been arranged had he not been
+so vehement? The new tenant, notwithstanding that he would have to contend
+with the shocking state of the farm, had such favourable terms that if he
+only stayed long enough to let the soil recover, Smith knew he must make a
+good thing of it.
+
+But as he sat on the wooden roller under the shade of a tree and thought
+these things, listening to the rustle of the golden wheat as it moved in
+the breeze, he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket, and glanced down a
+long, long list of farms to let. Then he remembered that his pass-book at
+the bank showed a very respectable row of figures, buttoned up his coat,
+and strolled homeward with a smile on his features. The date fixed for the
+sale, as announced by the poster on the barn, came round, and a crowd
+gathered to see the last of the old tenant. Old Hodge viewed the scene
+from a distance, resting against a gate, with his chin on his hand. He was
+thinking of the days when he first went to plough, years ago, under
+Smith's father. If Smith had been about to enter on another farm old Hodge
+would have girded up his loins, packed his worldly goods in a waggon, and
+followed his master's fortunes thither. But Smith was going to live on his
+capital awhile; and old Hodge had already had notice to quit his cottage.
+In his latter days he must work for a new master. Down at the sale young
+Hodge was lounging round, hands in pocket, whistling--for there was some
+beer going about. The excitement of the day was a pleasurable sensation,
+and as for his master he might go to Kansas or Hong-Kong.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+
+The sweet sound of rustling leaves, as soothing as the rush of falling
+water, made a gentle music over a group of three persons sitting at the
+extremity of a lawn. Upon their right was a plantation or belt of trees,
+which sheltered them from the noonday sun; on the left the green sward
+reached to the house; from the open window came the rippling notes of a
+piano, and now and again the soft accents of the Italian tongue. The walls
+of the garden shut out the world and the wind--the blue sky stretched
+above from one tree-top to another, and in those tree-tops the cool
+breeze, grateful to the reapers in the fields, played with bough and leaf.
+In the centre of the group was a small table, and on it some tall glasses
+of antique make, and a flask of wine. By the lady lay a Japanese parasol,
+carelessly dropped on the grass. She was handsome, and elegantly dressed;
+her long drooping eyelashes fringed eyes that were almost closed in
+luxurious enjoyment; her slender hand beat time to the distant song. Of
+the two gentlemen one was her brother--the other, a farmer, her husband.
+The brother wore a pith helmet, and his bronzed cheek told of service
+under tropical suns. The husband was scarcely less brown; still young, and
+very active-looking, you might guess his age at forty; but his bare
+forehead (he had thrown his hat on the ground) was marked with the line
+caused by involuntary contraction of the muscles when thinking. There was
+an air of anxiety, of restless feverish energy, about him. But just for
+the moment he was calm and happy, turning over the pages of a book.
+Suddenly he looked up, and began to declaim, in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+                       'He's speaking now,
+      Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"
+      For so he calls me. Now I feed myself
+      With most delicious poison!'
+
+Just then there came the sharp rattle of machinery borne on the wind; he
+recollected himself, shut the volume, and rose from his seat. 'The men
+have finished luncheon,' he said; 'I must go and see how things are
+getting on.' The Indian officer, after one glance back at the house, went
+with him. There was a private footpath through the plantation of trees,
+and down this the two disappeared. Soon afterwards the piano ceased, and a
+lady came slowly across the lawn, still humming the air she had been
+playing. She was the farmer's sister, and was engaged to the officer. The
+wife looked up from the book which she had taken from the table, with a
+smile of welcome. But the smile faded as she said--'They have gone out to
+the reapers. Oh, this farm will worry him out of his life! How I wish he
+had never bought it! Don't let Alick have anything to do with farms or
+land, dear, when you are married.'
+
+The girl laughed, sat down, took her hand, and asked if matters were
+really so serious.
+
+'It is not so much the money I trouble about,' said the wife. 'It is Cecil
+himself. His nature is too fine for these dull clods. You know him, dear;
+his mind is full of art--look at these glasses--of music and pictures.
+Why, he has just been reading "Antony and Cleopatra," and now he's gone to
+look after reapers. Then, he is so fiery and quick, and wants everything
+done in a minute, like the men of business in the "City." He keeps his
+watch timed to a second, and expects the men to be there. They are so
+slow. Everything agricultural is so slow. They say we shall have fine
+seasons in two or three years; only think, _years_. This is what weighs on
+Cecil.'
+
+By this time the two men had walked through the plantation, and paused at
+a small gate that opened on the fields. The ground fell rapidly away,
+sloping down for half a mile, so that every portion of the fields below
+was visible at once. The house and gardens were situate on the hill; the
+farmer had only to stand on the edge to overlook half his place.
+
+'What a splendid view!' said the officer. The entire slope was yellow with
+wheat--on either hand, and in front the surface of the crop extended
+unbroken by hedge, tree, or apparent division. Two reaping-machines were
+being driven rapidly round and round, cutting as they went; one was a
+self-binder and threw the sheaves off already bound; the other only laid
+the corn low, and it had afterwards to be gathered up and bound by
+hand-labour. There was really a small army of labourers in the field; but
+it was so large they made but little show.
+
+'You have a first-rate crop,' said the visitor; 'I see no weeds, or not
+more than usual; it is a capital crop.'
+
+'Yes,' replied the farmer, 'it is a fine crop; but just think what it cost
+me to produce it, and bear in mind, too, the price I shall get for it.' He
+took out his pocket-book, and began to explain.
+
+While thus occupied he looked anything but a farmer. His dress was indeed
+light and careless, but it was the carelessness of breeding, not
+slovenliness. His hands were brown, but there were clean white cuffs on
+his wrist and gold studs; his neck was brown, but his linen spotless. The
+face was too delicate, too refined with all its bronze; the frame was well
+developed, but too active; it lacked the heavy thickness and the lumbering
+gait of the farmer bred to the plough. He might have conducted a great
+financial operation; he might have been the head of a great mercantile
+house; he might have been on 'Change; but that stiff clay there, stubborn
+and unimpressionable, was not in his style.
+
+Cecil had gone into farming, in fact, as a 'commercial speculation,' with
+the view of realising cent. per cent. He began at the time when it was
+daily announced that old-fashioned farming was a thing of the past.
+Business maxims and business practice were to be the rule of the future.
+Farming was not to be farming; it was to be emphatically 'business,' the
+same as iron, coal, or cotton. Thus managed, with steam as the motive
+power, a fortune might be made out of the land, in the same way as out of
+a colliery or a mine. But it must be done in a commercial manner; there
+must be no restrictions upon the employment of capital, no fixed rotation
+of crops, no clauses forbidding the sale of any products. Cecil found,
+however, that the possessors of large estates would not let him a farm on
+these conditions. These ignorant people (as he thought them) insisted upon
+keeping up the traditionary customs; they would not contract themselves
+out of the ancient form of lease.
+
+But Cecil was a man of capital. He really had a large sum of money, and
+this short-sighted policy (as he termed it) of the landlords only made him
+the more eager to convince them how mistaken they were to refuse anything
+to a man who could put capital into the soil. He resolved to be his own
+landlord, and ordered his agents to find him a small estate and to
+purchase it outright. There was not much difficulty in finding an estate,
+and Cecil bought it. But he was even then annoyed and disgusted with the
+formalities, the investigation of title, the completion of deeds, and
+astounded at the length of a lawyer's bill.
+
+Being at last established in possession Cecil set to work, and at the same
+time set every agricultural tongue wagging within a radius of twenty
+miles. He grubbed up all the hedges, and threw the whole of his arable
+land into one vast field, and had it levelled with the theodolite. He
+drained it six feet deep at an enormous cost. He built an engine-shed with
+a centrifugal pump, which forced water from the stream that ran through
+the lower ground over the entire property, and even to the topmost storey
+of his house. He laid a light tramway across the widest part of his
+estate, and sent the labourers to and fro their work in trucks. The
+chaff-cutters, root-pulpers, the winnowing-machine--everything was driven
+by steam. Teams of horses and waggons seemed to be always going to the
+canal wharf for coal, which he ordered from the pit wholesale.
+
+A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and, having once
+commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to cease. They were for
+ever at work tearing up the subsoil and bringing it to the surface. If he
+could have done it, he would have ploughed ten feet deep. Tons of
+artificial manure came by canal boat--positively boat loads--and were
+stored in the warehouse. For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage
+of materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter above,
+hoisted up by a small crane. There was, too, an office, where the
+'engineer' attended every morning to take his orders, as the bailiff might
+at the back-door of an old farmhouse. Substantial buildings were erected
+for the shorthorn cattle.
+
+The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all thrown
+together, such divisions as were necessary being made by iron railings.
+Machines of every class and character were provided--reaping-machines,
+mowing-machines, horse-hoes, horse-rakes, elevators--everything was to be
+done by machinery. That nothing might be incomplete, some new and
+well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled artisans--they could
+scarcely be called labourers--who were engaged to work these engines. The
+estate had previously consisted of several small farms: these were now
+thrown all into one, otherwise there would not have been room for this
+great enterprise.
+
+A complete system of booking was organised. From the sale of a bullock to
+the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper. All these entries,
+made in books specially prepared and conveniently ruled for the purpose,
+came under Cecil's eye weekly, and were by him re-entered in his ledgers.
+This writing took up a large part of his time, and the labour was
+sometimes so severe that he could barely get through it; yet he would not
+allow himself a clerk, being economical in that one thing only. It was a
+saying in the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the
+estate by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in
+the master's books.
+
+Cecil's idea was to excel in all things. Some had been famous for
+shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for wheat. He
+would be celebrated for all. His shorthorns should fetch fabulous prices;
+his sheep should be known all over the world; his wheat should be the crop
+of the season. In this way he invested his capital in the soil with a
+thoroughness unsurpassed. As if to prove that he was right, the success of
+his enterprise seemed from the first assured. His crops of wheat, in which
+he especially put faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same
+land, totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the
+neighbourhood. Men came from far and near to see them. Such was the effect
+of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing, and the
+consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and of liberal
+manure, that here stood such crops of wheat as had never previously been
+seen. These he sold, as they stood, by auction; and no sooner had the
+purchasers cleared the ground than the engines went to work again, tearing
+up the earth. His meadow lands were irrigated by the centrifugal pump, and
+yielded three crops instead of one. His shorthorns began to get known--for
+he spared no expense upon them--and already one or two profitable sales
+had been held. His sheep prospered; there was not so much noise made about
+them, but, perhaps, they really paid better than anything.
+
+Meantime, Cecil kept open house, with wine and refreshments, and even beds
+for everybody who chose to come and inspect his place. Nothing gave him
+such delight as to conduct visitors over the estate and to enter into
+minute details of his system. As for the neighbouring farmers they were
+only too welcome. These things became noised abroad, and people arrived
+from strange and far-off places, and were shown over this Pioneer's Farm,
+as Cecil loved to call it. His example was triumphantly quoted by every
+one who spoke on agricultural progress. Cecil himself was the life and
+soul of the farmers' club in the adjacent market town. It was not so much
+the speeches he made as his manner. His enthusiasm was contagious. If a
+scheme was started, if an experiment was suggested, Cecil's cheque-book
+came out directly, and the thing was set on foot without delay. His easy,
+elastic step, his bright eye, his warm, hearty handshake, seemed to
+electrify people--to put some of his own spirit into them. The circle of
+his influence was ever increasing--the very oldest fogeys, who had
+prophesied every kind of failure, were being gradually won over.
+
+Cecil himself was transcendently happy in his work; his mind was in it; no
+exertion, no care or trouble, was too much. He worked harder than any
+navvy, and never felt fatigue. People said of him--'What a wonderful man!'
+He was so genuine, so earnest, so thorough, men could not choose but
+believe in him. The sun shone brightly, the crops ripened, the hum of the
+threshing-machine droned on the wind--all was life and happiness. In the
+summer evenings pleasant groups met upon the lawn; the song, the jest went
+round; now and then an informal dance, arranged with much laughter, whiled
+away the merry hours till the stars appeared above the trees and the dew
+descended.
+
+Yet to-day, as the two leaned over the little gate in the plantation and
+looked down upon the reapers, the deep groove which continual thought
+causes was all too visible on Cecil's forehead. He explained to the
+officer how his difficulties had come about. His first years upon the farm
+or estate--it was really rather an estate than a farm--had been fairly
+prosperous, notwithstanding the immense outlay of capital. A good
+percentage, in some cases a high-rate of percentage, had been returned
+upon the money put into the soil. The seasons were good, the crops large
+and superabundant. Men's minds were full of confidence, they bought
+freely, and were launching out in all directions.
+
+They wanted good shorthorn cattle--he sold them cattle; they wanted
+sheep--he sold them sheep. They wanted wheat, and he sold them the
+standing crops, took the money, and so cleared his profit and saved
+himself trouble. It was, in fact, a period of inflation. Like stocks and
+shares, everything was going up; everybody hastening to get rich.
+Shorthorns with a strain of blue blood fetched fancy prices; corn crops
+ruled high; every single thing sold well. The dry seasons suited the soil
+of the estate, and the machinery he had purchased was rapidly repaying its
+first cost in the saving of labour. His whole system was succeeding, and
+he saw his way to realise his cent. per cent.
+
+But by degrees the dream faded. He attributed it in the first place to the
+stagnation, the almost extinction, of the iron trade, the blowing out of
+furnaces, and the consequent cessation of the demand for the best class of
+food on the part of thousands of operatives and mechanics, who had
+hitherto been the farmers' best customers. They would have the best of
+everything when their wages were high; as their wages declined their
+purchases declined. In a brief period, far briefer than would be imagined,
+this shrinking of demand reacted upon agriculture. The English farmer made
+his profit upon superior articles--the cheaper class came from abroad so
+copiously that he could not compete against so vast a supply.
+
+When the demand for high-class products fell, the English farmer felt it
+directly. Cecil considered that it was the dire distress in the
+manufacturing districts, the stagnation of trade and commerce and the
+great failures in business centres, that were the chief causes of low
+prices and falling agricultural markets. The rise of labour was but a
+trifling item. He had always paid good wages to good men, and always meant
+to. The succession of wet seasons was more serious, of course; it lowered
+the actual yield, and increased the cost of procuring the yield; but as
+his lands were well drained, and had been kept clean he believed he could
+have withstood the seasons for awhile.
+
+The one heavy cloud that overhung agriculture, in his opinion was the
+extraordinary and almost world-spread depression of trade, and his
+argument was very simple. When men prospered they bought freely, indulged
+in luxurious living, kept horses, servants, gave parties, and consumed
+indirectly large quantities of food. As they made fortunes they bought
+estates and lived half the year like country gentlemen--that competition
+sent up the price of land. The converse was equally true. In times of
+pressure households were reduced, servants dismissed, horses sold,
+carriages suppressed. Rich and poor acted alike in different degrees but
+as the working population was so much more numerous it was through the low
+wages of the working population in cities and manufacturing districts that
+the farmers suffered most.
+
+It was a period of depression--there was no confidence, no speculation.
+For instance a year or two since the crop of standing wheat then growing
+on the very field before their eyes was sold by auction, and several lots
+brought from 16_l_. to 18_l_. per acre. This year the same wheat would not
+fetch 8_l_. per acre; and, not satisfied with that price, he had
+determined to reap and thresh it himself. It was the same with the
+shorthorns, with the hay, and indeed with everything except sheep, which
+had been a mainstay and support to him.
+
+'Yet even now,' concluded Cecil, shutting his pocket-book, 'I feel
+convinced that my plan and my system will be a success. I can see that I
+committed one great mistake--I made all my improvements at once, laid out
+all my capital, and crippled my self. I should have done one thing at a
+time. I should, as it were, have grown my improvements--one this year, one
+next. As it was, I denuded myself of capital. Had the times continued
+favourable it would not have mattered, as my income would have been large.
+But the times became adverse before I was firmly settled, and, to be
+plain, I can but just keep things going without a loan--dear Bella will
+not be able to go to the sea this year; but we are both determined not to
+borrow.'
+
+'In a year or two I am convinced we shall flourish again; but the waiting,
+Alick, the waiting, is the trial. You know I am impatient. Of course, the
+old-fashioned people, the farmers, all expect me to go through the
+Bankruptcy Court. They always said these new-fangled plans would not
+answer, and now they are sure they were right. Well, I forgive them their
+croaking, though most of them have dined at my table and drank my wine. I
+forgive them their croaking, for so they were bred up from childhood. Were
+I ill-natured, I might even smile at them, for they are failing and
+leaving their farms by the dozen, which seems a pretty good proof that
+their antiquated system is at best no better than mine. But I can see what
+they cannot see--signs of improvement. The steel industry is giving men
+work; the iron industry is reviving; the mines are slowly coming into work
+again; America is purchasing of us largely; and when other nations
+purchase of us, part, at least, of the money always finds its way to the
+farmer. Next season, too, the weather may be more propitious.
+
+'I shall hold on, Alick--a depression is certain to be followed by a rise.
+That has been the history of trade and agriculture for generations.
+Nothing will ever convince me that it was intended for English
+agriculturists to go on using wooden ploughs, to wear smock-frocks, and
+plod round and round in the same old track for ever. In no other way but
+by science, by steam, by machinery, by artificial manure, and, in one
+word, by the exercise of intelligence, can we compete with the world. It
+is ridiculous to suppose we can do so by returning to the ignorance and
+prejudice of our ancestors. No; we must beat the world by superior
+intelligence and superior energy. But intelligence, mind, has ever had
+every obstacle to contend against. Look at M. Lesseps and his wonderful
+Suez Canal. I tell you that to introduce scientific farming into England,
+in the face of tradition, custom, and prejudice, is a far harder task than
+overcoming the desert sand.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+GOING DOWNHILL
+
+
+An aged man, coming out of an arable field into the lane, pauses to look
+back. He is shabbily clad, and there is more than one rent in his coat;
+yet it is a coat that has once been a good one, and of a superior cut to
+what a labourer would purchase. In the field the ploughman to whom he has
+been speaking has started his team again. A lad walks beside the horses,
+the iron creaks, and the ploughman holding the handles seems now to press
+upon them with his weight, and now to be himself bodily pulled along. A
+dull November cloud overspreads the sky, and misty skits of small rain
+sweep across the landscape. As the old man looks back from the gate, the
+chill breeze whistles through the boughs of the oak above him, tearing off
+the brown dry leaves, and shaking out the acorns to fall at his feet. It
+lifts his grey hair, and penetrates the threadbare coat. As he turns to
+go, something catches his eye on the ground, and from the mud in the
+gateway he picks up a cast horse-shoe. With the rusty iron in his hand he
+passes slowly down the lane, and, as he goes, the bitter wind drives the
+fallen leaves that have been lying beside the way rustling and dancing
+after him.
+
+From a farmer occupying a good-sized farm he had descended to be a
+farmer's bailiff in the same locality. But a few months since he was
+himself a tenant, and now he is a bailiff at 15_s_. a week and a cottage.
+There is nothing dramatic, nothing sensational, in the history of his
+descent; but it is, perhaps, all the more full of bitter human
+experiences. As a man going down a steep hill, after a long while finds
+himself on the edge of a precipitous chalk pit, and topples in one fall to
+the bottom, so, though the process of going downhill occupied so long, the
+actual finish came almost suddenly. Thus it was that from being a master
+he found himself a servant. He does not complain, nor appeal for pity. His
+back is a little more bowed, he feels the cold a little more, his step is
+yet more spiritless. But all he says about it is that 'Hard work never
+made any money yet.'
+
+He has worked exceedingly hard all his lifetime. In his youth, though the
+family were then well-to-do, he was not permitted to lounge about in
+idleness, but had to work with the rest in the fields. He dragged his
+heavy nailed shoes over the furrows with the plough; he reaped and loaded
+in harvest time; in winter he trimmed the hedgerows, split logs, and
+looked after the cattle. He enjoyed no luxurious education--luxurious in
+the sense of scientifically arranged dormitories, ample meals, and
+vacations to be spent on horseback, or with the breechloader. Trudging to
+and fro the neighbouring country town, in wind, and wet, and snow, to
+school, his letters were thrashed into him. In holiday time he went to
+work--his holidays, in fact, were so arranged as to fall at the time when
+the lad could be of most use in the field. If an occasion arose when a lad
+was wanted, his lessons had to wait while he lent a hand. He had his play,
+of course, as boys in all ages have had; but it was play of a rude
+character with the plough lads, and the almost equally rough sons of
+farmers, who worked like ploughmen.
+
+In those days the strong made no pretence to protect the weak, or to
+abnegate their natural power. The biggest lad used his thews and sinews to
+knock over the lesser without mercy, till the lesser by degrees grew
+strong enough to retaliate. To be thrashed, beaten, and kicked was so
+universal an experience that no one ever imagined it was not correct, or
+thought of complaining. They accepted it as a matter of course. As he grew
+older his work simply grew harder, and in no respect differed from that of
+the labourers, except that he directed what should be done next, but none
+the less assisted to do it.
+
+Thus the days went on, the weeks, and months, and years. He was close upon
+forty years old before he had his own will for a single day. Up to almost
+that age he worked on his father's farm as a labourer among the labourers,
+as much under parental authority as when he was a boy of ten. When the old
+man died it was not surprising that the son, so long held down in
+bondage--bondage from which he had not the spirit to escape--gave way for
+a short period to riotous living. There was hard drinking, horse-racing,
+and card-playing, and waste of substance generally.
+
+But it was not for long, for several reasons. In the first place, the lad
+of forty years, suddenly broken forth as it were from school, had gone
+past the age when youth plunges beyond recall. He was a grown man, neither
+wise nor clever; but with a man's sedateness of spirit and a man's hopes.
+There was no innate evil in his nature to lead him into unrighteous
+courses. Perhaps his fault rather lay in his inoffensive disposition--he
+submitted too easily. Then, in the second place, there was not much money,
+and what there was had to meet many calls.
+
+The son found that the father, though reputed a substantial man, and a man
+among farmers of high esteem and good family, had been anything but rich.
+First there were secret debts that had run on for fully thirty years--sums
+of from fifty to one hundred pounds--borrowed in the days of his youth,
+when he, too, had at last been released in a similar manner from similar
+bondage, to meet the riotous living in which he also had indulged. In
+those earlier days there had been more substance in cattle and corn, and
+he had had no difficulty in borrowing ready money from adjoining farmers,
+who afterwards helped him to drink it away. These boon companions had now
+grown old. They had never pressed their ancient comrade for the principal,
+the interest being paid regularly. But now their ancient comrade was dead
+they wanted their money, especially when they saw the son indulging
+himself, and did not know how far he might go. Their money was paid, and
+reduced the balance in hand materially.
+
+Now came a still more serious matter. The old man, years ago, when corn
+farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the prospect of profit to
+take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all arable. To do this he was
+obliged, in farming phrase, to 'take up'--_i.e._ to borrow--a thousand
+pounds, which was advanced to him by the bank. Being a man of substance,
+well reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds was
+forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms. The enterprise, however, did
+not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so profitable. In the end he
+had the wisdom to accept his losses and relinquish the second farm before
+it ate him up. Had he only carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid
+the whole of the bank's advance, all might yet have been well. But he only
+repaid five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing. The
+bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old
+gentleman upright--as he was--was not at all anxious to have the money
+back, as it was earning fair interest. So the five hundred remained on
+loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite purpose.
+
+Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much money at
+command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or whether he thought
+he could increase the produce of his farm by putting it in the soil, it is
+not possible to say. He certainly put the five hundred out of sight
+somewhere, for when his son succeeded him it was nowhere to be found.
+After repaying the small loans to his father's old friends, upon looking
+round the son saw cattle, corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred
+pounds in ready money. The ready money had been muddled away--simply
+muddled away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all
+extravagant.
+
+The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing manner, for the
+belief still existed that there was money in the family. That belief was
+still further fostered because the old friends whose loans had been repaid
+talked about that repayment, and so gave a colour to the idea. The heir,
+in his slow way, thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan.
+He could only repay it by instalments--a mode which, to a farmer brought
+up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he might meet one he
+would be sure to put off the next--or by selling stock (equivalent to
+giving up his place), or by borrowing afresh. So he asked and obtained a
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred, and was accommodated, on
+condition that some one 'backed' him. Some one in the family did back him,
+and the fatal mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden. A loan
+never remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced. In
+itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm to
+carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens piled
+themselves up. By a species of gravitation such a burden attracts others,
+till the last straw breaks the camel's back. This, however, was not all.
+
+The heir discovered another secret which likewise contributed to sober
+him. It appeared that the farm, or rather the stock and so on, was really
+not all his father's. His father's brother had a share in it--a share of
+which even the most inquisitive gossips of the place were ignorant. The
+brother being the eldest (himself in business as a farmer at some
+distance) had the most money, and had advanced a certain sum to the
+younger to enable him to start his farm, more than a generation since.
+From that day to this not one shilling of the principal had been repaid,
+and the interest only partially and at long intervals. If the interest
+were all claimed it would now amount to nearly as much as the principal.
+The brother--or, rather, the uncle--did not make himself at all unpleasant
+in the matter. He only asked for about half the interest due to him, and
+at the same time gave the heir a severe caution not to continue the
+aforesaid riotous living. The heir, now quite brought down to earth after
+his momentary exaltation, saw the absolute necessity of acquiescence. With
+a little management he paid the interest--leaving himself with barely
+enough to work the farm. The uncle, on his part, did not act unkindly; it
+was he who 'backed' the heir up at the bank in the matter of the
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred pounds. This five hundred
+pounds the heir had never seen and never would see: so far as he was
+concerned it did not exist; it was a mere figure, but a figure for which
+he must pay. In all these circumstances there was nothing at all
+exceptional.
+
+At this hour throughout the width and breadth of the country there are
+doubtless many farmers' heirs stepping into their fathers' shoes, and at
+this very moment looking into their affairs. It may be safely said that
+few indeed are those fortunate individuals who find themselves clear of
+similar embarrassments. In this particular case detailed above, if the
+heir's circumstances had been rigidly reduced to figures--if a
+professional accountant had examined them--it would have been found that,
+although in possession of a large farm, he had not got one scrap of
+capital.
+
+But he was in possession of the farm, and upon that simple fact of
+possession he henceforth lived, like so many, many more of his class. He
+returned to the routine of labour, which was a part of his life. After
+awhile he married, as a man of forty might naturally wish to, and without
+any imputation of imprudence so far as his own age was concerned. The wife
+he chose was one from his own class, a good woman, but, as is said to be
+often the case, she reflected the weakness of her husband's character. He
+now worked harder than ever--a labourer with the labourers. He thus saved
+himself the weekly expense of the wages of a labourer--perhaps, as
+labourers do not greatly exert themselves, of a man and a boy. But while
+thus slaving with his hands and saving this small sum in wages, he could
+not walk round and have an eye upon the other men. They could therefore
+waste a large amount of time, and thus he lost twice what he saved. Still,
+his intention was commendable, and his persistent, unvarying labour really
+wonderful. Had he but been sharper with his men he might still have got a
+fair day's work out of them while working himself. From the habit of
+associating with them from boyhood he had fallen somewhat into their own
+loose, indefinite manner, and had lost the prestige which attaches to a
+master. To them he seemed like one of themselves, and they were as much
+inclined to argue with him as to obey. When he met them in the morning he
+would say, 'Perhaps we had better do so and so,' or 'Suppose we go and do
+this or that.' They often thought otherwise; and it usually ended in a
+compromise, the master having his way in part, and the men in part. This
+lack of decision ran through all, and undid all that his hard work
+achieved. Everything was muddled from morn till night, from year's end to
+year's end. As children came the living indoors became harder, and the
+work out of doors still more laborious.
+
+If a farmer can put away fifty pounds a year, after paying his rent and
+expenses, if he can lay by a clear fifty pounds of profit, he thinks
+himself a prosperous man. If this farmer, after forty years of saving,
+should chance to be succeeded by a son as thrifty, when, he too has
+carried on the same process for another twenty years, then the family may
+be, for village society, wealthy, with three or even four thousand pounds,
+besides goods and gear. This is supposing all things favourable, and men
+of some ability, making the most of their opportunities. Now reverse the
+process. When children came, as said before, our hard-working farmer found
+the living indoors harder, and the labour without heavier. Instead of
+saving fifty pounds a year, at first the two sides of the account (not
+that he ever kept any books) about balanced. Then, by degrees, the balance
+dropped the wrong way. There was a loss, of twenty or thirty pounds on the
+year, and presently of forty or fifty pounds, which could only be made
+good by borrowing, and so increasing the payment of interest.
+
+Although it takes sixty years--two generations--to accumulate a village
+fortune by saving fifty pounds a year, it does not occupy so long to
+reduce a farmer to poverty when half that sum is annually lost. There was
+no strongly marked and radical defect in his system of farming to amount
+for it; it was the muddling, and the muddling only, that did it. His work
+was blind. He would never miss giving the pigs their dinner, he rose at
+half-past three in the morning, and foddered the cattle in the grey dawn,
+or milked a certain number of cows, with unvarying regularity. But he had
+no foresight, and no observation whatever. If you saw him crossing a
+field, and went after him, you might walk close behind, placing your foot
+in the mark just left by his shoe, and he would never know it. With his
+hands behind his back, and his eyes upon the ground, he would plod across
+the field, perfectly unconscious that any one was following him. He
+carried on the old rotation of cropping in the piece of arable land
+belonging to the farm, but in total oblivion of any advantage to be
+obtained by local change of treatment. He could plan nothing out for next
+year. He spent nothing, or next to nothing, on improved implements; but,
+on the other hand, he saved nothing, from a lack of resource and
+contrivance.
+
+As the years went by he fell out of the social life of the times; that is,
+out of the social life of his own circle. He regularly fed the pigs; but
+when he heard that the neighbours, were all going in to the town to attend
+some important agricultural meeting, or to start some useful movement, he
+put his hands behind his back and said that he should not go; he did not
+understand anything about it. There never used to be anything of that
+sort. So he went in to luncheon on bread and cheese and small ale. Such a
+course could only bring him into the contempt of his fellow-men. He became
+a nonentity. No one had any respect for or confidence in him. Otherwise,
+possibly, he might have obtained powerful help, for the memory of what his
+family had been had not yet died out.
+
+Men saw that he lived and worked as a labourer; they gave him no credit
+for the work, but they despised him for the meanness and churlishness of
+his life. There was neither a piano nor a decanter of sherry in his house.
+He was utterly out of accord with the times. By degrees, after many years,
+it became apparent to all that he was going downhill. The stock upon the
+farm was not so large nor of so good a character as had been the case. The
+manner of men visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the
+very carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call at
+a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own coarse way
+that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him, and bore him down
+with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly, without showing any spirit;
+but, on the other hand, without resentment, for he never said ill of any
+man behind his back.
+
+It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had seen a jar
+of spirits carried into the house from the wine merchant's cart. A jar of
+spirits had been delivered at the house at intervals for years and years,
+far back into his father's time, and every one of those who now expressed
+their disgust at his supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in
+that house without stint. He did not drink--he did not take one-half at
+home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and auctions
+every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and they called to
+mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and pointed out to their
+acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was coming home to him.
+
+No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the declining
+farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain every drop, and to
+linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or ten, or fifteen years about.
+He cannot, like the bankrupt tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes,
+put up his shutters at once and retire from view. Even at the end, after
+the notice, six months at least elapse before all is over--before the farm
+is surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
+place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his neighbours
+are concerned he is in public view for years previously. He has to rise in
+the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees them in the road; he
+passes through groups of them in the market-place. As he goes by they look
+after him, and perhaps audibly wonder how long he will last. These people
+all knew him from a lad, and can trace every inch of his descent. The
+labourers in the field know it, and by their manner show that they know
+it.
+
+His wife--his wife who worked so hard for so many, many years--is made to
+know it too. She is conspicuously omitted from the social gatherings that
+occur from time to time. The neighbours' wives do not call; their
+well-dressed daughters, as they rattle by to the town in basket-carriage
+or dog-cart, look askance at the shabby figure walking slowly on the path
+beside the road. They criticise the shabby shawl; they sneer at the slow
+step which is the inevitable result of hard work, the cares of maternity,
+and of age. So they flaunt past with an odour of perfume, and leave the
+'old lady' to plod unrecognised.
+
+The end came at last. All this blind work of his was of no avail against
+the ocean steamer and her cargo of wheat and meat from the teeming regions
+of the West. Nor was it of avail against the fall of prices, and the
+decreased yield consequent upon a succession of bad seasons. The general
+lack of confidence pressed heavily upon a man who did not even attempt to
+take his natural place among his fellow-men. The loan from the bank had
+gradually grown from five to seven or eight hundred by thirties, and
+forties, and fifties added to it by degrees; and the bank--informed,
+perhaps, by the same busybodies who had discovered that he drank--declined
+further assistance, and notified that part, at least, of the principal
+must be repaid. The landlord had long been well aware of the state of
+affairs, but refrained from action out of a feeling for the old family.
+But the land, from the farmer's utter lack of capital, was now going from
+bad to worse. The bank having declined to advance further, the rent began
+to fall into arrear. The landlord caused it to be conveyed to his tenant
+that if he would quit the farm, which was a large one, he could go into a
+smaller, and his affairs might perhaps be arranged.
+
+The old man--for he was now growing old--put his hands behind his back and
+said nothing, but went on with his usual routine of work. Whether he had
+become dulled and deadened and cared nothing, whether hope was extinct, or
+he could not wrench himself from the old place, he said nothing. Even then
+some further time elapsed--so slow is the farmer's fall that he might
+almost be excused for thinking that it would never come. But now came the
+news that the old uncle who had 'backed' him at the bank had been found
+dead in bed of sheer old age. Then the long-kept secret came out at last.
+The dead man's executors claimed the money advanced so many, many years
+ago.
+
+This discovery finished it. The neighbours soon had food for gossip in the
+fact that a load of hay which he had sold was met in the road by the
+landlord's agent and turned back. By the strict letter of his agreement he
+could not sell hay off the farm; but it had been permitted for years. When
+they heard this they knew it was all over. The landlord, of course, put in
+his claim; the bank theirs. In a few months the household furniture and
+effects were sold, and the farmer and his aged wife stepped into the
+highway in their shabby clothes.
+
+He did not, however, starve; he passed to a cottage on the outskirts of
+the village, and became bailiff for the tenant of that very arable farm to
+work which years ago his father had borrowed the thousand pounds that
+ultimately proved their ruin. He made a better bailiff than a farmer,
+being at home with every detail of practice, but incapable of general
+treatment. His wife does a little washing and charing; not much, for she
+is old and feeble. No charity is offered to them--they have outlived old
+friends--nor do they appeal for any. The people of the village do not heed
+them, nor reflect upon the spectacle in their midst. They are merged and
+lost in the vast multitude of the agricultural poor. Only two of their
+children survive; but these, having early left the farm and gone into a
+city, are fairly well-to-do. That, at least, is a comfort to the old folk.
+
+It is, however, doubtful whether the old man, as he walks down the lane
+with his hands behind his back and the dead leaves driven by the November
+breeze rustling after, has much feeling of any kind left. Hard work and
+adversity have probably deadened his finer senses. Else one would think he
+could never endure to work as a servant upon that farm of all others, nor
+to daily pass the scenes of his youth. For yonder, well in sight as he
+turns a corner of the lane, stands the house where he dwelt so many, many
+years; where the events of his life came slowly to pass; where he was
+born; where his bride came home; where his children were born, and from
+whose door he went forth penniless.
+
+Seeing this every day, surely that old man, if he have but one spark of
+feeling left, must drink the lees of poverty to the last final doubly
+bitter dregs.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+
+'Where do he get the money from, you?' 'It be curious, bean't it; I minds
+when his father drove folks' pigs to market.' These remarks passed between
+two old farmers, one standing on the sward by the roadside, and the other
+talking to him over the low ledge, as a gentleman drove by in a
+Whitechapel dog-cart, groom behind. The gentleman glanced at the two
+farmers, and just acknowledged their existence with a careless nod,
+looking at the moment over their heads and far away.
+
+There is no class so jealous of a rapid rise as old-fashioned farming
+people. They seem to think that if a man once drove pigs to market he
+should always continue to do so, and all his descendants likewise. Their
+ideas in a measure approximate to those of caste among the Hindoos. It is
+a crime to move out of the original groove; if a man be lowly he must
+remain lowly, or never be forgiven. The lapse of time makes not the least
+difference. If it takes the man thirty years to get into a fair position
+he is none the less guilty. A period equal to the existence of a
+generation is not sufficient excuse for him. He is not one whit better
+than if he had made his money by a lucky bet on a racehorse. Nor can he
+ever hope to live down this terrible social misdemeanour, especially if it
+is accompanied by the least ostentation.
+
+Now, in the present day a man who gets money shows off more than ever was
+the case. In the olden time the means of luxury were limited, and the
+fortunate could do little more than drink, and tempt others to drink. But
+to-day the fortunate farmer in the dog-cart, dressed like a gentleman,
+drove his thorough-bred, and carried his groom behind. Frank D----, Esq.,
+in the slang of the time, 'did the thing grand!' The dog-cart was a
+first-rate article. The horse was a high-stepper, such as are not to be
+bought for a song; the turn-out was at the first glance perfect. But if
+you looked keenly at the groom, there was a suspicion of the plough in his
+face and attitude. He did not sit like a man to the manner born. He was
+lumpy; he lacked the light, active style characteristic of the
+thoroughbred groom, who is as distinct a breed as the thoroughbred horse.
+The man looked as if he had been taken from the plough and was conscious
+of it. His feet were in top-boots, but he could not forget the heavy
+action induced by a long course of walking in wet furrows. The critics by
+the hedge were not capable of detecting these niceties. The broad facts
+were enough for them. There was the gentleman in his ulster, there was the
+resplendent turn-out, there was the groom, and there was the thoroughbred
+horse. The man's father drove their pigs to market, and they wanted to
+know where he got the money from.
+
+Meantime Mr. D----, having carelessly nodded, had gone on. Half a mile
+farther some of his own fields were contiguous to the road, yet he did
+not, after the fashion of the farmer generally, pause to gaze at them
+searchingly; he went on with the same careless glance. This fact, which
+the old-fashioned folk had often observed, troubled them greatly. It
+seemed so unnatural, so opposite to the old ideas and ways, that a man
+should take no apparent interest in his own farm. They said that Frank was
+nothing of a farmer; he knew nothing of farming. They looked at his ricks;
+they were badly built, and still worse thatched. They examined his
+meadows, and saw wisps of hay lying about, evidence of neglect; the fields
+had not been properly raked. His ploughed fields were full of weeds, and
+not half worked enough. His labourers had acquired a happy-go-lucky style,
+and did their work anyhow or not at all, having no one to look after them.
+So, clearly, it was not Frank's good farming that made him so rich, and
+enabled him to take so high and leading a position.
+
+Nor was it his education or his 'company' manners. The old folk noted his
+boorishness and lack of the little refinements which mark the gentleman.
+His very voice was rude and hoarse, and seemed either to grumble or to
+roar forth his meaning. They had frequently heard him speak in public--he
+was generally on the platform when any local movement was in progress--and
+could not understand why he was put up there to address the audience,
+unless it was for his infinite brass. The language he employed was rude,
+his sentences disjointed, his meaning incoherent; but he had a knack of an
+_apropos_ jest, not always altogether savoury, but which made a mixed
+assembly laugh. As his public speeches did not seem very brilliant, they
+supposed he must have the gift of persuasion, in private. He did not even
+ride well to hounds--an accomplishment that has proved a passport to a
+great landlord's favour before now--for he had an awkward, and, to the
+eye, not too secure a seat in the saddle.
+
+Nor was it his personal appearance. He was very tall and ungainly, with a
+long neck and a small round head on the top of it. His features were flat,
+and the skin much wrinkled; there seemed nothing in his countenance to
+recommend him to the notice of the other sex. Yet he had been twice
+married; the last time to a comparatively young lady with some money, who
+dressed in the height of fashion.
+
+Frank had two families--one, grown up, by his first wife, the second in
+the nursery--but it made no difference to him. All were well dressed and
+well educated; the nursery maids and the infants went out for their
+airings in a carriage and pair. Mrs. D----, gay as a Parisian belle, and
+not without pretensions to beauty, was seen at balls, parties, and every
+other social amusement. She seemed to have the _entrée_ everywhere in the
+county. All this greatly upset and troubled the old folk, whose heads
+Frank looked over as he carelessly nodded them good-morning driving by.
+The cottage people from whose ranks his family had so lately risen,
+however, had a very decided opinion upon the subject, and expressed it
+forcibly. "'Pend upon it," they said, "'pend upon it, he have zucked
+zumbody in zumhow."
+
+This unkind conclusion was perhaps not quite true. The fact was, that
+Frank, aided by circumstances, had discovered the ease with which a man
+can borrow. That was his secret--his philosopher's stone. To a certain
+extent, and in certain ways, he really was a clever man, and he had the
+luck to begin many years ago when farming was on the ascending side of the
+cycle. The single solid basis of his success was his thorough knowledge of
+cattle--his proficiency in dealership. Perhaps this was learnt while
+assisting his father to drive other folks' pigs to market. At all events,
+there was no man in the county who so completely understood cattle and
+sheep, for buying and selling purposes, as Frank. At first he gained his
+reputation by advising others what and when to buy; by degrees, as people
+began to see that he was always right, they felt confidence in him, and
+assisted him to make small investments on his own account. There were then
+few auctioneers, and cattle were sold in open market. If a man really was
+a judge, it was as good to him as a reputation for good ale is to an
+innkeeper. Men flock to a barrel of good ale no matter whether the inn be
+low class or high class. Men gather about a good judge of cattle, and will
+back him up. By degrees D---- managed to rent a small farm, more for the
+purpose of having a place to turn his cattle into than for farming
+proper--he was, in fact, a small dealer.
+
+Soon afterwards there was an election. During the election, Frank gained
+the good-will of a local solicitor and political agent. He proved himself
+an active and perhaps a discreetly unscrupulous assistant. The solicitor
+thought he saw in Frank talent of a certain order--a talent through which
+he (the solicitor) might draw unto himself a share of other people's
+money. The lawyer's judgment of men was as keen as Frank's judgment of
+cattle. He helped Frank to get into a large farm, advancing the money with
+which to work it. He ran no risk; for, of course, he had Frank tight in
+the grasp of his legal fist, and he was the agent for the landlord. The
+secret was this--the lawyer paid his clients four per cent, for the safe
+investment of their money. Frank had the money, worked a large farm with
+it, and speculated in the cattle markets, and realised some fifteen or
+perhaps twenty per cent., of which the lawyer took the larger share.
+Something of this sort has been done in other businesses besides farming.
+Frank, however, was not the man to remain in a state of tutelage, working
+for another. His forte was not saving--simple accumulation was not for
+him; but he looked round the district to discover those who had saved.
+
+Now, it is a fact that no man is so foolish with his money as the working
+farmer in a small way, who has put by a little coin. He is extremely
+careful about a fourpenny piece, and will wrap a sovereign up in several
+scraps of paper lest he should lose it; but with his hundred or two
+hundred pounds he is quite helpless. It has very likely occupied him the
+best part of his lifetime to add one five-pound note to another, money
+most literally earned in the sweat of his brow; and at last he lends it to
+a man like Frank, who has the wit to drive a carriage and ride a
+thoroughbred. With the strange inconsistency so characteristic of human
+nature, a half-educated, working farmer of this sort will sneer in his
+rude way at the pretensions of such a man, and at the same time bow down
+before him.
+
+Frank knew this instinctively, and, as soon as ever he began to get on,
+set up a blood-horse and a turn-out. By dint of such vulgar show and his
+own plausible tongue he persuaded more than one such old fellow to advance
+him money. Mayhap these confiding persons, like a certain Shallow, J.P.,
+have since earnestly besought him in vain to return them five hundred of
+their thousand. In like manner one or two elderly ladies--cunning as
+magpies in their own conceit--let him have a few spare hundreds. They
+thought they could lay out this money to better advantage than the safe
+family adviser 'uncle John,' with his talk of the Indian railways and a
+guaranteed five per cent. They thought (for awhile) that they had done a
+very clever thing on the sly in lending their spare hundreds to the great
+Mr. Frank D---- at a high rate of interest, and by this time would perhaps
+be glad to get the money back again in the tea-caddy.
+
+But Frank was not the man to be satisfied with such small game. After a
+time he succeeded in getting at the 'squire.' The squire had nothing but
+the rents of his farms to live upon, and was naturally anxious for an
+improving tenant who would lay out money and put capital into the soil. He
+was not so foolish as to think that Frank was a safe man, and of course he
+had legal advice upon the matter. The squire thought, in fact, that
+although Frank himself had no money, Frank could get it out of others, and
+spend it upon his place. It did not concern the squire where or how Frank
+got his money, provided he had it--he as landlord was secure in case of a
+crash, because the law gave him precedence over all other creditors. So
+Frank ultimately stepped into one of the squire's largest farms and cut a
+finer dash than ever.
+
+There are distinct social degrees in agriculture. The man who occupies a
+great farm under a squire is a person of much more importance than he who
+holds a little tenancy of a small proprietor. Frank began to take the lead
+among the farmers of the neighbourhood, to make his appearance at public
+meetings, and to become a recognised politician--of course upon the side
+most powerful in that locality, and most likely to serve his own interest.
+His assurance, and, it must be owned, his ready wit, helped him in coming
+to the front. When at the front, he was invited to the houses of really
+well-to-do country people. They condoned his bluff manners--they were the
+mark of the true, solid British agriculturist. Some perhaps in their
+hearts thought that another day they might want a tenant, and this man
+would serve their turn. As a matter of fact, Frank took every unoccupied
+farm which he could get at a tolerably reasonable rent. He never seemed
+satisfied with the acreage he held, but was ever desirous of extending it.
+He took farm after farm, till at last he held an area equal to a fine
+estate. For some years there has been a disposition on the part of
+landlords to throw farms together, making many small ones into one large
+one. For the time, at all events, Frank seemed to do very well with all
+these farms to look after. Of course the same old-fashioned folk made
+ill-natured remarks, and insisted upon it that he merely got what he could
+out of the soil, and did not care in the least how the farming was done.
+Nevertheless, he flourished--the high prices and general inflation of the
+period playing into his hand.
+
+Frank was now a very big man, the biggest man thereabout. And it was now
+that he began to tap another source of supply--to, as it were, open a
+fresh cask--_i.e._ the local bank. At first he only asked for a hundred or
+so, a mere bagatelle, for a few days--only temporary convenience. The bank
+was glad to get hold of what really looked like legitimate business, and
+he obtained the bagatelle in the easiest manner--so easily that it
+surprised him. He did not himself yet quite know how completely his showy
+style of life, his large acreage, his speeches, and politics, and
+familiarity with great people, had imposed upon the world in which he
+lived. He now began to realise that he was somebody. He repaid the loan to
+the day, waited awhile and took a larger one, and from that time the
+frequency and the amount of his loans went on increasing.
+
+We have seen in these latter days bank directors bitterly complaining that
+they could not lend money at more than 7/8 or even 1/2 per cent., so
+little demand was there for accommodation. They positively could not lend
+their money; they had millions in their tills unemployed, and practically
+going a-begging. But here was Frank paying seven per cent, for short
+loans, and upon a continually enlarging amount. His system, so far as the
+seasons were concerned, was something like this. He took a loan (or
+renewed an old one) at the bank on the security of the first draught of
+lambs for sale, say, in June. This paid the labourers and the working
+expenses of the hay harvest, and of preparing for the corn. He took the
+next upon the second draught of lambs in August, which paid the reapers.
+He took a third on the security of the crops, partly cut, or in process of
+cutting, for his Michaelmas rent. Then for the fall of the year he kept on
+threshing out and selling as he required money, and had enough left to pay
+for the winter's work. This was Frank's system--the system of too many
+farmers, far more than would be believed. Details of course vary, and not
+all, like Frank, need three loans at least in the season to keep them
+going. It is not every man who mortgages his lambs, his ewes (the draught
+from a flock for sale), and the standing crops in succession.
+
+But of late years farming has been carried on in such an atmosphere of
+loans, and credit, and percentage, and so forth, that no one knows what is
+or what is not mortgaged. You see a flock of sheep on a farm, but you do
+not know to whom they belong. You see the cattle in the meadow, but you do
+not know who has a lien upon them. You see the farmer upon his
+thoroughbred, but you do not know to whom in reality the horse belongs. It
+is all loans and debt. The vendors of artificial manure are said not to be
+averse sometimes to make an advance on reasonable terms to those
+enterprising and deserving farmers who grow so many tons of roots, and win
+the silver cups, and so on, for the hugest mangold grown with their
+particular manure. The proprietors of the milk-walks in London are said to
+advance money to the struggling dairymen who send them their milk. And
+latterly the worst of usurers have found out the farmers--_i.e._ the men
+who advance on bills of sale of furniture, and sell up the wretched client
+who does not pay to the hour. Upon such bills of sale English farmers have
+been borrowing money, and with the usual disastrous results. In fact, till
+the disastrous results became so conspicuous, no one guessed that the
+farmer had descended so far. Yet, it is a fact, and a sad one.
+
+All the while the tradespeople of the market-towns--the very people who
+have made the loudest outcry about the depression and the losses they have
+sustained--these very people have been pressing their goods upon the
+farmers, whom they must have known were many of them hardly able to pay
+their rents. Those who have not seen it cannot imagine what a struggle and
+competition has been going on in little places where one would think the
+very word was unknown, just to persuade the farmer and the farmer's family
+to accept credit. But there is another side to it. The same tradesman who
+to-day begs--positively begs--the farmer to take his goods on any terms,
+in six months' time sends his bill, and, if it be not paid immediately,
+puts the County Court machinery in motion.
+
+Now this to the old-fashioned farmer is a very bitter thing. He has never
+had the least experience of the County Court; his family never were sued
+for debt since they can remember. They have always been used to a year's
+credit at least--often two, and even three. To be threatened with public
+exposure in the County Court because a little matter of five pounds ten is
+not settled instantly is bitter indeed. And to be sued so arbitrarily by
+the very tradesman who almost stuffed his goods down their throats is more
+bitter still.
+
+Frank D----, Esq.'s coarse grandeur answered very well indeed so long as
+prices were high. While the harvests were large and the markets inflated;
+while cattle fetched good money; while men's hearts were full of
+mirth--all went well. It is whispered now that the grand Frank has
+secretly borrowed 25_l_. of a little cottage shopkeeper in the adjacent
+village--a man who sells farthing candles and ounces of tea--to pay his
+reapers. It is also currently whispered that Frank is the only man really
+safe, for the following reason--they are all 'in' so deep they find it
+necessary to keep him going. The squire is 'in,' the bank is 'in,' the
+lawyer is 'in,' the small farmers with two hundred pounds capital are
+'in,' and the elderly ladies who took their bank-notes out of their
+tea-caddies are 'in.' That is to say, Mr. Frank owes them so much money
+that, rather than he should come to grief (when, they must lose pretty
+well all), they prefer to keep him afloat. It is a noticeable fact that
+Frank is the only man who has not raised his voice and shouted
+'Depression.' Perhaps the squire thinks that so repellent a note, if
+struck by a leading man like Frank, might not be to his interest, and has
+conveyed that thought to the gentleman in the dog-cart with the groom
+behind. There are, however, various species of the façade farmer.
+
+'What kind of agriculture is practised here?' the visitor from town
+naturally asks his host, as they stroll towards the turnips (in another
+district), with shouldered guns. 'Oh, you had better see Mr. X----,' is
+the reply, 'He is our leading agriculturist; he'll tell you all about it.'
+Everybody repeats the same story, and once Mr. X----'s name is started
+everybody talks of him. The squire, the clergyman--even in casually
+calling at a shop in the market town, or at the hotel (there are few inns
+now)--wherever he goes the visitor hears from all of Mr. X----. A
+successful man--most successful, progressive, scientific, intellectual.
+'Like to see him? Nothing easier. Introduction? Nonsense. Why, he'd be
+delighted to see you. Come with me.'
+
+Protesting feebly against intruding on privacy, the visitor is hurried
+away, and expecting to meet a solid, sturdy, and somewhat gruff old
+gentleman of the John Hull type, endeavors to hunt up some ideas about
+shorthorns and bacon pigs. He is a little astonished upon entering the
+pleasure grounds to see one or more gardeners busy among the parterres and
+shrubberies, the rhododendrons, the cedar deodaras, the laurels, the
+pampas grass, the 'carpet gardening' beds, and the glass of distant
+hothouses glittering in the sun. A carriage and pair, being slowly driven
+by a man in livery from the door down to the extensive stabling,
+passes--clearly some of the family have just returned. On ringing, the
+callers are shown through a spacious hall with a bronze or two on the
+marble table, into a drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a short
+iron grand open with a score carelessly left by the last player, a harp in
+the corner, half hidden by the curtains, some pieces of Nankin china on
+the side tables.
+
+Where are the cow-sheds? Looking out of window a level lawn extends, and
+on it two young gentlemen are playing tennis, in appropriate costume. The
+laboured platitudes that had been prepared about shorthorns and bacon pigs
+are quite forgotten, and the visitor is just about to ask the question if
+his guide has not missed the farm-house and called at the squire's, when
+Mr. X---- comes briskly in, and laughs all apology about intrusion to the
+winds in his genial manner. He insists on his friends taking some
+refreshment, will not take refusal; and such is the power of his vivacity,
+that they find themselves sipping Madeira and are pressed to come and dine
+in the evening, before one at least knows exactly where he is. 'Just a
+homely spread, you know; pot-luck; a bit of fish and a glass of Moet; now
+_do_ come.' This curious mixture of bluff cordiality, with unexpected
+snatches of refinement, is Mr. X----'s great charm. 'Style of farming;
+tell you with pleasure.' [Rings the bell.] 'John' (to the manservant),
+'take this key and bring me account book No. 6 B, Copse Farm; that will be
+the best way to begin.'
+
+If the visitor knows anything of country life, he cannot help recollecting
+that, if the old type of farmer was close and mysterious about anything,
+it was his accounts. Not a word could be got out of him of profit or loss,
+or revenue: he would barely tell you his rent per acre, and it was
+doubtful if his very wife ever saw his pass-book. Opening account book No.
+6 B, the explanation proceeds.
+
+'My system of agriculture is simplicity itself, sir. It is all founded on
+one beautiful commercial precept. Our friends round about here [with a
+wave of the hand, indicating the country side]--our old folks--whenever
+they got a guinea put it out of sight, made a hoard, hid it in a stocking,
+or behind a brick in the chimney. Ha! ha! Consequently their operations
+were always restricted to the same identical locality--no scope, sir, no
+expansion. Now my plan is--invest every penny. Make every shilling pay for
+the use of half a crown, and turn the half-crown into seven and sixpence.
+Credit is the soul of business. There you have it. Simplicity itself. Here
+are the books; see for yourself. I publish my balance half-yearly--like a
+company. Then the public see what you are doing. The earth, sir, as I said
+at the dinner the other day (the idea was much applauded), the earth is
+like the Bank of England--you may draw on it to any extent; there's always
+a reserve to meet you. You positively can't overdraw the account. You see
+there's such a solid security behind you. The fact is, I bring commercial
+principles into agriculture; the result is, grand success. However, here's
+the book; just glance over the figures.'
+
+The said figures utterly bewilder the visitor, who in courtesy runs his
+eye from top to bottom of the long columns--farming accounts are really
+the most complicated that can be imagined--so he, meantime, while turning
+over the pages, mentally absorbs the personality of the commercial
+agriculturist. He sees a tall, thin farmer, a brown face and neck, long
+restless sinewy hands, perpetually twiddling with a cigar or a gold
+pencil-case--generally the cigar, or rather the extinct stump of it, which
+he every now and then sucks abstractedly, in total oblivion as to its
+condition. His dress would pass muster in towns--well cut, and probably
+from Bond Street. He affects a frock and high hat one day, and
+knickerbockers and sun helmet the next. His pockets are full of papers,
+letters, etc., and as he searches amid the mass for some memorandum to
+show, glimpses may be seen of certain oblong strips of blue paper with an
+impressed stamp.
+
+'Very satisfactory,' says the visitor, handing back No 6 B; 'may I inquire
+how many acres you occupy?'
+
+Out comes a note-book. 'Hum! There's a thousand down in the vale, and
+fifteen hundred upland, and the new place is about nine hundred, and the
+meadows--I've mislaid the meadows--but it's near about four thousand.
+Different holdings, of course. Great nuisance that, sir; transit, you see,
+costs money. City gentlemen know that. Absurd system in this country--the
+land parcelled out in little allotment gardens of two or three hundred
+acres. Why, there's a little paltry hundred and twenty acre freehold dairy
+farm lies between my vale and upland, and the fellow won't let my waggons
+or ploughing-tackle take the short cut, ridiculous. Time it was altered,
+sir. Shooting? Why, yes; I have the shooting. Glad if you'd come over.'
+
+Then more Madeira, and after it a stroll through the gardens and
+shrubberies and down to the sheds, a mile, or nearly, distant. There, a
+somewhat confused vision of 'grand shorthorns,' and an inexplicable jumble
+of pedigrees, grand-dams, and 'g-g-g-g-g-g-dams,' as the catalogues have
+it; handsome hunters paraded, steam-engines pumping water, steam-engines
+slicing up roots, distant columns of smoke where steam-engines are tearing
+up the soil. All the while a scientific disquisition on ammonia and the
+constituent parts and probable value of town sewage as compared with
+guano. And at intervals, and at parting, a pressing invitation to dinner
+[when pineapples or hot-house grapes are certain to make their appearance
+at dessert]--such a flow of genial eloquence surely was never heard
+before!
+
+It requires a week at least of calm reflection, and many questions to his
+host, before the visitor--quite carried away--can begin to arrange his
+ideas, and to come slowly to the opinion that though Mr. X---- is as open
+as the day and frank to a fault, it will take him a precious long time to
+get to the bottom of Mr. X----'s system; that is to say, if there is any
+bottom at all to it.
+
+Mr. X---- is, in brief, a gambler. Not in a dishonest, or even suspicious
+sense, but a pure gambler. He is a gigantic agricultural speculator; his
+system is, as he candidly told you, credit. Credit not only with the bank,
+but with everybody. He has actually been making use of you, his casual and
+unexpected visitor, as an instrument. You are certain to talk about him;
+the more he is talked of the better, it gives him a reputation, which is
+beginning to mean a great deal in agriculture as it has so long in other
+pursuits. You are sure to tell everybody who ever chooses to converse with
+you about the country of Mr. X----, and Mr. X----'s engines, cattle,
+horses, profuse hospitality, and progressive science.
+
+To be socially popular is a part of his system; he sows corn among society
+as freely as over his land, and looks to some grains to take root, and
+bring him increase a hundred fold, as indeed they do. Whatever movement is
+originated in the neighbourhood finds him occupying a prominent position.
+He goes to London as the representative of the local agricultural chamber;
+perhaps waits upon a Cabinet Minister as one of the deputation. He speaks
+regularly at the local chamber meetings; his name is ever in the papers.
+The press are invited to inspect his farms, and are furnished with minute
+details. Every now and then a sketch of his life and doings, perhaps
+illustrated with a portrait, appears in some agricultural periodical. At
+certain seasons of the year parties of gentlemen are conducted over his
+place. In parochial or district matters he is a leading man.
+
+Is it a cottage flower-show, a penny reading, a cricket club, a benefit
+society--it does not matter what, his subscriptions, his name, and his
+voice are heard in it. He is the life and soul of it; the energy comes
+from him, though others higher in the scale may be the nominal heads. And
+the nominal heads, knowing that he can be relied upon politically, are
+grateful, and give him their good word freely. He hunts, and is a welcome
+companion--the meet frequently takes place at his house, or some of the
+huntsmen call for lunch; in fact, the latter is an invariable thing.
+Everybody calls for lunch who happens to pass near any day; the house has
+a reputation for hospitality. He is the clergyman's right hand--as in
+managing the school committee. When the bishop comes to the confirmation,
+he is introduced as 'my chief lay supporter.' At the Rural Diaconal
+Conference, 'my chief supporter' is one of the lay speakers. Thus he
+obtains every man's good word whose good word is worth anything. Social
+credit means commercial credit. Yet he is not altogether acting a part--he
+really likes taking the lead and pushing forward, and means a good deal of
+what he says.
+
+He is especially quite honest in his hospitality. All the same, so far as
+business is concerned, it is pure gambling, which may answer very well in
+favourable times, but is not unlikely to end in failure should the strain
+of depression become too severe. Personal popularity, however, will tide
+him over a great deal. When a man is spoken highly of by gentry, clergy,
+literally everybody, the bank is remarkably accommodating. Such a man may
+get for his bare signature--almost pressed on him, as if his acceptance of
+it were a favour--what another would have to deposit solid security for.
+
+In plain language, he borrows money and invests it in every possible way.
+His farms are simply the basis of his credit. He buys blood shorthorns, he
+buys blood horses, and he sells them again. He buys wheat, hay, &c., to
+dispose of them at a profit. If he chose, he could explain to you the
+meaning of contango, and even of that mysterious term to the uninitiated,
+'backwardation.' His speculations for the 'account' are sometimes heavy.
+So much so, that occasionally, with thousands invested, he has hardly any
+ready money. But, then, there are the crops; he can get money on the
+coming crops. There is, too, the live stock money can be borrowed on the
+stock.
+
+Here lies the secret reason of the dread of foreign cattle disease. The
+increase of our flocks and herds is, of course, a patriotic cry (and
+founded on fact); but the secret pinch is this--if foot-and-mouth,
+pleuro-pneumonia, or rinderpest threaten the stock, the tenant-farmer
+cannot borrow on that security. The local bankers shake their heads--three
+cases of rinderpest are equivalent to a reduction of 25 per cent. in the
+borrowing power of the agriculturist. The auctioneers and our friends have
+large transactions--'paper' here again. With certain members of the hunt
+he books bets to a high amount; his face is not unknown at Tattersall's or
+at the race meetings. But he does not flourish the betting-book in the
+face of society. He bets--and holds his tongue. Some folks have an ancient
+and foolish prejudice against betting; he respects sincere convictions.
+
+Far and away he is the best fellow, the most pleasant company in the
+shire, always welcome everywhere. He has read widely, is well educated;
+but, above all, he is ever jolly, and his jollity is contagious. Despite
+his investments and speculations, his brow never wears that sombre aspect
+of gloomy care, that knitted concentration of wrinkles seen on the face of
+the City man, who goes daily to his 'office.' The out-of-door bluffness,
+the cheery ringing voice, and the upright form only to be gained in the
+saddle over the breezy uplands, cling to him still. He wakes everybody up,
+and, risky as perhaps some of his speculations are, is socially
+enlivening.
+
+The two young gentlemen, by-the-by, observed playing lawn-tennis from the
+drawing-room window, are two of his pupils, whose high premiums and
+payments assist to keep up the free and generous table, and who find
+farming a very pleasant profession. The most striking characteristic of
+their tutor is his Yankee-like fertility of resource and bold
+innovations--the very antipodes of the old style of 'clod-compeller.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS-OLD STYLE
+
+
+Towards the hour of noon Harry Hodson, of Upcourt Farm, was slowly
+ascending the long slope that led to his dwelling. In his left hand he
+carried a hare, which swung slightly to and fro as he stepped out, and the
+black-tipped ears rubbed now and then against a bunch of grass. His
+double-barrel was under his right arm. Every day at the same hour Harry
+turned towards home, for he adhered to the ways of his fathers and dined
+at half-past twelve, except when the stress of harvest, or some important
+agricultural operation, disturbed the usual household arrangements. It was
+a beautiful October day, sunny and almost still, and, as he got on the
+high ground, he paused and looked round. The stubbles stretched far away
+on one side, where the country rose and fell in undulations. On the
+distant horizon a column of smoke, broadening at the top, lifted itself
+into the sky; he knew it was from the funnel of a steam-plough, whose
+furnace had just been replenished with coal. The appearance of the smoke
+somewhat resembled that left by a steamer at sea when the vessel is just
+below the horizon. On the other hand were wooded meadows, where the rooks
+were cawing--some in the oaks, some as they wheeled round in the air. Just
+beneath him stood a row of wheat ricks--his own. His gaze finally rested
+upon their conical roofs with satisfaction, and he then resumed his walk.
+
+Even as he moved he seemed to bask in the sunshine; the sunshine pouring
+down from the sky above, the material sunshine of the goodly wheat ricks,
+and the physical sunshine of personal health and vigour. His walk was the
+walk of a strong, prosperous man--each step long, steady, and firm, but
+quite devoid of haste. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, in the very
+prime of life, and though stooping a little, like so many countrymen, very
+tall, and built proportionately broad across the shoulders and chest. His
+features were handsome--perhaps there was a trace of indolence in their
+good-humoured expression--and he had a thick black beard just marked with
+one thin wavy line of grey. That trace of snow, if anything, rather added
+to the manliness of his aspect, and conveyed the impression that he was at
+the fulness of life when youth and experience meet. If anything, indeed,
+he looked too comfortable, too placid. A little ambition, a little
+restlessness, would perhaps have been good for him.
+
+By degrees he got nearer to the house; but it was by degrees only, for he
+stayed to look over every gate, and up into almost every tree. He stopped
+to listen as his ear caught the sound of hoofs on the distant road, and
+again at the faint noise of a gun fired a mile away. At the corner of a
+field a team of horses--his own--were resting awhile as the carter and his
+lad ate their luncheon. Harry stayed to talk to the man, and yet again at
+the barn door to speak to his men at work within with the winnowing
+machine. The homestead stood on an eminence, but was hidden by elms and
+sycamores, so that it was possible to pass at a distance without observing
+it.
+
+On entering the sitting-room Harry leaned his gun against the wall in the
+angle between it and the bureau, from which action alone it might have
+been known that he was a bachelor, and that there were no children about
+the house to get into danger with fire-arms. His elderly aunt, who acted
+as housekeeper, was already at table waiting for him. It was spread with a
+snow-white cloth, and almost equally snow-white platter for bread--so much
+and so well was it cleaned. They ate home-baked bread; they were so many
+miles from a town or baker that it was difficult to get served regularly,
+a circumstance which preserved that wholesome institution. There was a
+chine of bacon, small ale, and a plentiful supply of good potatoes. The
+farmer did full justice to the sweet picking off the chine, and then
+lingered over an old cheese. Very few words were spoken.
+
+Then, after his dinner, he sat in his arm-chair--the same that he had used
+for many years--and took a book. For Harry rather enjoyed a book, provided
+it was not too new. He read works of science, thirty years old, solid and
+correct, but somewhat behind the age; he read histories, such as were
+current in the early part of the present century, but none of a later date
+than the end of the wars of the First Napoleon. The only thing modern he
+cared for in literature was a 'society' journal, sent weekly from London.
+These publications are widely read in the better class of farmsteads now.
+Harry knew something of most things, even of geology. He could show you
+the huge vertebrae of some extinct saurian, found while draining was being
+done. He knew enough of archaeology to be able to tell any enthusiastic
+student who chanced to come along where to find the tumuli and the
+earthworks on the Downs. He had several Roman coins, and a fine bronze
+spearhead, which had been found upon the farm. These were kept with care,
+and produced to visitors with pride. Harry really did possess a wide fund
+of solid, if quiet, knowledge. Presently, after reading a chapter or two,
+he would drop off into a siesta, till some message came from the men or
+the bailiff, asking for instructions.
+
+The farmstead was, in fact, a mansion of large size, an old manor-house,
+and had it been situate near a fashionable suburb and been placed in
+repair would have been worth to let as much per annum as the rent of a
+small farm. But it stood in a singularly lonely and outlying position, far
+from any village of size, much less a town, and the very highway even was
+so distant that you could only hear the horse's hoofs when the current of
+air came from that direction. This was his aunt's--the housekeeper's--great
+complaint, the distance to the highway. She grumbled because she could not
+see the carriers' carts and the teams go by; she wanted to know what was
+going on.
+
+Harry, however, seemed contented with the placid calm of the vast house
+that was practically empty, and rarely left it, except for his regular
+weekly visit to market. After the fashion of a thoroughbred farmer he was
+often rather late home on market nights. There were three brothers, all in
+farms, and all well to do; the other two were married, and Harry was
+finely plagued about being a bachelor. But the placid life at the old
+place--he had succeeded to his father--somehow seemed to content him. He
+had visitors at Christmas, he read his books of winter evenings and after
+dinner; in autumn he strolled round with his double-barrel and knocked
+over a hare or so, and so slumbered away the days. But he never neglected
+the farming-everything was done almost exactly as it had been done by his
+father.
+
+Old Harry Hodson was in his time one of the characters of that country
+side. He was the true founder of the Hodson family. They had been yeomen
+in a small way for generations, farming little holdings, and working like
+labourers, plodding on, and never heard of outside their fifty-acre farms.
+So they might have continued till this day had not old Harry Hodson arose
+to be the genius--the very Napoleon--of farming in that district. When the
+present Harry, the younger, had a visitor to his taste--_i.e._ one who was
+not in a hurry--he would, in the evening, pull out the books and papers
+and letters of his late father from the bureau (beside which stood the
+gun), and explain how the money was made. The logs crackled and sparkled
+on the hearth, the lamp burnt clear and bright; there was a low singing
+sound in the chimney; the elderly aunt nodded and worked in her arm-chair,
+and woke up and mixed fresh spirits and water, and went off to sleep
+again; and still Harry would sit and smoke and sip and talk. By-and-by the
+aunt would wish the visitor good-night, draw up the clock, and depart,
+after mixing fresh tumblers and casting more logs upon the fire, for well
+she knew her nephew's ways. Harry was no tippler, he never got
+intoxicated; but he would sit and smoke and sip and talk with a friend,
+and tell him all about it till the white daylight came peeping through the
+chinks in the shutters.
+
+Old Harry Hodson, then, made the money, and put two of his sons in large
+farms, and paid all their expenses, so that they started fair, besides
+leaving his own farm to the third. Old Harry Hodson made the money, yet he
+could not have done it had he not married the exact woman. Women have made
+the fortunes of Emperors by their advice and assistance, and the greatest
+men the world has seen have owned that their success was owing to feminine
+counsel. In like manner a woman made the policy of an obscure farmer a
+success. When the old gentleman began to get well to do, and when he found
+his teeth not so strong as of yore, and his palate less able to face the
+coarse, fat, yellowy bacon that then formed the staple of the household
+fare, he actually ventured so far as to have one joint of butcher's meat,
+generally a leg of mutton, once a week. It was cooked for Sunday, and, so
+far as that kind of meat was concerned, lasted till the next Sunday. But
+his wife met this extravagant innovation with furious opposition. It was
+sheer waste; it was something almost unpardonably prodigal. They had eaten
+bacon all their lives, often bacon with the bristles thick upon it, and to
+throw away money like this was positively wicked. However, the-old
+gentleman, being stubborn as a horse-nail, persisted; the wife, still
+grumbling, calmed down; and the one joint of meat became an institution.
+Harry, the younger, still kept it up; but it had lost its significance in
+his day, for he had a fowl or two in the week, and a hare or a partridge,
+and, besides, had the choicest hams.
+
+Now, this dispute between the old gentleman and his wife--this dispute as
+to which should be most parsimonious--was typical of their whole course of
+life. If one saved cheese-parings, the other would go without cheese at
+all, and be content with dry bread. They lived--indeed, harder than their
+own labourers, and it sometimes happened that the food they thought good
+enough was refused by a cottager. When a strange carter, or shepherd, or
+other labourer came to the house from a distance, perhaps with a waggon
+for a load of produce or with some sheep, it was the custom to give them
+some lunch. These men, unaccustomed even in their own cottages to such
+coarse food, often declined to eat it, and went away empty, but not before
+delivering their opinion of the fare, expressed in language of the rudest
+kind.
+
+No economy was too small for old Hodson; in the house his wife did almost
+all the work. Nowadays a farmer's house alone keeps the women of one, or
+even two, cottages fully employed. The washing is sent out, and occupies
+one cottage woman the best part of her spare time. Other women come in to
+do the extra work, the cleaning up and scouring, and so on. The expense of
+employing these women is not great; but still it is an expense. Old Mrs.
+Hodson did everything herself, and the children roughed it how they could,
+playing in the mire with the pigs and geese. Afterwards, when old Hodson
+began to get a little money, they were sent to a school in a market town.
+There they certainly did pick up the rudiments, but lived almost as hard
+as at home. Old Hodson, to give an instance of his method, would not even
+fatten a pig, because it cost a trifle of ready money for 'toppings,' or
+meal, and nothing on earth could induce him to part with a coin that he
+had once grasped. He never fattened a pig (meaning for sale), but sold the
+young porkers directly they were large enough to fetch a sovereign
+a-piece, and kept the money.
+
+The same system was carried on throughout the farm. The one he then
+occupied was of small extent, and he did a very large proportion of the
+work himself. He did not purchase stock at all in the modern sense; he
+grew them. If he went to a sale he bought one or two despicable-looking
+cattle at the lowest price, drove them home, and let them gradually gather
+condition. The grass they ate grew almost as they ate it--in his own
+words, 'They cut their own victuals'--_i.e._ with their teeth. He did not
+miss the grass blades, but had he paid a high price then he would have
+missed the money.
+
+Here he was in direct conflict with modern farming. The theory of the
+farming of the present day is that time is money, and, according to this,
+Hodson made a great mistake. He should have given a high price for his
+stock, have paid for cake, &c., and fattened them up as fast as possible,
+and then realised. The logic is correct, and in any business or
+manufacture could not be gainsaid. But Hodson did just the reverse. He did
+not mind his cattle taking a little time to get into condition, provided
+they cost him no ready money. Theoretically, the grass they ate
+represented money, and might have been converted to a better use. But in
+practice the reverse came true. He succeeded, and other men failed. His
+cattle and his sheep, which he bought cheap and out of condition, quietly
+improved (time being no object), and he sold them at a profit, from which
+there were no long bills to deduct for cake.
+
+He purchased no machinery whilst in this small place--which was chiefly
+grass land--with the exception of a second-hand haymaking machine. The
+money he made he put out at interest on mortgage of real property, and it
+brought in about 4 per cent. It was said that in some few cases where the
+security was good he lent it at a much higher rate to other farmers of
+twenty times his outward show. After awhile he went into the great farm
+now occupied by his son Harry, and commenced operations without borrowing
+a single shilling. The reason was because he was in no hurry. He slowly
+grew his money in the little farm, and then, and not till then, essayed
+the greater. Even then he would not have ventured had not the
+circumstances been peculiarly favourable. Like the present, it was a time
+of depression generally, and in this particular case the former tenant had
+lived high and farmed bad. The land was in the worst possible state, the
+landlord could not let it, and Hodson was given to understand that he
+could have it for next to nothing at first.
+
+Now it was at this crisis of his life that he showed that in his own
+sphere he possessed the true attribute of genius. Most men who had
+practised rigid economy for twenty years, whose hours, and days, and weeks
+had been occupied with little petty details, how to save a penny here and
+a fourpenny bit yonder, would have become fossilised in the process. Their
+minds would have become as narrow as their ways. They would have shrunk
+from any venture, and continued in the old course to the end of their
+time.
+
+Old Hodson, mean to the last degree in his way of living, narrow to the
+narrowest point where sixpence could be got, nevertheless had a mind. He
+saw that his opportunity had come, and he struck. He took the great corn
+farm, and left his little place. The whole country side at once pronounced
+him mad, and naturally anticipated his failure. The country side did not
+yet understand two things. They did not know how much money he had saved,
+and they did not know the capacity of his mind. He had not only saved
+money, and judiciously invested it, but he had kept it a profound secret,
+because he feared if his landlord learnt that he was saving money so fast
+the rent of the little farm would have been speedily raised. Here, again,
+he was in direct conflict with the modern farmer. The modern man, if he
+has a good harvest or makes a profit, at once buys a 'turn-out,' and grand
+furniture, and in every way 'exalts his gate,' When landlords saw their
+tenants living in a style but little inferior to that they themselves kept
+up, it was not really very surprising that the rents a few years back
+began to rise so rapidly. In a measure tenants had themselves to blame for
+that upward movement.
+
+Old Hodson carried his money to a long distance from home to invest, so
+anxious was he that neither his landlord nor any one else should know how
+quickly he was getting rich. So he entered upon his new venture--the great
+upland farm, with its broad cornfields, its expanse of sheep walk and
+down, its meadows in the hollow, its copses (the copses alone almost as
+big as his original holding), with plenty of money in his pocket, and
+without being beholden to bank or lawyer for a single groat. Men thought
+that the size of the place, the big manor-house, and so on, would turn his
+head. Nothing of the kind; he proceeded as cautiously and prudently as
+previously. He began by degrees. Instead of investing some thousand pounds
+in implements and machinery at a single swoop, instead of purchasing three
+hundred sheep right off with a single cheque, he commenced with one thing
+at a time. In this course he was favoured by the condition of the land,
+and by the conditions of the agreement. He got it, as it were, gradually
+into cultivation, not all at once; he got his stock together, a score or
+two at a time, as he felt they would answer. By the year the landlord was
+to have the full rent: the new tenant was quite able to pay it, and did
+pay it without hesitation at the very hour it was due. He bought very
+little machinery, nothing but what was absolutely necessary--no expensive
+steam-plough. His one great idea was still the same, _i.e._ spend no
+money.
+
+Yet he was not bigoted or prejudiced to the customs of his
+ancestors--another proof that he was a man of mind. Hodson foresaw, before
+he had been long at Upcourt Farm, that corn was not going in future to be
+so all in all important as it had been. As he said himself, 'We must go to
+our flocks now for our rent, and not to our barn doors.' His aim,
+therefore, became to farm into and through his flock, and it paid him
+well. Here was a man at once economical to the verge of meanness, prudent
+to the edge of timidity, yet capable of venturing when he saw his chance;
+and above all, when that venture succeeded, capable of still living on
+bacon and bread and cheese, and putting the money by.
+
+In his earlier days Hodson was as close of speech as of expenditure, and
+kept his proceedings a profound secret. As he grew older and took less
+active exercise--the son resident at home carrying out his
+instructions--he became more garrulous and liked to talk about his system.
+The chief topic of his discourse was that a farmer in his day paid but one
+rent, to the landlord, whereas now, on the modern plan, he paid eight
+rents, and sometimes nine. First, of course, the modern farmer paid his
+landlord (1); next he paid the seedsman (2); then the manure manufacturer
+(3); the implement manufacturer (4); the auctioneer (5); the railroad, for
+transit (6); the banker, for short loans (7); the lawyer or whoever
+advanced half his original capital (8); the schoolmaster (9).
+
+To begin at the end, the rent paid by the modern farmer to the
+schoolmaster included the payment for the parish school; and, secondly,
+and far more important, the sum paid for the education of his own
+children. Hodson maintained that many farmers paid as much hard cash for
+the education of their children, and for the necessary social surroundings
+incident to that education, as men used to pay for the entire sustenance
+of their households. Then there was the borrowed capital, and the short
+loans from the banker; the interest on these two made two more rents.
+Farmers paid rent to the railroad for the transit of their goods. The
+auctioneer, whether he sold cattle and sheep, or whether he had a depôt
+for horses, was a new man whose profits were derived from the farmers.
+There were few or no auctioneers or horse depositories when he began
+business; now the auctioneer was everywhere, and every country town of any
+consequence had its establishment for the reception and sale of horses.
+Farmers sunk enough capital in steam-ploughs and machinery to stock a
+small farm on the old system, and the interest on this sunk capital
+represented another rent. It was the same with the artificial manure
+merchant and with the seedsman. Farmers used to grow their own seed, or,
+at most, bought from the corn dealers or a neighbour if by chance they
+were out. Now the seedsman was an important person, and a grand shop might
+be found, often several shops, in every market town, the owners of which
+shops must likewise live upon the farmer. Here were eight or nine people
+to pay rent to instead of one.
+
+No wonder farming nowadays was not profitable. No wonder farmers could not
+put their sons into farms. Let any one look round their own neighbourhood
+and count up how many farmers had managed to do that. Why, they were
+hardly to be found. Farmers' sons had to go into the towns to get a
+livelihood now. Farming was too expensive a business on the modern
+system--it was a luxury for a rich man, who could afford to pay eight or
+nine landlords at once. The way he had got on was by paying one landlord
+only. Old Hodson always finished his lecture by thrusting both hands into
+his breeches pockets, and whispering to you confidentially that it was not
+the least use for a man to go into farming now unless he had got ten
+thousand pounds.
+
+It was through the genius of this man that his three sons were doing so
+well. At the present day, Harry, the younger, took his ease in his
+arm-chair after his substantial but plain dinner, with little care about
+the markets or the general depression. For much of the land was on high
+ground and dry, and the soil there benefited by the wet. At the same time
+sheep sold well, and Harry's flocks were large and noted. So he sauntered
+round with his gun, and knocked over a hare, and came comfortably home to
+dinner, easy in his mind, body, and pocket.
+
+Harry was not a man of energy and intense concentrated purpose like his
+father. He could never have built up a fortune, but, the money being
+there, Harry was just the man to keep it. He was sufficiently prudent to
+run no risk and to avoid speculation. He was sufficiently frugal not to
+waste his substance on riotous living, and he was naturally of a placid
+temperament, so that he was satisfied to silently and gradually accumulate
+little by little. His knowledge of farming, imbibed from his father,
+extended into every detail. If he seldom touched an implement now, he had
+in his youth worked like the labourers, and literally followed the plough.
+He was constantly about on the place, and his eye, by keeping the men
+employed, earned far more money than his single arm could have done. Thus
+he dwelt in the lonely manor-house, a living proof of the wisdom of his
+father's system.
+
+Harry is now looking, in his slow complacent way, for a wife. Being forty
+years of age, he is not in a great hurry, and is not at all inclined to
+make a present of himself to the first pretty face he meets. He does not
+like the girl of the period; he fears she would spend too much money. Nor,
+on the other hand, does he care for the country hoyden, whose mind and
+person have never risen above the cheese-tub, with red hands, awkward
+gait, loud voice, and limited conversation. He has read too much, in his
+quiet way, and observed too much, in his quiet way, also, for that. He
+wants a girl well educated, but not above her station, unaffected and yet
+comely, fond of home and home duties, and yet not homely. And it would be
+well if she had a few hundreds--a very small sum would do--for her dower.
+It is not that he wants the money, which can be settled on herself; but
+there is a vein of the old, prudent common sense running through Harry's
+character. He is in no hurry; in time he will meet with her somewhere.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+
+Two vehicles were gradually approaching each other from opposite
+directions on a long, straight stretch of country road, which, at the
+first glance, appeared level. The glare of the August sunshine reflected
+from the white dust, the intense heat that caused a flickering motion of
+the air like that which may be seen over a flue, the monotonous low
+cropped hedges, the scarcity of trees, and boundless plain of cornfields,
+all tended to deceive the eye. The road was not really level, but rose and
+fell in narrow, steep valleys, that crossed it at right angles--the glance
+saw across these valleys without recognising their existence. It was
+curious to observe how first one and then the other vehicle suddenly
+disappeared, as if they had sunk into the ground, and remained hidden for
+some time. During the disappearance the vehicle was occupied in cautiously
+going down one steep slope and slowly ascending the other. It then seemed
+to rapidly come nearer till another hollow intervened, and it was abruptly
+checked. The people who were driving could observe each other from a long
+distance, and might naturally think that they should pass directly,
+instead of which they did not seem to get much nearer. Some miles away,
+where the same road crossed the Downs, it looked from afar like a white
+line drawn perpendicularly up the hill.
+
+The road itself was narrow, hardly wider than a lane, but on either side
+was a broad strip of turf, each strip quite twice the width of the
+metalled portion. On the verge of the dust the red pimpernel opened its
+flowers to the bright blue cloudless sky, and the lowly convolvulus grew
+thickly among the tall dusty bennets. Sweet short clover flowers stood but
+a little way back; still nearer the hedges the grass was coarser, long,
+and wire-like. Tall thistles stood beside the water furrows and beside the
+ditch, and round the hawthorn bushes that grew at intervals on the sward
+isolated from the hedge. Loose flints of great size lay here and there
+among the grass, perhaps rolled aside surreptitiously by the
+stone-breakers to save themselves trouble. Everything hot and dusty. The
+clover dusty, the convolvulus dusty, the brambles and hawthorn, the small
+scattered elms all dusty, all longing for a shower or for a cool breeze.
+
+The reapers were at work in the wheat, but the plain was so level that it
+was not possible to see them without mounting upon a flint heap. Then
+their heads were just visible as they stood upright, but when they stooped
+to use the hook they disappeared. Yonder, however, a solitary man in his
+shirt-sleeves perched up above the corn went round and round the field,
+and beside him strange awkward arms seemed to beat down the wheat. He was
+driving a reaping machine, to which the windmill-like arms belonged.
+Beside the road a shepherd lingered, leaning on a gate, while his flock,
+which he was driving just as fast and no faster than they cared to eat
+their way along the sward, fed part on one side and part on the other. Now
+and then two or three sheep crossed over with the tinkling of a bell. In
+the silence and stillness and brooding heat, the larks came and dusted
+themselves in the white impalpable powder of the road. Farther away the
+partridges stole quietly to an anthill at the edge of some barley. By the
+white road, a white milestone, chipped and defaced, stood almost hidden
+among thistles and brambles. Some white railings guarded the sides of a
+bridge, or rather a low arch over a dry watercourse. Heat, dust, a glaring
+whiteness, and a boundless expanse of golden wheat on either hand.
+
+After awhile a towering four-in-hand coach rose out of the hollow where it
+had been hidden, and came bowling along the level. The rapid hoofs beat
+the dust, which sprang up and followed behind in a cloud, stretching far
+in the rear, for in so still an atmosphere the particles were long before
+they settled again. White parasols and light dust coats--everything that
+could be contrived for coolness--gay feathers and fluttering fringes,
+whose wearers sat in easy attitudes enjoying the breeze created by the
+swift motion. Upon such a day the roof of a coach is more pleasant than
+the thickest shade, because of that current of air, for the same leaves
+that keep off the sun also prevent a passing zephyr from refreshing the
+forehead. But the swifter the horses the sweeter the fresh wind to fan the
+delicate cheek and drooping eyelid of indolent beauty. So idle were they
+all that they barely spoke, and could only smile instead of laugh if one
+exerted himself to utter a good jest. The gentleman who handled the
+ribbons was the only one thoroughly awake.
+
+His eyes were downcast, indeed, because they never left his horses, but
+his ears were sharply alive to the rhythmic beat of the hoofs and the
+faint creak and occasional jingle of the harness. Had a single shoe failed
+to send forth the proper sound as it struck the hard dry road, had there
+been a creak or a jingle too many, or too few, those ears would instantly
+have detected it. The downcast eyes that looked neither to the right nor
+left--at the golden wheat or the broad fields of barley--were keenly
+watching the ears of the team, and noting how one of the leaders lathered
+and flung white froth upon the dust. From that height the bowed backs of
+the reapers were visible in the corn. The reapers caught sight of the
+coach, and stood up to look, and wiped their brows, and a distant hurrah
+came from the boys among them. In all the pomp and glory of paint and
+varnish the tall coach rolled on, gently swaying from side to side as the
+springs yielded to the irregularities of the road. It came with a heavy
+rumble like far-away thunder over the low arch that spanned the dry
+water-course.
+
+Meantime the vehicle approaching from the opposite direction had also
+appeared out of a hollow. It was a high, narrow gig of ancient make, drawn
+by a horse too low for the shafts and too fat for work. In the gig sat two
+people closely pressed together by reason of its narrow dimensions. The
+lady wore a black silk dress, of good and indeed costly material, but
+white with the dust that had settled upon it. Her hands were covered with
+black cotton gloves, and she held a black umbrella. Her face was hidden by
+a black veil; thin corkscrew curls fringed the back of her head. She was
+stout, and sat heavily in the gig. The man wore a grey suit, too short in
+the trousers--at least they appeared so as he sat with his knees wide
+apart, and the toe of one heavy boot partly projecting at the side of the
+dash-board. A much-worn straw hat was drawn over his eyes, and he held a
+short whip in his red hand. He did not press his horse, but allowed the
+lazy animal to go jog-trot at his own pace. The panels of the gig had lost
+their original shining polish; the varnish had cracked and worn, till the
+surface was rough and grey. The harness was equally bare and worn, the
+reins mended more than once. The whole ramshackle concern looked as if it
+would presently fall to pieces, but the horse was in much too good a
+condition.
+
+When the four-in-hand had come within about a hundred yards, the farmer
+pulled his left rein hard, and drew his gig right out of the road on to
+the sward, and then stopped dead, to give the coach the full use of the
+way. As it passed he took off his straw hat, and his wife stooped low as a
+makeshift for bowing. An outsider might have thought that the aristocratic
+coach would have gone by this extremely humble couple without so much as
+noticing it. But the gentleman who was driving lifted his hat to the dowdy
+lady, with a gesture of marked politeness, and a young and
+elegantly-dressed lady, his sister, nodded and smiled, and waved her hand
+to her. After the coach had rolled some fifty yards away, the farmer
+pulled into the road, and went on through the cloud of dust it had left
+behind it, with a complacent smile upon his hard and weather-worn
+features. 'A' be a nice young gentleman, the Honourable be,' said he
+presently. 'So be Lady Blanche,' replied his wife, lifting her veil and
+looking back after the four-in-hand. 'I'm sure her smile's that sweet it
+be a pleasure for to see her.'
+
+Half a mile farther the farmer drew out of the road again, drove close to
+the hedge, stopped, and stood up to look over. A strongly-built young man,
+who had been driving the reaping machine in his shirt-sleeves, alighted
+from his seat and came across to the hedge.
+
+'Goes very well to-day,' he said, meaning that the machine answered.
+
+'You be got into a good upstanding piece, John,' replied the old man
+sharply in his thin jerky voice, which curiously contrasted with his still
+powerful frame. 'You take un in there and try un'--pointing to a piece
+where the crop had been beaten down by a storm, and where the reapers were
+at work. 'You had better put the rattletrap thing away, John, and go in
+and help they. Never wasted money in all my life over such a thing as that
+before. What be he going to do all the winter? Bide and rust, I 'spose.
+Can you put un to cut off they nettles along the ditch among they stones?'
+
+'It would break the knives,' said the son.
+
+'But you could cut um with a hook, couldn't you?' asked the old man, in a
+tone that was meant to convey withering contempt of a machine that could
+only do one thing, and must perforce lie idle ten months of the year.
+
+'That's hardly a fair way of looking at it,' the son ventured.
+
+'John,' said his mother, severely, 'I can't think how you young men can
+contradict your father. I'm sure young men never spoke so in my time; and
+I'm sure your father has been prospered in his farming' (she felt her silk
+dress), 'and has done very well without any machines, which cost a deal of
+money--and Heaven knows there's a vast amount going out every day.'
+
+A gruff voice interrupted her--one of the reapers had advanced along the
+hedge, with a large earthenware jar in his hand.
+
+'Measter,' he shouted to the farmer in the gig, 'can't you send us out
+some better tackle than this yer stuff?'
+
+He poured some ale out of the jar on the stubble with an expression of
+utter disgust.
+
+'It be the same as I drink myself,' said the farmer, sharply, and
+immediately sat down, struck the horse, and drove off.
+
+His son and the labourer--who could hardly have been distinguished apart
+so far as their dress went--stood gazing after him for a few minutes. They
+then turned, and each went back to his work without a word.
+
+The farmer drove on steadily homewards at the same jog-trot pace that had
+been his wont these forty years. The house stood a considerable distance
+back from the road: it was a gabled building of large size, and not
+without interest. It was approached by a drive that crossed a green, where
+some ducks were waddling about, and entered the front garden, which was
+surrounded by a low wall. Within was a lawn and an ancient yew tree. The
+porch was overgrown with ivy, and the trees that rose behind the grey
+tiles of the roof set the old house in a frame of foliage. A fine old
+English homestead, where any man might be proud to dwell. But the farmer
+did not turn up the drive. He followed the road till he came to a gate
+leading into the rickyard, and, there getting out of the gig, held the
+gate open while the horse walked through. He never used the drive or the
+front door, but always came in and went out at the back, through the
+rickyard.
+
+The front garden and lawn were kept in good order, but no one belonging to
+the house ever frequented it. Had any stranger driven up to the front
+door, he might have hammered away with the narrow knocker--there was no
+bell--for half an hour before making any one hear, and then probably it
+would have been by the accident of the servant going by the passage, and
+not by dint of noise. The household lived in the back part of the house.
+There was a parlour well furnished, sweet with flowers placed there fresh
+daily, and with the odour of those in the garden, whose scent came in at
+the ever open window; but no one sat in it from week's end to week's end.
+The whole life of the inmates passed in two back rooms--a sitting-room and
+kitchen.
+
+With some slight concessions to the times only, Farmer M---- led the life
+his fathers led before him, and farmed his tenancy upon the same
+principles. He did not, indeed, dine with the labourers, but he ate very
+much the same food as they did. Some said he would eat what no labourer or
+servant would touch; and, as he had stated, drank the same smallest of
+small beer. His wife made a large quantity of home-made wine every year,
+of which she partook in a moderate degree, and which was the liquor
+usually set before visitors. They rose early, and at once went about their
+work. He saw his men, and then got on his horse and rode round the farm.
+He returned to luncheon, saw the men again, and again went out and took a
+turn of work with them. He rode a horse because of the distance--the farm
+being large--not for pleasure. Without it he could not have visited his
+fields often enough to satisfy himself that the labourers were going on
+with their work. He did not hunt, nor shoot--he had the right, but never
+exercised it; though occasionally he was seen about the newly-sown fields
+with a single-barrel gun, firing at the birds that congregated in crowds.
+Neither would he allow his sons to shoot or hunt.
+
+One worked with the labourers, acting as working bailiff--it was he who
+drove the reaping machine, which, after long argument and much persuasion
+the farmer bought, only to grumble at and abuse every day afterwards. The
+other was apprenticed as a lad to a builder and carpenter of the market
+town, and learned the trade exactly as the rest of the men did there. He
+lodged in the town in the cheapest of houses, ate hard bread and cheese
+with the carpenters and masons and bricklayers, and was glad when the
+pittance he received was raised a shilling a week. Once now and then he
+walked over to the farm on Sundays or holidays--he was not allowed to come
+too often. They did not even send him in a basket of apples from the great
+orchard; all the apples were carefully gathered and sold.
+
+These two sons were now grown men, strong and robust, and better educated
+than would have been imagined--thanks to their own industry and good
+sense, and not to any schooling they received. Two finer specimens of
+physical manhood it would have been difficult to find, yet their wages
+were no more than those of ordinary labourers and workmen. The bailiff,
+the eldest, had a pound a week, out of which he had to purchase every
+necessary, and from which five shillings were deducted for lodgings. It
+may be that he helped himself to various little perquisites, but his
+income from every source was not equal to that of a junior clerk. The
+other nominally received more, being now a skilled workman; but as he had
+to pay for his lodgings and food in town, he was really hardly so well
+off. Neither of these young men had the least chance of marrying till
+their father should die; nothing on earth would induce him to part with
+the money required to set the one in business up or the other in a
+separate farm. He had worked all his time under his father, and it seemed
+to him perfectly natural that his sons should work all their time under
+him.
+
+There was one daughter, and she, too, was out at work. She was housekeeper
+to an infirm old farmer; that is to say, she superintended the dairy and
+the kitchen, and received hardly as much as a cook in a London
+establishment. Like the sons, she was finely developed physically, and had
+more of the manners of a lady than seemed possible under the
+circumstances.
+
+Her father's principles of farming were much the same as his plan of
+housekeeping and family government. It consisted of never spending any
+money. He bought no machines. The reaping machine was the one exception,
+and a bitter point with the old man. He entered on no extensive draining
+works, nor worried his landlord to begin them. He was content with the
+tumble-down sheds till it was possible to shelter cattle in them no
+longer. Sometimes he was compelled to purchase a small quantity of
+artificial manure, but it was with extreme reluctance. He calculated to
+produce sufficient manure in the stalls, for he kept a large head of
+fattening cattle, and sheep to the greatest extent possible. He would
+rather let a field lie fallow, and go without the crop from it, till
+nature had restored the exhausted fertility, than supply that fertility at
+the cost of spending money. The one guiding motto of his life was 'Save,
+not invest.' When once he got hold of a sovereign he parted with it no
+more; not though all the scientific professors in the world came to him
+with their analyses, and statistics, and discoveries. He put it in the
+bank, just as his father would have put it into a strong box under his
+bed. There it remained, and the interest that accrued, small as it was,
+was added to it.
+
+Yet it was his pride to do his land well. He manured it well, because he
+kept cattle and sheep, especially the latter, to the fullest capacity of
+his acreage; and because, as said before, he could and did afford to let
+land lie fallow when necessary. He was in no hurry. He was not anxious for
+so much immediate percentage upon an investment in artificial manure or
+steam-plough. He might have said, with a greater man, 'Time and I are
+two.' It was Time, the slow passage of the years, that gave him his
+profit. He was always providing for the future; he was never out of
+anything, because he was never obliged to force a sale of produce in order
+to get the ready cash to pay the bank its interest upon borrowed money. He
+never borrowed; neither did he ever make a speech, or even so much as
+attend a farmers' club, to listen to a scientific lecture. But his teams of
+horses were the admiration of the country side--no such horses came into
+the market town. His rent was paid punctually, and always with country
+bank-notes--none of your clean, newfangled cheques, or Bank of England
+crisp paper, but soiled, greasy country notes of small denomination.
+
+Farmer M---- never asked for a return or reduction of his rent. The
+neighbours said that he was cheaply rented: that was not true in regard to
+the land itself. But he certainly was cheaply rented if the condition of
+the farm was looked at. In the course of so many long years of careful
+farming he had got his place into such a state of cultivation that it
+could stand two or three bad seasons without much deterioration. The same
+bad seasons quite spoiled the land of such of his neighbours as had relied
+upon a constant application of stimulants to the soil. The stimulating
+substances being no longer applied, as they could not afford to buy them,
+the land fell back and appeared poor.
+
+Farmer M---, of course, grumbled at the weather, but the crops belied his
+lips. He was, in fact, wealthy--not the wealth that is seen in cities, but
+rich for a countryman. He could have started both his sons in business
+with solid capital. Yet he drank small beer which the reapers despised,
+and drove about in a rusty old gig, with thousands to his credit at that
+old country bank. When he got home that afternoon, he carefully put away
+some bags of coin for the wages of the men, which he had been to fetch,
+and at once started out for the rickyard, to see how things were
+progressing. So the Honourable on the tall four-in-hand saluted with
+marked emphasis the humble gig that pulled right out of the road to give
+him the way, and the Lady Blanche waved her hand to the dowdy in the dusty
+black silk with her sweetest smile. The Honourable, when he went over the
+farm with his breechloader, invariably came in and drank a glass of the
+small beer. The Lady Blanche, at least once in the autumn, rode up,
+alighted, and drank one glass of the home-made wine with the dowdy. Her
+papa, the landlord, was an invalid, but he as invariably sent a splendid
+basket of hot-house grapes. But Farmer M---- was behind the age.
+
+Had he looked over the hedge in the evening, he might have seen a row of
+reapers walking down the road at the sudden sound of a jingling bell
+behind them, open their line, and wheel like a squad, part to the right
+and part to the left, to let the bicycle pass. After it had gone by they
+closed their rank, and trudged on toward the village. They had been at
+work all day in the uplands among the corn, cutting away with their hooks
+low down the yellow straw. They began in the early morning, and had first
+to walk two miles or more up to the harvest field. Stooping, as they
+worked, to strike low enough, the hot sun poured his fierce rays upon
+their shoulders and the backs of their necks. The sinews of the right arm
+had continually to drive the steel through straw and tough weeds entangled
+in the wheat. There was no shadow to sit under for luncheon, save that at
+the side of the shocks, where the sheaves radiated heat and interrupted
+the light air, so that the shadow was warmer than the sunshine. Coarse
+cold bacon and bread, cheese, and a jar of small beer, or a tin can of
+weak cold tea, were all they had to supply them with fresh strength for
+further labour.
+
+At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were resumed,
+and the walk home began. After so many hours of wearisome labour it was
+hardly strange that their natural senses were dulled--that they did not
+look about them, nor converse gaily. By mutual, if unexpressed consent,
+they intended to call at the wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on
+the hard bench outside, and take a quart of stronger ale. Thus trudging
+homewards after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent
+approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell. When he had
+passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped away along the
+dry and dusty road. He was a tall young gentleman, whose form was well set
+off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle costume. He rode well and with
+perfect command--the track left in the dust was straight, there was no
+wobbling or uncertainty.
+
+'That be a better job than ourn, you,' said one of the men, as they
+watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.
+
+'Ay,' replied his mate, 'he be a vine varmer, he be.'
+
+Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his utmost speed,
+and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor would ha e cared if he
+had. He was in haste, for he was late, and feared every minute to hear the
+distant dinner bell. It was his vacation, and Master Phillip, having
+temporarily left his studies, was visiting a gentleman who had taken a
+country mansion and shooting for the season. His host had accumulated
+wealth in the 'City,' and naturally considered himself an authority on
+country matters. Master Phillip's 'governor' was likewise in a large way
+of business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing for
+one of his sons to 'go in' for agriculture--a highly genteel occupation,
+if rightly followed, with capital and intelligence. Phillip liked to ride
+his bicycle in the cool of the evening, and was supposed in these
+excursions to be taking a survey of the soil and the crops, and to be
+comparing the style of agriculture in the district to that to which he had
+been trained while pursuing his studies. He slipped past the wayside inn;
+he glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village; and
+then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went by a
+rickyard. Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load of the
+evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working among and
+directing the rest. The bicyclist without a glance rode on, and shortly
+after reached the lodge gates. They were open, in anticipation of his
+arrival.
+
+He rode up the long drive, across the park, under the old elms, and
+alighted at the mansion before the dinner bell rang, much to his relief;
+for his host had more than one daughter, and Phillip liked to arrange his
+toilet to perfection before he joined their society. His twenty-five-guinea
+dressing-case, elaborately fitted up--too completely indeed, for he had no
+use for the razor--soon enabled him to trim and prepare for the
+dining-room. His five-guinea coat, elegant studs, spotless shirt and
+wristbands, valuable seal ring on one finger, patent leather boots,
+keyless watch, eyeglass, gold toothpick in one pocket, were all carefully
+selected, and in the best possible style. Mr. Phillip--he would have
+scorned the boyish 'master'--was a gentleman, from the perfumed locks
+above to the polished patent leather below. There was _ton_ in his very
+air, in the 'ah, ah,' of his treble London tone of voice, the antithesis
+of the broad country bass. He had a firm belief in the fitness of
+things--in the unities, so to speak, of suit, action, and time.
+
+When his team were struggling to force the ball by kick, or other
+permitted means, across the tented field, Phillip was arrayed in accurate
+football costume. When he stood on the close-mown lawn within the
+white-marked square of tennis and faced the net, his jacket was barred or
+striped with scarlet. Then there was the bicycle dress, the morning coat,
+the shooting jacket, and the dinner coat, not to mention the Ulster or
+Connaught overcoat, the dust coat, and minor items innumerable. Whether
+Phillip rolled in the mire at football, or bestrode a bicycle, or sat down
+to snow-white tablecloth and napkin, he conscientiously dressed the part.
+The very completeness of his prescribed studies--the exhaustive character
+of the curriculum-naturally induced a frame of mind not to be satisfied
+with anything short of absolute precision, and perhaps even apt to extend
+itself into dilettanteism.
+
+Like geology, the science of agriculture is so vast, it embraces so wide a
+range, that one really hardly knows where it begins or ends. Phillip's
+knowledge was universal. He understood all about astronomy, and had
+prepared an abstract of figures proving the connection of sun-spots,
+rainfall, and the price of wheat. Algebra was the easiest and at the same
+time the most accurate mode of conducting the intricate calculations
+arising out of the complicated question of food--of flesh formers and heat
+generators--that is to say, how much a sheep increased in weight by
+gnawing a turnip. Nothing could be more useful than botany-those who could
+not distinguish between a dicotyledon and a monocotyledon could certainly
+never rightly grasp the nature of a hedgerow. _Bellis perennis_ and
+_Sinapis arvensis_ were not to be confounded, and _Triticum repens_ was a
+sure sign of a bad farmer. Chemistry proved that too small a quantity of
+silicate made John Barleycorn weak in the knee; ammonia, animal
+phosphates, nitrogen, and so on, were mere names to many ignorant folk.
+The various stages and the different developments of insect life were next
+to be considered.
+
+As to the soil and strata--the very groundwork of a farm--geology was the
+true guide to the proper selection of suitable seed. Crops had been
+garnered by the aid of the electric light, the plough had been driven by
+the Gramme machine; electricity, then, would play a foremost part in
+future farming, and should be studied with enthusiasm. Without mathematics
+nothing could be done; without ornithological study, how know which bird
+revelled on grain and which destroyed injurious insects? Spectrum analysis
+detected the adulteration of valuable compounds; the photographer recorded
+the exact action of the trotting horse; the telephone might convey orders
+from one end of an estate to the other; and thus you might go through the
+whole alphabet, the whole cyclopaedia of science, and apply every single
+branch to agriculture.
+
+It is to be hoped that Phillip's conversational account of his studies has
+been correctly reproduced here. The chemical terms look rather weak, but
+the memory of an ordinary listener can hardly be expected to retain such a
+mass of technicalities. He had piles of strongly-bound books, the reward
+of successful examinations, besides diplomas and certificates of
+proficiency. These subjects could be pursued under cover, but there was
+besides the field work, which had a more practical sound; model farms to
+be visited; steam-engines to be seen at work; lectures to be listened to
+on the spot; deep-drainage operations, a new drill, or a new sheaf-binder
+to be looked at. Then there were the experimental plots--something like
+the little _parterres_ seen at the edge of lawns.
+
+One plot was sown without manure, another was sown with manure, a third
+had a different kind of manure. The dozen mangolds grown in one patch were
+pulled up and carefully weighed. The grains of wheat in an ear standing in
+an adjacent patch were counted and recorded. As these plots were about a
+yard wide, and could be kept clean, no matter what the weather; and as a
+wheelbarrow load of clay, or chalk, or sand thrown down would alter the
+geological formation, the results obtained from them were certainly
+instructive, and would be very useful as a guide to the cultivation of a
+thousand acres. There was also a large, heavy iron roller, which the
+scholars could if they chose drag round and round the gravel path.
+
+Architecture, again, touches the agriculturist nearly. He requires
+buildings for the pigs, cattle, horses, labourers, engine and machinery,
+lastly, for himself. Out of doors almost any farmhouse that could be
+visited might be made by a lecturer an illustrative example of what ought
+to be avoided. Scarcely one could be found that was not full of
+mistakes--utterly wrong, and erected regardless of design and utility.
+Within doors, with ink, tracing paper, compasses, straight-edge and ruler,
+really valuable ground plans, front elevations, and so on, could be laid
+down. Altogether, with this circle of science to study, the future farmer
+had very hard work to face. Such exhaustive mental labour induced a
+certain nervousness that could only be allayed by relaxation. The bicycle
+afforded a grateful change. Mounted upon the slender, swift-revolving
+wheel, Mr. Phillip in the cool of the evening, after the long day of
+study, sometimes proceeded to stretch his limbs. The light cigar soothed
+his weary and overstrained mind.
+
+The bicycle by-and-by, as if drawn by the power of gravitation, approached
+more and more nearly to the distant town. It threaded the streets, and
+finally stopped in the archway of an inn. There, leaned against the wall,
+under the eye of the respectful ostler, the bicycle reposed. The owner
+strolled upstairs, and in the company of choice spirits studied the laws
+of right angles, of motion, and retarding friction, upon the level surface
+of the billiard table. Somewhere in a not much frequented street there
+could be seen a small window in which a coloured plate of fashions was
+always displayed. There were also some bonnets, trimming, and tasteful
+feathers. Nothing could be more attractive than this window. The milliner
+was young and pretty, and seemed to have a cousin equally young and
+pretty. Poor, lonely, friendless creatures, it was not surprising they
+should welcome a little flirtation. The bicycle which so swiftly carries
+the young man of the present day beyond the penetrating vision of his aunt
+or tutor has much to answer for.
+
+But, as pointed out previously, such exhaustive scientific training
+naturally tends to make the mind mathematical. It cannot be satisfied
+unless its surroundings--the substantial realisation of the concrete-are
+perfect. So Mr. Phillip had a suit for every purpose--for football,
+cricket, tennis, bicycle, shooting, dining, and strolling about. In the
+same way he possessed a perfect armoury of athletic and other useful
+implements. There were fine bats by the best makers for cricket, rods for
+trout fishing, splendid modified choke-bores, saddles, jockey caps, and so
+on. A gentleman like this could hardly long remain in the solitary halls
+of learning--society must claim him for parties, balls, dinners, and the
+usual round. It was understood that his 'governor' was a man of
+substantial wealth; that Phillip would certainly be placed in an extensive
+farm, to play the pleasant part of a gentleman farmer. People with
+marriageable daughters looked upon the clever scholar as a desirable
+addition to their drawing-rooms. Phillip, in short, found himself by
+degrees involved in a whirl of festivities, and was never at a loss where
+to go for amusement when he could obtain leave to seek relaxation. If such
+social adulation made him a little vain, if it led to the purchase of a
+twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, and to frequent consultations with the
+tailor, it really was not Phillip's fault. He felt himself popular, and
+accepted the position.
+
+When the vacation came, gathering up a fresh pile of grandly-bound prize
+books, broad sheets of diplomas, and certificates, Phillip departed to his
+friend's mansion for the partridge shooting. Coming down the road on the
+bicycle he overtook the reapers, and sprang his bell to warn them. The
+reapers thought Phillip's job better than theirs.
+
+At dinner, while sipping his claret, Phillip delivered his opinion upon
+the agriculture of the district, which he had surveyed from his bicycle.
+It was incomplete, stationary, or retrograde. The form of the fields alone
+was an index to the character of the farmers who cultivated them. Not one
+had a regular shape. The fields were neither circles, squares,
+parallelograms, nor triangles. One side, perhaps, might be straight; the
+hedgerow on the other had a dozen curves, and came up to a point. With
+such irregular enclosures it was impossible that the farmer could plan out
+his course with the necessary accuracy. The same incompleteness ran
+through everything--one field was well tilled, the next indifferently, the
+third full of weeds. Here was a good modern cattle-shed, well-designed for
+the purpose; yonder was a tumble-down building, with holes in the roof and
+walls.
+
+So, too, with the implements--a farmer never seemed to have a complete
+set. One farmer had, perhaps, a reaping machine, but he had not got an
+elevator; another had an elevator, but no steam-plough. No one had a full
+set of machinery. If they drained, they only drained one field; the entire
+farm was never by any possibility finished straight off. If the farmer had
+two new light carts of approved construction, he was sure to have three
+old rumbling waggons, in drawing which there was a great waste of power.
+Why not have all light carts? There was no uniformity. The farming mind
+lacked breadth of view, and dwelt too much on detail. It was not, of
+course, the fault of the tenants of the present day, but the very houses
+they inhabited were always put in the wrong place. Where the ground was
+low, flat, and liable to be flooded, the farmhouse was always built by a
+brook. When the storms of winter came the brook overflowed, and the place
+was almost inaccessible. In hilly districts, where there was not much
+water, the farmhouse was situate on the slope, or perhaps on the plateau
+above, and in summer very likely every drop of water used had to be drawn
+up there from a distance in tanks.
+
+The whole of rural England, in short, wanted rearranging upon mathematical
+principles. To begin at the smallest divisions, the fields should be
+mapped out like the squares of a chessboard; next, the parishes; and,
+lastly, the counties. You ought to be able to work steam-ploughing tackle
+across a whole parish, if the rope could be made strong enough. If you
+talked with a farmer, you found him somehow or other quite incapable of
+following a logical sequence of argument. He got on very well for a few
+sentences, but, just as one was going to come to the conclusion, his mind
+seized on some little paltry detail, and refused to move any farther. He
+positively could not follow you to a logical conclusion. If you, for
+instance, tried to show him that a certain course of cropping was the
+correct one for certain fields, he would listen for awhile, and then
+suddenly declare that the turnips in one of the said fields last year were
+a failure. That particular crop of turnips had nothing at all to do with
+the system at large, but the farmer could see nothing else.
+
+What had struck him most, however, in that particular district, as he
+traversed it on the bicycle, was the great loss of time that must result
+from the absence of rapid means of communication on large farms. The
+distance across a large farm might, perhaps, be a mile. Some farms were
+not very broad, but extended in a narrow strip for a great way. Hours were
+occupied in riding round such farms, hours which might be saved by simple
+means. Suppose, for example, that a gang of labourers were at work in the
+harvest-field, three-quarters of a mile from the farmhouse. Now, why not
+have a field telegraph, like that employed in military operations? The
+cable or wire was rolled on a drum like those used for watering a lawn.
+All that was needed was to harness a pony, and the drum would unroll and
+lay the wire as it revolved. The farmer could then sit in his office and
+telegraph his instructions without a moment's delay. He could tap the
+barometer, and wire to the bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the
+mercury was falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the
+farmer to go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
+merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to him: why
+should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could drive the
+farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in short, do
+everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any required spot
+with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his office chair, the farmer
+could control the operations of the farm without once soiling his hands.
+Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his remarks, reached his glass of claret, and
+thus incidentally exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+
+A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war drums
+by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at the bramble
+flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower to flower, seeking
+the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as their bee ancestors did
+before the Roman legions marched to Cowey Stakes. Their habits have not
+changed; their 'social' relations are the same; they have not called in
+the aid of machinery to enlarge their liquid, wealth, or to increase the
+facility of collecting it. There is a low murmur rather than a buzz along
+the hedgerow; but over it the hot summer breeze brings the thumping,
+rattling, booming sound of hollow metal striking against the ground or in
+contact with other metal. These ringing noises, which so little accord
+with the sweet-scented hay and green hedgerows, are caused by the careless
+handling of milk tins dragged hither and thither by the men who are
+getting the afternoon milk ready for transit to the railway station miles
+away. Each tin bears a brazen badge engraved with the name of the milkman
+who will retail its contents in distant London. It may be delivered to the
+countess in Belgravia, and reach her dainty lip in the morning chocolate,
+or it may be eagerly swallowed up by the half-starved children of some
+back court in the purlieus of the Seven Dials.
+
+Sturdy milkmaids may still be seen in London, sweeping the crowded
+pavement clear before them as they walk with swinging tread, a yoke on
+their shoulders, from door to door. Some remnant of the traditional dairy
+thus survives in the stony streets that are separated so widely from the
+country. But here, beside the hay, the hedgerows, the bees, the flowers
+that precede the blackberries--here in the heart of the meadows the
+romance has departed. Everything is mechanical or scientific. From the
+refrigerator that cools the milk, the thermometer that tests its
+temperature, the lactometer that proves its quality, all is mechanical
+precision. The tins themselves are metal--wood, the old country material
+for almost every purpose, is eschewed--and they are swung up into a waggon
+specially built for the purpose. It is the very antithesis of the jolting
+and cumbrous waggon used for generations in the hay-fields and among the
+corn. It is light, elegantly proportioned, painted, varnished--the work
+rather of a coachbuilder than a cartwright. The horse harnessed in it is
+equally unlike the cart-horse. A quick, wiry horse, that may be driven in
+a trap or gig, is the style--one that will rattle along and catch the
+train.
+
+The driver takes his seat and handles the reins with the air of a man
+driving a tradesman's van, instead of walking, like the true old carter,
+or sitting on the shaft. The vehicle rattles off to the station, where
+ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty such converge at the same hour, and then
+ensues a scene of bustle, chaff, and rough language. The tins are placed
+in the van specially reserved for them, the whistle sounds, the
+passengers--who have been wondering why on earth there was all this noise
+and delay at a little roadside station without so much as a visible
+steeple--withdraw their heads from the windows; the wheels revolve, and,
+gathering speed, the train disappears round the curve, hastening to the
+metropolis. Then the empty tins returned from town have to be conveyed
+home with more rattling, thumping and booming of hollow tin--there to be
+carefully cleansed, for which purpose vast quantities of hot water must be
+ready, and coal, of course, must be consumed in proportion.
+
+This beautiful afternoon the booming seems to sound more than usual; it
+may perhaps be the wind that carries the noise along. But Mr. George, the
+farmer, who has been working among the haymakers, steps out from the rank,
+and going some way aside pauses awhile to consider. You should not address
+him as Farmer George. Farmer as an affix is not the thing now; farmers are
+'Mr. So-and-so.' Not that there is any false pride about the present
+individual; his memory goes back too far, and he has had too much
+experience of the world. He leans on his prong--the sharp forks worn
+bright as silver from use--stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on
+the top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
+The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and thus
+gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.
+
+He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight into the
+teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and odd summers
+past. Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of the master haymaker
+must be always watching the horizon to windward. He depends on the sky,
+like the mariner, and spreads his canvas and shapes his course by the
+clouds. He must note their varying form and drift; the height and
+thickness and hue; whether there is a dew in the evenings; whether the
+distant hills are clearly defined or misty; and what the sunset portends.
+From the signs of the sunset he learns, like the antique Roman
+husbandman--
+
+     'When the south projects a stormy day,
+      And when the clearing north will puff the clouds away.'
+
+According as the interpretation of the signs be favourable, adverse, or
+doubtful, so he gives his orders.
+
+This afternoon, as he stands leaning on the prong, he marks the soft air
+which seems itself to be heated, and renders the shade, if you seek it for
+coolness, as sultry as the open field. The flies are numerous and
+busy--the horses can barely stand still, and nod their heads to shake them
+off. The hills seem near, and the trees on the summit are distinctly
+visible. Such noises as are heard seem exaggerated and hollow. There is
+but little cloud, mere thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and
+the blue of the sky is hard and opaque. Farmer George recollects that the
+barometer he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does
+not like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze. There is a
+large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for carting,
+indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can, and the rest,
+if left spread about through next day--Sunday--would be fit on Monday.
+
+On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the sun, if it
+shines, works as hard and effectually as ever. It is always a temptation
+to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay spread about for Sunday, so
+that on Monday morning he may find it made. Another reason why he
+hesitates is because he knows he will have trouble with the labourers, who
+will want to be off early as it is Saturday. They are not so ready to work
+an hour or two overtime as when he was a boy. On the other hand, he
+recollects that the weather cablegrams from America foretell the arrival
+of a depression. What would his grandfather have thought of adjusting the
+work in an English meadow to the tenour of news from the other side of the
+Atlantic?
+
+Suddenly, while he ponders, there arises a shout from the labourers. The
+hay in one spot, as if seized by an invisible force, lifts itself up and
+revolves round and round, rising higher every turn. A miniature cyclone is
+whirling it up--a column of hay twisting in a circle and rising above the
+trees. Then the force of the whirlwind spends itself; some of the hay
+falls on the oaks, and some drifts with the breeze across the field before
+it sinks.
+
+This decides him at once. He resolves to have all the hay carted that he
+can, and the remainder put up into haycocks. The men grumble when they
+hear it; perhaps a year ago they would have openly mutinied, and refused
+to work beyond the usual hour. But, though wages are still high, the
+labourers feel that they are not so much the masters as they were--they
+grumble, but obey. The haycocks are put up, and the rick-cloth unfolded
+over the partly made rick. Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth
+does not touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go
+through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and firmly
+belayed. His caution is justified in the night by a violent thunderstorm,
+and in the morning it is raining steadily.
+
+It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Thursday it does not
+rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the grass hung with
+raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting cloud. The hay cannot be
+touched; it must lie a day till sufficiently dry. Friday is more hopeful.
+He walks out into the fields, and kicks a haycock half over. The hay is
+still wet, but he congratulates himself that not much damage is done.
+Saturday Is warm and fine--work goes on again. But Sunday is near. Sunday
+is fiery hot. Monday, the rain pours down with tropical vehemence.
+
+Thus the monotonous, heart-breaking days go by and lengthen into weeks,
+and the weeks extend into months. The wheat is turning colour, and still
+the hay lies about, and the farmer has ceased even to tap the barometer.
+Those fields that are not cut are brown as brown can be--the grass has
+seeded and is over ripe. The labourers come every day, and some trifling
+job is found for them--the garden path is weeded, the nettles cut, and
+such little matters done. Their wages are paid every week in silver and
+gold--harvest wages, for which no stroke of harvest work has been done. He
+must keep them on, because any day the weather may brighten, and then they
+will be wanted. But the weather does not brighten, and the drain of ready
+cash continues. Besides the men, the mowing machine is idle in the shed.
+Even if the rain ceases, the crops are so laid that it is doubtful if it
+can be employed. The horse-rake is idle, the elevator is idle, the
+haymaking machine is idle, and these represent capital, if not to a large
+amount. He notes the price of hay at the market. For months past it has
+been low--so low that it has hardly paid him to sell that portion of old
+hay which he felt he could spare. From October of last year to June of
+this [1879] the price remained about the same. It is now rising, but he
+has no more old hay to part with, and the new is not yet made. He has to
+bear in mind that his herd of cows has to be kept in high feed all the
+winter, to supply an unvarying quantity of milk to the London purchaser.
+
+These wet days, forcing him unwillingly to stay within doors, send him to
+his books and accounts, and they tell a story somewhat at variance with
+the prevalent belief that dairy-farming is the only branch of farming that
+is still profitable. First, as to the milk-selling. Cows naturally yield a
+larger supply in the summer than in winter, but by the provisions of the
+contract between the farmer and the milkman the quantity sent in summer is
+not to exceed, and the quantity in winter not to fall short of, a
+stipulated amount.[Footnote: An improvement upon this system has been
+introduced by the leading metropolitan dairy company. The farmer is asked
+to fix a minimum quantity which he will engage to supply daily, but he can
+send as much more as he likes. This permits of economical and natural
+management in a dairy, which was very difficult under the rigid rule
+mentioned above.] The price received in summer is about fivepence or
+fivepence-halfpenny per imperial gallon, afterwards retailed in London at
+about one shilling and eightpence. When the cost of conveyance to the
+station, of the horses, of the wear and tear, of the men who have to be
+paid for doing nothing else but look after the milk, is deducted, the
+profit to the farmer is but small. He thinks, too, that he notices a
+decided falling-off in the demand for milk even at this price.
+
+Some dairies find a difficulty in disposing of the milk--they cannot find
+a purchaser. He has himself a considerable surplus over and above what the
+contract allows him to send. This must either be wasted entirely or made
+into butter and cheese. In order to make cheese, the plant, the tubs,
+vats, presses, and so on, must be kept in readiness, and there must be an
+experienced person to superintend the work. This person must be paid a
+salary, and lodge and board in the house, representing therefore a
+considerable outlay. The cheese, when made and sent to market, fluctuates
+of course in price: it may be as low as fourpence a pound wholesale; it
+may go as high as sixpence. Fourpence a pound wholesale will not pay for
+the making; sixpence will leave a profit; but of late the price has gone
+rather to the lower than the higher figure. A few years since, when the
+iron industries flourished, this kind of cheese had a good and ready sale,
+and there was a profit belonging to it; but since the iron trade has been
+in so depressed a condition this cheese has sold badly. The surplus milk
+consequently brings no profit, and is only made into cheese because it
+shall not be wasted, and in the hope that possibly a favourable turn of
+the cheese market may happen. Neither the summer cheese nor the summer
+milk is bringing him in a fortune.
+
+Meantime the hay is spoiling in the fields. But a few years ago, when
+agricultural prices were inflated, and men's minds were full of
+confidence, he recollects seeing standing grass crops sold by auction for
+5_l_. the acre, and in some cases even higher prices were realised. This
+year similar auctions of standing grass crops hardly realised 30_s_. an
+acre, and in some instances a purchaser could not be found even at that
+price. The difference in the value of grass represented by these prices is
+very great.
+
+He has no pigs to sell, because, for a long while past, he has had nothing
+upon which to feed them, the milk being sold. The pigsties are full of
+weeds; he can hardly fatten one for his own use, and has scarcely better
+facilities for keeping pigs than an agricultural labourer. The carriage of
+the milk to the station requires at least two quick horses, and perhaps
+more; one cannot do it twice a day, even with a very moderate load. The
+hard highway and the incessant work would soon knock a single horse up.
+The mowing machine and the horse-rake must be drawn by a similar horse, so
+that the dairy farm may be said to require a style of horse like that
+employed by omnibus proprietors. The acreage being limited, he can only
+keep a certain number of horses, and, therefore, has no room for a brood
+mare.
+
+Farmer George is aware that nothing now pays like a brood cart mare with
+fair good luck. The colt born in April is often sold six months
+afterwards, in September, for 20_l_. or 25_l_., and even up to 30_l_.,
+according to excellence. The value of cart-horse colts has risen greatly,
+and those who are fortunately able to maintain a brood mare have reaped
+the profit. But Mr. George, selling the milk, and keeping a whole stud of
+nags for the milk cart, the mowing machine, the horse-rake, and so forth,
+cannot maintain a brood mare as well. In the winter, it is true, the milk
+may sell for as high a price as tenpence per gallon of four quarts, but
+then he has a difficulty in procuring the quantity contracted for, and may
+perhaps have to buy of neighbours to keep up the precise supply.
+
+His herd must also be managed for the purpose, and must be well fed, and
+he will probably have to buy food for them in addition to his hay. The nag
+horses, too, that draw the milk waggon, have to be fed during the winter,
+and are no slight expense. As for fattening a beast in a stall, with a
+view to take the prize at Christmas at the local show, he has abandoned
+that, finding that it costs more to bring the animal up to the condition
+required than he can afterwards sell it for. There is no profit in that.
+America presses upon him hard, too--as hard, or harder, than on the
+wheat-grower. Cases have been known of American cheese being sold in
+manufacturing towns as low as twopence per pound retail--given away by
+despairing competition.
+
+How, then, is the dairyman to succeed when he cannot, positively cannot,
+make cheese to sell at less than fourpence per pound wholesale? Of course
+such instances are exceptional, but American cheese is usually sold a
+penny or more a pound below the English ordinary, and this cuts the ground
+from under the dairyman's feet; and the American cheese too is acquiring a
+reputation for richness, and, price for price, surpasses the English in
+quality. Some people who have long cherished a prejudice against the
+American have found, upon at last being induced to try the two, that the
+Canadian cheddar is actually superior to the English cheddar, the English
+selling at tenpence per pound and the Canadian at sevenpence.
+
+Mr. George finds he pays a very high rent for his grass land--some 50_s_.
+per acre--and upon reckoning up the figures in his account-books heaves a
+sigh. His neighbours perchance may be making fortunes, though they tell
+quite a different tale, but he feels that he is not growing rich. The work
+is hard, or rather it is continuous. No one has to attend to his duties so
+regularly all the year round as the man who looks after cows. They cannot
+be left a single day from the 1st of January to the 31st of December. Nor
+is the social state of things altogether pleasant to reflect on. His sons
+and daughters have all left home; not one would stay and take to the dairy
+work. They have gone into the towns, and found more congenial employment
+there. He is himself growing in years. His wife, having once left off
+making cheese when the milk selling commenced, and having tasted the
+sweets of rest, is unwilling to return to that hard labour. When it is
+done he must pay some one to do it.
+
+In every way ready money is going out of the house. Cash to pay the
+haymakers idling about in the sheds out of the rain; cash to pay the men
+who manage the milk; cash to pay the woman who makes the cheese out of the
+surplus milk; cash to pay the blacksmith for continually re-shoeing the
+milk cart nags and for mending machines; cash to pay the brewer and the
+butcher and the baker, neither of whom took a sovereign here when he was a
+lad, for his father ate his own bacon, brewed his own beer, and baked his
+own bread; cash to pay for the education of the cottagers' children; cash,
+a great deal of cash, to pay the landlord.
+
+Mr. George, having had enough of his accounts, rises and goes to the
+window. A rain cloud sweeping along the distant hills has hidden them from
+sight, and the rack hurries overhead driven before the stormy wind. There
+comes a knock at the door. It is the collector calling the second time for
+the poor rates, which have grown heavier of late.
+
+But, however delayed, the haymaking is finished at last, and by-and-by,
+when the leaves have fallen and the hunting commences, a good run drives
+away for the time at least the memory of so unpropitious a season. Then
+Mr. George some mild morning forms one of a little group of well-mounted
+farmers waiting at a quiet corner while the hounds draw a great wood. Two
+of them are men long past middle age, whose once tawny beards are
+grizzled, but who are still game, perhaps more so than the rising
+generation. The rest have followed them here, aware that these old hands
+know every inch of the country, and are certain to be in the right place.
+The spot is not far from the park wall, where the wood runs up into a
+wedge-shaped point, and ends in a low mound and hedge. Most of the company
+at the meet in the park have naturally cantered across the level sward,
+scattering the sheep as they go, and are now assembled along the side of
+the wood, near where a green 'drive' goes through it, and apparently gives
+direct access to the fields beyond. From thence they can see the huntsman
+in the wood occasionally, and trace the exact course the hounds are taking
+in their search.
+
+A gallant show it is by the wood! Horsemen and horsewomen, late comers
+hastening up, restless horses, a throng for ever in motion, and every now
+and then the blast of a horn rising up from the trees beneath. A gallant
+show indeed, but two old cunning ones and their followers have slipped
+away down to this obscure corner where they can see nothing of it, and are
+themselves hidden. They know that the wood is triangular in shape, and
+that from this, the apex, they have merely to pass the low hedge in front,
+and, turning to the left, ride along the lower side, and so bisect the
+course the fox will probably take. They know that the 'drive,' which
+offers so straight and easy a descent through the wood from the park, is
+pleasant enough till the lower ground is reached. There the soft, oozy
+earth, which can never dry under the trees, is poached into a slough
+through which even timber carriages cannot be drawn. Nor can a horseman
+slip aside, because of the ash poles and thorn thickets. Those who are
+trapped there must return to the park and gallop all round the wood
+outside, unless they like to venture a roll in that liquid mud. Any one
+can go to a meet, but to know all the peculiarities of the covers is only
+given to those who have ridden over the country these forty years. In this
+corner a detached copse of spruce fir keeps off the wind--the direction of
+which they have noted--and in this shelter it is almost warm.
+
+The distant crack of a whip, the solitary cry of a hound, a hollow shout,
+and similar sounds, come frequently, and now and then there is an
+irrepressible stir in the little group as they hear one of the many false
+alarms that always occur in drawing a great wood. To these noises they are
+keenly sensitive, but utterly ignore the signs of other life around them.
+A pheasant, alarmed by the hounds, comes running quietly, thinking to
+escape into the line of isolated copses that commences here; but, suddenly
+confronted by the horsemen just outside, rises with an uproar, and goes
+sailing down over the fields. Two squirrels, happy in the mild weather,
+frisk out of the copse into the dank grass, till a curvet of one of the
+horses frightens them up into the firs again.
+
+Horses and men are becoming impatient. 'That dalled keeper has left an
+earth open,' remarks one of the riders. His companion points with his whip
+at the hedge just where it joins the wood. A long slender muzzle is thrust
+for a moment cautiously over the bare sandy mound under cover of a thorn
+stole. One sniff, and it is withdrawn. The fox thought also to steal away
+along the copses, the worst and most baffling course he could choose. Five
+minutes afterwards, and there is this time no mistake. There comes from
+the park above the low, dull, rushing roar of hundreds of hoofs, that
+strike the sward together, and force by sheer weight the reluctant earth
+to resound. The two old hands lead over the hedge, and the little company,
+slipping along below the wood, find themselves well on the track, far in
+front of the main body. There is a block in the treacherous 'drive,' those
+who where foremost struggling to get back, and those behind struggling to
+come down. The rest at last, learning the truth, are galloping round the
+outside, and taking it out of their horses before they get on the course
+at all.
+
+It is a splendid burst, and the pace is terrible. The farmers' powerful
+horses find it heavy going across the fresh ploughed furrows and the wet
+'squishey' meadows, where the double mounds cannot be shirked. Now a lull,
+and the two old hands, a little at fault, make for the rising ground,
+where are some ricks, and a threshing machine at work, thinking from
+thence to see over the tall hedgerows. Upon the rick the labourers have
+stopped work, and are eagerly watching the chase, for from that height
+they can see the whole field. Yonder the main body have found a succession
+of fields with the gates all open: some carting is in progress, and the
+gates have been left open for the carter's convenience. A hundred horsemen
+and eight or ten ladies are galloping in an extended line along this
+route, riding hardest, as often happens, when the hounds are quiet, that
+they may be ready when the chiding commences.
+
+Suddenly the labourers exclaim and point, the hounds open, and the
+farmers, knowing from the direction they point where to ride, are off. But
+this time the fox has doubled, so that the squadrons hitherto behind are
+now closest up, and the farmers in the rear: thus the fortune of war
+changes, and the race is not to the swift. The labourers on the rick,
+which stands on the side of a hill, are fully as excited as the riders,
+and they can see what the hunter himself rarely views, _i.e._ the fox
+slipping ahead before the hounds. Then they turn to alternately laugh at,
+and shout directions to a disconsolate gentleman, who, ignorant of the
+district, is pounded in a small meadow. He is riding frantically round and
+round, afraid to risk the broad brook which encircles it, because of the
+treacherous bank, and maddened by the receding sound of the chase. A boy
+gets off the rick and runs to earn sixpence by showing a way out. So from
+the rick Hodge has his share of the sport, and at that elevation can see
+over a wide stretch of what he--changing the 'd' into a 'j'--calls 'the
+juke's country.'
+
+It is a famous land. There are spaces, which on the map look large, and
+yet have no distinctive character, no individuality as it were. Such broad
+expanses of plain and vale are usefully employed in the production of
+cattle and corn. Villages, hamlets, even towns are dotted about them, but
+a list of such places would not contain a single name that would catch the
+eye. Though occupying so many square miles, the district, so far as the
+world is concerned, is non-existent. It is socially a blank. But 'the
+juke's country' is a well-known land. There are names connected with it
+which are familiar not only in England, but all the world over, where
+men--and where do they not?--converse of sport. Something beyond mere
+utility, beyond ploughing and sowing, has given it within its bounds a
+species of separate nationality. The personal influence of an acknowledged
+leader has organised society and impressed it with a quiet enthusiasm.
+Even the bitterest Radical forgives the patrician who shoots or rides
+exceptionally well, and hunting is a pursuit which brings the peer and the
+commoner side by side.
+
+The agricultural population speak as one man upon the subject. The old
+farmer will tell you with pride how his advice was sought when disease
+entered the kennels, and how his remedy saved the lives of valuable
+hounds. The farmer's son, a mere lad, whose head barely rises to his
+saddle, talks of 'the duke' as his hero. This boy knows the country, and
+can ride straight, better than many a gentleman with groom and second
+horse behind. Already, like his elders, he looks forward impatiently to
+the fall of the leaf. The tenants' wives and daughters allude with
+pleasure to the annual social gatherings at the mansion, and it is
+apparent that something like a real bond exists between landlord and
+tenant. No false pride separates the one from the other--intercourse is
+easy, for a man of high and ancient lineage can speak freely to the
+humblest labourer without endangering his precedence. It needs none of the
+parvenu's _hauteur_ and pomp to support his dignity. Every tenant is
+treated alike.
+
+On small estates there is sometimes a complaint that the largest tenant is
+petted while the lesser are harshly treated. Nothing of that is known
+here. The tenants are as well content as it is possible for men to be who
+are passing under the universal depression. _Noblesse oblige_--it would be
+impossible for that ancient house to stoop to meanness. The head rides to
+the hunt, as his ancestors rode to battle, with a hundred horsemen behind
+him. His colours are like the cockades of olden times. Once now and then
+even Royalty honours the meet with its presence. Round that ancient house
+the goodwill of the county gathers; and when any family event--as a
+marriage--takes place, the hearty congratulations offered come from far
+beyond the actual property. His pastime is not without its use--all are
+agreed that hunting really does improve the breed of horses. Certainly it
+gives a life, a go, a social movement to the country which nothing else
+imparts.
+
+It is a pleasant land withal--a land of hill and vale, of wood and copse.
+How well remembered are the copses on the hills, and the steeples, those
+time-honoured landmarks to wandering riders! The small meadows with double
+mounds have held captive many a stranger. The river that winds through
+them enters by-and-by a small but ancient town, with its memories of the
+fierce Danes, and its present talk of the hunt. About five o'clock on
+winter afternoons there is a clank of spurs in the courtyard of the old
+inn, and the bar is crowded with men in breeches and top-boots. As they
+refresh themselves there is a ceaseless hum of conversation, how so-and-so
+came a cropper, how another went at the brook in style, or how some poor
+horse got staked and was mercifully shot. A talk, in short, like that in
+camp after a battle, of wounds and glory. Most of these men are tenant
+farmers, and reference is sure to be made to the price of cheese, and the
+forthcoming local agricultural show.
+
+This old market town has been noted for generations as a great cheese
+centre. It is not, perhaps, the most convenient situation for such a
+market, and its population is inconsiderable; but the trade is, somehow or
+other, a tradition of the place, and traditions are hard to shake. Efforts
+have been made to establish rival markets in towns nearer to the modern
+resorts of commerce, but in vain. The attempt has always proved a failure,
+and to this day the prices quoted at this place rule those of the
+adjoining counties, and are watched in distant cities. The depression made
+itself felt here in a very practical manner, for prices fell to such an
+extent that the manufacture of the old style of cheese became almost a
+dead loss. Some farmers abandoned it, and at much trouble and expense
+changed their system, and began to produce Cheddar and Stilton. But when
+the Stilton was at last ready, there was no demand for it. Almost
+suddenly, however, and quite recently, a demand sprang up, and the price
+of that cheese rose. They say here in the bar that this probably saved
+many from difficulties; large stocks that had been lying on hand
+unsaleable for months going off at a good price. They hope that it is an
+omen of returning prosperity, and do not fail to observe the remarkable
+illustration it affords of the close connection between trade and
+agriculture. For no sooner did the iron trade revive than the price of
+cheese responded. The elder men cannot refrain from chuckling over the
+altered tone of the inhabitants of cities towards the farmers. 'Years
+ago,' they say, 'we were held up to scorn, and told that we were quite
+useless; there was nothing so contemptible as the British farmer. Now they
+have discovered that, after all, we are some good, and even Manchester
+sympathises with us.'
+
+It is now hoped that the forthcoming local show--largely patronised and
+promoted by the chief of the hunting field--will be better than was at one
+time anticipated. Those who would like to see the real working of an
+agricultural show such as this should contrive to visit the yard early in
+the morning of the opening day, some few hours before the public are
+admitted. The bustle, the crash of excited exhibitors, the cries of men in
+charge of cattle, the apparently inextricable confusion, as if everything
+had been put off to the last moment--the whole scene is intensely
+agricultural. Every one is calling for the secretary. A drover wants to
+know where to put his fat cattle; a carter wants to ask where a great
+cart-horse is to stand--he and his horse together are hopelessly
+floundering about in the crowd. The agent of a firm of implement
+manufacturers has a telegram that another machine is coming, and is
+anxious for extra space; the representative of an artificial manure
+factory is vainly seeking a parcel that has got mislaid. The seedsman
+requires permission to somewhat shift his stall; wherever is the
+secretary?
+
+When he appears, a clergyman at once pounces on him to apply for tickets
+for the dinner, and is followed by a farmer, who must have a form and an
+explanation how to fill it up. One of his labourers has decided at the
+last minute to enter for a prize--he has had a year to make up his mind
+in. A crowd of members of the Society are pushing round for a private
+view, and watching the judges at their work. They all turn to the
+secretary to ask where such and such an exhibit may be found, and demand
+why on earth the catalogues are not ready? Mr. Secretary, a stout tenant
+farmer, in breeches and top-boots, whose broad face beams with good nature
+(selected, perhaps, for that very quality), pants and wipes his forehead,
+for, despite the cold, the exertion and the universal flurry have made him
+quiet hot. He gives every inquirer a civil answer, and affably begs the
+eager folk that press upon him to come up into the committee-room.
+
+At this a satisfied smile replaces the troubled expression upon their
+faces. They feel that their difficulties are at an end; they have got hold
+of the right man at last--there is something soothing in the very sound of
+the committee-room. When they get up into this important apartment they
+find it quite empty. There is a blazing fire in the grate, and littered on
+the long table is a mass of forms, letters, lists, and proofs of the
+catalogue waiting for the judges' decision to be entered. After half an
+hour or so their hopes begin to fall, and possibly some one goes down to
+try and haul the secretary up into his office. The messenger finds that
+much-desired man in the midst of an excited group; one has him by the arm
+pulling him forward, another by the coat dragging him back, a third is
+bawling at him at the top of a powerful voice.
+
+By-and-by, however, the secretary comes panting up into the committee-room
+with a letter in his hand and a pleased expression on his features. He
+announces that he has just had a note from his Grace, who, with his party,
+will be here early, and who hopes that all is going on well. Then to
+business, and it is surprising how quickly he disposes of it. A farmer
+himself, he knows exactly what is wanted, and gives the right order
+without a moment's hesitation. It is no new experience to him, and despite
+all this apparent confusion, everything presently falls into its place.
+
+After the opening of the show there is a meeting, at which certain prizes
+are distributed, among them rewards to the best ploughman in 'the juke's
+country,' and to those labourers who have remained longest in the service
+of one master. For the graceful duty of presentation a marchioness has
+been selected, who, with other visitors of high social rank, has come over
+from that famous hunting mansion. To meet that brilliant party the whole
+agricultural interest has assembled. The room is crowded with tenant
+farmers, the entire hunting field is present. Every clergyman in the
+district is here, together with the gentry, and many visitors for the
+hunting season. Among them, shoulder to shoulder, are numbers of
+agricultural labourers, their wives, and daughters, dressed in their best
+for the occasion. After some speeches, a name is called, and an aged
+labourer steps forward.
+
+His grandchildren are behind him; two of his sons, quite elderly
+themselves, attend him almost to the front, so that he may have to make
+but a few steps unsupported. The old man is frosted with age, and moves
+stiffly, like a piece of mechanism rather than a living creature, nor is
+there any expression--neither smile nor interest--upon his absolutely
+immobile features. He wears breeches and gaiters, and a blue coat cut in
+the style of two generations since. There is a small clear space in the
+midst of the well-dressed throng. There he stands, and for the moment the
+hum is hushed.
+
+For sixty years that old man laboured upon one farm; sixty years of
+ploughing and sowing, sixty harvests. What excitement, what discoveries
+and inventions--with what giant strides the world has progressed while he
+quietly followed the plough! An acknowledgment has been publicly awarded
+to him for that long and faithful service. He puts forth his arm; his dry,
+horny fingers are crooked, and he can neither straighten nor bend them.
+Not the least sign appears upon his countenance that he is even conscious
+of what is passing. There is a quick flash of jewelled rings ungloved to
+the light, and the reward is placed in that claw-like grasp by the white
+hand of the marchioness.
+
+Not all the gallant cavalry of the land fearlessly charging hedge and
+brook can, however, repel the invasion of a foe mightier than their chief.
+Frost sometimes comes and checks their gaiety. Snow falls, and levels
+every furrow, and then Hodge going to his work in the morning can clearly
+trace the track of one of his most powerful masters, Squire Reynard, who
+has been abroad in the night, and, likely enough, throttled the
+traditional grey goose. The farmer watches for the frozen thatch to drip;
+the gentleman visiting the stable looks up disconsolately at the icicles
+dependent from the slated eave with the same hope. The sight of a stray
+seagull wandering inland is gladly welcomed, as the harbinger of drenching
+clouds sweeping up on soft south-westerly gales from the nearest coast.
+
+
+The hunt is up once more, and so short are the hours of the day in the
+dead of the year, that early night often closes round the chase. From out
+of the gloom and the mist comes the distant note of the horn, with a weird
+and old-world sound. By-and-by the labourer, trudging homeward, is
+overtaken by a hunter whose horse's neck droops with weariness. His boots
+are splashed with mud, his coat torn by the thorns. He is a visitor,
+vainly trying to find his way home, having come some ten or fifteen miles
+across country since the morning. The labourer shows the route--the
+longest way round is the shortest at night--and as they go listens eagerly
+to the hunter's tale of the run. At the cross roads they part with mutual
+goodwill towards each other, and a shilling, easily earned, pays that
+night for the cottager's pipe and glass of ale.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+
+A pair of well-matched bays in silver-plated harness, and driven by a
+coachman in livery, turn an easy curve round a corner of the narrow
+country road, forcing you to step on the sward by the crimson-leaved
+bramble bushes, and sprinkling the dust over the previously glossy surface
+of the newly fallen horse chestnuts. Two ladies, elegantly dressed, lounge
+in the carriage with that graceful idleness--that indifferent
+indolence--only to be acquired in an atmosphere of luxury. Before they
+pass out of sight round another turn of the road it is possible to observe
+that one at least possesses hair of the fashionable hue, and a complexion
+delicately brilliant--whether wholly natural or partly aided by art. The
+other must be pronounced a shade less rich in the colours of youth, but is
+perhaps even more expensively dressed. An experienced observer would at
+once put them down as mother and daughter, as, indeed, they are.
+
+The polished spokes of the wheels glitter in the sun, the hoofs of the
+high-stepping pair beat the firm road in regular cadence, and smoothly the
+carriage rolls on till the brown beech at the corner hides it. But a sense
+of wealth, of social station, and refinement--strange and in strong
+contrast to the rustic scene--lingers behind, like a faint odour of
+perfume. There are the slow teams pulling stolidly at the ploughs--they
+were stopped, of course, for the carters to stare at the equipage; there
+are the wheat ricks; yonder a lone farmstead, and black cattle grazing in
+the pasture. Surely the costly bays, whose hoofs may even now be heard,
+must belong to the lordly owner of these broad acres--this undulating
+landscape of grass and stubble, which is not beautiful but evidently
+fertile!
+
+A very brief inquiry at the adjacent market town disposes of this natural
+conclusion. It is the carriage of a tenant farmer--but what a tenant! The
+shopkeepers here are eloquent, positively gratefully eloquent, in the
+praise of his wife and daughter. Customers!--no such customers had been
+known in the old borough from time immemorial. The tradesman as he speaks
+involuntarily pulls out his till, glances in, and shuts it up with a
+satisfied bang. The old style of farmer, solid and substantial enough,
+fumbling at the bottom of his canvas bag for silver and gold, was a crusty
+curmudgeon where silk and satin, kid gloves, and so forth were concerned.
+His wife had to look sharp after her poultry, geese and turkeys, and such
+similar perquisites, in order to indulge in any innocent vanity,
+notwithstanding that the rent was paid and a heavy balance at the bank.
+
+Then he would have such a length of credit--a year at least--and nowadays
+a shopkeeper, though sure of his money, cannot wait long for it. But to
+ask for the account was to give mortal offence. The bill would be paid
+with the remark, intended to be intensely sarcastic, 'Suppose you thought
+we was a-going to run away--eh?' and the door would never again be
+darkened by those antique breeches and gaiters. As for the common run of
+ordinary farmers, their wives bought a good deal, but wanted it cheap and,
+looking at the low price of corn and the 'paper' there was floating about,
+it did not do to allow a long bill to be run up. But the Grange
+people--ah! the Grange people put some life into the place. 'Money! they
+must have heaps of money' (lowering his voice to a whisper). 'Why, Mrs.
+---- brought him a fortune, sir; why, she's got a larger income than our
+squire' (as if it were, rank treason to say so). 'Mr. ---- has got money
+too, and bless you, they holds their heads as high as their landlord's,
+and good reason they should. They spend as much in a week as the squire do
+in a month, and don't cheapen nothing, and your cheque just whenever you
+like to ask for it. That's what I calls gentlefolks.' For till and counter
+gauge long descent, and heraldic quarterings, and ancestral Crusaders, far
+below the chink of ready money, that synonym for all the virtues.
+
+The Grange people, indeed, are so conspicuous, that there is little
+secrecy about them or their affairs. The house they reside in--it cannot
+be called a farmstead--is a large villa-like mansion of recent erection,
+and fitted with every modern convenience. The real farmstead which it
+supplanted lies in a hollow at some distance, and is occupied by the head
+bailiff, for there are several employed. As the architecture of the villa
+is consonant with modern 'taste,' so too the inferior is furnished in the
+'best style,' of course under the supervision of the mistress. Mrs. ----
+has filled it with rosewood and ormolu, with chairs completely gilt, legs,
+back, seat, and all, with luxurious ottomans, 'occasional' tables inlaid
+with mother-o'-pearl, soft carpets, polished brazen grate-fittings,
+semi-ecclesiastical, semi-mediaeval, and so forth.
+
+Everywhere the glitter of glass, mirrors over the mantelpieces, mirrors
+let into panels, glass chiffoniers, and pendent prisms of glass round the
+ornamental candlesticks. Mixed with this some of the latest productions of
+the new English Renaissance--stiff, straight-back, plain oak chairs, such
+as men in armour may have used--together with Japanese screens. In short,
+just such a medley of artistic styles as may be seen in scores of suburban
+villas where money is of little account, and even in houses of higher
+social pretensions. There is the usual illustrated dining-room literature,
+the usual _bric-à-brac_, the usual cabinet series of poets. There are oil
+paintings on the walls; there is an immense amount of the most expensive
+electroplate on the dinner table; the toilet accessories in the guest
+chambers are 'elegant' and _recherché_. The upholsterer has not been
+grudged.
+
+For Mrs. ---- is the daughter of a commercial man, one of the principals
+of a great firm, and has been accustomed to these things from her youth
+upwards. She has no sympathies with the past, that even yet is loth to
+quit its hold of the soil and of those who are bred upon it. The ancient
+simplicity and plainness of country life are positively repulsive to her;
+she associates them with poverty. Her sympathies are with warm,
+well-lighted rooms, full of comfort, shadowless because of the glare of
+much gas. She is not vulgar, just the reverse--she is a thorough lady, but
+she is not of the country and its traditions. She is the city and the
+suburb transplanted to the midst of corn, and grass, and cattle. She has
+her maid, skilled in the toilet, her carriage and pair and pony carriage,
+grooms, footmen, just exactly as she would have done had she brought her
+magnificent dowry to a villa at Sydenham.
+
+In the season, with her daughter, she goes to town, and drives daily in
+the park, just the same as to-day she has driven through the leaf-strewn
+country-lane to the market town. They go also to the sea-side, and now and
+then to the Continent. They are, of course, invited to the local balls,
+and to many of the best houses on more private occasions. The
+ramifications of finance do not except the proudest descendants of the
+Crusaders, and the 'firm' has its clients even among them. Bonnets come
+down from Madame Louise, boxes of novels from Mudie's; 'Le Follet' is read
+in the original, and many a Parisian romance as well. Visitors are
+continually coming and going--the carriage is perpetually backwards and
+forwards to the distant railway station. Friends come to the shooting, the
+hunting, the fishing; there is never any lack of society.
+
+The house is full of servants, and need be, to wait upon these people.
+Now, in former days, and not such a great while since, the best of
+servants came from the country. Mistresses sought for them, and mourned
+when, having imbibed town ways and town independence, they took their
+departure to 'better' themselves. But that is a thing of the past; it is
+gone with the disappearance of the old style of country life. Servant
+girls in farmhouses when young used to have a terribly hard life: hard
+work, hard fare, up early of a morning, stone flags under foot by day,
+bare boards under foot upstairs, small pay, and hard words too often. But
+they turned out the best of women, the healthiest and strongest, the most
+sought after. Now they learn a great deal about Timbuctoo, and will soon,
+no doubt, about Cyprus; but the 'servant from the country' is no more.
+Nothing less will suit them to begin with than the service of the parish
+clergyman, then they aspire to the Grange, get there, and receive a
+finishing education, and can never afterwards condescend to go where a
+footman is not kept. They become, in short, fine ladies, whose fathers are
+still at the plough--ladies who at home have been glad of bread and bacon,
+and now cannot possibly survive without hot butcher's meat every day, and
+game and fish in their seasons.
+
+But to return. Mrs. ---- and her daughter have also their saddle horses.
+They do not often hunt, but frequently go to the meet. They have, it is
+true, an acceptable excuse for preferring riding to walking--the fashion
+of tying the dress back so tightly makes it extremely difficult for a lady
+to get over a country stile. The rigours of winter only enable them to
+appear even yet more charming in furs and sealskin. In all this the Grange
+people have not laid themselves open to any reproach as to the
+extravagance or pretension of their doings. With them it is genuine, real,
+unaffected: in brief, they have money, and have a right to what it can
+purchase.
+
+Mr. ---- is not a tenant farmer from necessity; personally he is not a
+farmer at all, and knows no more of shorthorns than the veriest 'City'
+man. He has a certain taste for country life, and this is his way of
+enjoying it--and a very acute way, too, when you come to analyse it. The
+major portion of his capital is, with his wife's, in the 'firm'; it is
+administered and employed for him by men whose family interests and his
+are identical, whose knowledge of business is profound, whose own capital
+is there too. It is a fortunate state of things, not brought about in a
+day, but the growth of more than one generation. Now this man, as has been
+remarked, has a taste for country life--that is to say, he is an
+enthusiast over horses--not betting, but horses in their best form. He
+likes to ride and drive about, to shoot, and fish, and hunt. There is
+nothing despicable in this, but, after the manner of men, of course he
+must find an excuse.
+
+He found it in the children when they were young--two boys and one girl.
+It was better for them to have country air, to ride about the country
+lanes, and over the hills. The atmosphere altogether was more healthy,
+more manly than in the suburbs of a city. The excuse is a good one. Now
+come the means; two plans are open to him. He can buy an estate, or he can
+rent a large farm, or rather series of farms. If he purchases a fine
+estate he must withdraw his capital from business. In the first place,
+that would be inconvenient to old friends, and even unjust to them; in the
+second place, it would reduce his income most materially. Suppose we say,
+not for absolute exactness, but for the sake of present contrast, that
+capital well invested in business brings in ten per cent. The same capital
+invested in land brings in, say, three per cent. nominally; but is it as
+much in reality if you deduct those expensive improvements upon which
+tenants insist nowadays, and the five per cents, and ten per cents,
+allowed off the rent in bad years? At all events, it is certain that
+landlords, as a class, are investing more and more every year in business,
+which looks as if they did not consider land itself sufficiently
+remunerative. In addition, when you have bought your estate, should you
+subsequently wish to realise, the difficulties and delays are very trying.
+You cannot go down to your broker and say, 'Sell me a thousand acres this
+morning.' Capital in land is locked up.
+
+Mr. ----, having been trained in traditions of ready money and easy
+transfer, does not like this prospect. But as the tenant of a great farm
+it is quite another matter. The larger part of his capital still remains
+in the 'firm,' and earns him a handsome income. That which is invested in
+stock, cattle, horses, implements, &c., is in a sense readily negotiable
+if ever he should desire to leave. Instead of having to pet and pamper
+discontented tenants, his landlord has to pet and pamper him. He has, in
+fact, got the upper hand. There are plenty of landlords who would be only
+too glad to get the rich Mr. ---- to manure and deep-plough their lands;
+but there are comparatively few Mr. ----'s whose rent-day payments can be
+implicitly relied on. Mr. ----, in point of fact, gets all the sweets of
+the country gentleman's life, and leaves the owner all the sour. He has no
+heir presumptive to check his proceedings; no law of entail to restrain
+him; no old settlements to bind him hand and foot; none of those hundred
+and one family interests to consult which accumulate in the course of
+years around a landed estate, and so seriously curtail the freedom of the
+man in possession, the head of the family. So far as liberty and financial
+considerations go, he is much better off than his landlord, who perhaps
+has a title.
+
+Though he knows nothing of farming, he has the family instinct of accounts
+and figures; he audits the balance-sheets and books of his bailiff
+personally, and is not easily cheated. Small peculations of course go on,
+but nothing serious. The farms pay their way, and contribute a trifle
+towards the household expenses. For the rest, it is taken out in liberty,
+out-of-door life, field sports, and unlimited horses. His wife and
+daughter mix in the best society the county affords, besides their annual
+visits to town and the sea-side: they probably enjoy thrice the liberty
+and pleasure they would elsewhere. Certainly they are in blooming health.
+The eldest son is studying for the law, the younger has the commercial
+instinct more strongly developed, and is already with the 'firm.' Both of
+them get the full benefit of country life whenever they wish; both of them
+feel that there is plenty of capital behind them, and not the slightest
+jealousy exists on account of primogeniture. Of course they have their
+troubles--what family has not its troubles?--but on the whole their
+position is an enviable one.
+
+When Mrs. ---- and her daughter rustle into their pew at church--placed
+next in honour to that of the proprietor of the soil--all eyes are turned
+upon them. The old-fashioned farmer's wife, who until her years pressed
+heavily upon her made the cheese and butter in her husband's dairy, is not
+so old but that her eyes can distinguish the colour of a ribbon. She may
+talk of such things as vanities, and unknown in her day, but for all that
+a pair of keen eyes criticise skirt, and trimmings, and braidings, and so
+forth, as displayed up in the Grange pew. Her daughter, who is quite
+young--for in her mother's time farming people did not marry till late in
+life--brings a still keener pair of eyes to bear in the same direction.
+
+The bonnets from Regent Street are things to think over and talk of. The
+old lady disinters her ancient finery; the girl, by hook or crook, is
+determined to dress in the fashion. If one farmer's wife is a fine lady,
+why not another? Do not even the servant girls at the Grange come out
+twenty times finer than people who have a canvas bag full of sovereigns at
+home, and many such bags at the bank? So that the Grange people, though
+they pay their way handsomely, and plough deep and manure lavishly, and
+lead the van of agriculture, are not, perhaps, an unmixed good. They help
+on that sapping and undermining of the ancient, sturdy simplicity, the
+solid oak of country character, replacing it with veneer. It is not, of
+course, all, or a tenth part, their fault, or in any way traceable to
+them. It is part and parcel of the wide-spread social changes which have
+gradually been proceeding.
+
+But the tenant farmer's wife who made the butter and cheese, and even
+helped to salt bacon, where is she now? Where are the healthy daughters
+that used to assist her? The wife is a fine lady--not, indeed, with
+carriage and pair, but with a dandy dog-cart at least; not with
+three-guinea bonnets, but with a costly sealskin jacket. There are kid
+gloves on her hands; there is a suspicion of perfume about her; there is a
+rustling of silk and satin, and a waving of ostrich feathers. The daughter
+is pale and interesting, and interprets Beethoven, and paints the old
+mill; while a skilled person, hired at a high price, rules in the dairy.
+The son rides a-hunting, and is glib on the odds. The 'offices'--such it
+is the fashion to call the places in which work was formerly done--are
+carefully kept in the background. The violets and snowdrops and crocuses
+are rooted up, all the sweet and tender old flowers ruthlessly eradicated,
+to make way for a blazing parterre after the manner of the suburban
+villa--gay in the summer, in the spring a wilderness of clay, in the
+autumn a howling desert of musty evergreens..
+
+The 'civilisation' of the town has, in fact, gone out and taken root
+afresh in the country. There is no reason why the farmer should not be
+educated; there is no reason why his wife should not wear a sealskin
+jacket, or the daughter interpret Beethoven. But the question arises, Has
+not some of the old stubborn spirit of earnest work and careful prudence
+gone with the advent of the piano and the oil painting? While wearing the
+dress of a lady, the wife cannot tuck up her sleeves and see to the
+butter, or even feed the poultry, which are down at the pen across 'a
+nasty dirty field.' It is easy to say that farming is gone to the dogs,
+that corn is low, and stock uncertain, and rents high, and so forth. All
+that is true, but difficulties are nothing new; nor must too much be
+expected from the land.
+
+A moderate-sized farm, of from 200 to 800 acres, will no more enable the
+mistress and the misses to play the fine lady to-day than it would two
+generations ago. It requires work now the same as then--steady,
+persevering work--and, what is more important, prudence, economy,
+parsimony if you like; nor do these necessarily mean the coarse manners of
+a former age. Manners may be good, education may be good, the intellect
+and even the artistic sense may be cultivated, and yet extravagance
+avoided. The proverb is true still: 'You cannot have your hare and cook
+him too.' Now so many cook their hares in the present day without even
+waiting to catch them first. A euphuism has been invented to cover the
+wrongfulness of this system; it is now called 'discounting.' The fine lady
+farmers discount their husbands' corn and fat cattle, cheese and butter,
+before they reach the market. By-and-by the plough stops in the furrow,
+and the team is put up to auction, and farewell is said to the old
+homestead for evermore.
+
+There was no warmer welcome to be met with in life than used to be
+bestowed upon the fortunate visitor to an old house in the country where
+the people were not exactly farmers in the ordinary sense, because they
+were sufficiently well off to be independent, and yet made no pretence to
+gentility. You dropped in quite unexpectedly and informally after a
+pleasant stroll about the fields with a double-barrel, untrammelled by any
+attendant. The dogs were all over cleavers sticking to their coats, and
+your boots had to be wiped with a wisp of straw; your pocket was heavy
+with a couple of rabbits or a hare, and your hands black enough from
+powder and handling gates and stiles. But they made you feel immediately
+that such trifles were not of the slightest account.
+
+The dogs were allowed to rush in anyhow and set to work to lick their paws
+by the fire as if the house was their own. Your apology about your boots
+and general state of disorder was received with a smile by the mistress,
+who said she had sons of her own, and knew their ways. Forthwith one
+sturdy son seized the double-barrel, and conveyed it to a place of safety;
+a second took the rabbits or the hare, that you might not be incommoded by
+such a lump in your pocket, and sent the game on home to your quarters by
+a labourer; a third relieved you of your hat. As many tall young ladies
+rose to offer you a seat, so that it was really difficult to know which
+way to turn, besides which the old grandfather with silvery hair pressed
+you to take his chair by the fire.
+
+They had just sat down to the old-fashioned tea at half-past four, and in
+a moment there was a cup and plate ready. The tea had a fragrant scent,
+warm and grateful after the moist atmosphere of the meadows, smelling of
+decaying leaves. The mistress suggested that a nip of brandy might improve
+it, thinking that tea was hardly strong enough for a man. But that was,
+declined; for what could be more delicious than the sweet, thick cream
+poured in by a liberal hand? A fine ham had already been put on the table,
+as if by magic--the girls really seemed to anticipate everything you could
+possibly want. As for the butter, it was exquisite, and so, too, the
+home-baked bread, the more so, because only touched in the processes of
+preparing by the whitest and softest of hands. Such simple things become
+luxuries when brought to perfection by loving care. The old dog on the
+hearthrug came thrusting his nose into your hands, making almost too great
+friends, being perfectly well aware (cunning old fellow) that he could
+coax more out of a visitor than one of the family, who knew how he had
+stuffed all day.
+
+Over all there was an atmosphere of welcome, a genial brightness. The
+young men were anxious to tell you where the best sport could be got. The
+young ladies had a merry, genuine, unaffected smile--clearly delighted to
+see you, and not in the least ashamed of it. They showed an evident desire
+to please, without a trace of an _arriére pensée_. Tall, well-developed,
+in the height of good health, the bloom upon the cheek and the brilliant
+eyes formed a picture irresistibly charming. But it was the merry laugh
+that so long dwelt in the memory--nothing so thoroughly enchants one as
+the woman who laughs from her heart in the joyousness of youth. They
+joined freely in the conversation, but did not thrust themselves forward.
+They were, of course, eager for news of the far away world, but not a hint
+was breathed of those social scandals which now form our favourite gossip.
+From little side remarks concerning domestic matters it was evident that
+they were well acquainted with household duties. Indeed, they assisted to
+remove the things from the table without any consciousness that it was a
+menial task.
+
+It was not long after tea before, drawing round the fire, pipes were
+produced, and you were asked to smoke. Of course you declined on account
+of the ladies, but it was none the less pleasant to be asked. There was
+the great secret of it all-the genuine, liberal, open-handed and
+open-hearted proffering of all the house contained to the guest. And it
+was none the less an amusing conversation because each of the girls
+candidly avowed her own opinions upon such topics as were started--blushing
+a little, it is true, if you asked the reason for the opinion, for ladies
+are not always quite ready with the why and wherefore. But the contrast of
+character, the individuality displayed, gave a zest and interest to the
+talk; so that the hour wore late before you were aware of it. Then, if you
+would go, two, at least, of the three boys piloted you by the best and
+cleanest route, and did not wish you farewell till you were in the
+straight road. This was not so many years ago.
+
+Today, if you call at such a country house, how strangely different is the
+reception! None of the family come to the door to meet you. A servant
+shows you into a parlour--drawing-room is the proper word now--well
+carpeted and furnished in the modern style. She then takes your name--what
+a world of change is shown in that trifling piece of etiquette! By-and-by,
+after the proper interval, the ladies enter in morning costume, not a
+stray curl allowed to wander from its stern bands, nature rigidly
+repressed, decorum--'Society'--in every flounce and trimming. You feel
+that you have committed a solecism coming on foot, and so carrying the
+soil on your boots from the fields without into so elegant an apartment
+Visitors are obviously expected to arrive on wheels, and in correct trim
+for company. A remark about the crops falls on barren ground; a question
+concerning the dairy, ignorantly hazarded, is received with so much
+_hauteur_ that at last you see such subjects are considered vulgar. Then a
+touch of the bell, and decanters of port and sherry are produced and our
+wine presented to you on an electro salver together with sweet biscuits.
+It is the correct thing to sip one glass and eat one biscuit.
+
+The conversation is so insipid, so entirely confined to the merest
+platitudes, that it becomes absolutely a relief to escape. You are not
+pressed to stay and dine, as you would have been in the old days--not
+because there is a lack of hospitality, but because they would prefer a
+little time for preparation in order that the dinner might be got up in
+polite style. So you depart--chilled and depressed. No one steps with you
+to open the gate and exchange a second farewell, and express a cordial wish
+to see you again there. You feel that you must walk in measured step and
+place your hat precisely perpendicular, for the eyes of 'Society' are upon
+you. What a comfort when you turn a corner behind the hedge and can thrust
+your hands into your pockets and whistle!
+
+The young ladies, however, still possess one thing which they cannot yet
+destroy--the good constitution and the rosy look derived from ancestors
+whose days were spent in the field under the glorious sunshine and the
+dews of heaven. They worry themselves about it in secret and wish they
+could appear more ladylike--i.e. thin and white. Nor can they feel quite
+so languid and indifferent, and _blasé_ as they desire. Thank Heaven they
+cannot! But they have succeeded in obliterating the faintest trace of
+character, and in suppressing the slightest approach to animation. They
+have all got just the same opinions on the same topics--that is to say,
+they have none at all; the idea of a laugh has departed. There is a dead
+line of uniformity. But if you are sufficiently intimate to enter into the
+inner life of the place it will soon be apparent that they either are or
+wish to appear up to the 'ways of the world.'
+
+They read the so-called social journals, and absorb the gossip,
+tittle-tattle, and personalities--absorb it because they have no means of
+comparison or of checking the impression it produces of the general loose
+tone of society. They know all about it, much more than you do. No turn of
+the latest divorce case or great social exposure has escaped them, and the
+light, careless way in which it is the fashion nowadays to talk openly of
+such things, as if they were got up like a novel--only with living
+characters--for amusement, has penetrated into this distant circle. But
+then they have been to half the leading watering-places--from Brighton to
+Scarborough; as for London, it is an open book to them; the railways have
+long dissipated the pleasing mysteries that once hung over the metropolis.
+Talk of this sort is, of course, only talk; still it is not a satisfactory
+sign of the times. If the country girl is no longer the hoyden that swung
+on the gates and romped in the hay, neither has she the innocent thought
+of the olden days.
+
+At the same time our friends are greatly devoted to the Church--old people
+used to attend on Sundays as a sacred and time honoured duty, but the
+girls leave them far behind, for they drive up in a pony carriage to the
+distant church at least twice a week besides. They talk of matins and
+even-song; they are full of vestments, and have seen 'such lovely things'
+in that line. At Christmas and Easter they are mainly instrumental in
+decorating the interior till it becomes perfectly gaudy with colour, and
+the old folk mutter and shake their heads. Their devotion in getting
+hothouse flowers is quite touching. One is naturally inclined to look with
+a liberal eye upon what is capable of a good construction. But is all this
+quite spontaneous? Has the new curate nothing at all to do with it? Is it
+not considered rather the correct thing to be 'High' in views, and even to
+manifest an Ultramontane tendency? There is a rather too evident
+determination to go to the extreme--the girls are clearly bent upon
+thrusting themselves to the very front of the parish, so that no one shall
+be talked of but the Misses ----. Anything is seized upon, that will
+afford an opening for posing before the world of the parish, whether it be
+an extreme fashion in dress or in ritual.
+
+And the parish is splitting up into social cliques. These girls, the local
+leaders of fashion, hold their heads far above those farmers' sons who
+bear a hand in the field. No one is eligible who takes a share in manual
+work: not even to be invited to the house, or even to be acknowledged if
+met in the road. The Misses ----, whose papa is well-to-do, and simply
+rides round on horseback to speak to the men with his steam-plough, could
+not possibly demean themselves to acknowledge the existence of the young
+men who actually handle a fork in the haymaking time. Nothing less than
+the curate is worthy of their smile. A very great change has come over
+country society in this way. Of course, men (and women) with money were
+always more eligible than those without; but it is not so very long ago
+that one and all--well-to-do and poor--had one bond in common. Whether
+they farmed large or small acres, all worked personally. There was no
+disgrace in the touch of the plough--rather the contrary; now it is
+contamination itself.
+
+The consequence is that the former general goodwill and acquaintanceship
+is no more. There are no friendly meetings; there is a distinct social
+barrier between the man and the woman who labours and the one who does
+not. These fashionable young ladies could not possibly even go into the
+hayfield because the sun would spoil their complexion, they refresh
+themselves with aërated waters instead. They could not possibly enter the
+dairy because it smells so nasty. They would not know their father's teams
+if they met them on the road. As for speaking to the workpeople--the idea
+would be too absurd!
+
+Once on a time a lift in the waggon just across the wet turf to the
+macadamised road--if it chanced to be going that way--would have been
+looked upon as a fortunate thing. The Misses ---- would indeed stare if
+one of their papa's carters touched his hat and suggested that they should
+get up. They have a pony carriage and groom of their own. He drives the
+milk-cart to the railway station in the morning; in the afternoon he dons
+the correct suit and drives the Misses ---- into the town to shopping. Now
+there exists a bitter jealousy between the daughters of the tradesmen in
+the said town and these young ladies. There is a race between them as to
+which shall be first in fashion and social rank. The Misses ---- know very
+well that it galls their rivals to see them driving about so grandly half
+the afternoon up and down the streets, and to see the big local people
+lift their hats, as the banker, with whom, of course, the large farmer has
+intimate dealings. All this is very little; on paper it reads moan and
+contemptible: but in life it is real--in life these littlenesses play a
+great part. The Misses ---- know nothing of those long treasured recipes
+formerly handed down in old country houses, and never enter the kitchen.
+No doubt, if the fashion for teaching cooking presently penetrates into
+the parish, they will take a leading part, and with much show and blowing
+of trumpets instruct the cottager how to boil the pot. Anything, in short,
+that happens to be the rage will attract them, but there is little that is
+genuine about them, except the eagerness for a new excitement.
+
+What manner of men shall accept these ladies as their future helpmates?
+The tenant farmers are few and far between that could support their
+expenditure upon dress, the servants they would require, and last, but not
+least, the waste which always accompanies ignorance in household
+management. Nor, indeed, do they look for tenant farmers, but hope for
+something higher in the scale.
+
+The Misses ---- are fortunate in possessing a 'papa' sufficiently
+well-to-do to enable them to live in this manner. But there are hundreds
+of young ladies whose fathers have not got so much capital in their farms,
+while what they have is perhaps borrowed. Of course these girls help
+cheerfully in the household, in the dairy, and so forth? No. Some are
+forced by necessity to assist in the household with unwilling hands: but
+few, indeed, enter the dairy. All dislike the idea of manual labour,
+though never so slight. Therefore they acquire a smattering of knowledge,
+and go out as governesses. They earn but a small stipend in that
+profession, because they have rarely gone through a sufficiently strict
+course of study themselves. But they would rather live with strangers,
+accepting a position which is often invidious, than lift a hand to work at
+home, so great is the repugnance to manual labour. These, again, have no
+domestic knowledge (beyond that of teaching children), none of cooking, or
+general household management. If they marry a tenant farmer of their own
+class, with but small capital, they are too often a burden financially.
+Whence comes this intense dislike to hand work--this preference for the
+worst paid head work? It is not confined, of course, to the gentler sex.
+No more striking feature of modern country life can be found.
+
+You cannot blame these girls, whether poor or moderately well-to-do, for
+thinking of something higher, more refined and elevating than the
+cheese-tub or the kitchen. It is natural, and it is right, that they
+should wish to rise above that old, dull, dead level in which their
+mothers and grandmothers worked from youth to age. The world has gone on
+since then--it is a world of education, books, and wider sympathies. In
+all this they must and ought to share. The problem is how to enjoy the
+intellectual progress of the century and yet not forfeit the advantages of
+the hand labour and the thrift of our ancestors? How shall we sit up late
+at night, burning the midnight oil of study, and yet rise with the dawn,
+strong from sweet sleep, to guide the plough? One good thing must be
+scored down to the credit of the country girls of the day. They have done
+much to educate the men. They have shamed them out of the old rough,
+boorish ways; compelled them to abandon the former coarseness, to become
+more gentlemanly in manner. By their interest in the greater world of
+society, literature, art, and music (more musical publications probably
+are now sold for the country in a month than used to be in a year), they
+have made the somewhat narrow-sighted farmer glance outside his parish. If
+the rising generation of tenant farmers have lost much of the bigoted
+provincial mode of thought, together with the provincial pronunciation, it
+is undoubtedly due to the influence of the higher ideal of womanhood that
+now occupies their minds. And this is a good work to have accomplished.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+
+A country 'roadside' railway station seemed deserted upon a warm August
+afternoon. It was all but concealed on that level ground by the hedges and
+trees of the fields with which it was surrounded. There was no sound of
+man or wheels, and nothing moving upon the platform. On the low green
+banks of the rail, where the mast-like telegraph poles stood, the broad
+leaves of the coltsfoot almost covered the earth, and were dusty with the
+sand whirled up an hour since behind the rushing express. By the footpath,
+higher up under the close-cropped hedge, the yarrow flourished, lifting
+its white flower beside the trodden soil. The heavy boots of the
+platelayers walking to and fro to their work on the permanent way brushed
+against it, and crushed the venturous fibres of the creeping cinquefoil
+that stretched into the path. From the yellow standing wheat the sparrows
+rose in a bevy, and settled upon the hedge, chirping merrily. Farther
+away, where a meadow had been lately mown, the swallows glided to and fro,
+but just above the short grass, round and round, under the shadow of the
+solitary oaks. Over the green aftermath is the swallows' favourite haunt
+when the day, though passing fair, does not look like settled weather. For
+lack of such weather the reapers have not yet entered the ripening corn.
+
+But, for the hour, the sun shines brightly, and a narrow line along the
+upper surfaces of the metals, burnished by the polishing friction of a
+thousand wheels, glints like silver under the rays. The red brick of the
+booking-office looks redder and more staring under the fierce light. The
+door is locked, and there is no waiting-room in which to take shelter;
+nothing but a projecting roof over a part of the platform. On the lintel
+is the stationmaster's name painted in small white letters, like the name
+of the landlord over the doorway of an inn. Two corded boxes lie on the
+platform, and near them stand half a dozen rusty milk tins, empty. With
+the exception of a tortoiseshell cat basking in the sunshine, there seems
+nothing living in the station, and the long endless rails stretching on
+either side in a straight line are vacant. For hours during the day the
+place slumbers, and a passenger gliding by in the express may well wonder
+why a station was built at all in the midst of trees and hedges without so
+much as a single visible house.
+
+But by night and very early in the morning there is bustle enough. Then
+the white painted cattle pen yonder, from which the animals are forced
+into the cattle trucks, is full of frightened beasts, lowing doubtfully,
+and only goaded in by the resounding blows upon their backs. Then the
+sheep file in in more patient ranks, but also doubtful and bleating as
+they go. An engine snorts to and fro, shunting coal waggons on to the
+siding--coal for the traction engines, and to be consumed in threshing out
+the golden harvest around. Signalmen, with red and green lights, rush
+hither and thither, the bull's-eyes now concealed by the trucks, and now
+flashing out brightly like strange will-o'-the-wisps. At intervals long
+and heavy goods trains go by, causing the solid earth to tremble.
+
+Presently the sun rises over the distant hills, and the red arms of the
+signals stand out clearly defined, and then the noise of wheels, the
+shouts of the drivers, and the quick sound of hoofs betoken the approach
+of the milk carts with their freight for the early morning train. From the
+platform it is out of sight; but a few yards from the gate a small inn is
+hidden under the tall elms of the hedgerow. It has sprung up since the
+railway came, and is called the Railway Hotel. It proffers good stabling,
+and even a fly and posting for the passenger who finds himself set down at
+that lonely place--a mere road--without the certainty of a friendly
+carriage meeting him. The porter may, perhaps, be taking his glass within.
+The inspector or stationmaster (whichever may be technically correct), now
+that the afternoon express has gone safely through, has strolled up the
+line to his garden, to see how his potatoes are getting on. He knows full
+well that the slow, stopping train despatched just after it will not reach
+his station for at least an hour.
+
+Outside the 'Hotel' stands a pony cart--a gaily coloured travelling rug
+lies across the seat, and the pony, a perfect little beauty, is cropping
+the grass by the hedge side. By-and-by a countryman comes up the road,
+evidently a labourer dressed in his best--he hastens to the 'Hotel,'
+instead of to the station, and finds from the porter that he is at least
+twenty minutes too soon. Then a waggon arrives, and stops while the carter
+drinks. Presently the porter and the labourer stroll together over to the
+platform, and after them a young fellow--a farmer's son, not yet a man but
+more than a boy--comes out and re-arranges the travelling rug in the pony
+cart. He then walks on to the platform, whistling defiantly with his hands
+in his pockets, as if he had got an unpleasant duty to perform, but was
+not going to be intimidated. He watches the stationmaster unlock the
+booking-office, and follows him in out of idle curiosity.
+
+It is booking-office, parcel-office, waiting-room and all combined, and
+the telegraph instrument is there too, some of the needles blocked over
+with a scrap of paper. The place is crammed with sacks, bags, boxes,
+parcels and goods mixed together, such as ironwork for agricultural
+machines, and in a corner lies a rick-cloth smelling strongly of tar like
+the rigging of a ship. On the counter, for there is no sliding window as
+usual at large stations, stands the ticket-stamping machine, surrounded
+with piles of forms, invoices, notices, letters, and the endless documents
+inseparable from railway business, all printed on a peculiar paper with a
+faint shade of yellow.
+
+Somebody says 'A' be coming,' and the young farmer walks out to watch the
+white steam now just visible far away over the trees. The train runs round
+the curve on to the straight, and the engine in front grows gradually
+larger and larger as it comes nearer, visibly vibrating till the brake
+draws it up at the platform.
+
+Master Jack has no difficulty in identifying the passenger he has come to
+meet. His sister, a governess, coming home for a holiday, is the only
+person that alights, and the labourer, dressed for the occasion, is the
+only one who gets in. No sooner is he in than he gapes out of the window
+open-mouthed at Miss S----. She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress
+from the dust and dirt of travel. Her fashionable hat has an air of the
+West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as those
+must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots. Up goes her
+parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from the glaring sun.
+Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss her; he looks her up and
+down with a kind of contemptuous admiration, nods, and asks how much
+luggage? He has, you see, been repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions.
+Mademoiselle points to her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already
+taken out. He worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon
+her with cheerful alacrity. She gives him a small coin, but looks the
+other way, without a sign of recognition. The luggage is placed in the
+pony cart.
+
+Mademoiselle gets in without so much as patting the beautiful little
+creature in the shafts. Her ticket is the only first-class ticket that has
+been given up at that lonely station all the week. 'Do make haste,' she
+remarks petulantly as her brother pauses to speak to a passing man who
+looks like a dealer. Master Jack turns the pony cart, and away they go
+rattling down the road. The porter, whilom an agricultural labourer, looks
+after them with a long and steady stare. It is not the first time he has
+seen this, but he can hardly take it in yet.
+
+'She do come the lady grandish, don't her?' the dealer remarks
+meditatively. 'Now her father----'
+
+'Ay,' interrupts the porter, 'he be one of the old sort; but she----' he
+cannot get any further for lack of an appropriate illustration. The
+arrival of mademoiselle periodically takes their breath away at that
+little place.
+
+As the pair rattle along in the pony trap there is for a time a total
+silence. Mademoiselle looks neither to the right nor the left, and asks
+after nobody. She does not note the subtle tint of bronze that has begun
+to steal over the wheat, nor the dark discoloured hay, witness of rough
+weather, still lying in the meadows. Her face--it is a very pretty
+face--does not light up with any enthusiasm as well-remembered spots come
+into sight. A horseman rides round a bend of the road, and meets them--he
+stares hard at her--she takes no heed. It is a young farmer, an old
+acquaintance, anxious for some sign of recognition. After he has passed he
+lifts his hat, like a true countryman, unready at the moment. As for the
+brother, his features express gathering and almost irrepressible disgust.
+He kicks with his heavy boots, he whistles, and once now and then gives a
+species of yell. Mademoiselle turns up her pretty nose, and readjusts her
+chevron gloves.
+
+'Have you not got any cuffs, Jack?' she asks, 'your wrists look so bare
+without them.'
+
+Jack makes no reply. Another silence. Presently he points with an
+expression meant to be sardonic at a distant farmhouse with his whip.
+
+'Jenny's married,' he says, full well aware that this announcement will
+wake her up, for there had been of old a sort of semi-feud or rivalry
+between the two girls, daughters of neighbouring farmers, and both with
+pretensions to good looks.
+
+'Who to?' she asks eagerly.
+
+'To old Billy L----; lots of tin.'
+
+'Pshaw!' replies mademoiselle. 'Why, he's sixty, a nasty, dirty old
+wretch.'
+
+'He has plenty of money,' suggests Jack.
+
+'What you think plenty of money, perhaps. He is nothing but a farmer,' as
+if a farmer was quite beneath her notice.
+
+Just then a farmer rode out into the road from the gateway of a field, and
+Jack pulled up the pony. The farmer was stout, elderly, and florid; he
+appeared fairly well-to-do by his dress, but was none too particular to
+use his razor regularly. Yet there was a tenderness--almost a pathos--in
+the simple words he used:--'Georgie, dear, come home?' 'Yes, papa,' and
+she kissed his scrubby chin as he bent down from his horse. He would not
+go to the station to meet her; but he had been waiting about behind the
+hedge for an hour to see her come along. He rode beside the pony cart, but
+Georgie did not say anything more, or ask after any one else.
+
+As they turned a corner the farmer pointed ahead. 'There's your mother,
+Georgie, looking over the garden wall.' The yearning mother had been there
+these two hours, knowing that her darling could not arrive before a
+certain time, and yet unable in her impatience to stay within. Those old
+eyes were dim with tears under the spectacles as Georgie quietly kissed
+her forehead, and then suddenly, with something like generous feeling, her
+lips.
+
+They went in, an old pointer, whose days in the stubble were nearly over,
+following close at Georgie's heels, but without obtaining a pat for his
+loving memory. The table was spread for tea--a snowy cloth, the whitest of
+bread, the most delicious golden butter, the ham fresh cooked, as Georgie
+might be hungry, the thick cream, the silver teapot, polished for Georgie,
+and the bright flowers in the vase before her plate. The window was open,
+with its view of the old, old hills, and a breath of summer air came in
+from the meadow. The girl glanced round, frowned, and went upstairs to her
+room without a word, passing on the landing the ancient clock in its tall
+case, ticking loud and slow.
+
+And this was 'home.' The whole place jarred upon her, fresh as she was
+from a fine house in Belgravia. The sitting-room beneath, which she had so
+quickly left, looked cheerful and homely, but it was that very homeliness
+that jarred upon her. The teapot was real silver, but it was of
+old-fashioned shape. Solid as the furniture was, and still after so many
+years of service worth money, yet it was chipped by kicks from iron-shod
+boots, which had also worn the dingy carpet bare. There was an absence of
+the nick-nacks that strew the rooms of people in 'Society.' There was not
+even a bell-handle to pull; if you wanted the maid of all work, you must
+open the door and call to her. These little things, trifles as they may
+be, repelled her. It was a bitter cup to her to come 'home.'
+
+Mr. S---- was a farmer of fair means, and, compared with many of his
+neighbours, well-to-do, and well connected. But he was still a yeoman
+only, and personally made pretensions to nothing more. Though he himself
+had received little or no education, he quite saw the value of it, and was
+determined that his children should be abreast of the times. Accordingly,
+so soon as Georgie grew old enough, a governess with high recommendations,
+and who asked what the farmer then thought a high price (he knows more
+about such things now!) was had down from London. Of course the
+rudimentary A B C of learning could just as well have been imparted by an
+ordinary person, but Mr. and Mrs. S---- had a feeling which they could not
+perhaps have expressed in words, that it was not so much the actual
+reading and writing, and French and music, and so on, as a social
+influence that was needed to gradually train the little country girl into
+a young lady fit to move in higher society.
+
+The governess did her work thoroughly. Georgie was not allowed to walk in
+the wet grass, to climb up the ladder on to the half-completed hayrick,
+and romp under the rick-cloth, to paddle with naked feet in the shallow
+brook, or any other of the things that country children have done from
+time immemorial. Such things she was taught were not ladylike, and, above
+all, she was kept away from the cottage people. She was not permitted to
+enter their doors, to converse with the women, or to watch the carter with
+his horses. Such vulgar folk and their vulgar dialect were to be carefully
+avoided. Nor must she get into a hedge after a bird's-nest, lest she
+should tear her frock.
+
+It was not long before the governess really ruled the house. The farmer
+felt himself totally unable to interfere in these matters; they were
+outside his experience altogether. His wife did not like it, but for
+Georgie's sake she gave up her former habits, and endeavoured to order the
+house according to the ideas of the governess from London. The traditions,
+as it were, of the place were upset. It was not a solitary instance, the
+same thing has happened in scores of farmhouses to a more or less degree.
+Mr. S---- all his life had ridden on horseback, or driven a gig, which did
+very well for him and his wife. But the governess thought Georgie ought to
+learn to ride and drive, and gigs were so much out of fashion. So the pony
+cart and pony were purchased for her, and in this she went into the
+distant market town twice or more weekly. Sometimes it was for shopping,
+sometimes to fetch household goods, sometimes to see friends; any excuse
+answered very well. The governess said, and really believed, that it was
+better for Georgie to be away from the farm as much as possible, to see
+town people (if only a country town), and to learn their ways.
+
+The many cheap illustrated papers giving the last details of fashionable
+costumes were, of course, brought home to be carefully read in the
+evenings. These publications have a large circulation now in farmhouses.
+Naturally Georgie soon began to talk about, and take an interest--as girls
+will do--in the young gentlemen of the town, and who was and who was not
+eligible. As for the loud-voiced young farmers, with their slouching walk,
+their ill-fitting clothes, and stupid talk about cows and wheat, they were
+intolerable. A banker's clerk at least--nothing could be thought of under
+a clerk in the local banks; of course, his salary was not high, but then
+his 'position.' The retail grocers and bakers and such people were quite
+beneath one's notice--low, common persons. The 'professional tradesmen'
+(whatever that may be) were decidedly better, and could be tolerated. The
+solicitors, bank managers, one or two brewers (wholesale--nothing retail),
+large corn factors or coal merchants, who kept a carriage of some
+kind--these formed the select society next under, and, as it were,
+surrounding the clergy and gentry. Georgie at twelve years old looked at
+least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be avoided above all
+things.
+
+As she grew older her mind was full of the local assembly ball. The ball
+had been held for forty years or more, and had all that time been in the
+hands of the exclusive upper circles of the market town. They only asked
+their own families, relations (not the poor ones), and visitors. When
+Georgie was invited to this ball it was indeed a triumph. Her poor mother
+cried with pleasure over her ball dress. Poor woman, she was a good, a too
+good, mother, but she had never been to a ball. There were, of course,
+parties, picnics, and so on, to which Georgie, having entered the charmed
+circle, was now asked; and thus her mind from the beginning centred in the
+town. The sheep-fold, the cattle-pen, the cheese-tub, these were thrust
+aside. They did not interest her, she barely understood the meaning when
+her father took the first prize at an important cattle show. What
+So-and-so would wear at the flower show, where all the select would come,
+much more nearly concerned her.
+
+At the high-class academy where her education was finished the same
+process went on. The other girls quickly made her thoroughly understand (a
+bitter knowledge) that the great people in the little market town, the
+very richest of them, were but poor in comparison with their papas. Their
+papas were in the 'City,' or on ''Change,' and had as many thousands a
+year as the largest farmer she knew could reckon hundreds. Georgie felt
+ashamed of her papa, recollecting his crumpled old hat, and his scrubby
+chin. Being really a nice girl, under the veneer that was so industriously
+placed upon her, she made friends among her fellow scholars, and was
+invited to more than one of their grand homes in Kensington and the
+suburbs of London. There she learned all the pomp of villa life, which put
+into the shade the small incomes which displayed their miserable vanities
+in the petty market town. Footmen, butlers, late dinners, wines,
+carriages, the ceaseless gossip of 'Society' were enough to dazzle the
+eyes of a girl born so near the cowshed. The dresses she had to wear to
+mix with these grand friends cost a good deal--her parents sacrificing
+their own comforts for her advantage--and yet, in comparison with the
+beautiful costumes she saw, they seemed shabby.
+
+Georgie was so far fortunate as to make friends of some of the elder
+people, and when she had passed her examinations, and obtained the
+diplomas and certificates which are now all essential, through their
+interest she obtained at starting a very high salary. It was not long
+before she received as much as sixty or seventy pounds a year. It was not
+only that she really was a clever and accomplished girl, but her
+recommendations were influential. She was employed by wealthy people, who
+really did not care what they paid so long as their children were in good
+hands. Now to the old folk at home, and to the neighbours, this seemed an
+immense salary for a girl, especially when the carriage, the footmen, the
+wines, and late dinners, and so on, were taken into consideration. The
+money, however, was of very little use to her. She found it necessary to
+dress equal to her place. She had to have several dresses to wear,
+according to the time of day, and she had to have new ones very often, or
+she might be told petulantly and pointedly by her mistress that 'one gets
+so weary of seeing the same dresses every day.' Instead of the high salary
+leaving a handsome profit, her father had occasionally to pay a stiff bill
+for her. But then the 'position'--look at the 'position' and the society.
+
+Georgie, in process of time, went to Scotland, to Paris, the South of
+France, to Rome, and Naples. Being a discreet girl, and having a winning
+manner, she became as much a companion to her mistress as governess, and
+thus saw and heard more of the world than she would otherwise have done.
+She saw some very grand people indeed occasionally. After this, after the
+Continent, and, above all, London in the season, the annual visit to the
+old farmhouse came to be a bitter time of trial. Georgie had come home now
+for a few days only, to ask for money, and already before she had scarcely
+spoken had rushed upstairs to hide her feeling of repulsion in the privacy
+of her room.
+
+Her welcome had been warm, and she knew that under the rude exterior it
+was more than warm; but the absence of refinement jarred upon her. It all
+seemed so uncouth. She shrank from the homely rooms; the very voice of her
+mother, trembling with emotion, shocked her ear, unaccustomed to country
+pronunciation. She missed the soft accents of the drawing-room. From her
+window she could see nothing but the peaceful fields--the hateful green
+trees and hedges, the wheat, and the hateful old hills. How miserable it
+was not to be born to Grosvenor Square!
+
+Georgie's case was, of course, exceptional in so far as her 'success' was
+concerned. She possessed good natural parts, discretion, and had the
+advantage of high-class recommendations. But apart from her 'success,' her
+case was not exceptional. The same thing is going on in hundreds of
+farmhouses. The daughters from the earliest age are brought up under a
+system of education the practical tendency of which is to train their
+minds out of the associations of farming. When later on they go out to
+teach they are themselves taught by the social surroundings of the
+households into which they enter to still more dislike the old-fashioned
+ways of agriculture. Take twenty farmers' families, where there are girls,
+and out of that twenty fifteen will be found to be preparing for a
+scholastic life. The farmer's daughter does not like the shop-counter,
+and, as she cannot stay at home, there is nothing left to her but the
+profession of governess. Once thoroughly imbued with these 'social' ideas,
+and a return to the farm is almost impossible. The result is a continuous
+drain of women out of agriculture--of the very women best fitted in the
+beginning to be the helpmate of the farmer. In no other calling is the
+assistance of the wife so valuable; it is not too much to say that part at
+least of the decadence of agriculture is owing to the lack of women
+willing to devote themselves as their mothers did before them. It follows
+that by degrees the farming caste is dying out. The sons go to the city,
+the daughters go to the city; in a generation, or little more, a once
+well-known farming family becomes extinct so far as agriculture is
+concerned.
+
+How could such a girl as poor Georgie, looking out of window at the
+hateful fields, and all at discord with the peaceful scene, settle down as
+the mistress of a lonely farmhouse?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+
+An agricultural district, like a little kingdom, has its own capital city.
+The district itself is as well defined as if a frontier line had been
+marked out around it, with sentinels and barriers across the roads, and
+special tolls and duties. Yet an ordinary traveller, upon approaching,
+fails to perceive the difference, and may, perhaps, drive right through
+the territory without knowing it. The fields roll on and rise into the
+hills, the hills sink again into a plain, just the same as elsewhere;
+there are cornfields and meadows; villages and farmsteads, and no visible
+boundary. Nor is it recognised upon the map. It does not fit into any
+political or legal limit; it is neither a county, half a county, a
+hundred, or police division. But to the farmer it is a distinct land. If
+he comes from a distance he will at once notice little peculiarities in
+the fields, the crops, the stock, or customs, and will immediately inquire
+if it be not such and such a place that he has heard of. If he resides
+within thirty miles or so he will ever since boyhood have heard 'the
+uplands' talked of as if it were a separate country, as distinct as
+France. Cattle from the uplands, sheep, horses, labourers, corn or hay, or
+anything and anybody from thence, he has grown up accustomed to regard
+almost as foreign.
+
+There is good reason, from an agricultural point of view, for this. The
+district, with its capital city, Fleeceborough, really is distinct, well
+marked, and defined. The very soil and substrata are characteristic. The
+products are wheat, and cattle, and sheep, the same as elsewhere, but the
+proportions of each, the kind of sheep, the traditionary methods and farm
+customs are separate and marked. The rotation of crops is different, the
+agreements are on a different basis, the very gates to the fields have
+peculiar fastenings, not used in other places. Instead of hedges, the
+fields, perhaps, are often divided by dry stone walls, on which, when they
+have become old, curious plants may sometimes be found. For the flora,
+too, is distinct; you may find herbs here that do not exist a little way
+off, and on the other hand, search how you will, you will not discover one
+single specimen of a simple flower which strews the meadows elsewhere.
+
+Here the very farmhouses are built upon a different plan, and with
+different materials; the barns are covered with old stone slates, instead
+of tiles or thatch. The people are a nation amongst themselves. Their
+accent is peculiar and easily recognised, and they have their own
+folklore, their own household habits, particular dainties, and way of
+life. The tenant farmers, the millers, the innkeepers, and every Hodge
+within 'the uplands' (not by any means all hills)--in short, every one is
+a citizen of Fleeceborough. Hodge may tend his flock on distant pastures,
+may fodder his cattle in far-away meadows, and dwell in little hamlets
+hardly heard of, but all the same he is a Fleeceborough man. It is his
+centre; thither he looks for everything.
+
+The place is a little market town, the total of whose population in the
+census records sounds absurdly small; yet it is a complete world in
+itself; a capital city, with its kingdom and its ruler, for the territory
+is practically the property of a single family. Enter Fleeceborough by
+whichever route you will, the first object that fixes the attention is an
+immensely high and endless wall. If you come by carriage one way, you
+skirt it for a long distance; if you come the other, you see it as you
+pass through the narrow streets every now and then at the end of them,
+closing the prospect and overtopping the lesser houses. By railway it is
+conspicuous from the windows; and if you walk about the place, you
+continually come upon it. It towers up perpendicular and inaccessible,
+like the curtain wall of an old fortification: here and there the upper
+branches of some great cedar or tall pine just show above it. One or more
+streets for a space run conterminous with it--the wall on one side, the
+low cottage-houses on the other, and their chimneys are below the coping.
+It does not really encircle the town, yet it seems everywhere, and is the
+great fact of the place.
+
+If you wander about examining this wall, and wondering where it begins and
+where it ends, and what is inside, you may perchance come upon a gateway
+of noble proportions. It is open, but one hesitates to pass through,
+despite the pleasant vista of trees and green sward beyond. There is a
+watchman's wooden hut, and the aged sentinel is reading his newspaper in
+the shadow, his breast decorated with medal and clasp, that tell of
+honourable service. A scarlet-coated soldier may, too, be strolling
+thereabout, and the castellated top of a barrack-like building near at
+hand is suggestive of military force. You hesitate, but the warden invites
+you to walk at your leisure under the old trees, and along the endless
+glades. If you enter, you pass under the metal scrollwork of the iron
+gates, and, above, the gilded circle of a coronet glistens in the
+sunshine. These are the private demesnes of a prince and ruler of
+Hodge--the very highest and most powerful of his masters in that part of
+the country. The vast wall encloses his pleasure-grounds and mansion; the
+broad iron gates give access to mile after mile of park and wood, and the
+decorated warden or pensioner has but to open them for the free entry of
+all Fleeceborough and her citizens. Of course the position of the barrack
+is a mere accident, yet it gives an air of power and authority--the place
+is really as open, the beautiful park as common and accessible as the
+hill-top under the sky. A peer only at Westminster, here he is a prince,
+whose dominions are almost co-extensive with the horizon; and this, the
+capital city, is for the most part his.
+
+Far away stretches that little kingdom, with its minor towns of villages,
+hamlets, and farms. Broad green meadows, where the cattle graze beside the
+streams and in the plains; rolling uplands, ploughed and sown, where the
+barley nourishes; deep rich wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey
+church towers; new glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient
+farmhouses tenanted for generations by the same families.
+
+Farmers have long since discovered that it is best to rent under a very
+large owner, whether personal as in this case, or impersonal as a college
+or corporation. A very large owner like this can be, and is, more liberal.
+He puts up sheds, and he drains, and improves, and builds good cottages
+for the labourers. Provided, of course, that no serious malpractice comes
+to light, he, as represented by his steward, never interferes, and the
+tenant is personally free. No one watches his goings out and comings in;
+he has no sense of an eye for ever looking over the park wall. There is a
+total absence of the grasping spirit sometimes shown. The farmer does not
+feel that he will be worried to his last shilling. In case of unfavourable
+seasons the landlord makes no difficulty in returning a portion of the
+rent; he anticipates such an application. Such immense possessions can
+support losses which would press most heavily upon comparatively small
+properties. At one side of the estate the soil perchance is light and
+porous, and is all the better for rain; on the other, half across the
+county, or quite, the soil is deep and heavy and naturally well watered
+and flourishes in dry summers. So that there is generally some one
+prospering if another suffers, and thus a balance is maintained.
+
+A reserve of wealth has, too, slowly accumulated in the family coffers,
+which, in exceptional years, tides the owner over with little or no
+appreciable inconvenience. With an income like this, special allowances,
+even generous allowances, can be and are made, and so the tenants cease to
+feel that their landlord is living out of their labour. The agreements are
+just; there is no rapacity. Very likely the original lease or arrangement
+has expired half a century since; but no one troubles to renew it. It is
+well understood that no change will be effected. The tenure is as steady
+as if the tenant had an Act of Parliament at his back.
+
+When men have once settled, they and their descendants remain, generation
+after generation. By degrees their sons and sons' descendants settle too,
+and the same name occurs perhaps in a dozen adjacent places. It is this
+fixed unchangeable character of the district which has enabled the mass of
+the tenants not indeed to become wealthy, but to acquire a solid,
+substantial standing. In farming affairs money can be got together only in
+the slow passage of years; experience has proved that beyond a doubt.
+These people have been stationary for a length of time, and the moss of
+the proverb has grown around them. They walk sturdily, and look all men in
+the face; their fathers put money in the purse. Times are hard here as
+everywhere, but if they cannot, for the present season, put more in that
+purse, its contents are not, at all events, much diminished, and enable
+them to maintain the same straightforward manliness and independence.
+By-and-by, they know there will come the chink of the coin again.
+
+When the tenant is stationary, the labourer is also. He stays in the same
+cottage on the same farm all his life, his descendants remain and work for
+the same tenant family. He can trace his descent in the locality for a
+hundred years. From time immemorial both Hodge and his immediate employers
+have looked towards Fleeceborough as their capital. Hodge goes in to the
+market in charge of his master's sheep, his wife trudges in for household
+necessaries. All the hamlet goes in to the annual fairs. Every cottager in
+the hamlet knows somebody in the town; the girls go there to service, the
+boys to get employment. The little village shops obtain their goods from
+thence. All the produce--wheat, barley, oats, hay, cattle, and sheep--is
+sent into the capital to the various markets held there. The very ideas
+held in the villages by the inhabitants come from Fleeceborough; the local
+papers published there are sold all round, and supply them with news,
+arguments, and the politics of the little kingdom. The farmers look to
+Fleeceborough just as much or more. It is a religious duty to be seen
+there on market days. Not a man misses being there; if he is not visible,
+his circle note it, and guess at various explanations.
+
+Each man has his own particular hostelry, where his father, and his
+grandfather, put up before him, and where he is expected to dine in the
+same old room, with the pictures of famous rams, that have fetched
+fabulous prices, framed against the walls, and ram's horns of exceptional
+size and peculiar curve fixed up above the mantelpiece. Men come in in
+groups of two or three, as dinner time approaches, and chat about sheep
+and wool, and wool and sheep; but no one finally settles himself at the
+table till the chairman arrives. He is a stout, substantial farmer, who
+has dined there every market day for the last thirty or forty years.
+
+Everybody has his own particular seat, which he is certain to find kept
+for him. The dinner itself is simple enough, the waiters perhaps still
+more simple, but the quality of the viands is beyond praise. The mutton is
+juicy and delicious, as it should be where the sheep is the very idol of
+all men's thoughts; the beef is short and tender of grain; the vegetables,
+nothing can equal them, and they are all here, asparagus and all, in
+profusion. The landlord grows his own vegetables--every householder in
+Fleeceborough has an ample garden--and produces the fruit from his own
+orchards for the tarts. Ever and anon a waiter walks round with a can of
+ale and fills the glasses, whether asked or not. Beef and mutton,
+vegetables and fruit tarts, and ale are simple and plain fare, but when
+they are served in the best form, how will you surpass them? The real
+English cheese, the fresh salads, the exquisite butter--everything on the
+table is genuine, juicy, succulent, and rich. Could such a dinner be found
+in London, how the folk would crowd thither! Finally, comes the waiter
+with his two clean plates, the upper one to receive the money, the lower
+to retain what is his. If you are a stranger, and remember what you have
+been charged elsewhere in smoky cities for tough beef, stringy mutton,
+waxy potatoes, and the very bread black with smuts, you select half a
+sovereign and drop it on the upper plate. In the twinkling of an eye eight
+shillings are returned to you; the charge is a florin only.
+
+They live well in Fleeceborough, as every fresh experience of the place
+will prove; they have plentiful food, and of the best quality; poultry
+abounds, for every resident having a great garden (many, too, have
+paddocks) keeps fowls; fresh eggs are common; as for vegetables and fruit,
+the abundance is not to be described. A veritable cornucopia--a horn of
+plenty--seems to forever pour a shower of these good things into their
+houses. And their ale! To the first sight it is not tempting. It is thick,
+dark, a deep wine colour; a slight aroma rises from it like that which
+dwells in bonded warehouses. The first taste is not pleasing; but it
+induces a second, and a third. By-and-by the flavour grows upon the
+palate; and now beware, for if a small quantity be thrown upon the fire it
+will blaze up with a blue flame like pure alcohol. That dark
+vinous-looking ale is full of the strength of malt and hops; it is the
+brandy of the barley. The unwary find their heads curiously queer before
+they have partaken, as it seems to them, of a couple of glasses. The very
+spirit and character of Fleeceborough is embodied in the ale; rich,
+strong, genuine. No one knows what English ale is till he has tried this.
+
+After the market dinner the guests sit still--they do not hurry away to
+counter and desk; they rest awhile, and dwell as it were on the flavour of
+their food. There is a hum of pleasant talk, for each man is a right boon
+companion. The burden of that talk has been the same for generations--sheep
+and wool, wool and sheep. Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to
+'he,' what 'he' will do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support
+such and such a movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view
+will 'he' take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
+special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that favoured
+man is an object of the deepest interest, and is cross-questioned all
+round the table till his small item of authentic intelligence has been
+thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the resident within those vast and endless
+walls, with the metal gates and the gilded coronet above--the prince of
+this kingdom and its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally
+hastening hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.
+
+It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads converging on the
+town are visible. The province lies stretched out beneath. There is the
+gleam of water--the little river, with its ancient mills--that flows
+beside the town; there are the meadows, with their pleasant footpaths.
+Yonder the ploughed fields and woods, and yet more distant the open hills.
+Along every road, and there are many, the folk are hastening to their
+capital city, in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or
+sturdily trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
+hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the chest as
+you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend themselves in
+mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force. For how many years,
+how many centuries, has this little town and this district around it been
+distinct and separate? In the days before the arrival of the Roman legions
+it was the country of a distinct tribe, or nation, of the original
+Britons. But if we speak of history we shall never have done, for the town
+and its antique abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled
+more or less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
+camp yonder on the hills to to-day--down to the last puff of the
+locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs in with
+passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and the latest
+novel from London.
+
+Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous in the
+town here. Men marry in the place, find their children employment in the
+place, and will not move, if they can help it. Their families--well-to-do
+and humble alike--have been there for so many, many years. The very
+carter, or the little tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you
+(and prove to you by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade
+with pike or matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case
+may be, besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
+pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people believe
+in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit--when the young man seeks
+his fortune in New Zealand or America--he writes home the fullest
+information, and his letters published in the local print read curiously
+to an outsider, so full are they of local inquiries, and answers to
+friends who wished to know this or that. In the end he comes back--should
+he succeed in getting the gold which tempted him away--to pass his latter
+days gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
+Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
+narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and they have
+the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes in the world.
+They have a town council held now and then in an ancient wainscoted hall,
+with painted panels and coats of arms, carved oaken seats black with age,
+and narrow windows from which men once looked down into the street,
+wearing trunk hose and rapier.
+
+But they have at least two other councils that meet much more often, and
+that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when his shop is shut,
+after he has strolled round his garden, and taken his supper, the
+tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and there finds his circle
+assembled. They are all there, the rich and the moderately well-to-do, the
+struggling, and the poor. Each delivers his opinion over the social glass,
+or between the deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is
+extremely moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the
+glass nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common hall--the
+informal place of meeting.
+
+It is here that, the real government of the town is planned--the mere
+formal resolutions voted in the ancient council-room are the outcome of
+the open talk, and the quiet whisper here. No matter what subject is to
+the front, the question is always heard--What will 'he' do? What will 'he'
+say to it? The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The
+cottage hospital; the flower show; the cattle show, or agricultural
+exhibition; the new market buildings arose through his subscriptions and
+influence; the artesian well, sunk that the town might have the best of
+water, was bored at his expense; and so on through the whole list of town
+affairs. When 'he' takes the lead all the lesser gentry--many of whom,
+perhaps, live in his manor houses--follow suit, and with such powerful
+support to back it a movement is sure to succeed, yet 'he' is rarely seen;
+his hand rarely felt; everything is done, but without obtrusiveness. At
+these nightly councils at the chief hostelries the farmers of the district
+are almost as numerous as the townsmen. They ride in to hear the news and
+exchange their own small coin of gossip. They want to know what 'he' is
+going to do, and little by little of course it leaks out.
+
+But the town is not all so loyal. There is a section which is all the more
+vehemently rebellious because of the spectacle of its staid and
+comfortable neighbours. This section is very small, but makes a
+considerable noise. It holds meetings and utters treasonable speeches, and
+denounces the 'despot' in fiery language. It protests against a free and
+open park; it abhors artesian wells; it detests the throwing open of nut
+woods that all may go forth a-nutting; it waxes righteously indignant at
+every gift, be it prizes for the flower show or a new market site. It
+scorns those mean-spirited citizens that cheer these kindly deeds. It asks
+why? Why should we wait till the park gates are open? Why stay till the
+nut woods are declared ready? Why be thankful for pure water? Why not take
+our own? This one man has no right to these parks and woods and pleasure
+grounds and vast walls; these square miles of ploughed fields, meadows and
+hills. By right they should all be split up into little plots to grow our
+potatoes. Away with gilded coronet and watchman, batter down these walls,
+burn the ancient deeds and archives, put pick and lever to the tall church
+tower; let us have the rights of man! These violent ebullitions make not
+the least different. All the insults they can devise, all the petty
+obstructions they can set up, the mud they can fling, does not alter the
+calm course of the 'despot' one jot. The artesian well is bored, and they
+can drink pure water or not, as pleases them. The prizes are offered, and
+they can compete or stand aloof. Fleeceborough smiles when it meets at
+night in its council-rooms, with its glass and pipe; Fleeceborough knows
+that the traditional policy of the Hall will continue, and that policy is
+acceptable to it.
+
+What manner of man is this 'despot' and prince behind his vast walls?
+Verily his physique matters nothing; whether he be old or of middle age,
+tall or short, infirm or strong. The policy of the house keeps the actual
+head and owner rather in the background. His presence is never obtruded;
+he is rarely seen; you may stay in his capital for months and never catch
+a glimpse of him. He will not appear at meetings, that every man may be
+free, nor hesitate to say his say, and abuse what he lists to abuse. The
+policy is simply perfect freedom, with support and substantial assistance
+to any and to every movement set on foot by the respectable men of
+Fleeceborough, or by the tenant farmers round about. This has been going
+on for generations; so that the personnel of the actual owner concerns
+little. His predecessors did it, he does it, and the next to come will do
+it. It is the tradition of the house. Nothing is left undone that a true
+princely spirit could do to improve, to beautify, or to preserve.
+
+The antiquities of the old, old town are kept for it, and not permitted to
+decay; the ancient tesselated pavements of Roman villas carefully
+protected from the weather; the remnants of the enclosing walls which the
+legions built for their defence saved from destruction; the coins of the
+emperors and of our own early kings collected; the spurs, swords,
+spearheads, all the fragments of past ages arranged for inspection and
+study by every one who desires to ponder over them. Chipped flints and
+arrowheads, the bones of animals long extinct, and the strange evidences
+of yet more ancient creatures that swam in the seas of the prehistoric
+world, these too are preserved at his cost and expense. Archaeologists,
+geologists, and other men of science come from afar to see these things
+and to carry away their lessons. The memories of the place are cherished.
+There was a famous poet who sang in the woods about the park; his
+hermitage remains, and nothing is lost that was his. Art-treasures there
+are, too, heirlooms to be seen behind those vast walls by any who will be
+at the trouble of asking.
+
+Such is the policy of Hodge's own prince, whose silent influence is felt
+in every household for miles about, and felt, as all must admit, however
+prejudiced against the system, in this case for good. His influence
+reaches far beyond the bounds even of that immense property. The example
+communicates itself to others, and half the county responds to that
+pleasant impulse. It is a responsible position to hold; something,
+perhaps, a little like that of the Medici at Florence in the olden times.
+But here there is no gonfalon, no golden chain of office, no velvet
+doublet, cloak, and rapier, no guards with arquebuss or polished crossbow.
+An entire absence of state and ceremony marks this almost unseen but
+powerful sway. The cycle of the seasons brings round times of trial here
+as over the entire world, but the conditions under which the trial is
+sustained could scarcely in our day, and under our complicated social and
+political system, be much more favourable.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN
+
+
+A cock pheasant flies in frantic haste across the road, beating the air
+with wide-stretched wings, and fast as he goes, puts on yet a faster spurt
+as the shot comes rattling up through the boughs of the oak beneath him.
+The ground is, however, unfavourable to the sportsman, and the bird
+escapes. The fir copse from which the pheasant rose covers a rather sharp
+descent on one side of the highway. On the level above are the ploughed
+fields, but the slope itself is too abrupt for agricultural operations,
+and the soil perhaps thin and worthless. It is therefore occupied by a
+small plantation. On the opposite side of the road there grows a fine row
+of oaks in a hedge, under whose shade the dust takes long to dry when once
+damped by a shower. The sportsman who fired stands in the road; the
+beaters are above, for they desire the game to fly in a certain direction;
+and what with the narrow space between the firs and the oaks, the
+spreading boughs, and the uncertainty of the spot where the pheasant would
+break cover, it is not surprising that he missed.
+
+The shot, after tearing through the boughs, rises to some height in the
+air, and, making a curve, falls of its own weight only, like pattering
+hail--and as harmless--upon an aged woman, just then trudging slowly
+round the corner. She is a cottager, and has been to fetch the weekly dole
+of parish bread that helps to support herself and infirm husband. She
+wears a long cloak that nearly sweeps the ground on account of her
+much-bowed back, and carries a flag basket full of bread in one hand, and
+a bulging umbrella, which answers as a walking stick, in the other. The
+poor old body, much startled, but not in the least injured, scuttles back
+round the corner, exclaiming, 'Lor! it be Filbard a-shooting: spose a'had
+better bide a bit till he ha' done.' She has not long to wait. The young
+gentleman standing in the road gets a shot at another cock; this time the
+bird flies askew, instead of straight across, and so gives him a better
+opportunity. The pheasant falls crash among the nettles and brambles
+beside the road. Then a second and older gentleman emerges from the
+plantation, and after a time a keeper, who picks up the game.
+
+The party then proceed along the road, and coming round the corner the
+great black retriever runs up to the old woman with the most friendly
+intentions, but to her intense confusion, for she is just in the act of
+dropping a lowly curtsey when the dog rubs against her. The young
+gentleman smiles at her alarm and calls the dog; the elder walks on
+utterly indifferent. A little way up the road the party get over the gate
+into the meadows on that side, and make for another outlying plantation.
+Then, and not till then, does the old woman set out again, upon her slow
+and laborious journey. 'Filbard be just like a gatepost,' she mutters; 'a'
+don't take no notice of anybody.' Though she had dropped the squire so
+lowly a curtsey, and in his presence would have behaved with profound
+respect, behind his back and out of hearing she called him by his family
+name without any prefix. The cottagers thereabout almost always did this
+in speaking among themselves of their local magnate. They rarely said
+'Mr.'; it was generally 'Filbard,' or, even more familiarly, 'Jim
+Filbard.' Extremes meet. They hardly dared open their mouths when they saw
+him, and yet spoke of him afterwards as if he sat with them at bacon and
+cabbage time.
+
+Squire Filbard and one of his sons were walking round the outlying copses
+that October day with the object of driving the pheasants in towards the
+great Filbard wood, rather than of making a bag. The birds were inclined
+to wander about, and the squire thought a little judicious shooting round
+the outskirts would do good, and at the same time give his son some sport
+without disturbing the head of game he kept up in the wood itself. The
+squire was large made, tall, and well proportioned, and with a bearded,
+manly countenance. His neck was, perhaps, a little thick and
+apoplectic-looking, but burnt to a healthy brick-dust colour by exposure
+to the sun. The passing years had drawn some crows'-feet round the eyes,
+but his step was firm, his back straight, and he walked his ancestral
+acres every inch the master. The defect of his features was the thinness
+of the lips, and a want of character in a nose which did not accord with a
+good forehead. His hands, too, were very large and puffy; his finger-nails
+(scrupulously clean) were correspondingly large, and cut to a sharp point,
+that seemed to project beyond the tip of the finger, and gave it a
+scratchy appearance.
+
+The chimneys of Filbard Hall showed for some distance above the trees of
+the park, for the house stood on high ground. It was of red brick,
+somewhat square in style, and had little of the true Elizabethan
+character--it was doubtless later in date, though not modern. The
+chimneys, however, had a pleasing appearance over the trees; they were in
+stacks, and rather larger, or broader apparently at the top than where
+they rose from the roof. Such chimneys are not often seen on recent
+buildings. A chimney seems a simple matter, and yet the aspect of a house
+from a distance much depends upon its outline. The mansion was of large
+size, and stood in an extensive park, through which carriage drives swept
+up to the front from different lodge gates. Each of the drives passed
+under avenues of trees--the park seemed to stretch on either hand without
+enclosure or boundary--and the approach was not without a certain
+stateliness. Within the apartments were commodious, and from several there
+were really beautiful views. Some ancient furniture, handed down
+generation after generation, gave a character to the rooms; the oak
+staircase was much admired, and so was the wainscoating of one part.
+
+The usual family portraits hung on the walls, but the present squire had
+rather pushed them aside in favour of his own peculiar hobby. He collected
+antique Italian pictures--many on panels--in the pre-Raphaelite style.
+Some of these he had picked up in London, others he had found and
+purchased on the Continent. There were saints with glories or _nimbi_
+round their heads, Madonnas and kneeling Magi, the manger under a kind of
+penthouse, and similar subjects--subjects the highest that could be
+chosen. The gilding of the _nimbi_ seemed well done certainly, and was
+still bright, but to the ordinary eye the stiffness of the figures, the
+lack of grace, the absence of soul in the composition was distressingly
+apparent. It was, however, the squire's hobby, and it must be admitted
+that he had very high authority upon his side. Some sensitive persons
+rather shrank from seeing him handle these painted panels with those
+peculiar scratchy finger-nails; it set their teeth on edge. He gave
+considerable sums of money for many of these paintings, the only
+liberality he permitted himself, or was capable of.
+
+His own room or study was almost bare, and the solitary window looked on a
+paved passage that led to the stables. There was nothing in it but a large
+table, a bookcase, and two or three of the commonest horsehair chairs; the
+carpet was worn bare. He had selected this room because there was a door
+close by opening on the paved passage. Thus the bailiff of the Home Farm,
+the steward, the gamekeeper, the policeman, or any one who wished to see
+him on business, could come to the side door from the back and be shown in
+to him without passing through the mansion. This certainly was a
+convenient arrangement; yet one would have thought that he would have had
+a second and more private study in which to follow his own natural bent of
+mind. But the squire received the gardener and gave him directions about
+the cucumbers--for he descended even to such minutiae as that--sitting at
+the same table on which he had just written to an Italian art collector
+respecting a picture, or to some great friend begging him to come and
+inspect a fresh acquisition. The bookcase contained a few law books, a
+manual for the direction of justices--the squire was on the commission--a
+copy of Burke, and in one corner of a shelf a few musty papers referring
+to family history. These were of some value, and the squire was proud of
+showing them to those who took an interest in archaeology; yet he kept
+them much as if they had been receipts for the footman's livery, or a
+dozen bottles of stable medicine. He wrote with a quill pen, and as it
+went up and down it scratched the paper as if it had been those sharp
+projecting finger-nails.
+
+In this study he spent many hours when at home--he rose late, and after
+breakfast repaired hither. The steward was usually in attendance. He was a
+commonplace man, but little above the description of a labourer. He
+received wages not much superior to those a labourer takes in summer time,
+but as he lived at the Home Farm (which was in hand) there were of course
+some perquisites. A slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he
+pottered about and looked after things in general. One morning perhaps he
+would come in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going
+to cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been
+paid for. Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the Home Farm,
+or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which was decaying. A
+cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft. One of the tenants wanted a
+new shed put up, but it did not seem necessary; the old one would do very
+well if people were not so fidgety. The wife or daughter of one of the
+cottage people was taking to drink and getting into bad ways. This or that
+farmer had had some sheep die. Another farmer had bought some new
+silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village gossip.
+
+Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in or was sent
+for. The squire kept a large head of pheasants for certain reasons, but he
+was not over-anxious to pay for them. The keeper grumbled about his wages,
+that he had no perquisites, and that the shooting season never brought him
+any fees--unless the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every
+year. This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.
+He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs, and to
+give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted renewing. The
+steward had seen it, and thought it might be repaired; why did the keeper
+think it ought to be renewed altogether? And was there not plenty of larch
+timber lying about, that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a
+very good spar-gate, without purchasing one? Why couldn't old Hooker, the
+hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?
+
+Next came the coachman--the squire did not keep up anything of a stud,
+just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary riding horses and a
+pony for the children. The coachman had to explain why a new lock was
+wanted on the stable door; why the blacksmith's bill was so much for
+shoes; after which there was a long gossip about the horses of a gentleman
+who had come down and rented a place for the season. The gardener
+sometimes had an interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold
+from the orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire
+delighted. As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear with
+patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty bottles.
+
+The squire would have had the cook in and discussed the stock-pot with her
+for a full hour, but the cook set up her back. She wouldn't, no, that she
+wouldn't; and the squire found that the cook was mistress of the
+situation. She was the only personage who did not pass him with deference.
+She tossed her head, and told her fellow-servants audibly that he was a
+poor, mean-spirited man; and as for missis, she was a regular
+Tartar--there! In this they thoroughly agreed. The coachman and footman,
+when out with the carriage, and chancing to get a talk with other coachmen
+and footmen, were full of it. He was the meanest master they had ever
+known; yet they could not say that he paid less wages, or that they were
+ill-fed--it was this meddling, peddling interference they resented. The
+groom, when he rode into town for the letter-bag, always stopped to tell
+Ills friends some fresh instance of it. All the shopkeepers and tradesmen,
+and everybody else, had heard of it. But they were none the less
+obsequious when the squire passed up the street. The servants were never
+so glad as when young master came home with the liberal views imbibed in
+modern centres of learning, and with a free, frank mode of speech. But
+miss, the sole daughter, they simply hated; she seemed to have ten times
+the meanness of her papa, and had been a tell-tale from childhood. The
+kitchen said she saved her curl papers to sell as waste paper.
+
+The 'missis' was as haughty, as unapproachable, and disdainful as the
+master was inquisitive; she never spoke to, looked at, nor acknowledged
+any one--except the three largest tenants and their wives. To these, who
+paid heavily, she was gracious. She dressed in the very extreme and front
+of fashion--the squire himself quite plainly, without the least pretence
+of dandyism. Hateful as the village folk thought her _hauteur_ and open
+contempt for them, they said she was more the lady than the squire was the
+gentleman.
+
+The squire's time, when at home, like everything else, was peddled away.
+He rode into market one day of the week; he went to church on Sundays with
+unfailing regularity, and he generally attended the petty sessional bench
+on a third day. Upon the bench, from the long standing of his family, he
+occupied a prominent position. His mind invariably seized the minutiae of
+the evidence, and never seemed to see the point or the broad bearings of
+the case. He would utterly confuse a truthful witness, for instance, who
+chanced to say that he met the defendant in the road. 'But you said just
+now that you and he were both going the same way; how, then, could you
+meet him?' the squire would ask, frowning sternly. Whether the witness
+overtook or met the defendant mattered nothing to the point at issue; but
+the squire, having got a satisfactory explanation, turned aside, with an
+aggravating air of cleverness. For the rest of the week the squire could
+not account for his time. He sometimes, indeed, in the hunting season,
+rode to the meet; but he rarely followed. He had none of the enthusiasm
+that makes a hunter; besides, it made the horse in such a heat, and would
+work him out too quick for economy.
+
+He went out shooting, but not in regular trim. He would carry his gun
+across to the Home Farm, and knock over a rabbit on the way; then spend
+two hours looking at the Alderney cow, the roof of the pig-sty, and the
+poultry, and presently stroll across a corner of the wood, and shoot a
+pheasant. The head of game was kept up for the purpose of letting the
+mansion from time to time when the squire or his lady thought it desirable
+to go on the Continent, that the daughter might acquire the graces of
+travel. A visit to London in the season, a visit to the seaside, and then
+home in the autumn to peddle about the estate, made up the year when they
+did not go abroad. There was a broad park, noble trees, a great mansion, a
+stately approach; but within it seemed all littleness of spirit.
+
+The squire's own private study--the morning-room of the owner of this fine
+estate--was, as previously observed, next the passage that led to the
+stables, and the one window looked out on a blank wall. It was in this
+room that he conducted his business and pleasure, and his art researches.
+It was here that he received the famous 'Round Robin' from his tenants.
+The estate was not very large--something between 3,000 and 4,000
+acres--but much of it was good and fertile, though heavy land, and highly
+rented. Had the squire received the whole of his rents for his own private
+use he would have been well off as squires go. But there was a flaw or
+hitch somewhere in the right, or title, or succession. No one knew the
+precise circumstances, because, like so many similar family disputes, when
+the lawyers were ready, and the case had come before the tribunal, a
+compromise was arrived at, the terms of which were only known to the
+tribunal and the parties directly concerned.
+
+But everybody knew that the squire had to pay heavy pensions to various
+members of another branch of the family; and it was imagined that he did
+not feel quite fixed in the tenure--that possibly the case might, under
+certain circumstances, be heard of again--since it was noticed that he did
+not plant trees, or make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase
+the permanent attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was
+only lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
+place--without absolute damage--and to invest or spend nothing. After all
+these payments had been made the squire's income was much reduced, and
+thus, with all these broad acres, these extensive woods, and park, and
+mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and so forth, he was really a poor man.
+Not poor in the sense of actual want, but a man in his position had, of
+course, a certain appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages--even
+cooks--are not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to
+those who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with liberal
+ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who insists on
+dressing in the fashion is expensive.
+
+Now, taking all those things into consideration, and remembering, too,
+that the squire as a good father (which he was admittedly) wished to make
+provision for the future of his children, it may perhaps, after all, be
+questioned whether he really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared.
+Under the circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him
+was to be careful in little things. Even his hobby--the pre-Raphaelite
+pictures--was not without its advantage in this sense; the collection was
+certainly worth more than he gave for it, for he got it all by careful
+bargaining, and it could be sold again at a profit. The careful
+superintendence of the Alderney cow, the cucumber frames, and the rabbits,
+might all be carried out for the very best of objects, the good of his
+children.
+
+Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles of
+agriculture, the wetness of the seasons--which played havoc with the
+game--the low prices, and the loud talk that was going on around him. But
+he made no sign. He might have been deaf, dumb, and blind. He walked by
+the wheat, but did not see the deficiency of the crop, nor the
+extraordinary growth of weeds. There were voices in the air like the
+mutterings of a coming storm, but he did not hear them. There were
+paragraphs in the papers--how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
+returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did not understand.
+Rent days came and went, and no sign was made. His solicitor received the
+rents, but nothing could be got out of him by the farmers. The little
+farmers hardly liked to take the lead: some of them did not dare. The
+three largest farmers looked at each other and wondered which would speak
+first. They were awkwardly situated. The squire's wife acknowledged their
+wives and daughters, and once now and then deigned to invite them to the
+mansion. The squire himself presented them with specimens of a valuable
+breed of poultry he was bringing up at the Home Farm. It was difficult to
+begin unpleasant business.
+
+Meantime the solicitor gathered up the cheques, wished them good afternoon
+and departed. Another rent day came round, and still no sign. The squire's
+policy was, in fact, to ignore. He ignored the depression altogether--could
+not see that it existed in that county at all. Recollect, it was the only
+policy open to him. Whether the rents paid to him were large or small, his
+expenses would be the same. There were the members of the other branch of
+the family to be paid in full. There were the carriages, the servants, the
+gamekeepers, and so on. He could reduce nothing; no wonder that he was
+slow to acknowledge that he must be himself reduced. The fatal day--so
+long dreaded--came at last.
+
+A large letter lay on the table in the study one morning, along with the
+other letters. He did not recognise the handwriting, and naturally opened
+it first. It was a 'Round Robin' from the tenants. All had signed a
+memorial, setting forth the depression, and respectfully, even humbly,
+asking that their case be taken into consideration, and that a percentage
+be returned, or the rent reduced. Their heavy land, they pointed out, had
+been peculiarly difficult to work in such seasons. They had suffered
+exceptionally, and they trusted he would take no offence. But there was an
+unmistakable hint that they were in earnest. All signed it--from the
+ungrateful largest tenants, who had had presents of fancy poultry, and
+whose wives had been smiled upon, down to the smallest working farmer, who
+could hardly be distinguished from his own labourers.
+
+The squire read the names over twice, pointing to each with his sharp,
+scratchy finger-nail. There were other letters from the members of the
+other branch of the family whose pensions were just due in full. Suppose
+he returned ten per cent. of the rents to the tenants, that would not be
+like ten per cent. upon the entire rental, but perhaps twenty-five or
+thirty per cent, upon that portion of the rental which actually went into
+his own pocket. A man can hardly be expected to cheerfully tender other
+people a third of his income. But sprawling and ill-written as many of the
+signatures were to the 'Round Robin'--the pen held by heavy hands--yet
+they were genuine, and constituted a very substantial fact, that must be
+yielded to.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+
+Perhaps the magistrate most regular in his attendance at a certain country
+Petty Sessional Court is young Squire Marthorne. Those who have had
+business to transact at such Courts know the difficulty that often arises
+from the absence of a second magistrate, there being a numerous class of
+cases with which one justice of the peace is not permitted to deal. There
+must be two, and it sometimes happens that only one is forthcoming. The
+procedure adopted varies much in different divisions, according to the
+population and the percentage of charges brought up. Usually a particular
+day is appointed when it is understood that a full bench will be present,
+but it not unfrequently happens that another and less formal meeting has
+to be held, at which the attendance is uncertain. The district in which
+Mr. Marthorne resides chances to be somewhat populous, and to include one
+or two turbulent places that furnish a steady supply of offenders. The
+practice therefore is to hold two Courts a week; at one of these, on the
+Saturday, the more important cases are arranged to be heard, when there
+are always plenty of magistrates. At the other, on the Tuesday, remands
+and smaller matters are taken, and there then used to be some delay.
+
+One justice thought his neighbour would go, another thought the same of
+his neighbour, and the result was nobody went. Having tacitly bound
+themselves to attend once a week, the justices, many of whom resided miles
+away, did not care formally to pledge themselves to be invariably present
+on a second day. Sometimes the business on that second day was next to
+nothing, but occasionally serious affairs turned up, when messengers had
+to be despatched to gather a quorum.
+
+But latterly this uncertainty has been put an end to through the regular
+attendance of young Squire Marthorne, of Marthorne House. The Marthornes
+are an old family, and one of the best connected in the county, though by
+no means rich, and, whether it was the lack of great wealth or a want of
+energy, they had until recently rather dropped out of the governing
+circle. When, however, the young squire, soon after his accession to the
+property, in the natural course of events, was nominated to the Commission
+of the Peace, he began to exhibit qualities calculated to bring him to the
+front. He developed an aptitude for business, and at the same time showed
+a personal tact and judgment which seemed to promise a future very
+different from the previous stagnation of his family.
+
+These qualities came first into play at the Petty Sessions, which, apart
+from the criminal business, is practically an informal weekly Parliament
+of local landowners. Marthorne, of course, was well known to the rest long
+before his appearance among them as a colleague. He had gained some
+reputation at college; but that had long since been forgotten in the
+prestige he had attained as a brilliant foxhunter. Even in the days before
+his accession, when his finances were notoriously low, he had somehow
+contrived to ride a first-rate horse. Everybody likes a man who rides a
+good horse. At the same time there was nothing horsey about him; he was
+always the gentleman. Since his succession the young squire, as he was
+familiarly described--most of the others being elderly---had selected his
+horses with such skill that it was well known a very great man had noticed
+them, so that when he came to the Bench, young as he was, Marthorne
+escaped the unpleasant process of finding his level--_i.e._ being
+thoroughly put down.
+
+If not received quite as an equal by that assemblage of elderly gentlemen,
+he was made to feel that at all events they would listen to what he had to
+say. That is a very great point gained. Marthorne used his advantage with
+judgment. He displayed a modesty highly commendable in a young man. He
+listened, and only spoke for the purpose of acquiring information. Nothing
+is so pleasing as to find a man of intelligence willingly constituting
+himself your pupil. They were all anxious to teach him the business of the
+county, and the more he endeavoured to learn from them the cleverer they
+thought him.
+
+Now, the business of the county was not very intricate; the details were
+innumerable, but the general drift was easy to acquire. Much more
+complicated to see through were all the little personal likings,
+dislikings, petty spites, foibles, hobbies, secret understandings, family
+jars, and so forth, which really decide a man's vote, or the scale into
+which he throws his influence. There were scores of squires dotted over
+the county, each of whom possessed local power more or less considerable,
+and each of whom might perchance have private relations with men who held
+high office in the State. Every family had its history and its archives
+containing records of negotiations with other families. People who met
+with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the same party, might have
+grudges half a century old, but not yet forgotten. If you made friends
+with one, you might mortally offend the other. The other would say
+nothing, but another day a whisper to some great authority might destroy
+the hopes of the aspirant. Those who would attain to power must study the
+inner social life, and learn the secret motives that animate men. But to
+get at the secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote,
+would occupy one for years.
+
+Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle, knew the
+main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to work, he quickly
+felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment he might irritate some
+one's hidden prejudice. He looked round for an older man who knew all
+about it, and could inform him. This man he found in the person of the
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions. The nominal Chairman, like many other
+unpaid officials, held the place because of old family greatness, not from
+any personal ability--family greatness which was in reality a mere
+tradition. The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the circle.
+
+A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for its own
+sake, and understood every technicality. With little or no personal
+ambition, he had assisted in every political and social movement in the
+county for half a century, and knew the secret motives of every individual
+landowner. With large wealth, nothing to do, and childless, he took a
+liking to young Marthorne. The old man wished for nothing better than to
+talk; the young squire listened attentively. The old man was delighted to
+find some one who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty
+Sessional business. Thus it was that the people who had to attend the
+Local Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it
+was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their business
+facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates. The Vice-Chairman was
+always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there. It sometimes happened
+that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or Hodge the recent pugilist, was
+stolidly waiting for his sentence, the two justices in the retiring room
+were convulsed with laughter; the one recounting, the other imbibing, some
+curious racy anecdote concerning the family history of a local magnate.
+
+Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for solid
+qualities, for work and application. Not only at the Bench, but at the
+Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice of the peace is
+_ex officio_ a member, he steadily worked at details, sat patiently upon
+committees, audited endless accounts, read interminable reports, and was
+never weary of work. The farmers began to talk about him, and to remark to
+each other what a wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a
+pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was. The applause was well earned,
+for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work than that of
+attending Boards which never declare dividends. He next appeared at the
+farmers' club, at first as a mere spectator, and next, though with evident
+diffidence, as a speaker.
+
+Marthorne was no orator; he felt when he stood up to speak an odd
+sensation in the throat, as if the glottis had contracted. He was, in
+fact, very nervous, and for the first two or three sentences had not the
+least idea what he had said. But he forced himself to say it--his will
+overruled his physical weakness. When said it was not much--only a few
+safe platitudes--but it was a distinct advance. He felt that next time he
+should do better, and that his tongue would obey his mind. His remarks
+appeared in the local print, and he had started as a speaker. He was
+resolved to be a speaker, for it is evident to all that, without frequent
+public speech, no one can now be a representative man. Marthorne, after
+this, never lost an opportunity of speaking--if merely to second a
+resolution, to propose a toast, he made the most of it. One rule he laid
+down for himself, namely, never to say anything original. He was not
+speaking to propound a new theory, a new creed, or view of life. His aim
+was to become the mouthpiece of his party. Most probably the thought that
+seemed to him so clever might, if publicly expressed, offend some
+important people. He, therefore, carefully avoided anything original. High
+authorities are now never silent; when Parliament closes they still
+continue to address the public, and generally upon more or less stirring
+questions of the time.
+
+In those addresses, delivered by the very leaders of his own party,
+Marthorne found the material, and caught from their diligent perusal the
+spirit in which to use it. In this way, without uttering a single original
+idea of his own, and with very little originality of expression, the young
+orator succeeded perfectly in his aim. First, he became recognised as a
+speaker, and, therefore, extremely useful; secondly, he was recognised as
+one of the soundest exponents of politics in the county. Marthorne was not
+only clever, but 'safe.' His repute for the latter quality was of even
+more service to him than for talent; to be 'safe' in such things is a very
+great recommendation. Personal reputation is of slow growth, but it does
+grow. The Vice-Chairman, Marthorne's friend and mentor, had connections
+with very high people indeed. He mentioned Marthorne to the very high
+people. These, in their turn, occasionally cast a glance at what Marthorne
+was doing. Now and then they read a speech of his, and thought it
+extremely good, solid, and well put. It was understood that a certain M.P.
+would retire at the next election; and they asked themselves whom they had
+to take his place?
+
+While this important question was exercising the minds of those in
+authority, Marthorne was energetically at work gaining the social
+suffrage. The young squire's lady--he had married in his minority for
+beauty and intelligence, and not for money--was discovered to be a very
+interesting young person. Her beauty and intelligence, and, let it be
+added, her true devotion to her husband's cause, proved of fifty times
+more value to him than a dowry of many manors. Her tact smoothed the way
+everywhere; she made friends for him in all directions, especially perhaps
+during the London season. Under the whirl and glitter of that fascinating
+time there are latent possibilities of important business. Both Marthorne
+and his lady had by birth and connections the _entrée_ into leading
+circles; but many who have that _entrée_ never attain to more influence in
+society than the furniture of the drawing-room.
+
+These two never for a moment lost sight of the country while they enjoyed
+themselves in town. Everything they said or did was said and done with a
+view to conciliate people who might have direct or indirect influence in
+the country. In these matters, ladies of position still retain
+considerable power in their hands. The young squire and his wife put
+themselves to immense trouble to get the good-will of such persons, and
+being of engaging manners they in time succeeded. This was not effected at
+once, but three or four years are a very short time in which to develop
+personal influence, and their success within so brief a period argues
+considerable skill.
+
+At home again in the autumn the same efforts were diligently continued.
+The mansion itself was but of moderate size and by no means convenient,
+but the squire's lady transformed it from a gaunt, commonplace country
+house into an elegant and charming residence. This she contrived without
+great expense by the exercise of good taste and a gift of discriminating
+between what was and what was not. The exterior she left alone--to alter
+an exterior costs a heavy sum and often fails. But the interior she
+gradually fitted in a novel fettle, almost entirely after her own design.
+The gardens, too, under her supervision, became equally inviting. The
+house got talked about, and was itself a social success.
+
+On his part, the squire paid as much attention to the estate. It was not
+large, far from sufficient of itself, indeed, to support any social or
+political pretensions without the most rigid economy. And the pair were
+rigidly economical. The lady dressed in the height of the fashion, and
+drove the most beautiful horses, and yet she never wasted a shilling upon
+herself. Her own little private whims and fancies she resolutely refused
+to gratify. Every coin was spent where it would produce effect. In like
+manner, the squire literally never had half a sovereign in his pocket. He
+selected the wines in his cellar with the greatest care, and paid for them
+prices which the wine merchant, in these days of cheap wines, was
+unaccustomed to receive from men of thrice his income. The squire paid for
+the very best wine, and in private drank a cheap claret. But his guests,
+many of them elderly gentlemen, when once they had dined with him never
+forgot to come again. His bins became known throughout the county; very
+influential people indeed spoke of them with affection. It was in this way
+that the squire got a high value out of his by no means extensive rents.
+
+He also looked after the estate personally. Hodge, eating his luncheon
+under the hedge in October, as he slowly munched his crust, watched the
+squire strolling about the fields, with his gun under his arm, and
+wondered why he did not try the turnips. The squire never went into the
+turnip field, and seemed quite oblivious that he carried a gun, for when a
+covey rose at his feet he did not fire, but simply marked them down. His
+mind, in fact, was busy with more important matters, and, fond as he was
+of shooting, he wanted the birds for some one else's delectation. After he
+had had the place a little while, there was not a square inch of waste
+ground to be found. When the tenants were callous to hints, the squire
+gave them pretty clearly to understand that he meant his land to be
+improved, and improved it was. He himself of his own free motive and
+initiative ordered new buildings to be erected where he, by personal
+inspection, saw that they would pay. He drained to some extent, but not
+very largely, thinking that capital sunk in drains, except in particular
+soils, did not return for many years.
+
+Anxious as he was to keep plenty of game, he killed off the rabbits, and
+grubbed up many of the small covers at the corners and sides of arable
+fields which the tenants believed injurious to crops. He repaired
+labourers' cottages, and added offices to farmsteads. In short, he did
+everything that could be done without too heavy an expenditure. To kill
+off the rabbits, to grub the smaller coverts, to drain the marshy spots,
+to thatch the cottages, put up cattle sheds, and so on, could be effected
+without burdening the estate with a loan. But, small as these improvements
+were in themselves, yet, taken together, they made an appreciable
+difference.
+
+There was a distinct increase in the revenue of the estate after the first
+two years. The increase arose in part from the diminished expenses, for it
+has been found that a tumble-down place is more costly to maintain than
+one in good repair. The tenants at first were rather alarmed, fearing lest
+the change should end in a general rise of rents. It did not. The squire
+only asked an increase when he had admittedly raised the value of the
+land, and then only to a moderate amount. By degrees he acquired a
+reputation as the most just of landlords. His tenantry were not only
+satisfied, but proud of him; for they began to foresee what was going to
+happen.
+
+Yet all these things had been done for his own interest--so true is it
+that the interest of the landlord and the tenant are identical. The squire
+had simply acted judiciously, and from personal inspection. He studied his
+estate, and attended to it personally. Of course he could not have done
+these things had he not succeeded to a place but little encumbered with
+family settlements. He did them from interested motives, and not from mere
+sentiment. But, nevertheless, credit of a high order was justly accorded
+to him. So young a man might naturally have expended his income on
+pleasure. So young a wife might have spent his rents in frivolity. They
+worked towards an end, but it was a worthy end--for ambition, if not too
+extravagant, is a virtue. Men with votes and influence compared this
+squire in their minds with other squires, whose lives seemed spent in a
+slumberous donothingness.
+
+Thus, by degrees, the young squire's mansion and estate added to his
+reputation. The labour which all this represented was immense. Both the
+squire and his wife worked harder than a merchant in his office. Attending
+Boards and farmers' clubs, making speeches, carrying on correspondence,
+looking after the estate, discharging social duties, filled up every
+moment of his time. Superintending the house, the garden, corresponding,
+and a hundred other labours, filled up every moment of hers. They were
+never idle; to rise socially and politically requires as great or greater
+work than for a poor man to achieve a fortune.
+
+Ultimately the desired result began to be apparent. There grew up a
+general feeling that the squire was the best man for the place in
+Parliament which, in the course of events, must ere long be vacant. There
+was much heartburning and jealousy secretly felt among men twice his age,
+who had waited and hoped for years for such an opening, till at last they
+had rusted and become incapable of effort. But, cynical as they might be
+in private, they were too wise to go openly against the stream. A few
+friendly words spoken in season by a great man whose goodwill had been
+gained decided the matter. At an informal meeting of the party--how much
+more is effected at informal than at formal assemblies!--Marthorne was
+introduced as the successor to the then representative. The young squire's
+estate could not, of course, bear the heavy pecuniary strain which must
+arise; but before those who had the control of these things finally
+selected him they had ascertained that there would be no difficulty with
+respect to money. Marthorne's old friend and mentor, the wealthy
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions, who had inducted him into the county
+business, announced that he should bear the larger part of the expense. He
+was not a little proud of his _protégé_.
+
+The same old friend and mentor, wise with the knowledge and experience
+which long observation of men had given him, advised the young squire what
+to do when the depression first came upon agriculture. The old man said,
+'Meet it; very likely it will not last two years. What is that in the life
+of an estate?' So the young squire met it, and announced at once that he
+should return a percentage of his rents. 'But not too high a percentage,'
+said the old man; 'let us ascertain what the rest of the landowners think,
+else by a too liberal reduction you may seem to cast a reflection upon
+them.' The percentage was returned, and continued, and the young squire
+has tided over the difficulty.
+
+His own tenantry and the farming interest generally are proud of him.
+Hodge, who, slow as he is, likes a real man, says, 'He beant such a bad
+sort of a veller, you; a' beant above speaking to we!' When the time comes
+the young squire will certainly be returned.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+It is pleasant, on a sunny day to walk through a field of wheat when the
+footpath is bordered on either side by the ripening crop, without the
+intervention of hedge or fence. Such a footpath, narrow, but well kept,
+leads from a certain country churchyard to the highway road, and passes on
+the way a wicket gate in a thick evergreen shrubbery which surrounds the
+vicarage lawn and gardens. This afternoon the wheat stands still and
+upright, without a motion, in the burning sunshine, for the sun, though he
+has sloped a little from his highest meridian altitude, pours an even
+fiercer beam than at the exact hour of noon. The shadeless field is
+exposed to the full glare of the brilliant light. There are no trees in
+the field itself, the hedges are cut low and trimmed to the smallest
+proportions, and are devoid of timber; and, as the ground is high and
+close to the hills, all the trees in sight are beneath, and can be
+overlooked. Whether in sunshine or storm there is no shelter--no medium;
+the wind rushes over with its utmost fury, or the heat rests on it
+undisturbed by the faintest current. Yet, sultry as it is, the footpath is
+a pleasant one to follow.
+
+The wheat ears, all but ripe--to the ordinary eye they are ripe, but the
+farmer is not quite satisfied--rise to the waist or higher, and tempt the
+hand to pluck them. Butterflies flutter over the surface, now descending
+to some flower hidden beneath, now resuming their joyous journey. There is
+a rich ripe feeling in the very atmosphere, the earth is yielding her
+wealth, and a delicate aroma rises from her generous gifts. Far as the eye
+can see, the rolling plains and slopes present various tints of
+yellow--wheat in different stages of ripeness, or of different kinds; oats
+and barley--till the hedges and woods of the vale conceal the farther
+landscape on the one hand and the ridge of the hills upon the other.
+
+Nothing conveys so strong an impression of substantial wealth as the view
+of wheat-fields. A diamond ornament in a window may be ticketed as worth
+so many hundreds of pounds; but the glittering gem, and the sum it
+represents, seem rather abstract than real. But the wheat, the golden
+wheat, is a great fact that seizes hold of the mind; the idea comes of
+itself that it represents solid wealth.
+
+The tiles of the vicarage roof--all of the house visible above the
+shrubbery--look so hot and dry in the glaring sunshine that it does not
+seem possible for vegetation to exist upon them; yet they are tinted with
+lichen. The shrubbery has an inviting coolness about it--the thick
+evergreens, the hollies on which the berries are now green, the cedars and
+ornamental trees planted so close together that the passer-by cannot see
+through, must surely afford a grateful shade--a contrast with the heat of
+the wheat-field and the dust of the highway below. Just without the wicket
+gate a goat standing upon his hind legs, his fore legs placed against the
+palings, is industriously nibbling the tenderest leaves of the shrubs and
+trees which he can reach. Thus extended to his full length he can reach
+considerably higher than might be supposed, and is capable of much
+destruction. Doubtless he has got out of bounds.
+
+Inside the enclosure the reverend gentleman himself reclines in an
+arm-chair of cane-work placed under the shade of the verandah, just
+without the glass door or window opening from the drawing-room upon the
+lawn. His head has fallen back and a little to one side, and an open book
+lies on his knee; his soft felt hat is bent and crumpled; he has yielded
+to the heat and is slumbering. The blinds are partly down the window, but
+a glimpse can be obtained of a luxurious carpet, of tables in valuable
+woods and inlaid, of a fine piano, of china, and the thousand and one
+nicknacks of highly civilised life. The reverend gentleman's suit of
+black, however, is not new; it is, on the contrary, decidedly rusty, and
+the sole of one of his boots, which is visible, is much worn. Over his
+head the roses twine round the pillars of the verandah, and there is a
+_parterre_ of brilliant flowers not far from his feet.
+
+His wife sits, a few yards distant, under a weeping ash, whose
+well-trained boughs make a perfect tent, and shield her from the sun. She
+has a small table before her, and writing materials, and is making notes
+with the utmost despatch from some paper or journal. She is no longer
+young, and there are marks of much care and trouble on her forehead; but
+she has still a pleasing expression upon her features, her hands are
+exquisitely white, and her figure, once really good, retains some of the
+outline that rendered it beautiful. Wherever you saw her you would say,
+That is a lady. But her dress, tasteful though it be, is made of the
+cheapest material, and looks, indeed, as if it had been carefully folded
+away last summer, and was now brought out to do duty a second time.
+
+The slow rumble of waggon wheels goes down the road, close to the lawn,
+but concealed by the trees, against whose boughs the sheaves of the load
+rustle as they go past. Wealth rolling by upon the waggon, wealth in the
+well-kept garden, in the smart lawn, in the roses, the bright flowers, the
+substantial well-furnished house, the luxurious carpet, and the china;
+wealth, too, all around in the vast expanse of ripening wheat. He has
+nothing to do but to slumber in the cane chair and receive his tithe of
+the harvest. She has nothing to do but to sit under the shadow of the
+weeping ash and dream dreams, or write verses. Such, at least, might be
+the first impression.
+
+The publication from which she is so earnestly making notes is occupied
+with the management of bees, and she is so busy because the paper is only
+borrowed, and has to be returned. Most of the papers and books that come
+to the vicarage have to be hastily read for the same reason. Mrs. F---- is
+doing her very best and hardest to increase the Rev. F----'s income--she
+has tried to do so for some years, and despite repeated failures is
+bravely, perhaps a little wearily, still trying. There is not much left
+for her to experiment with. The goat surreptitiously nibbling the valuable
+shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that once seemed to
+promise fair. Goats at one time (she was persuaded) were the means of
+ready wealth--they could live anywhere, on anything (the shrubs to wit),
+and yielded such rich milk; it far surpassed that of the shorthorn; there
+was the analysis to prove it! Such milk must of course be worth money,
+beside which there were the kids, and the cheese and butter.
+
+Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse than that of
+the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation, that no one would have
+them on the land. The milk was all the analysis declared it, but in that
+outlying village, which did not contain two houses above the quality of a
+farmstead, there was no one to buy it. There was a prejudice against the
+butter which could not be got over; and the cheese--well, the cheese
+resembled a tablet of dark soap. Hodge would not eat it at a gift; he
+smelt it, picked a morsel off on the tip of his clasp knife, and threw it
+aside in contempt. One by one the goats were got rid of, and now but two
+or three remained; she could not make up her mind to part with all, for
+living creatures, however greatly they have disappointed, always enlist
+the sympathies of women.
+
+Poultry was the next grand discovery--they ate their heads off, refused to
+lay eggs, and, when by frequent purchase they became numerous and promised
+to pay, quietly died by the score, seized with an epidemic. She learnt in
+visiting the cottagers how profitable their allotment gardens were to
+them, and naturally proceeded to argue that a larger piece of ground would
+yield proportionately larger profit if cultivated on the same principle.
+If the cottagers could pay a rent for an acre which, in the aggregate, was
+three times that given by the ordinary farmer, and could even then make a
+good thing of it, surely intelligence and skill might do the same on a
+more extended scale. How very foolish the farmers were! they might raise
+at least four times the produce they did, and they might pay three times
+the rent. As the vicar had some hundred and fifty acres of glebe let at
+the usual agricultural rent, if the tenants could be persuaded or
+instructed to farm on the cottager's system, what an immense increase it
+would be to his income! The tenants, however, did not see it. They
+shrugged their shoulders, and made no movement The energetic lady resolved
+to set an example, and to prove to them that they were wrong.
+
+She rented an acre of arable land (at the side of the field), giving the
+tenant a fair price for it. First it had to be enclosed so as to be parted
+off from the open field. The cost of the palings made the vicar wince; his
+lady set it duly down to debit. She planted one-half potatoes, as they
+paid thirty pounds per acre, and on the rest put in hundreds of currant
+bushes, set a strawberry bed and an asparagus bed, on the principle that
+luxuries of that kind fetch a high price and occupy no more space than
+cabbages. As the acre was cultivated entirely by the spade, the cost of
+the labour expended upon it ran up the figures on the debit side to an
+amount which rather startled her. But the most dispiriting part of the
+commencement was the length of time to wait before a crop came. According
+to her calculations that represented so much idle capital sunk, instead of
+being rapidly turned over. However, she consoled herself with the pig-sty,
+in which were half a dozen animals, whose feeding she often personally
+superintended.
+
+The potatoes failed, and did not pay for the digging; the currant bushes
+were blighted; the strawberries were eaten by snails, and, of course, no
+asparagus could be cut for three years; a little item, this last, quite
+overlooked. The pigs returned exactly the sum spent upon them; there was
+neither profit nor loss, and there did not appear any chance of making a
+fortune out of pork. The lady had to abandon the experiment quite
+disheartened, and found that, after all her care and energy, her books
+showed a loss of fifteen pounds. It was wonderful it was not more; labour
+was so expensive, and no doubt she was cheated right and left.
+
+She next tried to utilise her natural abilities, and to turn her
+accomplishments to account. She painted; she illuminated texts; she
+undertook difficult needlework of various kinds, in answer to
+advertisements which promised ample remuneration for a few hours' labour.
+Fifteen hours' hard work she found was worth just threepence, and the
+materials cost one shilling: consequently she laboriously worked herself
+poorer by ninepence.
+
+Finally, she was studying bees, which really seemed to hold out some
+prospect of success. Yonder were the hills where they could find thyme in
+abundance; the fields around supplied clover; and the meadows below were
+full of flowers. So that hot summer day, under the weeping ash, she was
+deep in the study of the 'Ligurian queen,' the 'super' system, the
+mysteries of 'driving,' and making sketches of patent hives. Looking up
+from her sketch she saw that her husband had fallen asleep, and stayed to
+gaze at him thoughtfully.
+
+He looked worn, and older than he really was; as if rest or change would
+do him good; as if he required luxuries and petting. She sighed, and
+wondered whether the bees would enable her to buy him such things, for
+though the house was well furnished and apparently surrounded with wealth,
+they were extremely poor. Yet she did not care for money for their own
+household use so much as to give him the weight in parish affairs he so
+sadly needed. She felt that he was pushed aside, treated as a cipher, and
+that he had little of the influence that properly belonged to him. Her two
+daughters, their only children, were comfortably, though not grandly,
+married and settled; there was no family anxiety. But the work, the
+parish, the people, all seemed to have slipped out of her husband's hands.
+She could not but acknowledge that he was too quiet and yielding, that he
+lacked the brazen voice, the personal force that imposes upon men. But
+surely his good intentions, his way of life, his gentle kindness should
+carry sway. Instead of which the parish seemed to have quite left the
+Church, and the parson was outside the real modern life of the village. No
+matter what he did, even if popular, it soon seemed to pass out of his
+hands.
+
+There was the school, for instance. He could indeed go across and visit
+it, but he had no control, no more than the veriest stranger that strolled
+along the road. He had always been anxious for a good school, and had done
+the best he could with means so limited before the new Acts came into
+operation. When they were passed he was the first to endeavour to carry
+them out and to save the village the cost and the possible quarrelling of
+a school board. He went through all the preliminary work, and reconciled,
+as far as possible, the jarring interests that came into play. The two
+largest landlords of the place were unfortunately not on good terms.
+Whatever the one did the other was jealous of, so that when one promised
+the necessary land for the school, and it was accepted, the other withdrew
+his patronage, and declined to subscribe. With great efforts the vicar,
+nevertheless, got the school erected, and to all appearance the difficulty
+was surmounted.
+
+But when the Government inspection took place it was found that, though
+not nearly filled with scholars, there was not sufficient cubic space to
+include the children of a distant outlying hamlet, which the vicar had
+hoped to manage by a dame school. These poor children, ill fed and young,
+could hardly stand walking to and from the village school--a matter of
+some five miles daily, and which in winter and wet weather was, in itself,
+a day's work for their weary little limbs. As the vicar could not raise
+money enough to pay a certificated teacher at the proposed branch or dame
+school, the scheme had to be abandoned. Then, according to red tape, it
+was necessary to enlarge the village school to accommodate these few
+children, and this notwithstanding that the building was never full. The
+enlargement necessitated a great additional expenditure The ratepayers
+did, indeed, after much bickering and much persuasion, in the end pay off
+the deficiency; but in the meantime, the village had been brought to the
+verge of a school board.
+
+Religious differences came to the front--there was, in fact, a trial of
+force between the denominations. Till then for many years these
+differences had slumbered and been almost forgotten; they were now brought
+into collision, and the social quiet of the place was upset. A council of
+the chief farmers and some others was ultimately formed, and, as a matter
+of fact, really did represent the inhabitants fairly well. But while it
+represented the parish, it left the vicar quite outside. He had a voice,
+but nothing more. He was not the centre--the controlling spirit.
+
+He bore it meekly enough, so far as he was personally concerned; but he
+grieved about it in connection with his deep religious feelings and his
+Church. The Church was not in the front of all, as it should be. It was
+hard after all his labour; the rebuffs, the bitter remarks, the sneers of
+those who had divergent views, and, perhaps worse than all, the cold
+indifference and apathy of those who wished things to remain in the old
+state, ignoring the fact that the law would not suffer it. There were many
+other things besides the school, but they all went the same way. The
+modern institution was introduced, championed by the Church, worked for by
+the Church, but when at last it was successful, somehow or other it seemed
+to have severed itself from the Church altogether. The vicar walked about
+the village, and felt that, though nominally in it, he was really out of
+it.
+
+His wife saw it too, still more clearly than he did. She saw that he had
+none of the gift of getting money out of people. Some men seem only to
+have to come in contact with others to at once receive the fruits of their
+dormant benevolent feelings. The rich man writes his cheque for 100_l_.,
+the middle-class well-to-do sends his bank notes for 20_l_., the
+comfortable middle-class man his sovereigns. A testimonial is got up, an
+address engrossed on vellum, speeches are made, and a purse handed over
+containing a draft for so many hundreds, 'in recognition, not in reward,
+of your long continued and successful ministrations.' The art of causing
+the purse-strings to open is an art that is not so well understood,
+perhaps, among the orthodox as by the unorthodox. The Rev. F---- either
+could not, or would not, or did not know how to ask, and he did not
+receive.
+
+Just at present his finances were especially low. The tenants who farmed
+the glebe land threatened to quit unless their rents were materially
+reduced, and unless a considerable sum was expended upon improvements. To
+some very rich men the reduction of rents has made a sensible difference;
+to the Rev. F---- it meant serious privations. But he had no choice; he
+had to be satisfied with that or nothing. Then the vicarage house, though
+substantial and pleasant to look at, was not in a good state within. The
+rain came through in more places than one, and the ancient woodwork of the
+roof was rotten. He had already done considerable repairing, and knew that
+he must soon do more. The nominal income of the living was but moderate;
+but when the reductions were all made, nothing but a cheese-paring seemed
+left. From this his subscriptions to certain ecclesiastical institutions
+had to be deducted.
+
+Lastly, he had received a hint that a curate ought to be kept now that his
+increasing age rendered him less active than before. There was less hope
+now than ever of anything being done for him in the parish. The landowners
+complained of rent reductions, of farms idle on their hands, and of
+increasing expenses. The farmers grumbled about the inclement seasons,
+their continual losses, and the falling markets. It was not a time when
+the churlish are almost generous, having such overflowing pockets. There
+was no testimonial, no address on vellum, no purse with banker's draft for
+the enfeebled servant of the Church slumbering in the cane chair in the
+verandah.
+
+Yet the house was exquisitely kept, marvellously kept considering the
+class of servants they were obliged to put up with. The garden was bright
+and beautiful with flowers, the lawn smooth; there was an air of
+refinement everywhere. So the clergyman slept, and the wife turned again
+to her sketch of the patent hive, hoping that the golden honey might at
+last bring some metallic gold. The waggon rumbled down the road, and
+Hodge, lying at full length on the top of the load, could just see over
+the lowest part of the shrubbery, and thought to himself what a jolly life
+that parson led, sleeping the hot hours away in the shade.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+
+A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+
+'He can't stroddle thuck puddle, you: can a'?'
+
+'He be going to try: a' will leave his shoe in it.'
+
+Such were the remarks that passed between two agricultural women who from
+behind the hedge were watching the approach of the curate along a deep
+miry lane. Where they stood the meadow was high above the level of the
+lane, which was enclosed by steep banks thickly overgrown with bramble,
+briar, and thorn. The meadows each side naturally drained into the hollow,
+which during a storm was filled with a rushing torrent, and even after a
+period of dry weather was still moist, for the overhanging trees prevented
+evaporation. A row of sarsen stones at irregular intervals were intended
+to afford firm footing to the wayfarer, but they were nothing more than
+traps for the unwary. Upon placing the foot on the smooth rounded surface
+it immediately slipped, and descended at an angle into a watery hole. The
+thick, stiff, yellow clay held the water like a basin; the ruts, quite two
+feet deep, where waggon wheels had been drawn through by main force, were
+full to the brim. In summer heats they might have dried, but in November,
+though fine, they never would.
+
+Yet if the adventurous passenger, after gamely struggling, paused awhile
+to take breath, and looked up from the mud, the view above was beautiful.
+The sun shone, and lit up the oaks, whose every leaf was brown or buff;
+the gnats played in thousands in the mild air under the branches. Through
+the coloured leaves the blue sky was visible, and far ahead a faintly
+bluish shadow fell athwart the hollow. There were still blackberries on
+the bramble, beside which the brown fern filled the open spaces, and
+behind upon the banks the mosses clothed the ground and the roots of the
+trees with a deep green. Two or more fieldfares were watching in an elm
+some distance down; the flock to which they belonged was feeding, partly
+in the meadow and partly in the hedge. Every now and then the larks flew
+over, uttering their call-note. Behind a bunch of rushes a young rabbit
+crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the hole hard by,
+doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to enter the burrow.
+
+It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not the least
+current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the exertion. His
+boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at every step; they came out
+with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the marks of footsteps, planting his
+step where the weight of some carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down
+firm. Where these failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a
+few inches wide, between two sets of ruts. In a minute he felt the ridge
+giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts. Next he
+crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked in the
+tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting bough quietly
+lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it suspended, instead of
+dropping it in the mud. Still he made progress, though slow; now with a
+giant stride across an exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from
+side to side. The lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance.
+But there was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any
+other obstacle. It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or
+wrong, in these cynical days. He was too young to have acquired much
+worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which arises from
+thorough conviction and the sense of personal consecration conferred by
+the mission on the man. He pushed on steadily till brought to a stop by a
+puddle, broad, deep, and impassable, which extended right across the lane,
+and was some six or eight yards long. He tried to slip past at the side,
+but the banks were thick with thorns, and the brambles overhung the water;
+the outer bushes coated with adhesive mud. Then he sounded the puddle with
+his stick as far as he could reach, and found it deep and the bottom soft,
+so that the foot would sink into it. He considered, and looked up and down
+the lane.
+
+The two women, of whose presence he was unconscious, watched him from the
+high and dry level of the meadow, concealed behind the bushes and the
+oaks. They wore a species of smock frock gathered in round the waist by a
+band over their ordinary dress; these smock frocks had once been white,
+but were now discoloured with dirt and the weather. They were both stout
+and stolid-looking, hardy as the trees under which they stood. They were
+acorn picking, searching for the dropped acorns in the long rank grass by
+the hedge, under the brown leaves, on the banks, and in the furrows. The
+boughs of the oak spread wide--the glory of the tree is its head--and the
+acorns are found in a circle corresponding with the outer circumference of
+the branches. Some are still farther afield, because in falling they
+strike the boughs and glance aside. A long slender pole leaning against
+the hedge was used to thrash the boughs within reach, and so to knock down
+any that remained.
+
+A sack half filled was on the ground close to the trunk of the oak, and by
+it was a heap of dead sticks, to be presently carried home to boil the
+kettle. Two brown urchins assisted them, and went where the women could
+not go, crawling under the thorns into the hedge, and creeping along the
+side of the steep bank, gathering acorns that had fallen into the mouths
+of the rabbit holes, or that were lying under the stoles. Out of sight
+under the bushes they could do much as they liked, looking for fallen nuts
+instead of acorns, or eating a stray blackberry, while their mothers
+rooted about among the grass and leaves of the meadow. Such continual
+stooping would be weary work for any one not accustomed to it. As they
+worked from tree to tree they did not observe the colours of the leaves,
+or the wood-pigeons, or the pheasant looking along the edge of the ditch
+on the opposite side of the field. If they paused it was to gossip or to
+abuse the boys for not bringing more acorns to the sack.
+
+But when the boys, hunting in the hedge, descried the curate in the
+distance and came back with the news, the two women were suddenly
+interested. The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the coloured leaves were
+not worthy of a glance. To see a gentleman up to his ankles in mud was
+quite an attraction. The one stood with her lap half-full of acorns; the
+other with a basket on her arm. The two urchins lay down on the ground,
+and peered from behind a thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely
+distinguishable from the brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes.
+The puddle was too wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was
+there any way round it.
+
+The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go back. He
+tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee--he wore them short always--and
+stepped into the water. At this the urchins could barely suppress a shout
+of delight--they did, however, suppress it--and craned forward to see him
+splash. The curate waded slowly to the middle, getting deeper and deeper,
+and then suddenly found firmer footing, and walked the rest of the way
+with the water barely over his boots. After he was through he cleansed his
+boots on a wisp of grass and set off at a good pace, for the ground past
+the pool began to rise, and the lane was consequently drier. The women
+turned again to their acorns, remarking, in a tone with something like
+respect in it, 'He didn't stop for the mud, you: did a'?'
+
+Presently the curate reached the highway with its hard surface, and again
+increased his pace. The hedges here were cut each side, and as he walked
+rapidly, leaning forward, his shovel-hat and shoulders were visible above
+them, and his coat tails floated in the breeze of his own progress. His
+heavy boots--they were extremely thick and heavy, though without
+nails--tramped, tramped, on the hard road. With a stout walking-stick in
+one hand, and in the other a book, he strode forward, still more swiftly
+as it seemed at every stride. A tall young man, his features seemed thin
+and almost haggard; out of correspondence with a large frame, they looked
+as if asceticism had drawn and sharpened them. There was earnestness and
+eagerness--almost feverish eagerness--in the expression of his face. He
+passed the meadows, the stubble fields, the green root crops, the men at
+plough, who noticed his swift walk, contrasting with their own slow
+motion; and as he went his way now and then consulted a little slip of
+paper, upon which he had jotted memoranda of his engagements. Work, work,
+work--ceaseless work. How came this? What could there be to do in a
+sparely-populated agricultural district with, to appearance, hardly a
+cottage to a mile?
+
+After nearly an hour's walking he entered the outskirts of a little
+country town, slumbering outside the railway system, and, turning aside
+from the street, stopped at the door of the ancient vicarage. The resident
+within is the ecclesiastical head of two separate hamlets lying at some
+miles' distance from his own parish. Each of these hamlets possesses a
+church, though the population is of the very sparsest, and in each he
+maintains a resident curate. A third curate assists him in the duties of
+the home parish, which is a large one, that is, in extent. From one of
+these distant hamlets the curate, who struggled so bravely through the
+mire, has walked in to consult with his superior. He is shown into the
+library, and sinks not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who
+is engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.
+
+This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval times. Some
+have conjectured that the present library and the adjoining rooms (the
+partitions being modern) originally formed the refectory of a monastic
+establishment. Others assign it to another use; but all agree that it is
+monastic and antique. The black oak rafters of the roof, polished as it
+were by age, meet overhead unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one
+place a figure seems at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth
+like a spectre from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
+colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy when
+first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat or two of
+plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was carelessly laid on, the
+tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted woman in a flowing robe, with
+upraised arm, stands ever in the act to bless. Only half one of the
+windows of the original hall is in this apartment--the partition wall
+divides it. There yet remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as
+they are and small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems
+to tone the room.
+
+The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a gaunt
+severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the wide expanse of
+wall. On the table are a few books and some letters, with foreign
+postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed handwriting of Continental
+scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp hangs suspended by a slender chain.
+In a corner are some fragments of stone mouldings and wood carvings like
+the panel of an ancient pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides
+those on the table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet
+or covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
+fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are the works
+of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the fireplace and the
+hearth restored; for in that outlying district there is plenty of wood.
+Though of modern make, the heavy brass fire-irons are of ancient shape.
+The fire has gone out--the logs are white with the ash that forms upon
+decaying embers; it is clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called
+a library, but really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal
+comfort. If examined closely the floor yonder bears the marks of feet that
+have walked monotonously to and fro in hours of thought. When the eye has
+taken in these things, as the rustle of the brown leaves blown against the
+pane without in the silence is plainly audible, the mind seems in an
+instant to slip back four hundred years.
+
+The weary curate has closed his eyes, and starts as a servant enters
+bringing him wine, for the vicar, utterly oblivious of his own comfort, is
+ever on the watch for that of others. His predecessor, a portly man, happy
+in his home alone, and, as report said, loving his ease and his palate,
+before he was preferred to a richer living, called in the advice of
+architects as to converting the ancient refectory to some use. In his time
+it was a mere lumber-room, into which all the odds and ends of the house
+were thrown. Plans were accordingly prepared for turning one part of it
+into a cosy breakfast parlour, and the other into a conservatory. Before
+any steps, however, were taken he received his preferment--good things
+flow to the rich--and departed, leaving behind him a favourable memory. If
+any inhabitant were asked what the old vicar did, or said, and what work
+he accomplished, the reply invariably was, 'Oh! hum! he was a very good
+sort of man: he never interfered with anybody or anything!'
+
+Accustomed to such an even tenour of things, all the _vis inertiae_ of the
+parish revolted when the new vicar immediately evinced a determination to
+do his work thoroughly. The restless energy of the man alone set the
+stolid old folk at once against him. They could not 'a-bear to see he
+a-flying all over the parish: why couldn't he bide at home?' No one is so
+rigidly opposed to the least alteration in the conduct of the service as
+the old farmer or farmer's wife, who for forty years and more has listened
+to the same old hymn, the same sing-song response, the same style of
+sermon. It is vain to say that the change is still no more than what
+was--contemplated by the Book of Common Prayer. They naturally interpret
+that book by what they have been accustomed to from childhood. The vicar's
+innovations were really most inoffensive, and well within even a narrow
+reading of the rubric. The fault lay in the fact that they were
+innovations, so far as the practice of that parish was concerned. So the
+old folk raised their voices in a chorus of horror, and when they met
+gossiped over the awful downfall of the faith. All that the vicar had yet
+done was to intone a part of the service, and at once many announced that
+they should stay away.
+
+Next he introduced a choir. The sweet voices of the white-robed boys
+rising along the vaulted roof of the old church melted the hearts of those
+who, with excuses for their curiosity to their neighbours, ventured to go
+and hear them. The vicar had a natural talent, almost a genius, for music.
+There was a long struggle in his mind whether he might or might not permit
+himself an organ in his library. He decided it against himself, mortifying
+the spirit as well as the flesh, but in the service of the Church he felt
+that he might yield to his inclination. By degrees he gathered round him
+the best voices of the parish; the young of both sexes came gladly after
+awhile to swell the volume of song. How powerful is the influence of holy
+music upon such minds as are at all inclined to serious devotion! The
+church filled more and more every Sunday, and people came from the
+farthest corners of the parish, walking miles to listen. The young people
+grew enthusiastic, and one by one the old folk yielded and followed them.
+
+At the same time the church itself seemed to change. It had been cold and
+gloomy, and gaunt within, for so many generations, that no one noticed it.
+A place of tombs, men hurried away from it as quickly as possible. Now,
+little touches here and there gradually gave it the aspect of habitation.
+The new curtains hung at the door of the vestry, and drawn, too, across
+the main entrance when service began, the _fleur-de-lys_ on the crimson
+ground gave an impression of warmth. The old tarnished brazen fittings of
+the pews were burnished up, a new and larger stove (supplied at the
+vicar's expense) diffused at least some little heat in winter. A curate
+came, one who worked heart and soul with the vicar, and the service became
+very nearly choral, the vicar now wearing the vestment which his degree
+gave him the strict right to assume. There were brazen candlesticks behind
+the altar, and beautiful flowers. Before, the interior was all black and
+white. Now there was a sense of colour, of crimson curtains, of polished
+brass, of flowers, and rich-toned altar cloth. The place was lit up with a
+new light. After the first revolt of the old folk there was little
+opposition, because the vicar, being a man who had studied human nature
+and full of practical wisdom as well as learning, did all things
+gradually. One thing as introduced at a time, and the transition--after
+the first start--was effected imperceptibly. Nor was any extravagant
+ritual thrust upon the congregation; nor any suspicious doctrine broached.
+
+In that outlying country place, where men had no knowledge of cathedrals,
+half the offices of the Church had been forgotten. The vicar brought them
+back again. He began early morning services; he had the church open all
+day for private prayer. He reminded the folk of Lent and Eastertide,
+which, except for the traditional pancakes, had almost passed out of their
+lives. Festivals, saints' days, midnight service, and, above all, the
+Communion, were insisted upon and brought home to them. As in many other
+country districts, the Communion had nearly dropped into disuse. At first
+he was alone, but by-and-by a group of willing lay helpers grew up around
+him. The churchwardens began to work with him; then a few of the larger
+tenant farmers. Of the two great landed proprietors, one was for him from
+the first, the other made no active opposition, but stood aloof. When, in
+the autumn, the family of the one that was for him came home, a fresh
+impetus was given. The ladies of the mansion came forward to join in the
+parish and Church work, and then other ladies, less exalted, but fairly
+well-to-do, who had only been waiting for a leader, crowded after.
+
+For the first time in the memory of man the parish began to be 'visited.'
+Lay sisters accepted the charge of districts; and thus there was not a
+cottage, nor an old woman, but had the change brought home to her.
+Confirmation, which had been almost forgotten, was revived, and it was
+surprising what a number of girls came forward to be prepared. The Bishop,
+who was not at all predisposed to view the 'movement' with favour, when he
+saw the full church, the devotional congregation, and after he had visited
+the vicarage and seen into what was going on personally, expressed openly
+a guarded approval, and went away secretly well pleased. Rightly or
+wrongly, there was a 'movement' in the parish and the outlying hamlets:
+and thus it was that the curate, struggling through the mire, carried in
+his face the expression of hard work. Work, work, work; the vicar, his
+three curates and band of lay helpers, worked incessantly.
+
+Besides his strictly parochial duties, the vicar wrote a manual for use in
+the schools, he attended the Chambers of Agriculture, and supported
+certain social movements among the farmers; he attended meetings, and,
+both socially and politically, by force of character, energy, and the gift
+of speech, became a power in the country side. Still striving onwards, he
+wrote in London periodicals, he published a book, he looked from the
+silence of his gaunt study towards the great world, and sometimes dreamed
+of what he might have done had he not been buried in the country, and of
+what he might even yet accomplish. All who came in contact with him felt
+the influence of his concentrated purpose: one and all, after they had
+worked their hardest, thought they had still not done so much as he would
+have done.
+
+The man's charm of manner was not to be resisted; he believed his office
+far above monarchs, but there was no personal pretension. That gentle,
+pleasing manner, with the sense of intellectual power behind it, quite
+overcame the old folk. They all spoke with complacent pride of 'our
+vicar'; and, what was more, opened their purses. The interior of the
+church was restored, and a noble organ built. When its beautiful notes
+rose and fell, when sweet voices swelled the wave of sound, then even the
+vicar's restless spirit was soothed in the fulfilment of his hope. A large
+proportion of the upper and middle class of the parish was, without a
+doubt, now gathered around him; and there was much sympathy manifested
+from adjacent parishes with his objects, sympathy which often took the
+form of subscriptions from distant people.
+
+But what said Hodge to it all? Hodge said nothing. Some few young cottage
+people who had good voices, and liked to use them, naturally now went to
+church. So did the old women and old men, who had an eye to charity. But
+the strong, sturdy men, the carters and shepherds, stood aloof; the bulk
+and backbone of the agricultural labouring population were not in the
+least affected. They viewed the movement with utter indifference. They
+cleaned their boots on a Sunday morning while the bells were ringing, and
+walked down to their allotments, and came home and ate their cabbage, and
+were as oblivious of the vicar as the wind that blew. They had no present
+quarrel with the Church; no complaint whatever; nor apparently any old
+memory or grudge;  yet there was a something, a blank space as it were,
+between them and the Church. If anything, the 'movement' rather set them
+against going.
+
+Agricultural cottagers have a strong bias towards Dissent in one form or
+another; village chapels are always well filled. Dissent, of course, would
+naturally rather dislike a movement of the kind. But there was no active
+or even passive opposition. The cottage folk just ignored the Church;
+nothing more and nothing less. No efforts were spared to obtain their
+good-will and to draw them into the fold, but there was absolutely no
+response. Not a labourer's family in that wide district was left
+unvisited. The cottages were scattered far apart, dotted here and there,
+one or two down in a narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green
+wall of the hills. Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree
+or hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet
+elevated fields. A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring red
+brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible miles away.
+An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half a mile from the
+highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army might have ravaged the
+country and never found it. How many, many miles of weary walking such
+rounds as these required!
+
+Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it was
+wonderful with what skill the cottage women especially--the men being
+often away at work--adapted themselves to the new _régime_. Each time they
+told a more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and
+exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe. In the art of
+encouraging attentions of this sort no one excels the cottage women; the
+stories they will relate, with the smallest details inserted in the right
+place, are something marvellous. At first you would exclaim with the
+deepest commiseration, such a case of suffering and privation as this
+cannot possibly be equalled by any in the parish; but calling at the next
+cottage, you are presented with a yet more moving relation, till you find
+the whole population are plunged in misery and afflicted with incredible
+troubles. They cannot, surely, be the same folk that work so sturdily at
+harvest. But when the curate has administered words of consolation and
+dropped the small silver dole in the palm, when his shovel-hat and black
+frock-coat tails have disappeared round the corner of the copse, then in a
+single second he drops utterly out of mind. No one comes to church the
+more. If inquiries are made why they did not come, a hundred excuses are
+ready; the rain, a bad foot, illness of the infant, a cow taken ill and
+requiring attention, and so on.
+
+After some months of such experience the curate's spirits gradually
+decline; his belief in human nature is sadly shaken. Men who openly
+oppose, who argue and deny, are comparatively easy to deal with; there is
+the excitement of the battle with evil. But a population that listens, and
+apparently accepts the message, that is so thankful for little charities,
+and always civil, and yet turns away utterly indifferent, what is to be
+done with it? Might not the message nearly as well be taken to the cow at
+her crib, or the horse at his manger? They, too, would receive a wisp of
+sweet hay willingly from the hand.
+
+But the more bitter the experience, the harder the trial, the more
+conscientiously the curate proceeds upon his duty, struggling bravely
+through the mire. He adds another mile to his daily journey: he denies
+himself some further innocent recreation. The cottages in the open fields
+are comparatively pleasant to visit, the sweet fresh air carries away
+effluvia. Those that are so curiously crowded together in the village are
+sinks of foul smell, and may be of worse--places where, if fever come, it
+takes hold and quits not. His superior requests him earnestly to refrain
+awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a holiday--even orders
+him to desist from overmuch labour. The man's mind is in it, and he cannot
+obey. What is the result?
+
+Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance be
+strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people on the one
+side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats are passing to
+and fro. A bath-chair approaches, and a young man clad in black gets out
+of it, where some friendly iron railings afford him a support for his
+hand. There, step by step, leaning heavily on the rails, he essays to walk
+as a child. The sockets of his joints yield beneath him, the limbs are
+loose, the ankle twists aside; each step is an enterprise, and to gain a
+yard a task. Thus day by day the convalescent strives to accustom the
+sinews to their work. It is a painful spectacle; how different, how
+strangely altered, from the upright frame and the swift stride that
+struggled through the miry lane, perhaps even then bearing the seeds of
+disease imbibed in some foul village den, where duty called him!
+
+His wan, white face seems featureless; there is nothing but a pair of
+deep-set eyes. But as you pass, and momentarily catch their glance, they
+are bright and burning still with living faith.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+
+THE SOLICITOR
+
+
+In glancing along the street of a country town, a house may sometimes be
+observed of a different and superior description to the general row of
+buildings. It is larger, rises higher, and altogether occupies more space.
+The façade is stylish, in architectural fashion of half a century since.
+To the modern eye it may not perhaps look so interesting as the true old
+gabled roofs which seem so thoroughly English, nor, on the other hand, so
+bright and cheerful as the modern suburban villa. But it is substantial
+and roomy within. The weather has given the front a sombre hue, and the
+windows are dingy, as if they rarely or never knew the care of a
+housemaid. On the ground floor the windows that would otherwise look on to
+the street are blocked to almost half their height with a wire blind so
+closely woven that no one can see in, and it is not easy to see out. The
+doorway is large, with stone steps and porch--the doorway of a gentleman's
+house. There is business close at hand--shops and inns, and all the usual
+offices of a town--but, though in the midst, this house wears an air of
+separation from the rest of the street.
+
+When it was built--say fifty years ago, or more--it was, in fact, the
+dwelling-house of an independent gentleman. Similar houses may be found in
+other parts of the place, once inhabited by retired and wealthy people.
+Such persons no longer live in towns of this kind--they build villas with
+lawns and pleasure grounds outside in the environs, or, though still
+retaining their pecuniary interest, reside at a distance. Like large
+cities, country towns are now almost given over to offices, shops,
+workshops, and hotels. Those who have made money get away from the streets
+as quickly as possible. Upon approaching nearer to this particular
+building the street door will be found to be wide open to the public, and,
+if you venture still closer, a name may be seen painted in black letters
+upon the side of the passage wall, after the manner of the brokers in the
+courts off Throgmorton Street, or of the lawyers in the Temple. It is, in
+fact, the office of a country solicitor--most emphatically one of Hodge's
+many masters--and is admirably suited for his purpose, on account of its
+roomy interior.
+
+The first door within opens on the clerks' room, and should you modestly
+knock on the panels instead of at once turning the handle, a voice will
+invite you to 'Come in.' Half of the room is partitioned off for the
+clerks, who sit at a long high desk, with a low railing or screen in front
+of them. Before the senior is a brass rail, along which he can, if he
+chooses, draw a red curtain. He is too hard at work and intent upon some
+manuscript to so much as raise his head as you enter. But the two younger
+men, eager for a change, look over the screen, and very civilly offer to
+attend to your business. When you have said that you wish to see the head
+of the firm, you naturally imagine that your name will be at once shouted
+up the tube, and that in a minute or two, at farthest, you will be ushered
+into the presence of the principal. In that small country town there
+cannot surely be much work for a lawyer, and a visitor must be quite an
+event. Instead, however, of using the tube they turn to the elder clerk,
+and a whispered conversation takes place, of which some broken sentences
+may be caught--'He can't be disturbed,' 'It's no use,' 'Must wait.' Then
+the elder clerk looks over his brass rail and says he is very sorry, but
+the principal is engaged, the directors of a company are with him, and it
+is quite impossible to say exactly when they will leave. It may be ten
+minutes, or an hour. But if you like to wait (pointing with his quill to a
+chair) your name shall be sent up directly the directors leave.
+
+You glance at the deck, and elect to wait. The older clerk nods his head,
+and instantly resumes his writing. The chair is old and hard--the stuffing
+compressed by a generation of weary suitors; there are two others at equal
+distances along the wall. The only other furniture is a small but solid
+table, upon which stands a brass copying-press. On the mantelpiece there
+are scales for letter-weighing, paper clips full of papers, a county
+Post-office directory, a railway time-table card nailed to the wall, and a
+box of paper-fasteners. Over it is a map, dusty and dingy, of some estate
+laid out for building purposes, with a winding stream running through it,
+roads passing at right angles, and the points of the compass indicated in
+an upper corner.
+
+On the other side of the room, by the window, a framed advertisement hangs
+against the wall, like a picture, setting forth the capital and reserve
+and the various advantages offered by an insurance company, for which the
+firm are the local agents. Between the chairs are two boards fixed to the
+wall with some kind of hook or nail for the suspension of posters and
+printed bills. These boards are covered with such posters, announcing
+sales by auction, farms to be let, houses to be had on lease, shares in a
+local bank or gasworks for sale, and so on, for all of which properties
+the firm are the legal representatives. Though the room is of fair size
+the ceiling is low, as in often the case in old houses, and it has, in
+consequence, become darkened by smoke and dust, therein, after awhile,
+giving a gloomy, oppressive feeling to any one who has little else to gaze
+at. The blind at the window rises far too high to allow of looking out,
+and the ground glass above it was designed to prevent the clerks from
+wasting their time watching the passers-by in the street. There is,
+however, one place where the glass is worn and transparent, and every now
+and then one of the two younger clerks mounts on his stool and takes a
+peep through to report to his companion.
+
+The restraint arising from the presence of a stranger soon wears off; the
+whisper rises to a buzz of talk; they laugh, and pelt each other with
+pellets of paper. The older clerk takes not the least heed. He writes
+steadily on, and never lifts his head from the paper--long hours of labour
+have dimmed his sight, and he has to stoop close over the folio. He may be
+preparing a brief, he may be copying a deposition, or perhaps making a
+copy of a deed; but whatever it is, his whole mind is absorbed and
+concentrated on his pen. There must be no blot, no erasure, no
+interlineation. The hand of the clock moves slowly, and the half-heard
+talk and jests of the junior clerks--one of whom you suspect of making a
+pen-and-ink sketch of you--mingle with the ceaseless scrape of the
+senior's pen, and the low buzz of two black flies that circle for ever
+round and round just beneath the grimy ceiling. Occasionally noises of the
+street penetrate; the rumble of loaded waggons, the tramp of nailed shoes,
+or the sharp quick sound of a trotting horse's hoofs. Then the junior
+jumps up and gazes through the peephole. The directors are a very long
+time upstairs. What can their business be? Why are there directors at all
+in little country towns?
+
+Presently there are heavy footsteps in the passage, the door slowly opens,
+and an elderly labourer, hat in hand, peers in. No one takes the least
+notice of him. He leans on his stick and blinks his eyes, looking all
+round the room; then taps with the stick and clears his throat--'Be he in
+yet?' he asks, with emphasis on the 'he.' 'No, he be not in,' replies a
+junior, mocking the old man's accent and grammar. The senior looks up,
+'Call at two o'clock, the deed is not ready,' and down goes his head
+again. 'A main bit o' bother about this yer margidge' (mortgage), the
+labourer remarks, as he turns to go out, not without a complacent smile on
+his features for the law's delays seem to him grand, and he feels
+important. He has a little property--a cottage and garden--upon which he
+is raising a small sum for some purpose, and this 'margidge' is one of the
+great events of his life. He talked about it for two or three years before
+he ventured to begin it; he has been weeks making up his mind exactly what
+to do after his first interview with the solicitor--he would have been
+months had not the solicitor at last made it plain that he could waste no
+more time--and when it is finally completed he will talk about it again to
+the end of his days. He will be in and out asking for 'he' all day long at
+intervals, and when the interview takes place it will be only for the
+purpose of having everything already settled explained over to him for the
+fiftieth time. His heavy shoes drag slowly down the passage--he will go to
+the street corner and talk with the carters who come in, and the old
+women, with their baskets, a-shopping, about 'this yer law job.'
+
+There is a swifter step on the lead-covered staircase, and a clerk
+appears, coming from the upper rooms. He has a telegram and a letter in
+one hand, and a bundle of papers in the other. He shows the telegram and
+the letter to his fellow clerks--even the grave senior just glances at the
+contents silently, elevates his eyebrows, and returns to his work. After a
+few minutes' talk and a jest or two the clerk rushes upstairs again.
+
+Another caller comes. It is a stout, florid man, a young farmer or
+farmer's son, riding-whip in hand, who produces a red-bound rate-book from
+a pocket in his coat made on purpose to hold the unwieldy volume. He is a
+rate-collector for his parish, and has called about some technicalities.
+The grave senior clerk examines the book, but cannot solve the
+difficulties pointed out by the collector, and, placing it on one side,
+recommends the inquirer to call in two hours' time. Steps again on the
+stairs, and another clerk comes down leisurely, and after him still
+another. Their only business is to exchange a few words with their
+friends, for pastime, and they go up again.
+
+As the morning draws on, the callers become more numerous, and it is easy
+to tell the positions they occupy by the degree of attention they receive
+from the clerks. A tradesman calls three or four times, with short
+intervals between--he runs over from his shop; the two juniors do not
+trouble to so much as look over the screen, and barely take the trouble to
+answer the anxious inquiry if the principal is yet disengaged. They know,
+perhaps, too much about his bills and the state of his credit. A builder
+looks in--the juniors are tolerably civil and explain to him that it is no
+use calling for yet another hour at least. The builder consults his watch,
+and decides to see the chief clerk (who is himself an attorney, having
+passed the examination), and is forthwith conducted upstairs. A burly
+farmer appears, and the grave senior puts his head up to answer, and
+expresses his sorrow that the principal is so occupied. The burly farmer,
+however, who is evidently a man of substance, thinks that the chief clerk
+can also do what he wants, and he, too, is ushered upstairs. Another
+farmer enters--a rather rougher-looking man--and, without saying a word,
+turns to the advertisement boards on which the posters of farms to be let,
+&c., are displayed. These he examines with the greatest care, pointing
+with his forefinger as he slowly reads, and muttering to himself.
+Presently he moves to go. 'Anything to suit you, sir?' asks the senior
+clerk. 'Aw, no; I knows they be too much money,' he replies, and walks
+out.
+
+A gentleman next enters, and immediately the juniors sink out of sight,
+and scribble away with eager application; the senior puts down his pen and
+comes out from his desk. It is a squire and magistrate. The senior
+respectfully apologises for his employer being so occupied. The gentleman
+seems a little impatient. The clerk rubs his hands together deprecatingly,
+and makes a desperate venture. He goes upstairs, and in a few minutes
+returns; the papers are not ready, but shall be sent over that evening in
+any case. With this even the squire must fain be satisfied and depart. The
+burly farmer and the builder come downstairs together amicably chatting,
+and after them the chief clerk himself. Though young, he has already an
+expression of decision upon his features, an air of business about him; in
+fact, were he not thoroughly up to his work he would not remain in that
+office long. To hold that place is a guarantee of ability. He has a bundle
+of cheques, drafts, &c., in his hand, and after a few words with the grave
+senior at the desk, strolls across to the bank.
+
+No sooner has the door closed behind him than a shoal of clerks come
+tripping down on tip-toe, and others appear from the back of the house.
+They make use of the opportunity for a little gossip. Voices are heard in
+the passage, and an aged and infirm labouring man is helped in by a woman
+and a younger man. The clerks take no notice, and the poor old follow
+props himself against the wall, not daring to take a chair. He is a
+witness. He can neither read nor write, but he can recollect 'thuck ould
+tree,' and can depose to a fact worth perhaps hundreds of pounds. He has
+come in to be examined; he will be driven in a week or two's time from the
+village to the railway station in a fly, and will talk about it and his
+visit to London till the lamp of life dies out.
+
+A footman calls with a note, a groom brings another, the letters are
+carelessly cast aside, till one of the juniors, who has been watching from
+the peephole, reports that the chief clerk is coming, and everybody
+scuttles back to his place. Callers come still more thickly; another
+solicitor, well-to-do, and treated with the utmost deference; more
+tradesmen; farmers; two or three auctioneers, in quick succession; the
+well-brushed editor of a local paper; a second attorney, none too well
+dressed, with scrubby chin and face suspiciously cloudy, with an odour of
+spirits and water and tobacco clinging to his rusty coat. He belongs to a
+disappearing type of country lawyer, and is the wreck, perhaps, of high
+hopes and good opportunities. Yet, wreck as he is, when he gets up at the
+Petty Sessions to defend some labourer, the bench of magistrates listen to
+his maundering argument as deferentially as if he were a Q.C. They pity
+him, and they respect his cloth. The scrubby attorney whistles a tune, and
+utters an oath when he learns the principal is engaged. Then he marches
+out, with his hat on one side of his head, to take another 'refresher.'
+
+Two telegrams arrive, and are thrown aside; then a gentleman appears, whom
+the senior goes out to meet with an air of deference, and whom he actually
+conducts himself upstairs to the principal's room. It is a local banker,
+who is thus admitted to the directors' consultation. The slow hand of the
+clock goes round, and, sitting wearily on the hard chair, you wonder if
+ever it will be possible to see this much-sought man. By-and-by a door
+opens above, there is a great sound of voices and chatting, and half a
+dozen gentlemen--mostly landed proprietors from their appearance--come
+downstairs. They are the directors, and the consultation is over. The
+senior clerk immediately goes to the principal, and shortly afterwards
+reappears and asks you to come up.
+
+As you mount the lead-covered stairs you glance down and observe the
+anxious tradesman, the ancient labourer, and several others who have
+crowded in, all eyeing you with jealous glances. But the senior is holding
+the door open--you enter, and it closes noiselessly behind you. A hand
+with a pen in it points to a chair, with a muttered 'Pardon--half a
+moment' and while the solicitor just jots down his notes you can glance
+round the apartment. Shelves of calf-bound law books; piles of japanned
+deed-boxes, some marked in white letters 'Trustees of,' or 'Executors of'
+and pigeon-holes full of papers seem to quite hide the walls. The floor is
+covered with some material noiseless to walk on (the door, too, is double,
+to exclude noise and draught); the furniture is solid and valuable; the
+arm-chair you occupy capacious and luxurious. On the wall hangs a section
+of the Ordnance map of the district. But the large table, which almost
+fills the centre of the room, quickly draws the attention from everything
+else.
+
+It is on that table that all the business is done; all the energies of the
+place are controlled and directed from thence. At the first glance it
+appears to support a more chaotic mass of papers. They completely conceal
+it, except just at the edge. Bundles of letters tied with thin red tape,
+letters loose, letters unopened; parchment deeds with the seals and
+signature just visible; deeds with the top and the words, 'This
+indenture,' alone glowing out from the confusion; deeds neatly folded;
+broad manuscript briefs; papers fastened with brass fasteners; papers
+hastily pinned together; old newspapers marked and underlined in red ink;
+a large sectional map, half unrolled and hanging over the edge; a small
+deed-box, the lid open, and full of blue paper in oblong strips; a tall
+porcupine-quill pen sticking up like a spire; pocket-books; books open;
+books with half a dozen papers in them for markers; altogether an utter
+chaos. But the confusion is only apparent; the master mind knows the exact
+position of every document, and can lay his hand on it the moment it is
+wanted.
+
+The business is such that even the master mind can barely keep pace with
+it. This great house can hardly contain it; all the clerks we saw rushing
+about cannot get through the work, and much of the mechanical copying or
+engrossing goes to London to be done. The entire round of country life
+comes here. The rolling hills where the shepherd watches his flock, the
+broad plains where the ploughman guides the share, the pleasant meadows
+where the roan cattle chew the cud, the extensive parks, the shady woods,
+sweet streams, and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle, all have their
+written counterpart in those japanned deed-boxes. Solid as is the land
+over which Hodge walks stolid and slow, these mere written words on
+parchment are the masters of it all. The squire comes here about intricate
+concerns of family settlements which in their sphere are as hard to
+arrange as the diplomatic transactions of Governments. He comes about his
+tenants and his rent; he comes to get new tenants.
+
+The tenants resort to the solicitor for farms, for improvements,
+reductions, leases, to negotiate advances, to insure for the various
+affairs of life. The clergyman comes on questions that arise out of his
+benefice, the churchyard, ecclesiastical privileges, the schools, and
+about his own private property. The labourer comes about his cottage and
+garden--an estate as important to him as his three thousand acres to the
+squire--or as a witness. The tradesman, the builder, the banker come for
+financial as well as legal objects. As the town develops, and plots are
+needed for houses and streets, the resort to the solicitor increases
+tenfold. Companies are formed and require his advice. Local government
+needs his assistance. He may sit in an official position in the County
+Court, or at the bench of the Petty Sessions. Law suits--locally great--
+are carried through in the upper Courts of the metropolis; the counsel's
+name appears in the papers, but it is the country solicitor who has
+prepared everything for him, and who has marshalled that regiment of
+witnesses from remote hamlets of the earth. His widening circle of
+landlord clients have each their attendant circles of tenants, who feel
+confidence in their leader's legal adviser. Parochial officers come to
+him; overseer, rate-collector, church warden, tithing-man. The
+all-important work of registering voters fills up the space between one
+election and another. At the election his offices are like the
+head-quarters of an army. He may represent some ancient college, or
+corporation with lands of vast extent. Ladies with a little capital go
+home content when he has invested their money in mortgage of real
+property. Still the work goes on increasing; additional clerks have to be
+employed; a fresh wing has to be built to the old house. He has, too, his
+social duties; he is, perhaps, the head or mainspring of a church
+movement--this is not for profit, but from conviction. His lady is carried
+to and fro in the brougham, making social visits. He promotes athletic
+clubs, reading-rooms, shows, exhibitions. He is eagerly seized upon by
+promoters of all kinds, because he possesses the gift of organisation. It
+becomes a labour merely to catalogue his engagements like this. Let the
+rain rain, or the sun shine, the pen never stays work.
+
+Personally he is the very antithesis is of what might be predicated of the
+slow, comfortable, old-fashioned lawyer. He is in the prime of life,
+physically full of vigour, mentally persevering with untiring
+perseverance, the embodiment of energy, ever anxious to act, to do rather
+than to delay. As you talk with him you find his leading idea seems to be
+to arrange your own half-formed views for you; in short, to show you what
+you really do want, to put your desire into shape. He interprets you. Many
+of the clients who come to him are the most impracticable men in the
+world. A farmer, for instance, with a little money, is in search of a
+farm. Find him twenty farms just the size for his capital, he will visit
+them all and discover a fault in each, and waver and waver till the proper
+season for entering on possession is past. The great problem with country
+people is how to bring them to the point. You may think you have got all
+your witnesses ready for the train for London, and, as the bell rings,
+find that one has slipped away half a mile to talk with the blacksmith
+about the shoeing of his mare. Even the squire is trying when, he talks of
+this or that settlement. Of course, as he is educated, no lengthy and
+oft-repeated explanations are needed; but the squire forgets that time is
+valuable, and lingers merely to chat. He has so much time to spare, he is
+apt to overlook that the solicitor has none. The clergyman will talk,
+talk, talk in rounded periods, and nothing will stop him; very often he
+drives his wife in with him from the village, and the wife must have her
+say. As for Hodge and his mortgage, ten years would not suffice for his
+business, were he allowed to wander on. The problem is to bring these
+impracticable people to the point with perfect courtesy. As you talk with
+him yourself, you feel tempted to prolong the interview--so lucid an
+intellect exercises an indefinable charm.
+
+Keen and shrewd as he is, the solicitor has a kindly reputation. Men say
+that he is slow to press them, that he makes allowances for circumstances;
+that if the tenant is honestly willing to discharge his obligation he need
+fear no arbitrary selling up. But he is equally reputed swift of
+punishment upon those who would take shelter behind more shallow pretence,
+or attempt downright deceit. Let a man only be straightforward, and the
+solicitor will wait rather than put the law in force. Therefore, he is
+popular, and people have faith in him. But the labour, the incessant
+supervision, the jotting down of notes, the ceaseless interviews, the
+arguments, the correspondence, the work that is never finished when night
+comes, tell even upon that physical vigour and mental elasticity. Hodge
+sleeps sound and sees the days go by with calm complacency. The man who
+holds that solid earth, as it were, in the japanned boxes finds a nervous
+feeling growing upon him despite his strength of will. Presently nature
+will have her way; and, weary and hungry for fresh air, he rushes off for
+awhile to distant trout-stream, moor, or stubble.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+
+'COUNTY-COURT DAY'
+
+
+The monthly sitting of the County Court in a country market town is an
+event of much interest in all the villages around, so many of the causes
+concerning agricultural people. 'County-Court Day' is looked upon as a
+date in the calendar by which to recollect when a thing happened, or to
+arrange for the future.
+
+As the visitor enters the doorway of the Court, at a distance the scene
+appears imposing. Brass railings and red curtains partition off about a
+third of the hall, and immediately in the rear of this the Judge sits high
+above the rest on a raised and carpeted dais. The elevation and isolation
+of the central figure adds a solemn dignity to his office. His features
+set, as it were, in the wig, stand out in sharp relief--they are of a
+keenly intellectual cast, and have something of the precise clearness of
+an antique cameo. The expression is that of a mind in continuous
+exercise--of a mind accustomed not to slow but to quick deliberation, and
+to instant decision. The definition of the face gives the eyes the aspect
+of penetration, as if they saw at once beneath the surface of things.
+
+If the visitor looks only at the Judge he will realise the dignity of the
+law; the law which is the outcome and result of so many centuries of
+thought. But if he glances aside from the central figure the impression is
+weakened by the miserable, hollow, and dingy framing. The carpet upon the
+daïs and the red curtains before it ill conceal the paltry substructure.
+It is composed of several large tables, heavy and shapeless as benches,
+placed side by side to form a platform. The curtains are dingy and
+threadbare the walls dingy; the ceiling, though lofty, dingy; the boxes on
+either side for Plaintiff and Defendant are scratched and defaced by the
+innumerable witnesses who have blundered into them, kicking their shoes
+against the woodwork. The entire apparatus is movable, and can be taken to
+pieces in ten minutes, or part of it employed for meetings of any
+description. There is nothing appropriate or convenient; it is a
+makeshift, and altogether unequal to the pretensions of a Court now
+perhaps the most useful and most resorted to of any that sit in the
+country.
+
+Quarter sessions and assizes come only at long intervals, are held only in
+particular time-honoured places, and take cognisance only of very serious
+offences which happily are not numerous. The County Court at the present
+day has had its jurisdiction so enlarged that it is really, in country
+districts, the leading tribunal, and the one best adapted to modern wants,
+because its procedure is to a great extent free from obsolete forms and
+technicalities. The Plaintiff and the Defendant literally face their
+Judge, practically converse with him, and can tell their story in their
+own simple and natural way. It is a fact that the importance and
+usefulness of the country County Court has in most places far outgrown the
+arrangements made for it. The Judges may with reason complain that while
+their duties have been enormously added to, their convenience has not been
+equally studied, nor their salaries correspondingly increased.
+
+In front, and below the Judge's desk, just outside the red curtain, is a
+long and broad table, at which the High Bailiff sits facing the hall. By
+his side the Registrar's clerk from time to time makes notes in a
+ponderous volume which contains a minute and exact record of every claim.
+Opposite, and at each end, the lawyers have their chairs and strew the
+table with their papers.
+
+As a rule a higher class of lawyers appear in the County Court than before
+the Petty Sessional Bench. A local solicitor of ability no sooner gets a
+'conveyancing' practice than he finds his time too valuable to be spent
+arguing in cases of assault or petty larceny. He ceases to attend the
+Petty Sessions, unless his private clients are interested or some
+exceptional circumstances induce him. In the County Court cases often
+arise which concern property, houses and lands, and the fulfilment of
+contracts. Some of the very best lawyers of the district may consequently
+be seen at that table, and frequently a barrister or two of standing
+specially retained is among them.
+
+A low wooden partition, crossing the entire width of the hall, separates
+the 'bar' from the general public, Plaintiff and Defendant being admitted
+through a gangway. As the hall is not carpeted, nor covered with any
+material, a new-comer must walk on tip-toe to avoid raising the echo of
+hollow boards, or run the risk of a reproof from the Judge, anxiously
+endeavouring to catch the accents of a mumbling witness. Groups of people
+stand near the windows whispering, and occasionally forgetting, in the
+eagerness of the argument, that talking is prohibited. The room is already
+full, but will be crowded when the 'horse case' comes on again. Nothing is
+of so much interest as a 'horse case.' The issues raised concern almost
+every countryman, and the parties are generally well known. All the idlers
+of the town are here, and among them many a rascal who has been, through
+the processes, and comes again to listen and possibly learn a dodge by
+which to delay the execution of judgment. Some few of the more favoured
+and respectable persons have obtained entrance to the space allotted to
+the solicitors, and have planted themselves in a solid circle round the
+fire, effectually preventing the heat from benefiting anyone else. Another
+fire, carefully tended by a bailiff, burns in the grate behind the Judge,
+but, as his seat is so far from it, without adding much to his comfort. A
+chilly draught sweeps along the floor, and yet at the same time there is a
+close and somewhat fetid atmosphere at the height at which men breathe.
+The place is ill warmed and worse ventilated; altogether without
+convenience, and comfortless.
+
+To-day the Judge, to suit the convenience of the solicitors engaged in the
+'horse case,' who have requested permission to consult in private, has
+asked for a short defended cause to fill up the interval till they are
+ready to resume. The High Bailiff calls 'Brown _v_. Jones,' claim 8_s_.
+for goods supplied. No one at first answers, but after several calls a
+woman in the body of the Court comes forward. She is partly deaf, and
+until nudged by her neighbours did not hear her husband's name. The
+Plaintiff is a small village dealer in tobacco, snuff, coarse groceries,
+candles, and so on. His wife looks after the little shop and he works with
+horse and cart, hauling and doing odd jobs for the farmers. Instead of
+attending himself he has sent his wife to conduct the case. The Defendant
+is a labourer living in the same village, who, like so many of his class,
+has got into debt. He, too, has sent his wife to represent him. This is
+the usual course of the cottagers, and of agricultural people who are
+better off than cottagers. The men shirk out of difficulties of this kind
+by going off in the morning early to their work with the parting remark,
+'Aw, you'd better see about it; I don't knaw nothing about such jobs.'
+
+The High Bailiff has no easy task to swear the Plaintiff's representative.
+First, she takes the book and kisses it before the formula prescribed has
+been repeated. Then she waits till the sentence is finished and lifts the
+book with the left hand instead of the right. The Registrar's clerk has to
+go across to the box and shout an explanation into her ear. 'Tell the
+truth,' says the old lady, with alacrity; 'why, that's what I be come
+for.' The Judge asks her what it is she claims, and she replies that that
+man, the Registrar's clerk, has got it all written down in his book. She
+then turns to the Defendant's wife, who stands in the box opposite, and
+shouts to her, 'You knows you ain't paid it.'
+
+It is in vain that the Judge endeavours to question her, in vain that the
+High Bailiff tries to calm her, in vain that the clerk lays his hand on
+her arm--she is bent on telling the Defendant a bit of her mind. The Court
+is perforce compelled to wait till it is over, when the Judge, seeing that
+talking is of no avail, goes at once to the root of the matter and asks to
+see her books. A dirty account-book, such as may be purchased for
+threepence, is handed up to him; the binding is broken, and some of the
+leaves are loose. It is neither a day-book, a ledger, nor anything
+else--there is no system whatever, and indeed the Plaintiff admits that
+she only put down about half of it, and trusted to memory for the rest.
+Here is a date, and after it some figures, but no articles mentioned,
+neither tea nor candles. Next come some groceries, and the price, but no
+one's name, so that it is impossible to tell who had the goods. Then there
+are pages with mysterious dots and strokes and half-strokes, which
+ultimately turn out to mean ounces and half-ounces of tobacco. These have
+neither name nor value attached. From end to end nothing is crossed off,
+so that whether an account be paid or not cannot be ascertained.
+
+While the Judge laboriously examines every page, trying by the light of
+former experience to arrive at some idea of the meaning, the Defendant's
+wife takes up her parable. She chatters in return at the Plaintiff, then
+she addresses the High Bailiff, who orders her to remain quiet, and,
+finally, turns round and speaks to the crowd. The Judge, absorbed in the
+attempt to master the account-book, does not for the moment notice this,
+till, as he comes to the conclusion that the book is utterly valueless, he
+looks up and finds the Defendant with her back turned gesticulating and
+describing her wrongs to the audience. Even his command of silence is with
+reluctance obeyed, and she continues to mutter to herself. When order is
+restored the Judge asks for her defence, when the woman immediately
+produces a receipt, purporting to be for this very eight shillings' worth.
+At the sight of this torn and dirty piece of paper the Plaintiff works
+herself into a fury, and speaks so fast and so loud (as deaf people will)
+that no one else can be heard. Till she is made to understand that she
+will be sent out of Court she does not desist. The Judge looks at the
+receipt, and finds it correct; but still the Plaintiff positively declares
+that she has never had the money. Yet she admits that the receipt is in
+her handwriting. The Judge asks the Defendant who paid over the cash, and
+she replies that it was her husband. The account-book contains no
+memorandum of any payment at all. With difficulty the Judge again obtains
+silence, and once more endeavours to understand a page of the account-book
+to which the Plaintiff persists in pointing. His idea is now to identify
+the various articles mentioned in the receipt with the articles put down
+on that particular page.
+
+After at least three-quarters of an hour, during which the book is handed
+to and fro by the clerk from Judge to Plaintiff, that she may explain the
+meaning of the hieroglyphics, some light at last begins to dawn. By dint
+of patiently separating the mixed entries the Judge presently arrives at a
+partial comprehension of what the Plaintiff has been trying to convey. The
+amount of the receipted bill and the amount of the entries in the page of
+the account-book are the same; but the articles entered in the book and
+those admitted to be paid for are not. The receipt mentions candles; the
+account-book has no candles. Clearly they are two different debts, which
+chanced to come to the same figure. The receipt, however, is not dated,
+and whether it is the Defendant who is wilfully misrepresenting, or
+whether the Plaintiff is under a mistaken notion, the Judge for the time
+cannot decide. The Defendant declares that she does not know the date and
+cannot fix it--it was a 'main bit ago,' and that is all she can say.
+
+For the third time the Judge, patient to the last degree, wades through
+the account-book. Meanwhile the hands of the clock have moved on. Instead
+of being a short case, this apparently simple matter has proved a long
+one, and already as the afternoon advances the light of the dull winter's
+day declines. The solicitors engaged in the 'horse case,' who retired to
+consult, hoping to come to a settlement, returned into Court fully an hour
+ago, and have since been sitting at the table waiting to resume. Besides
+these some four or five other lawyers of equal standing are anxiously
+looking for a chance of commencing their business. All their clients are
+waiting, and the witnesses; they have all crowded into the Court, the
+close atmosphere of which is almost intolerable.
+
+But having begun the case the Judge gives it his full and undivided
+attention. Solicitors, clients, witnesses, cases that interest the public,
+causes that concern valuable property, or important contracts must all be
+put aside till this trifling matter is settled. He is as anxious as any,
+or more so, to get on, because delay causes business to accumulate--the
+adjourned causes, of course, having to be heard at next Court, and thus
+swelling the list to an inordinate length. But, impatient as he may be,
+especially as he is convinced that one or other of the parties is keeping
+back a part of the truth, he is determined that the subject shall be
+searched to the bottom. The petty village shopkeeper and the humble
+cottager obtain as full or fuller attention than the well-to-do Plaintiffs
+and Defendants who can bring down barristers from London.
+
+'What have you there?' the Registrar's clerk demands of the Plaintiff
+presently. She has been searching in her pocket for a snuff-box wherewith
+to refresh herself, and, unable to immediately discover it, has emptied
+the contents of the pocket on the ledge of the witness-box. Among the rest
+is another little account-book.
+
+'Let me see that,' demands the Judge, rather sharply, and no wonder. 'Why
+did you not produce it before?'
+
+'Aw, he be last year's un; some of it be two years ago,' is the reply.
+
+Another long pause. The Judge silently examines every page of the
+account-book two years old. Suddenly he looks up. 'This receipt,' he says,
+'was given for an account rendered eighteen months ago. Here in this older
+book are the entries corresponding with it. The present claim is for a
+second series of articles which happened to come to the same amount, and
+the Defendant, finding that the receipt was not dated, has endeavoured to
+make it do duty for the two.'
+
+'I tould you so,' interrupts the Plaintiff. 'I tould you so, but you
+wouldn't listen to I.'
+
+The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit the
+Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws down his pen
+and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask the High Bailiff if
+there are any other judgments out against the Defendant. So many years'
+experience of the drifts, subterfuges, paltry misrepresentations and
+suppressions--all the mean and despicable side of poor humanity--have
+indeed wearied him, but, at the same time, taught forbearance. He
+hesitates to be angry, and delays to punish. The people are poor,
+exceedingly poor. The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they
+are ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in
+better circumstances. There are two other judgments against the Defendant,
+who is earning about 12s. a week, and the verdict is 1s. a month, first
+payment that day three weeks.
+
+Then the solicitor for the Plaintiff in the 'horse case' rises and informs
+the Judge that the parties cannot settle it, and the case must proceed.
+The Plaintiff and Defendant take their places, and some thirty witnesses
+file through the gangway to the witness-room to be out of Court. The
+bailiffs light the gas as the gloom deepens, and the solicitor begins his
+opening speech. The Judge has leant back in his chair, closed his eyes,
+and composed himself to listen. By the time two witnesses have been
+examined the hour has arrived when the Judge can sit no longer. He must
+leave, because on the morrow he has to hold a Court in another part of the
+county. The important 'horse case' and the other causes must wait a
+month.. He sits to the very last moment, then hastily stuffs deeds,
+documents, papers of all descriptions into a portmanteau already
+overflowing, and rushes to his carriage.
+
+He will go through much the same work to-morrow; combating the irritating
+misrepresentations, exposing suppressors, discovering the truth under a
+mountain of crass stupidity and wilful deceit. Next day he will be again
+at work; and the same process will go on the following week. In the month
+there are perhaps about five days--exclusive of Sundays--upon which he
+does not sit. But those days are not holidays. They are spent in patiently
+reading a mass of deeds, indentures, contracts, vouchers, affidavits,
+evidence of every description and of the most voluminous character. These
+have been put in by solicitors, as part of their cases, and require the
+most careful attention. Besides causes that are actually argued out in
+open Court, there are others which, by consent of both parties, are placed
+in his hands as arbitrator. Many involve nice points of law, and require a
+written judgment in well-chosen words.
+
+The work of the County Court Judge at the present day is simply enormous;
+it is ceaseless and never finished, and it demands a patience which
+nothing can ruffle. No matter how much falsehood may annoy him, a Judge
+with arbitrary power entrusted to him must not permit indignation alone to
+govern his decision. He must make allowances for all.
+
+For the County Court in country districts has become a tribunal whose
+decisions enter, as it were, into the very life of the people. It is not
+concerned with a few important cases only; it has to arrange and finally
+settle what are really household affairs. Take any village, and make
+inquiries how many householders there are who have not at one time or
+other come under the jurisdiction of the County Court? Either as
+Plaintiff, or Defendant, or as witness, almost every one has had such
+experience, and those who have not have been threatened with it. Beside
+those defended cases that come before the Judge, there are hundreds upon
+hundreds of petty claims, to which no defence is offered, and which are
+adjudicated upon by the Registrar at the same time that the Judge hears
+the defended causes.
+
+The labourer, like so many farmers in a different way, lives on credit and
+is perpetually in debt. He purchases his weekly goods on the security of
+hoeing, harvest, or piece work, and his wages are continually absorbed in
+payment of instalments, just as the tenant-farmer's income is too often
+absorbed in the payment of interest and instalments of his loans. No one
+seems ever to pay without at least a threat of the County Court, which
+thus occupies a position like a firm appointed to perpetually liquidate a
+vast estate. It is for ever collecting shillings and half-crowns.
+
+
+This is one aspect of the County Court; the other is its position with
+respect to property. It is the great arbitrator of property--of houses and
+land, and deeds and contracts. Of recent years the number of the owners of
+land has immensely increased--that is, of small pieces--and the litigation
+has correspondingly grown. There is enough work for a man of high legal
+ability in settling causes of this character alone, without any 'horse
+case' with thirty witnesses, or any dispute that involves the conflict of
+personal testimony.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+
+THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+
+The most imposing building in a certain country market town is the old
+Bank, so called familiarly to distinguish it from the new one. The
+premises of the old Bank would be quite unapproached in grandeur, locally,
+were it not for the enterprise of the new establishment. Nothing could be
+finer than the façade of the old Bank, which stands out clear and elegant
+in its fresh paint among the somewhat dingy houses and shops of the main
+street. It is rather larger in size, more lofty, and has the advantage of
+being a few yards nearer to the railway station. But the rival institution
+runs it very close. It occupies a corner on the very verge of the
+market-place--its door facing the farmer as he concludes his deal--and it
+is within a minute of the best hotels, where much business is done. It is
+equally white and clean with fresh paint, and equally elegant in design.
+
+A stranger, upon a nice consideration of the circumstances, might find a
+difficulty in deciding on which to bestow his patronage; and perhaps the
+chief recommendation of the old establishment lies in the fact that it is
+the older of the two. The value of antiquity was never better understood
+than in these modern days. Shrewd men of business have observed that the
+quality of being ancient is the foundation of credit. Men believe in that
+which has been long established. Their fathers dealt there, they deal
+themselves, and if a new-comer takes up his residence he is advised to do
+likewise.
+
+A visitor desirous of looking on the outside, at least of country banking,
+would naturally be conducted to the old Bank. If it were an ordinary day,
+_i.e._ not a market or fair, he might stand on the pavement in front
+sunning himself without the least inconvenience from the passenger
+traffic. He would see, on glancing Up and down the street, one or two aged
+cottage women going in or out of the grocer's, a postman strolling round,
+and a distant policeman at the farthest corner. A sprinkling of boys
+playing marbles at the side of the pavement, and two men loading a waggon
+with sacks of flour from a warehouse, complete the scene as far as human
+life is concerned. There are dogs basking on doorsteps, larger dogs
+rambling with idleness in the slow sway of their tails, and overhead black
+swifts (whose nests are in the roofs of the higher houses) dash to and
+fro, uttering their shrill screech.
+
+The outer door of the bank is wide open--fastened back--ostentatiously
+open, and up the passage another mahogany door, closed, bears a polished
+brazen plate with the word 'Manager' engraved upon it. Everything within
+is large and massive. The swing door itself yields with the slow motion of
+solidity, and unless you are agile as it closes in the rear, thrusts you
+forward like a strong gale. The apartment is large and lofty: there is
+room for a crowd, but at present there is no one at the counter. It is
+long enough and broad enough for the business of twenty customers at once;
+so broad that the clerks on the other side are beyond arm's reach. But
+they have shovels with which to push the gold towards you, and in a small
+glass stand is a sponge kept constantly damp, across which the cashier
+draws his finger as he counts the silver, the slight moisture enabling him
+to sort the coin more swiftly.
+
+The fittings are perfect, as perfect as in a London bank, and there is an
+air of extreme precision. Yonder open drawers are full of pass-books; upon
+the desks and on the broad mantelpiece are piles of cheques, not scattered
+in disorder but arranged in exact heaps. The very inkstands are heavy and
+vast, and you just catch a glimpse round the edge of the semi-sentry box
+which guards the desk of the chief cashier, of a ledger so huge that the
+mind can hardly realise the extent of the business which requires such
+ponderous volumes to record it. Then beyond these a glass door, half open,
+apparently leads to the manager's room, for within it is a table strewn
+with papers, and you can see the green-painted iron wall of a safe.
+
+The clerks, like the place, are somewhat imposing; they are in no hurry,
+they allow you time to look round you and imbibe the sense of awe which
+the magnificent mahogany counter and the brazen fittings, all the
+evidences of wealth, are so calculated to inspire. The hollow sound of
+your footstep on the floor does not seem heard; the slight 'Ahem!' you
+utter after you have waited a few moments attracts no attention, nor the
+rustling of your papers. The junior clerks are adding up column after
+column of figures, and are totally absorbed; the chief cashier is
+pondering deeply over a letter and annotating it. By-and-by he puts it
+down, and slowly approaches. But after you have gone through the
+preliminary ceremony of waiting, which is an institution of the place, the
+treatment quite changes. Your business is accomplished with practised
+ease, any information you may require is forthcoming on the instant, and
+deft fingers pass you the coin. In brief, the whole machinery of banking
+is here as complete as in Lombard Street. The complicated ramifications of
+commercial transactions are as well understood and as closely studied as
+in the 'City.' No matter what your wishes, provided, of course, that your
+credentials are unimpeachable, they will be conducted for you
+satisfactorily and without delay.
+
+Yet the green meadows are within an arrow shot, and standing on the
+threshold and looking down a cross street you can see the elms of the
+hedgerows closing in the prospect. It is really wonderful that such
+conveniences should he found in so apparently insignificant a place. The
+intelligence and courtesy of the officials is most marked. It is clear,
+upon reflection, that such intelligence, such manners, and knowledge not
+only of business but of men (for a banker and a banker's agent has often
+to judge at a moment's notice whether a man be a rogue or honest), cannot
+be had for nothing. They must be paid for, and, in so far at least as the
+heads are concerned, paid liberally. It is known that the old Bank has
+often paid twenty and twenty-five per cent, to its shareholders. Where
+does all this money come from? From Hodge, toiling in the field and
+earning his livelihood in the sweat of his brow? One would hardly think so
+at first, and yet there are no great businesses or manufactories here.
+Somehow or other the money that pays for this courtesy and commercial
+knowledge, for these magnificent premises and furniture, that pays the
+shareholders twenty-five per cent., must be drawn from the green meadows,
+the cornfields, and the hills where the sheep feed.
+
+On an ordinary day the customers that come to the bank's counter may be
+reckoned on the fingers. Early in the morning the Post-Office people come
+for their cash and change; next, some of the landlords of the principal
+inns with their takings; afterwards, such of the tradesmen as have cheques
+to pay in. Later on the lawyers' clerks, or the solicitors themselves drop
+in; in the latter case for a chat with the manager. A farmer or two may
+call, especially on a Friday, for the cash to pay the labourers next day,
+and so the morning passes. In the afternoon one or more of the local
+gentry or clergy may drive up or may not--it is a chance either way--and
+as the hour draws near for closing some of the tradesmen come hurrying in
+again. Then the day, so far as the public are concerned, is over.
+To-morrow sees the same event repeated.
+
+On a market-day there is a great bustle; men hustle in and out, with a
+bluff disregard of conventional politeness, but with no intention of
+rudeness. Through the open doors comes the lowing of cattle, and the
+baaing of sheep; the farmers and dealers that crowd in and out bring with
+them an odour of animals that exhales from their garments. The clerks are
+now none too many, the long broad counter none too large; the resources of
+the establishment are taxed to the utmost. The manager is there in person,
+attending to the more important customers.
+
+In the crush are many ladies who would find their business facilitated by
+coming on a different day. But market-day is a tradition with all classes;
+even the gentry appear in greater numbers. If you go forth into the
+Market-place you will find it thronged with farmers. If you go into the
+Corn Hall or Exchange, where the corndealers have their stands, and where
+business in cereals and seeds is transacted; if you walk across to the
+auction yard for cattle, or to the horse depository, where an auction of
+horses is proceeding; everywhere you have to push your way through groups
+of agriculturists. The hotels are full of them (the stable-yards full of
+their various conveyances), and the restaurant, the latest innovation in
+country towns, is equally filled with farmers taking a chop, and the inner
+rooms with ladies discussing coffee and light refreshments.
+
+Now every farmer of all this crowd has his cheque-book in the breast
+pocket of his coat. Let his business be what it may, the purchase of
+cattle, sheep, horses, or implements, seed, or any other necessary, no
+coin passes. The parties, if the transaction be private, adjourn to their
+favourite inn, and out comes the cheque-book. If a purchase be effected at
+either of the auctions proceeding it is paid for by cheque, and, on the
+other hand, should the farmer be the vendor, his money comes to him in the
+shape of a cheque. With the exception of his dinner and the ostler, the
+farmer who comes to market carries on all his transactions with paper. The
+landlord of the hotel takes cash for the dinner, and the ostler takes his
+shilling. For the rest, it is all cheques cheques, cheques; so that the
+whole business of agriculture, from the purchase of the seed to the sale
+of the crop, passes through the bank.
+
+The toll taken by the bank upon such transactions as simple buying and
+selling is practically _nil_; its profit is indirect. But besides the
+indirect profit there is the direct speculation of making advances at high
+interest, discounting bills, and similar business. It might almost be said
+that the crops are really the property of the local banks, so large in the
+aggregate are the advances made upon them. The bank has, in fact, to study
+the seasons, the weather, the probable market prices, the import of grain
+and cattle, and to keep an eye upon the agriculture of the world. The
+harvest and the prices concern it quite as much as the actual farmer who
+tills the soil. In good seasons, with a crop above the average, the
+business of the bank expands in corresponding ratio. The manager and
+directors feel that they can advance with confidence; the farmer has the
+means to pay. In bad seasons and with short crops the farmer is more
+anxious than ever to borrow; but the bank is obliged to contract its
+sphere of operations.
+
+It usually happens that one or more of the directors of a country bank are
+themselves farmers in a large way--gentlemen farmers, but with practical
+knowledge. They are men whose entire lives have been spent in the
+locality, and who have a very wide circle of acquaintances and friends
+among agriculturists. Their forefathers were stationed there before them,
+and thus there has been an accumulation of local knowledge. They not only
+thoroughly understand the soil of the neighbourhood, and can forecast the
+effect of particular seasons with certainty, but they possess an intimate
+knowledge of family history, what farmer is in a bad way, who is doubtful,
+or who has always had a sterling reputation. An old-established country
+bank has almost always one or more such confidential advisers. Their
+assistance is invaluable.
+
+Since agriculture became in this way, through the adoption of banking, so
+intimately connected with commerce, it has responded, like other
+businesses, to the fluctuations of trade. The value of money in
+Threadneedle Street affects the farmer in an obscure hamlet a hundred
+miles away, whose fathers knew nothing of money except as a coin, a token
+of value, and understood nothing of the export or import of gold. The
+farmer's business is conducted through the bank, but, on the other hand,
+the bank cannot restrict its operations to the mere countryside. It is
+bound up in every possible manner with the vast institutions of the
+metropolis. Its private profits depend upon the rate of discount and the
+tone of the money market exactly in the same way as with those vast
+institutions. A difficulty, a crisis there is immediately felt by the
+country bank, whose dealings with its farmer customers are in turn
+affected.
+
+Thus commerce acts upon agriculture. _Per contra_, the tradesmen of the
+town who go to the bank every morning would tell you with doleful faces
+that the condition of agriculture acts upon trade in a most practical
+manner. Neither the farmer, nor the farmer's wife and family expend nearly
+so much as they did at their shops, and consequently the sums they carry
+over to the bank are much diminished in amount. The local country
+tradesman probably feels the depression of agriculture all but as much as
+the farmer himself. The tradesman is perhaps supported by the bank; if he
+cannot meet his liabilities the bank is compelled to withdraw that
+support.
+
+Much of this country banking seems to have grown up in very recent times.
+Any elderly farmer out yonder in the noisy market would tell you that in
+his young days when he first did business he had to carry coin with him,
+especially if at a distance from home. It was then the custom to attend
+markets and fairs a long way off, such markets being centres where the
+dealers and drovers brought cattle. The dealers would accept nothing but
+cash; they would not have looked at a cheque had such a thing been
+proffered them. This old Bank prides itself upon the reputation it
+enjoyed, even in those days. It had the power of issuing notes, and these
+notes were accepted by such men, even at a great distance, the bank having
+so good a name. They were even preferred to the notes of the Bank of
+England, which at one time, in outlying country places, were looked on
+with distrust, a state of things which seems almost incredible to the
+present generation.
+
+In those days men had no confidence. That mutual business understanding,
+the credit which is the basis of all commerce of the present time, did not
+exist. Of course this only applies to the country and to country trading;
+the business men of cities were years in advance of the agriculturists in
+this respect. But so good was the reputation of the old Bank, even in
+those times, that its notes were readily accepted. It is, indeed,
+surprising what a reputation some of the best of the country banks have
+achieved. Their names are scarcely seen in the money articles of the daily
+press. But they do a solid business of great extent, and their names in
+agricultural circles are names of power. So the old Bank here, though
+within an arrow shot of the green meadows, though on ordinary days a
+single clerk might attend to its customers, has really a valuable
+_clientèle._
+
+Of late years shrewd men of business discovered that the ranks of the
+British farmer offered a wonderful opportunity for legitimate banking. The
+farmer, though he may not be rich, must of necessity be the manager, if
+not the actual owner, of considerable capital. A man who farms, if only a
+hundred acres, must have some capital. It may not be his own--it may be
+borrowed; still he has the use of it. Here, then, a wide field opened
+itself to banking enterprise. Certainly there has been a remarkable
+extension of banking institutions in the country. Every market town has
+its bank, and in most cases two--branches of course, but banks to all
+intents and purposes. Branches are started everywhere.
+
+The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new. It is
+simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose original centre
+may perhaps be in another county. It is every whit as respectable as the
+other, and as well conducted. Its branch as yet lacks local antiquity, but
+that is the only difference. The competition for the farmer's business
+between these branches, scattered all over the length and breadth of the
+country, must of necessity be close. When the branch, or new Bank, came
+here, it was started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the
+most convenient situation that could be secured.
+
+Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a small and
+dingy basement. The room was narrow, badly lit, and still worse
+ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the customers
+complained of the stuffy atmosphere. The ancient fittings had become worn
+and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the conveniences in every way
+defective. When it was known that a new branch was to be opened the
+directors of the old Bank resolved that the building, which had so long
+been found inadequate, should be entirely renovated. They pulled it down,
+and the present magnificent structure took its place.
+
+Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose façades could
+hardly be surpassed in a city. There is perhaps a little rivalry between
+the managers of the two institutions, in social as well as in business
+matters. Being so long established there the old Bank numbers among its
+customers some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and
+solicitors. The manager coming into contact with these, and being himself
+a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain position. If any
+public movement is set on foot, the banks strive as to which shall be most
+to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity, the old Bank, perhaps, secures a
+social precedence. Both managers belong to the 'carriage people' of the
+town.
+
+Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or sheep, or
+jolting in on a waggon. His wife comes, too, on foot, through the roughest
+weather, to fetch her household goods. His daughter comes into the hiring
+fair, and stands waiting for employment on the pavement in the same spot
+used for the purpose from time immemorial, within sight of the stately
+façades of the banks. He himself has stood in the market-place with
+reaping hook or hoe looking for a master. Humble as he may be, it is clear
+that the wealth in those cellars--the notes and the gold pushed over the
+counters in shovels--must somehow come from the labour which he and his
+immediate employer--the farmer--go through in the field.
+
+It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or shepherd, who
+desires a new situation, to advertise. Instead of waiting for the chance
+of the hiring fair, he trudges into the market town and calls at the
+office of the oldest established local paper. There his wishes are reduced
+to writing for him, he pays his money, and his advertisement appears. If
+there is an farmer advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the
+same time takes the address, and goes over to offer his services. The
+farmer and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the
+medium between them.
+
+The vitality and influence of the old-fashioned local newspaper is indeed
+a remarkable feature of country life. It would be thought that in these
+days of cheap literature, these papers, charging twopence, threepence, and
+even fourpence per copy, could not possibly continue to exist. But,
+contrary to all expectation, they have taken quite a fresh start, and
+possess a stronger hold than ever upon the agricultural population. They
+enter into the old homesteads, and every member of the farmer's family
+carefully scans them, certain of finding a reference to this or that
+subject or person in whom he takes an interest.
+
+Some such papers practically defy competition. In the outlying towns,
+where no factories have introduced a new element, it is vain for the most
+enterprising to start another. The squire, the clergyman, the lawyer, the
+tenant-farmer, the wayside innkeeper stick to the old weekly paper, and
+nothing can shake it. It is one of the institutions of agriculture.
+
+The office is, perhaps, in a side street of the quiet market-town, and
+there is no display to catch the casual purchaser. No mystery surrounds
+the editor's sanctum; the visitor has but to knock, and is at once
+admitted to his presence. An office could scarcely be more plainly
+furnished. A common table, which has, however, one great virtue--it does
+not shake when written on--occupies the centre. Upon one side is a large
+desk or bureau; the account-books lying open show that the editor, besides
+his literary labour, has to spend much time in double entry. Two chairs
+are so completely hidden under 'exchanges' that no one can sit upon them.
+Several of these 'exchanges' are from the United States or Australia, for
+the colonists are often more interested and concerned about local affairs
+in the old country than they are with the doings in the metropolis.
+Against the wall, too, hangs a picture of a fine steamer careering under
+sail and steam, and near it a coloured sectional map of some new township
+marked out in squares. These are the advertisements of an Atlantic or
+Australian line, or of both; and the editor is their agent. When the young
+ploughman resolves to quit the hamlet for the backwoods of America or the
+sheepwalks of Australia, he comes here to engage his berth. When the young
+farmer wearies of waiting for dead men's shoes--in no other way can he
+hope to occupy an English farm--he calls here and pays his passage-money,
+and his broad shoulders and willing hands are shipped to a land that will
+welcome him. A single shelf supports a few books, all for reference, such
+as the 'Clergy List,' for the Church is studied, and the slightest change
+that concerns the district carefully recorded.
+
+Beneath this, the ponderous volumes that contain the file of the paper for
+the last forty years are piled, their weight too great for a shelf resting
+on the floor. The series constitutes a complete and authentic local
+history. People often come from a distance to consult it, for it is the
+only register that affords more than the simple entry of birth and death.
+
+There is a life in the villages and hamlets around, in the little places
+that are not even hamlets, which to the folk who dwell in them is fully as
+important as that of the greatest city. Farmhouses are not like the villas
+of cities and city suburbs. The villa has hardly any individuality; it is
+but one of many, each resembling the other, and scarcely separated. To-day
+one family occupies it, tomorrow another, next year perhaps a third, and
+neither of these has any real connection with the place. They are
+sojourners, not inhabitants, drawn thither by business or pleasure; they
+come and go, and leave no mark behind. But the farmhouse has a history.
+The same family have lived in it for, perhaps, a hundred years: they have
+married and intermarried, and become identified with the locality. To them
+all the petty events of village life have a meaning and importance: the
+slow changes that take place and are chronicled in the old newspaper have
+a sad significance, for they mark that flux of time which is carrying
+them, too, onwards to their rest.
+
+These columns of the file, therefore, that to a stranger seem a blank, to
+the old folk and their descendants are like a mirror, in which they can
+see the faces of the loved ones who passed away a generation since. They
+are the archives of the hamlets round about: a farmer can find from them
+when his grandfather quitted the old farm, and read an account of the
+sale. Men who left the village in their youth for the distant city or the
+still more distant colonies, as they grow in years often feel an
+irresistible desire to revisit the old, old place. The home they so fondly
+recollect is in other hands, and yet in itself but little changed. A few
+lines in the plainest language found in the file here tell to such a
+greybeard a story that fills his eyes with tears. But even a stranger who
+took the trouble to turn over the folios would now and then find matter to
+interest him: such as curious notes of archaeological discovery, accounts
+of local customs now fallen into disuse, and traditions of the past. Many
+of these are worthy of collection in more accessible form.
+
+There is hardly anything else in the room except the waste basket under
+the table. As the visitor enters, a lad goes out with a roll of manuscript
+in his hand, and the editor looks up from his monotonous task of
+proof-reading, for he has that duty also to perform. Whatever he is doing,
+some one is certain to call and break off the thread of his thought. The
+bailiff or farm-steward of a neighbouring estate comes in to insert an
+advertisement of timber for sale, or of the auction of the ash-poles
+annually felled. A gamekeeper calls with a notice not to sport or trespass
+on certain lands. The editor has to write out the advertisement for these
+people, and for many of the farmers who come, for countrymen have the
+greatest dislike to literary effort of any kind, and can hardly be
+persuaded to write a letter. Even when they have written the letter they
+get the daughter to address the envelope, lest the Post Office should
+smile at their rude penmanship. The business of preparing the
+advertisement is not quickly concluded, for just as it is put down to
+their fancy, they recollect another item which has to be added. Then they
+stand and gossip about the family at the mansion and the affairs of the
+parish generally, totally oblivious of the valuable time they are wasting.
+Farmers look in to advertise a cottage or a house in the village to let,
+and stay to explain the state of the crops, and the why and the wherefore
+of So-and-so leaving his tenancy.
+
+The largest advertisers invariably put off their orders till the morning
+of the paper going to press, from sheer inattention. On that busy morning,
+auctioneers' clerks rush in with columns of auction sales of cattle,
+sheep, horses, hay, or standing crops (according to the season of the
+year), and every species of farm produce. After them come the solicitors'
+clerks, with equally important and lengthy notices of legal matters
+concerning the effects of farmers who have fallen into difficulties, of
+parochial or turnpike affairs, or 'Pursuant to an Act intitled "An Act to
+further amend the Law and to Relieve Trustees."' These notices have been
+lying on their desks for days, but are perversely sent down at the last
+moment, and upset the entire make-up of the paper.
+
+Just as the editor has arranged for these, and is in the act to rush up
+into the press-room, a timid knock announces a poor cottage girl, who has
+walked in from a hamlet six or seven miles away to inquire the address of
+a lady who wants a servant. This advertisement appeared at least three
+weeks since, for country folk could in no wise make up their minds to
+apply under three weeks, and necessitates a search back through the file,
+and a reference to divers papers. He cannot in common courtesy leave the
+poor girl to wait his convenience, and meantime the steam is up and the
+machine waiting. When the address is discovered, the girl thinks she
+cannot remember it, and so he has to write it down on a piece of paper for
+her.
+
+He has no highly organised staff to carry on the routine work; he has to
+look after every department as well as the purely editorial part. Almost
+every one who has a scrap of news or gossip looks in at the office to chat
+about it with him. Farmers, who have driven in to the town from distant
+villages, call to tell him of the trouble they are having over the new
+schools, and the conflict in the parish as to whether they shall or shall
+not have a school board. Clergymen from outlying vicarages come to mention
+that a cottage flower show, a penny reading, a confirmation, or some such
+event, is impending, and to suggest the propriety of a full and special
+account. Occasionally a leading landed proprietor is closeted with him,
+for at least an hour, discussing local politics, and ascertaining from him
+the tone of feeling in the district.
+
+Modern agricultural society insists upon publicity. The smallest village
+event must be chronicled, or some one will feel dissatisfied, and inquire
+why it was not put in the paper. This continual looking towards the paper
+for everything causes it to exercise a very considerable amount of
+influence. Perhaps the clergy and gentry are in some things less powerful
+than the local newspaper, for, from a variety of causes, agricultural
+society has become extremely sensitive to public opinion. The temperate
+and thoughtful arguments put forward by a paper in which they have
+confidence directly affect the tenant-farmers. On the other hand, as
+expressing the views of the tenant-farmers, the paper materially
+influences the course taken by the landed proprietors.
+
+In country districts the mere numerical circulation of a weekly
+publication is no measure of its importance. The position of the
+subscribers is the true test. These old-established papers, in fact,
+represent property. They are the organs of all who possess lands, houses,
+stock, produce; in short, of the middle class. This is evident from the
+advertising columns. The lawyer, the auctioneer, the land agent, the
+farmer, all who have any substance, publish their business in this medium.
+Official county advertisements appear in it. The carter and the shepherd
+look down the column of situations vacant as they call at the village inn
+for a glass of ale, or, if they cannot read, ask some one to read for
+them. But they do not purchase this kind of newspaper. The cottager spells
+over prints advocating the disestablishment of the Church, the division of
+great estates, and the general subversion of the present order of things.
+Yet when the labourer advertises, he goes to the paper subscribed to by
+his master. The disappearance of such an obsolete and expensive paper is
+frequently announced as imminent; but the obsolete and expensive print,
+instead of disappearing, nourishes with renewed vitality. Solid matter,
+temperate argument, and genuine work, in the long ran, pay the best. An
+editor who thus conducts his paper is highly appreciated by the local
+chiefs of his party, and may even help to contribute to the success of an
+Administration.
+
+The personal labour involved in such editing must be great from the
+absence of trained assistance, and because the materials must be furnished
+by incompetent hands. Local news must be forwarded by local people,
+perhaps by a village tailor with literary tastes. Such correspondents
+often indulge in insinuations, or fulsome flattery, which must be
+carefully eliminated. From another village an account of some event comes
+from the schoolmaster--quite an important person nowadays!--who writes in
+a fair, round hand and uses the finest language and the longest words. He
+invariably puts 'hebdomadal' for 'weekly.' A lawyer's clerk writes a
+narrative of some case, on blue foolscap, and, after the manner of legal
+documents, without a single stop from beginning to end.
+
+Once a year comes the labour of preparing the sheet almanac. This useful
+publication is much valued by the tenants of the district, and may be
+found pinned against the wall for ready reference in most farmhouses.
+Besides the calendar it contains a list of county and other officials,
+dates of quarter sessions and assizes, fair days and markets, records of
+the prices obtained at the annual sales of rams or shorthorns on leading
+farms, and similar agricultural information.
+
+The editor has very likely been born in the district, and has thus grown
+up to understand the wants and the spirit of the farming class. He is
+acquainted with the family history of the neighbourhood, a knowledge which
+is of much advantage in enabling him to avoid unnecessarily irritating
+personal susceptibilities. His private library is not without interest. It
+mainly consists of old books picked up at the farmhouse sales of thirty
+years. At such disposals of household effects volumes sometimes come to
+light that have been buried for generations among lumber. Many of these
+books are valuable and all worth examination. A man of simple and retiring
+habits, his garden is perhaps his greatest solace, and next to that a
+drive or stroll through the green meadows around. Incessant mental labour
+has forced him to wear glasses before his time, and it is a relief and
+pleasure to the eyes to dwell on green sward and leaf. Such a man performs
+a worthy part in country life, and possesses the esteem of the country
+side.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+
+In the daytime the centre of a certain village may be said to be the shop
+of the agricultural machinist. The majority of the cottagers are away in
+the fields at work, and the place is elsewhere almost quiet. A column of
+smoke and a distant din guide the visitor to the spot where the hammers
+are clattering on the anvils.
+
+Twisted iron, rusty from exposure, lies in confusion on the blackened
+ground before the shed. Coal-dust and the carbon deposited from volumes of
+thick smoke have darkened the earth, and coated everything with a black
+crust. The windows of the shed are broken, probably by the accidental
+contact of long rods of iron carelessly cast aside, and some of the slates
+of the roof appear gone just above the furnace, as if removed for
+ventilation and the escape of the intense heat. There is a creaking of
+stiff leather as the bellows rise and fall, and the roar of the blast as
+it is forced up through the glowing coals.
+
+A ceaseless hum of wheels in motion comes from the rear, and the peculiar
+crackling sound of a band in rapid revolution round the drum of the engine
+and the shaft. Then the grinding scrape of sharp steel on iron as the edge
+of the tool cuts shavings from the solid metal rotating swiftly in the
+lathe. As blow follows blow the red-hot 'scale,' driven from the surface
+of the iron on the anvil by the heavy sledge, flies rattling against the
+window in a spray of fire. The ring of metal, the clatter, the roaring,
+and hissing of steam, fill the air, and through it rises now and then the
+shrill quick calls of men in command.
+
+Outside, and as it seems but a stone's throw distant, stands the old grey
+church, and about it the still, silent, green-grown mounds over those who
+once followed the quiet plough.
+
+Bound the corner of the village street comes a man with a grimy red flag,
+and over the roofs of the cottages rises a cloud of smoke, and behind it
+yet another. Two steam ploughing engines are returning from their work to
+their place beside the shed to wait fresh orders. The broad wheels of the
+engines block up the entire width of the street, and but just escape
+overthrowing the feeble palings in front of the cottage doors. Within
+those palings the children at play scarcely turn to look; the very infants
+that can hardly toddle are so accustomed to the ponderous wonder that they
+calmly gnaw the crusts that keep them contented. It requires a full hour
+to get the unwieldy engines up the incline and round the sharp turns on to
+the open space by the workshop. The driver has to 'back,' and go-a-head,
+and 'back' again, a dozen times before he can reach the place, for that
+narrow bye-way was not planned out for such traffic. A mere path leading
+to some cottages in the rear, it was rarely used even by carts before the
+machinist came, and it is a feat of skill to get the engines in without,
+like a conqueror, entering by a breach battered in the walls. When, at
+last, they have been piloted into position, the steam is blown off, and
+the rushing hiss sounds all over the village. The white vapour covers the
+ground like a cloud, and the noise re-echoes against the old grey church,
+but the jackdaws do not even rise from the battlements.
+
+These engines and their corresponding tackle are the chief stock-in-trade
+of the village machinist. He lets them out to the farmers of the district,
+which is principally arable; that is, he contracts to do their ploughing
+and scarifying at so much per acre. In the ploughing seasons the engines
+are for ever on the road, and with their tackle dragging behind them take
+up the highway like a train. One day you may hear the hum and noise from a
+distant field on the left; in a day or two it comes from another on the
+right; next week it has shifted again, and is heard farther off
+northwards, and so all round the compass.
+
+The visitor, driving about the neighbourhood, cannot but notice the huge
+and cumbrous-looking plough left awhile on the sward by the roadside.
+One-half of the shares stand up high in the air, the other half touch the
+ground, and it is so nicely balanced that boys sometimes play at see-saw
+on it. He will meet the iron monster which draws this plough by the bridge
+over the brook, pausing while its insatiable thirst is stayed from the
+stream. He will see it patiently waiting, with a slight curl of steam over
+the boiler, by the wayside inn while its attendants take their lunch.
+
+It sometimes happens in wet weather that the engines cannot be moved from
+the field where they have been ploughing. The soil becomes so soft from
+absorbing so much water that it will not bear up the heavy weight. Logs
+and poles are laid down to form a temporary way, but the great wheels sink
+too deeply, and the engines have to be left covered with tarpaulins. They
+have been known to remain till the fresh green leaves of spring on the
+hedges and trees almost hid them from sight.
+
+The machinist has another and lighter traction engine which does not
+plough, but travels from farm to farm with a threshing machine. In autumn
+it is in full work threshing, and in winter drives chaff-cutters for the
+larger farmers. Occasionally it draws a load of coal in waggons or trucks
+built for the purpose. Hodge's forefathers knew no rival at plough time;
+after the harvest they threshed the corn all the winter with the flail.
+Now the iron horse works faster and harder than he.
+
+Some of the great tenant-farmers have sets of ploughing-engines and tackle
+of their own, and these are frequently at the machinist's for repairs. The
+reaping, mowing, threshing, haymaking, hoeing, raking, and other machines
+and implements also often require mending. Once now and then a bicyclist
+calls to have his machine attended to, something having given way while on
+a tour. Thus the village factory is in constant work, but has to encounter
+immense competition.
+
+Country towns of any size usually possess at least one manufactory of
+agricultural implements, and some of these factories have acquired a
+reputation which reaches over sea. The visitor to such a foundry is shown
+medals that have been granted for excellence of work exhibited in Vienna,
+and may see machines in process of construction which will be used upon
+the Continent; so that the village machinist, though apparently isolated,
+with nothing but fields around him, has in reality competitors upon every
+side.
+
+Ploughing engines, again, travel great distances, and there are firms that
+send their tackle across a county or two. Still the village factory, being
+on the spot, has plenty of local work, and the clatter of hammers, the
+roar of the blast, and the hum of wheels never cease at the shed. Busy
+workmen pass to and fro, lithe men, quick of step and motion, who come
+from Leeds, or some similar manufacturing town, and whose very step
+distinguishes them in a moment from the agricultural labourer.
+
+A sturdy ploughboy comes up with a piece of iron on his shoulder; it does
+not look large, but it is as much as he can carry. One edge of it is
+polished by the friction of the earth through which it has been forced; it
+has to be straightened, or repaired, and the ploughboy waits while it is
+done. He sits down outside the shed on a broken and rusty iron wheel,
+choosing a spot where the sun shines and the building keeps off the wind.
+There, among the twisted iron, ruins and fragments of machines, he takes
+out his hunch of bread and cheese, and great clasp knife, and quietly
+enjoys his luncheon. He is utterly indifferent to the noise of the
+revolving wheels, the creak of the bellows, the hiss of steam; he makes no
+inquiry about this or that, and shows no desire to understand the wonders
+of mechanics. Something in his attitude--in the immobility, the almost
+animal repose of limb; something in the expression of his features, the
+self-contained oblivion, so to say, suggests an Oriental absence of
+aspiration. Only by negatives and side-lights, as it were, can any idea be
+conveyed of his contented indifference. He munches his crust; and, when he
+has done, carefully, and with vast deliberation, relaces his heavy shoe.
+The sunshine illumines the old grey church before him, and falls on the
+low green mounds, almost level with the sward, which cover his ancestors.
+
+These modern inventions, this steam, and electric telegraph, and even the
+printing-press have but just skimmed the surface of village life. If they
+were removed--if the pressure from without, from the world around, ceased,
+in how few years the village and the hamlet would revert to their original
+condition!
+
+On summer afternoons, towards five or six o'clock, a four-wheel
+carriage--useful, but not pretentious--comes slowly up the hill leading to
+the village. The single occupant is an elderly man, the somewhat wearied
+expression of whose features is caused by a continuous application to
+business. The horse, too well fed for work, takes his own time up the
+hill, and when at the summit the reins are gently shaken, makes but an
+idle pretence to move faster, for he knows that his master is too
+good-natured and forbearing to use the whip, except to fondly stroke his
+back. The reins are scarcely needed to guide the horse along the familiar
+road to a large farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where at the
+gate two or more children are waiting to welcome 'papa.'
+
+Though a farmhouse, the garden is laid out in the style so often seen
+around detached villas, with a lawn for tennis and croquet, parterres
+bright with summer flowers, and seats under the pleasant shade of the
+trees. Within it is furnished in villa fashion, and is in fact let to a
+well-to-do tradesman of the market town a few miles distant. He has wisely
+sent his family for the summer months to inhale the clear air of the
+hills, as exhilarating as that of the sea. There they can ride the pony
+and donkeys over the open sward, and romp and play at gipsying. Every
+evening he drives out to join them, and every morning returns to his
+office. The house belongs to some large tenant-farmer, who has a little
+freehold property, and thus makes a profit from it.
+
+This practice of hiring a village home for the summer has become common of
+recent years among the leading tradesmen of country towns. Such visitors
+are welcome to the cottage folk. They require the service of a labourer
+now and then; they want fresh eggs, and vegetables from the allotment
+gardens. The women have the family washing to do, and a girl is often
+needed to assist indoors, or a boy to clean the knives and shoes. Many
+perquisites fall to the cottage people--cast aside dresses, and so on;
+besides which there are little gifts and kindnesses from the lady and her
+children.
+
+Towards November, again, the congregation in the old church one Sunday
+morning find subject for speculation concerning a stranger who enters a
+certain well-appointed pew appropriated to The Chestnuts. He is clearly
+the new tenant who has taken it for the hunting season. The Chestnuts is a
+mansion built in modern style for a former landowner. As it is outside the
+great hunting centres it is let at a low rental compared with its
+accommodation. The labourers are glad to see that the place is let again,
+for although the half-pay officer--the new occupant--who has retired,
+wounded and decorated, from the service of a grateful country, has
+probably not a third the income of the tradesman, and five times the
+social appearance to maintain, still there will be profit to be got from
+him.
+
+What chance has such a gentleman in bargaining with the cottagers? How
+should he know the village value of a cabbage? How should he understand
+the farmyard value of a fowl? It may possibly strike him as odd that
+vegetables should be so dear when, as he rides about, he sees whole fields
+green with them. He sees plenty of fowls, and geese, and turkeys, gobbling
+and cackling about the farmyards, and can perhaps after awhile faintly
+perceive that they are the perquisites of the ladies of the tenants'
+households, who drive him a very hard bargain. He, too, has cast aside
+suits, shoes, hats, and so forth, really but little worn, to give away to
+the poor. If married, his family require some help from the cottage women;
+and there are odd jobs, well paid for, on the place for the men. Thus the
+cottagers are glad of the arrival of their new masters, the one in the
+summer, the other in the winter months.
+
+The 'chapel-folk' of the place have so increased in numbers and affluence
+that they have erected a large and commodious building in the village.
+Besides the cottagers, many farmers go to the chapel, driving in from the
+ends of the parish. It is a curious circumstance that many of the largest
+dealers in agricultural produce, such as cheese, bacon, and corn, and the
+owners of the busiest wharves where coal and timber, slate, and similar
+materials are stored, belong to the Dissenting community. There are some
+agricultural districts where this class of business is quite absorbed by
+Dissenters--almost as much as money-changing and banking business is said
+to be the exclusive property of Jews in some Continental countries. Such
+dealers are often substantial and, for the country, even wealthy men. Then
+there are the Dissenting tradesmen of the market town. All these together
+form a species of guild. The large chapel in the village was built by
+their united subscriptions. They support each other in a marked manner in
+times of difficulty, so that it is rare for a tenant-farmer of the
+persuasion to lose his position unless by wilful misconduct. This mutual
+support is so very marked as to be quite a characteristic fact.
+
+The cottagers and their families go to chapel with these masters. But
+sometimes the cottager, as he approaches the chapel door, finds upon it
+(as in the church porch) a small printed notice affixed there by the
+overseers. If the labourer is now recognised as a person whose opinion is
+to be consulted, on the other hand he finds that he is not without
+responsibilities. The rate-collector knocks at the cottage door as well as
+at the farmer's. By gradual degrees village rates are becoming a serious
+burden, and though their chief incidence may be upon the landlord and the
+tenant, indirectly they begin to come home to the labourer. The school
+rate is voluntary, but it is none the less a rate; the cemetery, the
+ancient churchyard being no more available, has had to be paid for, and,
+as usual, probably cost twice what was anticipated. The highways, the
+sanitary authority, not to speak of poor relief, all demand a share. Each
+in itself may be only a straw, but accumulated straws in time fill a
+waggon.
+
+One side of the stable of the village inn, which faces the road, presents
+a broad surface for the country bill-sticker. He comes out from the market
+town, and travels on foot for a whole day together, from hamlet to hamlet.
+posting up the contents of his bag in the most outlying and lonely
+districts. Every villager as he passes by reads the announcements on the
+wall: the circus coming to the market town, some jeweller's marvellous
+watches, the selling off of spring or summer goods by the drapers at an
+immense reduction, once now and then a proclamation headed V.R., and the
+sales of farm stock (the tenants leaving) and of large freehold
+properties.
+
+These latter are much discussed by the callers at the inn. A carter comes
+along perhaps with a loaded waggon from some distance, and as he stays to
+drink his quart talks of the changes that are proceeding or imminent in
+his locality. Thus the fact that changes are contemplated is often widely
+known before the actual advertisement is issued. The labourers who hear
+the carter's story tell it again to their own employer next time they see
+him, and the farmer meeting another farmer gossips over it again.
+
+There has grown up a general feeling in the villages and agricultural
+districts that the landed estates around them are no longer stable and
+enduring. A feeling of uncertainty is abroad, and no one is surprised to
+hear that some other place, or person, is going. It is rumoured that this
+great landlord is about to sell as many farms as the family settlements
+will let him. Another is only waiting for the majority of his son to
+accomplish the same object. Others, it is said, are proceeding abroad to
+retrench. Properties are coming into the market in unexpected directions,
+and others are only kept back because the price of land has fallen, and
+there is a difficulty in selling a large estate. If divided into a number
+of lots, each of small size, land still fetches its value, and can be
+readily sold; but that is not always convenient, and purchasers hesitate
+to invest in extensive estates. But though kept back, efforts are being
+made to retrench, and, it is said, old mansions that have never been let
+before can now be hired for the season. Not only the tenant-farmers, but
+the landowners are pacing through a period of depression, and their tenure
+too is uncertain. Such is the talk of the country side as it comes to the
+village inn.
+
+Once a week the discordant note of a horn or bugle, loudly blown by a man
+who does not understand his instrument, is heard at intervals. It is the
+newspaper vendor, who, like the bill-sticker, starts from the market town
+on foot, and goes through the village with a terrible din. He stops at the
+garden gate in the palings before the thatched cottage, delivers his print
+to the old woman or the child sent out with the copper, and starts again
+with a flourish of his trumpet. His business is chiefly with the
+cottagers, and his print is very likely full of abuse of the landed
+proprietors as a body. He is a product of modern days, almost the latest,
+and as he goes from cottage door to cottage door, the discordant uproar of
+his trumpet is a sign of the times.
+
+In some districts the osier plantations give employment to a considerable
+number of persons. The tall poles are made into posts and rails; the
+trunks of the pollard trees when thrown are cut into small timber that
+serves many minor purposes; the brushwood or tops that are cut every now
+and then make thatching sticks and faggots; sometimes hedges are made of a
+kind of willow wicker-work for enclosing gardens. It is, however, the
+plantations of withy or osier that are most important. The willow grows so
+often in or near to water that in common opinion the association cannot be
+too complete. But in the arrangement of an osier-bed water is utilised,
+indeed, but kept in its place--i.e. at the roots, and not over the stoles.
+The osier should not stand in water, or rise, as it were, out of a
+lake--the water should be in the soil underneath, and the level of the
+ground higher than the surface of the adjacent stream.
+
+Before planting, the land has to be dug or ploughed, and cleared; the
+weeds collected in the same way as on an arable field. The sticks are then
+set in rows eighteen inches apart, each stick (that afterwards becomes a
+stole) a foot from its neighbours of the same row. At first the weeds
+require keeping down, but after awhile the crop itself kills them a good
+deal. Several willows spring from each planted stick, and at the end of
+twelve months the first crop is ready for cutting. Next year the stick or
+stole will send up still more shoots, and give a larger yield.
+
+The sorts generally planted are called Black Spanish and Walnut Leaf. The
+first has a darker bark, and is a tough wood; the other has a light yellow
+bark, and grows smoother and without knots, which is better for working up
+into the manufactured article. Either will grow to nine feet high--the
+average height is six or seven feet. The usual time for cutting is about
+Good Friday--that is, just before the leaf appears. After cutting, the
+rods are stacked upright in water, in long trenches six inches deep
+prepared for the purpose, and there they remain till the leaf comes out.
+The power of growth displayed by the willow is wonderful--a bough has only
+to be stuck in the earth, or the end of a pole placed in the brook, for
+the sap to rise and shoots to push forth.
+
+When the leaf shows the willows are carried to the 'brakes,' and the work
+of stripping off the bark commences. A 'brake' somewhat resembles a pair
+of very blunt scissors permanently fixed open at a certain angle, and
+rigidly supported at a convenient height from the ground. The operator
+stands behind it, and selecting a long wand from the heap beside him
+places it in the 'brake,' and pulls it through, slightly pressing it
+downwards. As he draws it towards him, the edges of the iron tear the bark
+and peel it along the whole length of the stick. There is a knack in the
+operation, of course, but when it is acquired the wand is peeled in a
+moment by a dexterous turn of the wrist, the bark falls to the ground on
+the other side of the brake, and the now white stick is thrown to the
+right, where a pile soon accumulates. The peel is handy for tying up, and
+when dried makes a capital material for lighting fires. This stripping of
+the osiers is a most busy time in the neighbourhood of the large
+plantations--almost like hop-picking--for men, women, and children can all
+help. It does not require so much strength as skill and patience.
+
+After the peeling the sticks have to be dried by exposure to the sun; they
+are then sorted into lengths, and sold in bundles. If it is desired to
+keep them any time they must be thoroughly dried, or they will 'heat' and
+rot and become useless. This willow harvest is looked forward to by the
+cottagers who live along the rivers as an opportunity for earning extra
+money. The quantity of osier thus treated seems immense, and yet the
+demand is said to be steady, and as the year advances the price of the
+willow rises. It is manufactured into all kinds of baskets--on farms,
+especially arable farms, numbers of baskets are used. Clothes baskets,
+market baskets, chaff baskets, bassinettes or cradles, &c., are some few
+of the articles manufactured from it. Large quantities of willow, too, are
+worked up unpeeled into hampers of all kinds. The number of hampers used
+in these days is beyond computation, and as they are constantly wearing
+out, fresh ones have to be made. An advantage of the willow is that it
+enables the farmer to derive a profit from land that would otherwise be
+comparatively valueless. Good land, indeed, is hardly fitted for osier; it
+would grow rank with much pith in the centre, and therefore liable to
+break. On common land, on the contrary, it grows just right, and not too
+coarse. Almost any scrap or corner does for willow, and if properly tended
+it speedily pays for the labour.
+
+The digging and preparation of the ground gives employment, and afterwards
+the weeding and the work required to clean the channels that conduct water
+round and through the beds. Then there is the cutting and the peeling, and
+finally the basket-making; and thus the willow, though so common as to be
+little regarded, finds work for many hands.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+
+HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+
+The labourer working all the year round in the open air cannot but note to
+some degree those changes in tree and plant which coincide with the
+variations of his daily employment. Early in March, as he walks along the
+southern side of the hedge, where the dead oak leaves still cumber the
+trailing ivy, he can scarcely avoid seeing that pointed tongues of green
+are pushing up. Some have widened into black-spotted leaves; some are
+notched like the many-barbed bone harpoons of savage races. The hardy
+docks are showing, and the young nettles have risen up. Slowly the dark
+and grey hues of winter are yielding to the lively tints of spring. The
+blackthorn has white buds on its lesser branches, and the warm rays of the
+sun have drawn forth the buds on one favoured hawthorn in a sheltered
+nook, so that the green of the coming leaf is visible. Bramble bushes
+still retain their forlorn, shrivelled foliage; the hardy all but
+evergreen leaves can stand cold, but when biting winds from the north and
+east blow for weeks together even these curl at the edge and die.
+
+The remarkable power of wind upon leaves is sometimes seen in May, when a
+strong gale, even from the west, will so beat and batter the tender
+horse-chestnut sprays that they bruise and blacken. The slow plough
+traverses the earth, and the white dust rises from the road and drifts
+into the field. In winter the distant copse seemed black; now it appears
+of a dull reddish brown from the innumerable catkins and buds. The
+delicate sprays of the birch are fringed with them, the aspen has a load
+of brown, there are green catkins on the bare hazel boughs, and the
+willows have white 'pussy-cats.' The horse-chestnut buds--the hue of dark
+varnish--have enlarged, and stick to the finger if touched; some are so
+swollen as to nearly burst and let the green appear. Already it is
+becoming more difficult to look right through the copse. In winter the
+light could be seen on the other side; now catkin, bud, and opening leaf
+have thickened and check the view. The same effect was produced not long
+since by the rime on the branches in the frosty mornings; while each
+smallest twig was thus lined with crystal it was not possible to see
+through. Tangled weeds float down the brook, catching against projecting
+branches that dip into the stream, or slowly rotating and carried
+apparently up the current by the eddy and back-water behind the bridge. In
+the pond the frogs have congregated in great numbers; their constant
+'croo-croo' is audible at some distance.
+
+The meadows, so long bound by frost and covered with snow, are slowly
+losing their wan aspect, and assuming a warmer green as the young blades
+of grass come upwards. Where the plough or harrow has passed over the
+clods they quickly change from the rich brown of fresh-turned soil to a
+whiter colour, the dryness of the atmosphere immediately dissipating the
+moisture in the earth. So, examine what you will, from the clod to the
+tiniest branch, the hedge, the mound, the water--everywhere a step forward
+has been taken. The difference in a particular case may be minute; but it
+is there, and together these faint indications show how closely spring is
+approaching.
+
+As the sun rises the chaffinch utters his bold challenge on the tree; the
+notes are so rapid that they seem to come all at once. Welcome, indeed, is
+the song of the first finch. Sparrows are busy in the garden--the hens are
+by far the most numerous now, half a dozen together perch on the bushes.
+One suddenly darts forth and seizes a black insect as it flies in the
+sunshine. The bee, too, is abroad, and once now and then a yellow
+butterfly. From the copse on the warmer days comes occasionally the deep
+hollow bass of the wood pigeon. On the very topmost branch of an elm a
+magpie has perched; now he looks this way, and then turns that, bowing in
+the oddest manner, and jerking his long tail up and down. Then two of them
+flutter across the field--feebly, as if they had barely strength to reach
+the trees in the opposite hedge. Extending their wings they float slowly,
+and every now and then the body undulates along its entire length. Rooks
+are building--they fly and feed now in pairs; the rookery is alive with
+them. To the steeple the jackdaws have returned and fly round and round;
+now one holds his wings rigid and slides down at an angle of sixty degrees
+at a breakneck pace, as if about to dash himself in fragments on the
+garden beneath.
+
+Sometimes there come a few days which are like summer. There is an almost
+cloudless sky, a gentle warm breeze, and a bright sun filling the fields
+with a glow of light. The air, though soft and genial, is dry, and perhaps
+it is this quality which gives so peculiar a definition to hedge, tree,
+and hill. A firm, almost hard, outline brings copse and wood into clear
+relief; the distance across the broadest fields appears sensibly
+diminished. Such freedom from moisture has a deliciously exhilarating
+effect on those who breathe so pure an atmosphere. The winds of March
+differ, indeed, in a remarkable manner from, the gales of the early year,
+which, even when they blow from a mild quarter, compel one to keep in
+constant movement because of the aqueous vapour they carry. But the true
+March wind, though too boisterous to be exactly genial, causes a joyous
+sense of freshness, as if the very blood in the veins were refined and
+quickened upon inhaling it. There is a difference in its roar--the note is
+distinct from the harsh sound of the chilly winter blast. On the lonely
+highway at night, when other noises are silent, the March breeze rushes
+through the tall elms in a wild cadence. The white clouds hasten over,
+illuminated from behind by a moon approaching the full; every now and then
+a break shows a clear blue sky and a star shining. Now a loud roar
+resounds along the hedgerow like the deafening boom of the surge; it
+moderates, dies away, then an elm close by bends and sounds as the blast
+comes again. In another moment the note is caught up and repeated by a
+distant tree, and so one after another joins the song till the chorus
+reaches its highest pitch. Then it sinks again, and so continues with
+pauses and deep inspirations, for March is like a strong man drawing his
+breath full and long as he starts to run a race.
+
+The sky, too, like the earth, whose hedges, trees, and meadows are
+acquiring fresher colours, has now a more lovely aspect. At noon-day, if
+the clouds be absent, it is a rich azure; after sunset a ruddy glow
+appears almost all round the horizon, while the thrushes sing in the wood
+till the twilight declines. At night, when the moon does not rise till
+late, the heavens are brilliant with stars. In the east Arcturus is up;
+the Great Bear, the Lesser Bear, and Cassiopeia are ranged about the Pole.
+Procyon goes before the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches
+broad across the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries
+droops towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the
+Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike,
+nebulous Cancer. Largest of all, great Sirius is flaming in the south,
+quivering with the ebb and flow of his light, sometimes with an emerald
+scintillation like a dewdrop on which a sunbeam glances.
+
+The busy summer, with its haymaking, reaping, and continuous succession of
+harvest work, passes too swiftly for reflection both for masters and men.
+But in the calm of autumn there is time again to look round. Then white
+columns of smoke rise up slowly into the tranquil atmosphere, till they
+overtop the tallest elms, and the odour of the burning couch is carried
+across the meadows from the lately-ploughed stubble, where the weeds have
+been collected in heaps and fired. The stubble itself, short and in
+regular lines, affords less and less cover every year. As the seed is now
+drilled in, and the plants grow in mathematically straight lines, of
+course when the crop is reaped, if you stand at one side of the field you
+can see right across between the short stubbs, so that a mouse could
+hardly find shelter. Then quickly come the noisy steam ploughing engines,
+after them the couch collectors, and finally the heaps are burnt, and the
+strong scent of smoke hangs over the ground. Against these interruptions
+of their haunts and quiet ways what are the partridges to do? Even at
+night the place is scarcely their own, for every now and then as the
+breeze comes along, the smouldering fires are fanned into bright flame,
+enough to alarm the boldest bird.
+
+In another broad arable field, where the teams have been dragging the
+plough, but have only just opened a few furrows and gone home, a flock of
+sheep are feeding, or rather picking up a little, having been, turned in,
+that nothing might be lost. There is a sense of quietness--of repose; the
+trees of the copse close by are still, and the dying leaf as it drops
+falls straight to the ground. A faint haze clings to the distant woods at
+the foot of the hills; it is afternoon, the best part of an autumn day,
+and sufficiently warm to make the stile a pleasant resting-place. A dark
+cloud, whose edges rise curve upon curve, hangs in the sky, fringed with
+bright white light, for the sun is behind it, and long, narrow streamers
+of light radiate from the upper part like the pointed rays of an antique
+crown. Across an interval of blue to the eastward a second massive cloud,
+white and shining as if beaten out of solid silver, fronts the sun, and
+reflects the beams passing horizontally through the upper ether downwards
+on the earth like a mirror.
+
+The sparrows in the stubble rise in a flock and settle down again. Yonder
+a solitary lark is singing. Then the sun emerges, and the yellow autumn
+beams flood the pale stubble and the dark red earth of the furrow. On the
+bushes in the hedge hang the vines of the bryony, bearing thick masses of
+red berries. The hawthorn leaves in places have turned pale, and are
+touched, too, towards the stalk with a deep brown hue. The contrast of the
+two tints causes an accidental colour resembling that of bronze, which
+catches the eye at the first glance, but disappears on looking closer.
+Spots of yellow on the elms seem the more brilliant from the background of
+dull green. The drooping foliage of the birch exhibits a paler yellow; the
+nut-tree bushes shed brown leaves upon the ground. Perhaps the beech
+leaves are the most beautiful; two or three tints are blended on the
+topmost boughs. There is a ruddy orange hue, a tawny brown, and a bright
+green; the sunlight comes and mingles these together. The same leaf will
+sometimes show two at least of these colours--green shading into brown, or
+into a ruddy gold. Later on, the oaks, in a monochrome of buff, will rival
+the beeches. Now and then an acorn drops from the tree overhead, with a
+smart tap on the hard earth, and rebounds some inches high. Some of these
+that fall are already dark--almost black--but if opened they will be found
+bored by a grub. They are not yet ripe as a crop; the rooks are a good
+guide in that respect, and they have not yet set steadily to work upon
+this their favourite autumn food. Others that have fallen and been knocked
+out of the cup are a light yellow at the base and green towards the middle
+and the point; the yellow part is that which has been covered by the cup.
+In the sward there is a small hole from out of which creeps a wasp at
+intervals; it is a nest, and some few of them are still at work. But their
+motions are slow and lack vivacity; before long, numbers must die, and
+already many have succumbed after crawling miserably on the ground which
+they spurned a short while since, when with a brisk buzz they flew from
+apple to plum.
+
+In the quiet woodland lane a covey of partridges are running to and fro on
+the short sward at the side, and near them two or three pheasants are
+searching for food. The geometrical spiders--some of them look almost as
+big as a nut--hang their webs spun to a regular pattern on the bushes. The
+fungi flourish; there is a huge specimen on the elm there, but the flowers
+are nearly gone.
+
+A few steps down the lane, upon looking over a gate into a large arable
+field where the harrow has broken up the clods, a faint bluish tinge may
+be noticed on the dull earth in the more distant parts. A second glance
+shows that it is caused by a great flock of woodpigeons. Some more come
+down out of the elms and join their companions; there must be a hundred
+and fifty or two hundred of them. The woodpigeon on the ground at a
+distance is difficult to distinguish, or rather to define individually--the
+pale blue tint seems to confuse the eye with a kind of haze. Though the
+flock take little notice now--knowing themselves to be far out of
+gunshot--yet they would be quickly on the alert if an attempt were made to
+approach them.
+
+Already some of the elms are becoming bare--there are gaps in the foliage
+where the winds have carried away the leaves. On the bramble bushes the
+blackberries cluster thickly, unseen and ungathered in this wild spot. The
+happy hearts that go a-blackberrying think little of the past: yet there
+is a deep, a mournful significance attached to that joyous time. For how
+many centuries have the blackberries tempted men, women, and children out
+into the fields, laughing at scratched hands and nettles, and clinging
+burrs, all merrily endured for the sake of so simple a treasure-trove.
+Under the relics of the ancient pile-dwellings of Switzerland, disinterred
+from the peat and other deposits, have been found quantities of blackberry
+seeds, together with traces of crabs and sloes; so that by the dwellers in
+those primeval villages in the midst of the lakes the wild fruits of
+autumn were sought for much as we seek them now; the old instincts are
+strong in us still.
+
+The fieldfares will soon be here now, and the redwings, coming as they
+have done for generations about the time of the sowing of the corn.
+Without an almanack they know the dates; so the old sportsmen used to
+declare that their pointers and setters were perfectly aware when
+September was approaching, and showed it by unusual restlessness. By the
+brook the meadows are green and the grass long still; the flags, too, are
+green, though numbers of dead leaves float down on the current. There is
+green again where the root crops are flourishing; but the brown tints are
+striving hard, and must soon gain the mastery of colour. From the barn
+comes the clatter of the winnowing machine, and the floor is covered with
+heaps of grain.
+
+After the sun has gone down and the shadows are deepening, it is lighter
+in the open stubbles than in the enclosed meadows--the short white stubbs
+seem to reflect what little light there is. The partridges call to each
+other, and after each call run a few yards swiftly, till they assemble at
+the well-known spot where they roost. Then comes a hare stealing by
+without a sound. Suddenly he perceives that he is watched, and goes off at
+a rapid pace, lost in the brooding shadow across the field. Yonder a row
+of conical-roofed wheat-ricks stand out boldly against the sky, and above
+them a planet shines.
+
+Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse and heath,
+and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades, bowed by their
+own weight, are white beads of dew. Wherever the eye seeks an object to
+dwell on, there the cloud-like mist seems to thicken as though to hide it.
+The bushes and thickets are swathed in the vapour; yonder, in the hollow,
+it clusters about the oaks and hangs upon the hedge looming in the
+distance. There it no sky--a motionless, colourless something spreads
+above; it is, of course, the same mist, but looking upwards it apparently
+recedes and becomes indefinite. The glance finds no point to rest on--as
+on the edges of clouds--it is a mere opaque expanse. But the air is dry,
+the moisture does not deposit itself, it remains suspended, and waits but
+the wind to rise and depart. The stillness is utter: not a bird calls or
+insect buzzes by. In passing beneath the oaks the very leaves have
+forgotten to fall. Only those already on the sward, touched by the frost,
+crumble under the footstep. When green they would have yielded to the
+weight, but now stiffened they resist it and are crushed, breaking in
+pieces.
+
+A creaking and metallic rattle, as of chains, comes across the arable
+field--a steady gaze reveals the dim outline of a team of horses slowly
+dragging the plough, their shapes indistinctly seen against the hedge. A
+bent figure follows, and by-and-by another distinct creak and rattle, and
+yet a third in another direction, show that there are more teams at work,
+plodding to and fro. Watching their shadowy forms, suddenly the eye
+catches a change in the light somewhere. Over the meadow yonder the mist
+is illuminated; it is not sunshine, but a white light, only visible by
+contrast with the darker mist around. It lasts a few moments, and then
+moves, and appears a second time by the copse. Though hidden here, the
+disk of the sun must be partly visible there, and as the white light does
+not remain long in one place, it is evident that there is motion now in
+the vast mass of vapour. Looking upwards there is the faintest suspicion
+of the palest blue, dull and dimmed by mist, so faint that its position
+cannot be fixed, and the next instant it is gone again.
+
+But the teams at plough are growing momentarily distinct--a breath of air
+touches the cheek, then a leaf breaks away from the bough and starts forth
+as if bent on a journey, but loses the impetus and sinks to the ground.
+Soon afterwards the beams of the sun light up a distant oak that glows in
+the hedge--a rich deep buff--and it stands out, clear, distinct, and
+beautiful, the chosen and selected one, the first to receive the ray.
+Rapidly the mist vanishes--disappearing rather than floating away; a
+circle of blue sky opens overhead, and, finally, travelling slowly, comes
+the sunshine over the furrows. There is a perceptible sense of warmth--the
+colours that start into life add to the feeling. The bare birch has no
+leaf to reflect it, but its white bark shines, and beyond it two great
+elms, the one a pale green and the other a pale yellow, stand side by
+side. The brake fern is dead and withered; the tip of each frond curled
+over downwards by the frost, but it forms a brown background to the dull
+green furze which is alight here and there with scattered blossom, by
+contrast so brilliantly yellow as to seem like flame. Polished holly
+leaves glisten, and a bunch of tawny fungus rears itself above the grass.
+
+On the sheltered sunny bank lie the maple leaves fallen from the bushes,
+which form a bulwark against the north wind; they have simply dropped upon
+the ivy which almost covers the bank. Standing here with the oaks overhead
+and the thick bushes on the northern side it is quite warm and genial; so
+much so that if is hard to realise that winter is at hand. But even in the
+shortest days, could we only get rid of the clouds and wind, we should
+find the sunshine sufficiently powerful to make the noontide pleasant. It
+is not that the sun is weak or low down, nor because of the sharp frosts,
+that winter with us is dreary and chill. The real cause is the prevalence
+of cloud, through which only a dull light can penetrate, and of
+moisture-laden winds.
+
+If our winter sun had fair play we should find the climate very different.
+Even as it is, now and then comes a break in the masses of vapour
+streaming across the sky, and if you are only sheltered from the wind (or
+stand at a southern window), the temperature immediately rises. For this
+reason the temperatures registered by thermometers are often far from
+being a correct record of the real weather we have had. A bitter frost
+early in the morning sends the mercury below zero, but perhaps, by eleven
+o'clock the day is warm, the sky being clear and the wind still. The last
+register instituted--that of the duration of sunshine, if taken in
+connection with the state of the wind--is the best record of the
+temperature that we have actually felt. These thoughts naturally arise
+under the oaks here as the bright sunlight streams down from a sky the
+more deeply blue from contrast with the brown, and buff, and yellow leaves
+of the trees.
+
+Hark! There comes a joyous music over the fields--first one hound's, note,
+then two, then three, and then a chorus; they are opening up a strong
+scent. It rises and falls--now it is coming nearer, in a moment I shall
+see them break through the hedge on the ridge--surely that was a shout!
+Just in the very moment of expectation the loud tongues cease; I wait,
+listening breathlessly, but presently a straggling cry or two shows that
+the pack has turned and are spread wide trying to recover. By degrees the
+sounds die away; and I stroll onwards.
+
+A thick border of dark green firs bounds the copse--the brown leaves that
+have fallen from the oaks have lodged on the foliage of the firs and are
+there supported. In the sheltered corner some of the bracken has partly
+escaped the frost, one frond has two colours. On one side of the rib it is
+green and on the other yellow. The grass is strewn with the leaves of the
+aspen, which have turned quite black. Under the great elms there seems a
+sudden increase of light--it is caused by the leaves which still remain on
+the branches; they are all of the palest yellow, and, as you pass under,
+give the impression of the tree having been lit up--illuminated with its
+own colour. From the bushes hang the red berries of the night shade, and
+the fruit on the briars glistens in the sun. Inside the copse stand
+innumerable thistles shoulder high, dead and gaunt; and a grey border
+running round the field at the bottom of the hedge shows where the tall,
+strong weeds of summer have withered up. A bird flutters round the topmost
+boughs of the elm yonder and disappears with a flash of blue--it is a jay.
+Here the grass of the meadow has an undertone of grey; then an arable
+field succeeds, where six strong horses are drawing the heavy drill, and
+great bags of the precious seed are lying on the furrows.
+
+Another meadow, where note a broken bough of elder, the leaves on which
+have turned black, while still on its living branches they are green, and
+then a clump of beeches. The trunks are full of knot-holes, after a dead
+bough has fallen off and the stump has rotted away, the bark curls over
+the orifice and seemingly heals the wound more smoothly and completely
+than with other trees. But the mischief is proceeding all the same,
+despite that flattering appearance; outwardly the bark looks smooth and
+healthy, but probe the hole and the rottenness is working inwards. A
+sudden gap in the clump attracts the glance, and there--with one great
+beech trunk on this side and another on that--is a view opening down on
+the distant valley far below. The wood beneath looks dwarfed, and the
+uneven tops of the trees, some green, some tinted, are apparently so close
+together as to hide aught else, and the shadows of the clouds move over it
+as over a sea. A haze upon the horizon brings plain and sky together
+there; on one side, in the far distance a huge block, a rude vastness
+stands out dusky and dimly defined--it is a spur of the rolling hills.
+
+Out in the plain, many a mile away, the sharp, needle-like point of a
+steeple rises white above the trees, which there shade and mingle into a
+dark mass--so brilliantly white as to seem hardly real. Sweeping the view
+round, there is a strange and total absence of houses or signs of
+habitation, other than the steeple, and now that, too, is gone. It has
+utterly vanished--where, but a few moments before it glowed with
+whiteness, is absolutely nothing. The disappearance is almost weird in the
+broad daylight, as if solid stone could sink into the earth. Searching for
+it suddenly a village appears some way on the right--the white walls stand
+out bright and clear, one of the houses is evidently of large size, and
+placed on a slight elevation is a prominent object. But as we look it
+fades, grows blurred and indistinct, and in another moment is gone. The
+whole village has vanished--in its place is nothing; so swift is the
+change that the mind scarcely credits the senses.
+
+A deep shadow creeping towards us explains it. Where the sunlight falls,
+there steeple or house glows and shines; when it has passed, the haze that
+is really there, though itself invisible, instantly blots out the picture.
+The thing may be seen over and over again in the course of a few minutes;
+it would be difficult for an artist to catch so fleeting an effect. The
+shadow of the cloud is not black--it lacks several shades of that--there
+is in it a faint and yet decided tint of blue. This tone of blue is not
+the same everywhere--here it is almost distinct, there it fades; it is an
+aerial colour which rather hints itself than shows. Commencing the descent
+the view is at once lost, but we pass a beech whose beauty is not easily
+conveyed. The winds have scarcely rifled it; being in a sheltered spot on
+the slope, the leaves are nearly perfect. All those on the outer boughs
+are a rich brown--some, perhaps, almost orange. But there is an inner mass
+of branches of lesser size which droop downwards, something after the
+manner of a weeping willow; and the leaves on these are still green and
+show through. Upon the whole tree a flood of sunshine pours, and over it
+is the azure sky. The mingling, shading, and contrast of these colours
+give a lovely result--the tree is aglow, its foliage ripe with colour.
+
+Farther down comes the steady sound of deliberate blows, and the upper
+branches of the hedge falls beneath the steel. A sturdy labourer, with a
+bill on a pole, strikes slow and strong and cuts down the hedge to an even
+height. A dreadful weapon that simple tool must have been in the old days
+before the advent of the arquebus. For with the exception of the spike,
+which is not needed for hedge work, it is almost an exact copy of the
+brown bill of ancient warfare; it is brown still, except where sharpened.
+Wielded by a sinewy arm, what, gaping gashes it must have slit through
+helm and mail and severed bone! Watch the man there--he slices off the
+tough thorn as though it were straw. He notes not the beauty of the beech
+above him, nor the sun, nor the sky; but on the other hand, when the sky
+is hidden, the sun gone, and the beautiful beech torn by the raving winds
+neither does he heed that. Rain and tempest affect him not; the glaring
+heat of summer, the bitter frost of winter are alike to him. He is built
+up like an oak. Believe it, the man that from his boyhood has stood
+ankle-deep in the chill water of the ditch, patiently labouring with axe
+and bill; who has trudged across the furrow, hand on plough, facing sleet
+and mist; who has swung the sickle under the summer sun--this is the man
+for the trenches. This is the man whom neither the snows of the North nor
+the sun of the South can vanquish; who will dig and delve, and carry
+traverse and covered way forward in the face of the fortress, who will lie
+on the bare ground in the night. For they who go up to battle must fight
+the hard earth and the tempest, as well as face bayonet and ball. As of
+yore with the brown bill, so now with the rifle--the muscles that have
+been trained about the hedges and fields will not fail England in the hour
+of danger.
+
+Hark!--a distant whoop--another, a blast of a horn, and then a burst of
+chiding that makes the woods ring. Down drops the bill, and together,
+heedless of any social difference in the common joy, we scramble to the
+highest mound, and see the pack sweep in full cry across the furrows.
+Crash--it is the bushes breaking, as the first foam-flecked, wearied horse
+hardly rises to his leap, and yet crushes safely through, opening a way,
+which is quickly widened by the straggling troop behind. Ha! down the lane
+from the hill dashes another squadron that has eroded the chord of the arc
+and comes in fresher. Ay, and a third is entering at the bottom there, one
+by one, over the brook. Woods, field, and paths, but just before an empty
+solitude, are alive with men and horses. Up yonder, along the ridge,
+gallops another troop in single file, well defined against the sky, going
+parallel to the hounds. What a view they must have of the scene below! Two
+ladies who ride up with torn skirts cannot lift their panting horses at
+the double mound. Well, let us defy 'wilful damage' for once. The gate,
+jealously padlocked, is swiftly hoisted off its hinges, and away they go
+with hearty thanks. We slip the gate on again just as some one hails to us
+across the field to wait a minute, but seeing it is only a man we calmly
+replace the timber and let him take his chance. He is excited, but we
+smile stolidly. In another minute the wave of life is gone; it has swept
+over and disappeared as swiftly as it came. The wood, the field, and lane
+seem painfully--positively painfully--empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher
+goes back to his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the
+dew lingers.
+
+So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused November.
+And when the wind rises and the storm is near, if you get under the lee of
+a good thick copse there is a wild pleasure in the frenzy that passes
+over. With a rush the leaves stream outwards, thickening the air, whirling
+round and round; the tree-tops bend and sigh, the blast strikes them, and
+in an instant they are stripped and bare. A spectral rustling, as the
+darkness falls and the black cloud approaches, is the fallen leaves in the
+copse, lifted up from their repose and dashed against the underwood. Then
+a howl of wrath descends and fills the sense of hearing, so that for the
+moment it is hard to tell what is happening. A rushing hiss follows, and
+the rain hurtles through the branches, driving so horizontally as to pass
+overhead. The sheltering thorn-thicket stirs, and a long, deep, moaning
+roar rises from the fir-trees. Another howl that seems to stun--to so fill
+the ears with sound that they cannot hear--the aerial host charges the
+tree-ranks, and the shock makes them tremble to the root. Still another
+and another; twigs and broken boughs fly before it and strew the sward;
+larger branches that have long been dead fall crashing downwards; leaves
+are forced right through the thorn-thicket, and strike against the face.
+Fortunately, so fierce a fury cannot last; presently the billows of wind
+that strike the wood come at longer intervals and with less vigour; then
+the rain increases, and yet a little while and the storm has swept on. The
+very fury--the utter _abandon_--of its rage is its charm; the spirit rises
+to meet it, and revels in the roar and buffeting. By-and-by they who have
+faced it have their reward. The wind sinks, the rain ceases, a pale blue
+sky shows above, and then yonder appears a majesty of cloud--a Himalaya of
+vapour. Crag on crag rises the vast pile--such jagged and pointed rocks as
+never man found on earth, or, if he found, could climb--topped with a peak
+that towers to the heavens, and leans--visibly leans--and threatens to
+fall and overwhelm the weak world at its feet. A gleam as of snow glitters
+on the upper rocks, the passes are gloomy and dark, the faces of the
+precipice are lit up with a golden gleam from the rapidly-sinking sun. So
+the magic structure stands and sees the great round disk go down. The
+night gathers around those giant mounts and dark space receives them.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+
+A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+
+The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the cottage,
+when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's morning.
+Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his thick
+'water-tights'--which are stiff and hard, having been wet over night--by
+no other light than this. If the household is comparatively well managed,
+however, he strikes a match, and his 'dip' shows at the window. But he
+generally prefers to save a candle, and clatters down the narrow steep
+stairs in the semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps
+forth into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered
+with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath is hard
+under foot. In the furrows is a little ice--white because the water has
+shrunk from beneath it, leaving it hollow--and on the stile is a crust of
+rime, cold to the touch, which he brushes off in getting over. Overhead
+the sky is clear--cloudless but pale--and the stars, though not yet fading,
+have lost the brilliant glitter of midnight. Then, in all their glory, the
+idea of their globular shape is easily accepted; but in the morning, just
+as the dawn is breaking, the absence of glitter comes the impression of
+flatness--circular rather than globular. But yonder, over the elms, above
+the cowpens, the great morning star has risen, shining far brighter, in
+proportion, than the moon; an intensely clear metallic light--like
+incandescent silver.
+
+The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the footpath
+winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the blackbird
+roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies across the field.
+There is more rime on the posts and rails around the rickyard, and the
+thatch on the haystack is white with it in places. He draws out the broad
+hay-knife--a vast blade, wide at the handle, the edge gradually curving to
+a point--and then searches for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in
+the side of the rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the
+cattle in the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and there
+is a stir among them. Mounting the ladder he forces the knife with both
+hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends outwards, opening from
+the main mass till it appears on the point of parting and letting him fall
+with it to the ground. But long practice has taught him how to balance
+himself half on the ladder, half on the hay. Presently, with a truss
+unbound and loose on his head, he enters the yard, and passes from crib to
+crib, leaving a little here and a little there, for if he fills one first,
+there will be quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too
+liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot. The
+cattle that are in the sheds fattening for Christmas have cake as well,
+and this must be supplied in just proportion.
+
+The hour of milking, which used to be pretty general everywhere, varies
+now in different places, to suit the necessities of the milk trade. The
+milk has, perhaps, to travel three or four miles to the railway station;
+near great towns, where some of the farmers deliver milk themselves from
+house to house, the cows are milked soon after noonday. What would their
+grandfathers have said to that? But where the old customs have not much
+altered, the milker sits down in the morning to his cow with the stars
+still visible overhead, punching his hat well into her side--a hat well
+battered and thickly coated with grease, for the skin of the cow exudes an
+unctuous substance. This hat he keeps for the purpose. A couple of milking
+pails--they are of large size--form a heavy load when filled. The milker,
+as he walks back to the farmhouse, bends his head under the yoke--whence
+so many men are round-shouldered--and steps slowly with a peculiar swaying
+motion of the body, which slight swing prevents it from spilling.
+
+Another man who has to be up while the moon casts a shadow is the carter,
+who must begin to feed his team very early in order to get them to eat
+sufficient. If the manger be over-filled they spill and waste it, and at
+the same time will not eat so much. This is tedious work. Then the lads
+come and polish up the harness, and so soon as it is well light get out to
+plough. The custom with the horses is to begin to work as early as
+possible, but to strike off in the afternoon some time before the other
+men, the lads riding home astride. The strength of the carthorse has to be
+husbanded carefully, and the labour performed must be adjusted to it and
+to the food, i.e. fuel, consumed. To manage a large team of horses, so as
+to keep them in good condition, with glossy coats and willing step, and
+yet to get the maximum of work out of them, requires long experience and
+constant attention. The carter, therefore, is a man of much importance on
+a farm. If he is up to his duties he is a most valuable servant; if he
+neglects them he is a costly nuisance, not so much from his pay, but
+because of the hindrance and disorganisation of the whole farm-work which
+such neglect entails.
+
+Foggers and milkers, if their cottages are near at hand, having finished
+the first part of the day's work, can often go back home to breakfast,
+and, if they have a good woman in the cottage, find a fire and hot tea
+ready. The carter can rarely leave his horses for that, and, therefore,
+eats his breakfast in the stable; but then he has the advantage that up to
+the time of starting forth he is under cover. The fogger and milker, on
+the other hand, are often exposed to the most violent tempests. A gale of
+wind, accompanied with heavy rain, often readies its climax just about the
+dawn. They find the soil saturated, and the step sinks into it--the
+furrows are full of water; the cow-yard, though drained, is a pool, no
+drain being capable of carrying it off quick enough. The thatch of the
+sheds drips continually; the haystack drips; the thatch of the stack,
+which has to be pulled off before the hay-knife can be used, is wet; the
+old decaying wood of the rails and gates is wet. They sit on the
+three-legged milking-stool (whose rude workmanship has taken a dull polish
+from use) in a puddle; the hair of the cow, against which the head is
+placed, is wet; the wind blows the rain into the nape of the neck behind,
+the position being stooping. Staggering under the heavy yoke homewards,
+the boots sink deep into the slush and mire in the gateways, the weight
+carried sinking them well in. The teams do not usually work in very wet
+weather, and most of the out-door work waits; but the cattle must be
+attended to, Sundays and holidays included. Even in summer it often
+happens that a thunderstorm bursts about that time of the morning. But in
+winter, when the rain is driven by a furious wind, when the lantern is
+blown out, and the fogger stumbles in pitchy darkness through mud and
+water, it would be difficult to imagine a condition of things which
+concentrates more discomfort.
+
+If, as often happens, the man is far from home--perhaps he has walked a
+mile or two to work--of course he cannot change his clothes, or get near a
+fire, unless in the farmer's kitchen. In some places the kitchen is open
+to the men, and on Sundays, at all events, they get a breakfast free. But
+the kindly old habits are dying out before the hard-and-fast money system
+and the abiding effects of Unionism, which, even when not prominently
+displayed, causes a silent, sullen estrangement.
+
+Shepherds, too, sometimes visit the fold very early in the morning, and in
+the lambing season may be said to be about both day and night. They come,
+however, under a different category to the rest of the men, because they
+have no regular hours, but are guided solely by the season and the work. A
+shepherd often takes his ease when other men are busily labouring. On the
+other hand, he is frequently anxiously engaged when they are sleeping. His
+sheep rule his life, and he has little to do with the artificial divisions
+of time.
+
+Hedgers and ditchers often work by the piece, and so take their own time
+for meals; the ash woods, which are cut in the winter, are also usually
+thrown by the piece. Hedging and ditching, if done properly, is hard work,
+especially if there is any grubbing. Though the arms get warm from
+swinging the grub-axe or billhook, or cleaning out the ditch and
+plastering and smoothing the side of the mound with the spade, yet feet
+and ankles are chilled by the water in the ditch. This is often dammed up
+and so kept back partially, but it generally forces its way through. The
+ditcher has a board to stand on; there is a hole through it, and a
+projecting stick attached, with which to drag it into position. But the
+soft soil allows the board to sink, and he often throws it aside as more
+encumbrance than use. He has some small perquisites: he is allowed to
+carry home a bundle of wood or a log every night, and may gather up the
+remnants after the faggoting is finished. On the other hand, he cannot
+work in bad weather.
+
+Other men come to the farm buildings to commence work about the time the
+carter has got his horses fed, groomed, and harnessed, and after the
+fogger and milker have completed their early duties. If it is a frosty
+morning and the ground firm, so as to bear up a cart without poaching the
+soil too much, the manure is carried out into the fields. This is plain,
+straightforward labour, and cannot be looked upon as hard work. If the
+cattle want no further attention, the foggers and milkers turn their hands
+after breakfast to whatever may be going on. Some considerable time is
+taken up in slicing roots with the machine, or chaff-cutting--monotonous
+work of a simple character, and chiefly consisting in turning a handle.
+
+The general hands--those who come on when the carter is ready, and who are
+usually young men, not yet settled down to any particular branch--seem to
+get the best end of the stick. They do not begin so early in the morning
+by some time as the fogger, milker, carter, or shepherd; consequently, if
+the cottage arrangements are tolerable, they can get a comfortable
+breakfast first. They have no anxieties or trouble whatever; the work may
+be hard in itself, but there is no particular hurry (in their estimation)
+and they do not distress themselves. They receive nearly the same wages as
+the others who have the care of valuable flocks, herds, and horses; the
+difference is but a shilling or two, and, to make up for that, they do not
+work on Sundays. Now, the fogger must feed his cows, the carter his horse,
+the shepherd look to his sheep every day; consequently their extra wages
+are thoroughly well earned. The young labourer--who is simply a labourer,
+and professes no special branch--is, therefore, in a certain sense, the
+best off. He is rarely hired by the year--he prefers to be free, so that
+when harvest comes he may go where wages chance to be highest. He is an
+independent person, and full of youth, strength, and with little
+experience of life, is apt to be rough in his manners and not overcivil.
+His wages too often go in liquor, but if such a young man keeps steady
+(and there are a few that do keep steady) he does very well indeed, having
+no family to maintain.
+
+A set of men who work very hard are those who go with the steam-ploughing
+tackle. Their pay is so arranged as to depend in a measure on the number
+of acres they plough. They get the steam up as early as possible in the
+morning, and continue as late as they can at night. Just after the
+harvest, when the days are long, and, indeed, it is still summer, they
+work for extremely long hours. Their great difficulty lies in getting
+water. This must be continually fetched in carts, and, of course, requires
+a horse and man. These are not always forthcoming in the early morning,
+but they begin as soon as they can get water for the boiler, and do not
+stop till the field be finished or it is dark.
+
+The women do not find much work in the fields during the winter. Now and
+then comes a day's employment with the threshing-machine when the farmer
+wants a rick of corn threshed out. In pasture or dairy districts some of
+them go out into the meadows and spread the manure. They wear gaiters, and
+sometimes a kind of hood for the head. If done carefully, it is hard work
+for the arms--knocking the manure into small pieces by striking it with a
+fork swung to and fro smartly.
+
+In the spring, when the great heaps of roots are opened--having been
+protected all the winter by a layer of straw and earth--it is necessary to
+trim them before they are used. This is often done by a woman. She has a
+stool or log of wood to sit on, and arranges a couple of sacks or
+something of the kind, so as to form a screen and keep off the bitter
+winds which are then so common--colder than those of the winter proper.
+With a screen one side, the heap of roots the other, and the hedge on the
+third, she is in some sense sheltered, and, taking her food with her, may
+stay there the whole day long, quite alone in the solitude of the broad,
+open, arable fields.
+
+From a variety of causes, the number of women working in the fields is
+much less than was formerly the case; thus presenting precisely the
+reverse state of things to that complained of in towns, where the clerks,
+&c., say that they are undersold by female labour. The contrast is rather
+curious. The price of women's labour has, too, risen; and there does not
+appear to be any repugnance on their part to field-work. Whether the
+conclusion is to be accepted that there has been a diminution in the
+actual number of women living in rural places, it is impossible to decide
+with any accuracy. But there are signs that female labour has drifted to
+the towns quite as much as male--especially the younger girls. In some
+places it seems rare to see a young girl working in the field (meaning in
+winter)--those that are to be found are generally women well advanced in
+life. Spring and summer work brings forth more, but not nearly so many as
+used to be the case.
+
+Although the work of the farm begins so soon in the morning, it is, on the
+other hand, in the cold months, over early. 'The night cometh when no man
+can work' was, one would think, originally meant in reference to
+agricultural labour. It grows dusk before half-past four on a dull
+winter's day, and by five is almost, if not quite, dark. Lanterns may be
+moving in the cowyards and stables; but elsewhere all is quiet--the
+hedger and ditcher cannot see to strike his blow, the ploughs have ceased
+to move for some time, the labourer's workshop--the field--is not lighted
+by gas as the rooms of cities.
+
+The shortness of the winter day is one of the primary reasons why, in
+accordance with ancient custom, wages are lowered at that time. In summer,
+on the contrary, the hours are long, and the pay high--which more than
+makes up for the winter reduction. A labourer who has any prudence can, in
+fact, do very well by putting by a portion of his extra summer wages for
+the winter; if he does not choose to exercise common sense, he cannot
+expect the farmer (or any manufacturer) to pay the same price for a little
+work and short time as for much work and long hours. Reviewing the work
+the labourer actually does in winter, it seems fair and just to state that
+the foggers, or milkers, i.e. the men who attend on cattle, the carters,
+and the shepherds, work hard, continuously, and often in the face of the
+most inclement weather. The mere labourers, who, as previously remarked,
+are usually younger and single men, do not work so hard, nor so long. And
+when they are at it--whether turning the handle of a winnowing machine in
+a barn, cutting a hedge, spreading manure, or digging--it must be said
+that they do not put the energy into it of which their brawny arms are
+capable.
+
+'The least work and the most money,' however, is a maxim not confined to
+the agricultural labourer. Recently I had occasion to pass through a busy
+London street in the West-end where the macadam of the roadway was being
+picked up by some score of men, and, being full of the subject of labour,
+I watched the process. Using the right hand as a fulcrum and keeping it
+stationary, each navvy slowly lifted his pick with the left half-way up,
+about on a level with his waistcoat, when the point of the pick was barely
+two feet above the ground. He then let it fall--simply by its own
+weight--producing a tiny indentation such as might be caused by the kick
+of one's heel It required about three such strokes, if they could so
+called strokes, to detach one single small stone. After that exhausting
+labor the man stood at ease for a few minutes, so that there were often
+three or four at once staring about them, while several others lounged
+against the wooden railing placed to keep vehicles back.
+
+A more irritating spectacle it would be hard to imagine. Idle as much
+agricultural labour is, it is rarely so lazy as that. How contractors get
+their work done, if that is a sample, it is a puzzle to understand. The
+complaint of the poor character of the work performed by the agricultural
+labourer seems also true of other departments, where labour--pure and
+simple labour of thews and sinews--is concerned. The rich city merchant,
+who goes to his office daily, positively works harder, in spite of all his
+money. So do the shopmen and assistants behind their counters; so do the
+girls in drapers' shops, standing the whole day and far into the evening
+when, as just observed, the fields have been dark for hours; so, indeed,
+do most men and women who earn their bread by any other means than mere
+bodily strength.
+
+But the cattle-men, carters, and shepherds, men with families and settled,
+often seem to take an interest in their charges, in the cows, horses, or
+sheep; some of them are really industrious, deserving men. The worst
+feature of unionism is the lumping of all together, for where one man is
+hardly worth his salt, another is a good workman. It is strange that such
+men as this should choose to throw in their lot with so many who are
+idle--whom they must know to be idle--thus jeopardising their own position
+for the sake of those who are not worth one-fifth the sacrifice the
+agricultural cottager must be called upon to make in a strike. The
+hard-working carter or cattle-man, according to the union theory, is to
+lose his pay, his cottage, his garden, and get into bad odour with his
+employer, who previously trusted him, and was willing to give him
+assistance, in order that the day labourer who has no responsibilities
+either of his own or his master's, and who has already the best end of the
+stick, should enjoy still further opportunities for idleness.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+
+THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN. COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+
+In the coldest weather one or more of the labourer's children are sure to
+be found in the farmyard somewhere. After the mother has dressed her boy
+(who may be about three or four years old) in the morning, he is at once
+turned out of doors to take care of himself, and if, as is often the case,
+the cottage is within a short distance of the farmyard, thither he toddles
+directly. He stands about the stable door, watching the harnessing of the
+great carthorses, which are, from the very first, the object of his
+intense admiration. But he has already learnt to keep out of the way,
+knowing that his presence would not otherwise be tolerated a moment, and
+occupies a position which enables him to dart quickly behind a tree, or a
+rick.
+
+When the horses are gone he visits the outhouse, where the steam-engine is
+driving the chaff-cutter, or peers in at the huge doors of the barn, where
+with wide wooden shovel the grain is being moved. Or he may be met with
+round the hay-ricks, dragging a log of wood by a piece of tar cord, the
+log representing a plough. As you come upon him suddenly he draws up to
+the rick as if the hay was his natural protector, and looks up at you with
+half-frightened, half-curious gaze, and mouth open. His hat is an old one
+of his father's, a mile too big, coming down over his ears to his
+shoulders, well greased from ancient use--a thing not without its
+advantage, since it makes it impervious to rain. He wears what was a white
+jacket, but is now the colour of the prevailing soil of the place; a belt;
+and a pair of stumping boots, the very picture in miniature of his
+father's, heeled and tipped with iron. His naked legs are red with the
+cold, but thick and strong; his cheeks are plump and firm, his round blue
+eyes bright, his hair almost white, like bleached straw.
+
+An hour or two ago his skin was clean enough, for he was sent out well
+washed, but it is now pretty well grimed, for he has been making himself
+happy in the dirt, as a boy should do if he be a boy. For one thing it is
+clean dirt, nothing but pure mother earth, and not the nasty unctuous
+filth of city courts and back lanes. If you speak to him he answers you
+sturdily--if you can catch the meaning of his words, doubly difficult from
+accent and imperfect knowledge of construction. But he means well, and if
+you send him on an errand will run off to find 'measter' as fast as his
+short stature will allow. He will potter about the farmyard the whole
+morning, perhaps turning up at home for a lunch of a slice of bread well
+larded. His little sister, not so old as himself, is there, already
+beginning her education in the cares of maternity, looking after the
+helpless baby that crawls over the wooden threshold of the door with bare
+head, despite the bitter cold. Once during the day he may perhaps steal
+round the farmhouse, and peer wistfully from behind the tubs or buckets
+into the kitchen, when, if the mistress chances to be about, he is pretty
+certain to pick up some trifle in the edible line.
+
+How those prosperous parents who dwell in highly-rented suburban villas,
+and send out their children for a walk with a couple of nurses, and a
+'bow-wow' to run beside the perambulator, would be eaten up with anxiety
+did their well-dressed boys or girls play where this young son of toil
+finds his amusement! Under the very hoofs of the carthorses--he will go
+out to them when they are loose in the field, three or four in a group,
+under a tree, when it looks as if the slightest movement on their part
+must crush him; down to the side of the deep broad brook to swim sticks in
+it for boats, where a slip on the treacherous mud would plunge him in, and
+where the chance of rescue--everybody being half a mile away at
+work--would be absolutely _nil_. The cows come trampling through the yard;
+the bull bellows in the meadow; great, grunting sows, savage when they
+have young, go by, thrusting their noses into and turning up the earth for
+food; steam ploughing engines pant and rumble about; carts are continually
+coming and going; and he is all day in the midst of it without guardian of
+any kind whatsoever. The fog, and frost, and cutting winter winds make him
+snivel and cry with the cold, and yet there he is out in it--in the
+draughts that blow round the ricks, and through the hedge bare of leaves.
+The rain rushes down pitilessly--he creeps inside the barn or shed, and
+with a stick splashes the puddles. The long glaring days of summer see him
+exposed to the scorching heat in the hay, or the still hotter harvest
+field. Through it all he grows stout and strong, and seems happy enough.
+
+He is, perhaps, more fortunate than his sister, who has to take part in
+the household work from very early age. But the village school claims them
+both after awhile; and the greater number of such schools are well filled,
+taking into consideration the long distances the children have to come and
+the frequent bad state of the roads and lanes. Both the employers and the
+children's own parents get them to school as much as possible; the former
+put on a mild compulsion, the latter for the most part are really anxious
+for the schooling, and have even an exaggerated idea of the value of
+education. In some cases it would seem as if the parents actually educated
+themselves in some degree from their own children, questioning them as to
+what they have been told. But, on the other hand, the labourer objects to
+paying for the teaching, and thinks the few coppers he is charged a
+terrible extortion.
+
+The lads, as they grow older and leave school, can almost always find
+immediate employment with their father on the same farm, or on one close
+by. Though they do not now go out to work so soon, yet, on the other hand,
+when they do commence they receive higher weekly wages. The price paid for
+boys' labour now is such that it becomes a very important addition to the
+aggregate income of the cottager. When a man has got a couple of boys out,
+bringing home so much per week, his own money, of course, goes very much
+farther.
+
+The girls go less and less into the field. If at home, they assist their
+parents at harvest time when work is done by the acre, and the more a man
+can cut the better he is off; but their aim is domestic service, and they
+prefer to be engaged in the towns. They shirk the work of a farmhouse,
+especially if it is a dairy, and so it has come to be quite a complaint
+among farmers' wives, in many places, that servants are not to be
+obtained. Those that are available are mere children, whose mothers like
+them to go out anywhere at first, just to obtain an insight into the
+duties of a servant. The farmer's wife has the trouble and annoyance of
+teaching these girls the rudiments of household work, and then, the moment
+they are beginning to be useful, they leave, and almost invariably go to
+the towns. Those that remain are the slow-witted, or those who are tied in
+a measure by family difficulties--as a bedridden mother to attend to; or,
+perhaps, an illegitimate child of her own may fetter the cottage girl.
+Then she goes out in the daytime to work at the farmhouse, and returns to
+sleep at home.
+
+Cottage girls have taken to themselves no small airs of recent years--they
+dress, so far as their means will go, as flashily as servants in cities,
+and stand upon their dignity. This foolishness has, perhaps, one good
+effect--it tends to diminish the illegitimate births. The girls are
+learning more self-respect--if they could only achieve that and eschew the
+other follies it would be a clear gain. It may be questioned whether
+purely agricultural marriages are as common as formerly. The girl who
+leaves her home for service in the towns sees a class of men--grooms,
+footmen, artisans, and workmen generally--not only receiving higher wages
+than the labourers in her native parish, but possessing a certain amount
+of comparative refinement. It is not surprising that she prefers, if
+possible, to marry among these.
+
+On the other hand, the young labourer, who knows that he can get good
+wages wherever he likes to go, has become somewhat of a wanderer. He roams
+about, not only from village to village, but from county to county;
+perhaps works for a time as a navvy on some distant railway, and thus
+associates with a different class of men, and picks up a sort of coarse
+cynicism. He does not care to marry and settle and tie himself down to a
+routine of labour--he despises home pleasures, preferring to spend his
+entire earnings upon himself. The roaming habits of the rising generation
+of labourers is an important consideration, and it has an effect in many
+ways. Statistics are not available; but the impression left on the mind is
+that purely rural marriages are not so frequent, notwithstanding that
+wages at large have risen. When a young man does marry, he and his wife
+not uncommonly live for a length of time with his parents, occupying a
+part of the cottage.
+
+Had any one gone into a cottage some few years back and inquired about the
+family, most probably the head of the house could have pointed out all his
+sons and daughters engaged in or near the parish. Most likely his own
+father was at work almost within hail. Uncles, cousins, various relations,
+were all near by. He could tell where everybody was. To-day if a similar
+inquiry wore made, the answer would often be very different. The old
+people might be about still, but the younger would be found scattered over
+the earth. One, perhaps, went to the United States or Canada in the height
+of the labourers' agitation some years ago, when agents were busy
+enlisting recruits for the Far West. Since then another has departed for
+Australia, taking with him his wife. Others have migrated northwards, or
+to some other point of the compass--they are still in the old country, but
+the exact whereabouts is not known. The girls are in service a hundred
+miles away--some married in the manufacturing districts. To the
+middle-aged, steady, stay-at-home labourer, the place does not seem a bit
+like it used to. Even the young boys are restless, and talking of going
+somewhere. This may not be the case with every single individual cottage
+family, but it is so with a great number. The stolid phalanx of
+agricultural labour is slowly disintegrating.
+
+If there yet remains anything idyllic in the surroundings of rural cottage
+life, it may be found where the unmarried but grown-up sons--supposing
+these, of course, to be steady--remain at home with their parents. The
+father and head of the house, having been employed upon one farm for the
+last thirty years or more, though nominally carter, is really a kind of
+bailiff. The two young men work on at the same place, and lodge at home,
+paying a small weekly sum for board and lodging. Their sister is probably
+away in service; their mother manages the cottage. She occasionally bears
+a hand in indoor work at the farmhouse, and in the harvest time aids a
+little in the field, but otherwise does not labour. What is the result?
+Plenty to eat, good beds, fairly good furniture, sufficient fuel, and some
+provision for contingencies, through the benefit club. As the wages are
+not consumed in drink, they have always a little ready money, and, in
+short, are as independent as it is possible for working men to be,
+especially if, as is often the case, the cottage and garden is their own,
+or is held on a small quit-rent. If either of the sons in time desires to
+marry, he does not start utterly unprovided. His father's influence with
+the farmer is pretty sure to procure him a cottage; he has some small
+savings himself, and his parents in the course of years have accumulated
+some extra furniture, which is given to him.
+
+If a cottage, where the occupants are steady like this, be visited in the
+evening, say towards seven o'clock, when dinner is on the table (labourers
+dining or supping after the conclusion of the day's work), the fare will
+often be found of a substantial character. There may be a piece of
+mutton--not, of course, the prime cut, but wholesome meat--cabbages,
+parsnips, carrots (labourers like a profusion of vegetables), all laid out
+in a decent manner. The food is plain, but solid and plentiful. If the
+sister out in service wishes to change her situation, she has a home to go
+to meanwhile. Should any dispute occur with the employer the cottage is
+still there, and affords a shelter till the difficulty is settled or other
+work obtained. In towns the workman who has been earning six or even ten
+shillings a day, and paying a high rent (carefully collected every week),
+no sooner gets his discharge than he receives notice to quit his lodgings,
+because the owner knows he will not be paid. But when the agricultural
+labourer has a quit-rent cottage, or one of his own, he has a permanent
+resource, and can look round for another engagement.
+
+The cooking in the best cottages would not commend itself to the student
+of that art: in those where the woman is shiftless it would be deemed
+simply intolerable. Evidence of this is only too apparent on approaching
+cottages, especially towards the evening. Coming from the fresh air of the
+fields, perhaps from the sweet scent of clover or of new-mown grass, the
+odour which arises from the cottages is peculiarly offensive. It is not
+that they are dirty inside--the floor may be scrubbed, the walls brushed,
+the chairs clean, and the beds tidy; it is from outside that all the
+noisome exhalations taint the breeze. The refuse vegetables, the washings,
+the liquid and solid rubbish generally is cast out into the ditch, often
+open to the highway road, and there festers till the first storm sweeps it
+away. The cleanest woman indoors thinks nothing disgusting out of doors,
+and hardly goes a step from her threshold to cast away indescribable
+filth. Now, a good deal of this refuse is the remains of imperfect
+cooking--masses of soddened cabbage, part of which only is eaten, and the
+rest stored for the pig or thrown into the ditch. The place smells of
+soaking, saturated cabbage for yards and yards round about.
+
+But it is much easier to condemn the cottage cook than to show her how to
+do better. It is even doubtful whether professed scientific cooks could
+tell her what to do. The difficulty arises from the rough, coarse taste of
+the labourer, and the fact, which it is useless to ignore, that he must
+have something solid, and indeed, bulky. Thin clear soups--though proved
+to abound with nourishment and of delicious flavour--are utterly beside
+his wants. Give him the finest soup; give him _pâtés_, or even more meaty
+_entrées_, and his remark will be that it is very nice, but he wants
+'summat to eat.' His teeth are large, his jaws strong, his digestive
+powers such as would astonish a city man; he likes solid food, bacon,
+butcher's meat, cheese, or something that gives him a sense of fulness,
+like a mass of vegetables. This is the natural result of his training and
+work in the fields. The materials used by the cottage cook are often quite
+capable of being made into agreeable dishes, but then those dishes would
+not suit the man. All the soups and kickshaws--though excellent in
+themselves--in the world are not, for his purpose, equal to a round of
+beef or a side of bacon. Let any one go and labour daily in the field, and
+they will come quickly to the same opinion. Yet something might certainly
+be done in the way of preventing waste. The real secret lies in the
+education of the women when young--that is, for the future. But, taking
+the present day, looking at things as they actually exist, it is no use
+abusing or lecturing the cottage cook. She might, perhaps, be persuaded to
+adopt a systematic plan of disposing of the refuse.
+
+The Saturday half-holiday is scarcely so closely observed in rural labour
+as in urban. The work closes earlier, that is, so far as the day labourer
+is concerned, for he gets the best of this as of other things. But,
+half-holiday or not, cows have to be fed and milked, sheep must be looked
+after, and the stable attended to, so that the regular men do not get off
+much sooner. In winter, the days being short, they get little advantage
+from the short time; in summer they do. Compensation is, however, as much
+as possible afforded to the settled men who have gardens, by giving them a
+half-day now and then when work is slack to attend to them.
+
+On Sunday morning the labourer cleans and polishes his boots (after
+digging the potatoes for dinner), puts on a black or dark coat, put his
+hands in his pockets--a marked feature this--and rambles down to his
+garden or the allotment. There, if it be spring or summer, he is sure to
+find some acquaintances likewise 'looking round.' This seems to be one of
+the greatest pleasures of the labourer, noting the growth of a cabbage
+here, and the promise of potatoes yonder; he does not work, but strolls to
+and fro, discussing the vegetable prospect. Then back home in time for
+dinner--the great event of Sunday, being often the only day in the week
+that he can get a hot dinner in the middle of the day. It is his day at
+home, and though he may ramble out he never goes far.
+
+Ladies residing in the country are accustomed to receive periodical
+appeals from friends in town asking their assistance in procuring
+servants. So frequent are such appeals that there would seem to be a
+popular belief that the supply is inexhaustible. The villages are supposed
+to be full of girls, all ready to enter service, and, though a little
+uncouth in manner, possessed nevertheless of sterling good qualities. The
+letter is usually couched in something like the following terms:--'Do you
+happen to know of a really good girl that would suit us? You are aware of
+the scale on which our household is conducted, and how very modest our
+requirements are. All we want is a strong, healthy, honest girl, ready and
+willing to work and to learn, and who will take an interest in the place,
+and who will not ask too extravagant a price. She can have a good home
+with us as long as ever she likes to stay. My dear, you really cannot tell
+what a difficulty we experience in getting servants who are not "uppish,"
+and who are trustworthy and do not mind working, and if you can find us
+one in those pretty villages round you, we shall be so much obliged,' &c.
+
+The fact that a servant from the country is supposed, in the nature of
+things, to be honest and willing, hardworking, strong, and healthy, and
+almost everything else, speaks well for the general character of the girls
+brought up in agricultural cottages. It is, however, quite a mistake to
+suppose the supply to be limitless; it is just the reverse; the really
+good servants from any particular district are quickly exhausted, and
+then, if the friends in town will insist upon a girl from the country,
+they cannot complain if they do not get precisely what they want. The
+migration, indeed, of servants from the villages to the towns has, for the
+time being, rather overdone itself. The best of those who responded to the
+first demand were picked out some time since; many of those now to be had
+are not of the first class, and the young are not yet grown up. After
+awhile, as education progresses--bringing with it better manners--there
+may be a fresh supply; meantime, really good country girls are difficult
+to obtain. But the demand is as great as ever. From the squire's lady down
+to the wife of the small tenant-farmer, one and all receive the same
+requests from friends in town. The character of the true country servant
+stands as high as ever.
+
+Let us hope that the polish of progress may not too much overlay the solid
+if humble virtues which procured that character for her class. Some
+efforts are being made here and there to direct the course of young girls
+after leaving the village schools--to put them in the right way and give
+them the benefit of example. As yet such efforts are confined to
+individuals. The object is certainly worth the formation of local
+organisations, for, too often, on quitting the school, the young village
+girl comes in contact with anything but elevating influences, and,
+unfortunately, her own mother is not always the best guide. The position
+of a servant in town is well known, the antecedents of a girl before she
+reaches town perhaps not so thoroughly, while the lives of those who
+remain in the villages drop out of sight of the great world.
+
+As a child, the cottage girl 'roughs' it in the road and in the fields. In
+winter she learns to slide, and to endure the cold and rain, till she
+often becomes what, to any one accustomed to a more delicate life, seems
+positively impervious to weather. The servants in old-fashioned farmhouses
+really did not seem to know what it was to feel cold. Even nowadays, a
+servant fresh from an outlying hamlet, where her parents probably could
+procure but little fuel beyond what was necessary for cooking, at first
+cares not an atom whether there be a fire in the kitchen or not. Such
+girls are as hardy as the men of their native place. After a time, hot
+rooms and a profusion of meat and good living generally saps and
+undermines this natural strength. Then they shiver like town-bred people.
+
+The cottage child is often locked out by her parents, who go to work and
+leave her in charge of her still smaller brothers and sisters. They play
+about the hedges and ditches, and very rarely come to any harm. In autumn
+their little fingers are employed picking up the acorns fallen from the
+oaks, for which the formers pay so much per bushel. In spring is their
+happiest time. The joy of life--the warm sunshine and pleasant breeze of
+spring--is not wholly lost upon them, despite their hard fare, and the not
+very affectionate treatment they receive at home. Such a girl may then be
+seen sitting under a willow beside the brook, with her charges around
+her--the little brother that can just toddle, the baby that can but crawl
+and crow in the green fresh grass. Between them lies a whole pile of
+flowers--dandelion stems made into rings, and the rings joined together so
+as to form a chain, rushes plaited, blue-bells, cowslips tied up in balls,
+and cowslips loose, their yellow petals scattered over the sward.
+
+The brook flows murmuring by, with an occasional splash, as a water-rat
+dives from the bank or a fish rises to an insect. The children weave their
+flowers and chant some old doggrel rhymes with little or no meaning. Long
+afterwards that girl will retain an unconscious memory of the scene, when,
+wheeling her employer's children out on some suburban road, she seeks a
+green meadow and makes a cowslip ball for the delighted infants. In summer
+they go down to the hay-field, but dare not meddle with the hay, which the
+bailiff does not like to see disturbed; they remain under the shadow of
+the hedge. In autumn they search for the berries, like the birds, nibbling
+the hips and haws, tasting crabs and sloes, or feasting on the fruit of a
+hazel-bush.
+
+Be it spring or summer, autumn or winter, wherever the child may be, her
+eyes are ever on the watch to find a dead stick or a broken branch, too
+heavy to lift, but which may be dragged behind, in order to feed the
+cottage fire at night. That is her first duty as a child; if she remains
+in the hamlet that will be her duty through life, and to the last, as an
+aged woman. So in London, round the purlieus of buildings in the course of
+erection--even in the central thoroughfares, in busy Fleet
+Street--children hang about the temporary hoardings, and pick up the chips
+and splinters of deal. But the latter have not the pleasure of the
+blue-bells and cowslips, nor even of the hips and haws, nor does the fresh
+pure breeze play upon their foreheads.
+
+Rough though it be, the childhood of the cottage girl is not without its
+recompenses, the most valuable of which is sturdy health. Now that good
+schools are open to every village, so soon as the children are old enough
+to walk the distance, often considerable, they are sent off every morning.
+At all events, if it does nothing else, it causes the mothers to give them
+a daily tidying up, which is in itself an advantage. They travel under the
+charge of the girl; often two or three such small parties join company,
+coming from as many cottages. In the warmer months, the lanes and fields
+they cross form a long playground for them, and picking flowers and
+searching for birds'-nests pass away the time. In winter they have to face
+the mire and rain.
+
+When the girl leaves school she is hardly old enough to enter service, and
+too often in the year or so that elapses before she 'goes out' much
+mischief is done. She is then at an age when the mind is peculiarly
+receptive, and the ways of the young labourers with whom she is thrown
+into contact are not very refined. Her first essay at 'service' is often
+as day-nursemaid at some adjacent farmhouse, taking care of the younger
+children in the day, and returning home to sleep. She then wanders with
+the children about the same fields she visited long before. This system
+used to be common enough, but latterly it has not worked well, because the
+parents expect the girl to progress so rapidly. She must be a woman and
+receive a woman's wages almost before she has ceased to be a girl. If she
+does not disdain to enter a farmhouse as kitchen-maid her wages will
+probably be about six pounds a year at first. Of course the exact sum
+varies very much in different localities and in different cases. It is but
+a small sum of money, yet it is often all she is worth.
+
+The cottage is a poor preparation even for the humblest middle-class home.
+Those ladies in towns who have engaged country servants are well aware of
+the amount of teaching they require before they can go through the
+simplest duties in a satisfactory manner. But most of these girls have
+already been out several times before reaching town. What a difficulty,
+then, the first farmer's wife must have had in drilling the rudiments of
+civilised life into them! Indeed, the vexations and annoyances connected
+with servants are no light weight upon the patience of the tenant-farmer.
+His wife is perpetually preparing servant girls for the service of other
+people.
+
+She is a kind of unpaid teacher, for ever shaping the rough material
+which, so soon as it is worth higher wages than a tenant-farmer can
+usually pay, is off, and the business has to be begun over again. No one
+who had not seen it would believe how clumsy and unthinking such girls are
+on first 'going out.' It is, too, the flightiest and giddiest period of
+their existence--before the girl sobers down into the woman. In the houses
+of the majority of tenant-farmers the mistress herself has to be a good
+deal in the kitchen, and therefore comes into close personal contact with
+the servants, and feels these things acutely. Except in the case of
+gentleman-farmers it may, perhaps, be said that almost all the wives of
+farmers have had experience of this kind.
+
+The girls are not nearly so tractable as formerly--they are fully aware of
+their own value and put it extremely high; a word is sufficient, and if
+not pleased they leave immediately. Wages rise yearly to about the limit
+of twelve pounds. In mentioning that sum it is not set down as an exact
+figure, for circumstances of course vary in every case. But it is seldom
+that servants in farmhouses of the middle class receive more than that.
+Until recently few obtained so much. Most of them that are worth anything
+never rest till they reach the towns, and take service in the villas of
+the wealthy suburban residents. Some few, however, remain in the country
+from preference, feeling a strong affection for their native place, for
+their parents and friends. Notwithstanding the general tendency to roam,
+this love of home is by no means extinct, but shows itself very decidedly
+in some of the village girls.
+
+The fogger, or milker, who comes to the farmhouse door in the morning may
+not present a very attractive appearance in the eyes of those accustomed
+to see well-dressed people; but it may be quite different with the young
+girl whose early associations have made her oblivious of dirt. She does
+not notice the bits of hay clinging to the smockfrock, the greasy hat and
+begrimed face, or the clumsy boots thickly coated with mud. A kiss may be
+quite as sweet, despite these mere outside accidents. In her way she is
+full of imagination and fancy--what her mistress would call 'giddy.'
+Within doors an eye may be on her, so she slips out to the wood-stack in
+the yard, ostensibly to fetch a log for the fire, and indulges in a few
+moments of flirtation behind the shelter of the faggots. In the summer she
+works doubly hard in the morning, and gets everything forward, so that she
+may go out to the field haymaking in the afternoon, when she may meet her
+particular friend, and also, perhaps, his rival.
+
+On Sundays she gladly walks two or more miles across the fields to church,
+knowing full well that some one will be lounging about a certain stile, or
+lying on the sward by a gate waiting for her. The practice of coquetry is
+as delightful in the country lane as in the saloons of wealth, though the
+ways in which it exhibits itself may be rude in comparison. So that love
+is sometimes the detaining force which keeps the girl in the country. Some
+of the young labourers are almost heirs to property in their eyes. One is
+perhaps the son of the carrier, who owns a couple of cottages let out to
+tenants; or the son of the blacksmith, at whom several caps are set, and
+about whom no little jealousy rages. On the whole, servants in the
+country, at least at farmhouses, have much more liberty than they could
+possibly get in town.
+
+The work is hard in the morning, but generally much less for the rest of
+the day; in the evening there is often scarcely anything to do. So that
+the farmhouse servant has much time to herself, and is not too strictly
+confined indoors when not at work. There is a good deal of 'company,' too;
+men coming to the door, men in the rick-yards and cattle-yards, men in the
+barn, labourers passing to their work, and so on. It is not so dull a life
+as might appear. Indeed, a farmhouse servant probably sees twice as many
+of her own class in the course of a week as a servant in town.
+
+Vanity, of course, is not to be shut out even from so simple an existence:
+the girl must have a 'fashionable' bonnet, and a pair of thin tight boots,
+let the lanes be never so dirty or the fields never so wet. In point of
+education they have much improved of late, and most can now read and
+write. But when they write home the letter is often read to the mother by
+some friend; the girl's parents being nearly or quite illiterate.
+Tenant-farmers' wives are often asked to act as notaries in such cases by
+cottage women on the receipt of letters from their children.
+
+When such a girl marries in the village she usually finds the work of the
+cottage harder than that of the farmhouse. It is more continuous, and when
+children arrive the trouble of nursing has to be added to the other
+duties, and to occasional work in the fields. The agricultural labourer's
+wife, indeed, has a harder lot than her husband. His toil is for the most
+part over when he leaves the field, but the woman's is never finished.
+When the man reaches home he does not care, or will not turn his hand to
+anything, except, perhaps, to fetch a pail of water, and he is not well
+pleased if asked to do that. The want of conveniences like an accessible
+water supply is severely felt by the women in many villages and hamlets;
+whilst in others there is a quantity running to waste. Many of the men
+obtain a more than liberal amount of beer, while the women scarcely get
+any at all. While working in the field they are allowed a small quantity
+by some farmers; at home they have none.
+
+Very few cottage women are inclined to drink, and they are seldom seen at
+'public' or intoxicated. On Saturdays most of them walk into the nearest
+town, perhaps five or more miles distant, in order to buy household stuff.
+Often a whole bevy of neighbours then meet and return home together, and
+that is about the only time when they call at the roadside inn. Laden with
+heavy parcels, with a long walk yet before them, and after a hard week's
+work, it is not surprising that they should want some refreshment, but the
+quantity of ale then purchased is very small. When there are a number of
+young children, and the parents endeavour to keep them decent, the woman
+works very hard indeed. Many farmers' wives take much interest in such
+families, where there is an evident endeavour to go straight, and assist
+the women in various ways, as with cast-off clothing for the children. A
+basketful of apples even from the farmer's orchard is a treat to the
+children, for, though better fed than formerly, their diet is necessarily
+monotonous, and such fruit as may be grown in the cottage garden is, of
+course, sold.
+
+With the exception of vegetables the cottager now buys almost everything
+and produces nothing for home use; no home-spun clothing--not even a
+home-baked loaf. Instances have been observed where cottagers have gone to
+much expense (for them) to build ovens, and after baking a few batches
+abandoned the project. Besides the cheap outfitters in the towns, the
+pack-drapers come round visiting every cottage. Such drapers have no
+shop-window, and make no display, but employ several men carrying packs,
+who work through the villages on foot and range over a wide stretch of
+country.
+
+Agricultural women, other than those belonging to the families of
+tenant-farmers, may be summed up as employed in the following manner.
+Bailiff's wives and daughters: these are not supposed, on extensive farms,
+to work in the field. The wife frequently has charge of the small home
+dairy, and the daughter assists at the house. Sometimes they also attend
+to the poultry, now occasionally kept in large numbers. A bailiff's
+daughter sometimes becomes housekeeper to a farmer. Dairymaids of the
+ordinary class--not competent to make special cheese--are becoming rarer,
+on account of the demand for their services decreasing--the milk trade and
+cheap foreign cheese having rendered common sorts of cheese unprofitable.
+They are usually cottagers. Of the married labouring women and the indoor
+servants something has already been said. In most villages a seamstress or
+two may be found, and has plenty of work to do for the farmers' families.
+The better class of housekeepers, and those professional dairymaids who
+superintend the making of superior cheese, are generally more or less
+nearly related to the families of tenant-farmers.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+
+THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+
+The wise old saw that good wine needs no bush does not hold true in the
+case of the labourer; it would require a very large bush indeed to attract
+him to the best of beer offered for sale under legitimate conditions. In
+fact, he cares not a rap about good beer--that is, intrinsically good, a
+genuine product of malt and hops. He would rather grumble at it, unless,
+perchance, it was a gift; and even then would criticise it behind the
+donor's back, holding the quart cup aslant so as to see the bottom in one
+place, and get a better view of the liquor. The great breweries whose
+names are household words in cities, and whose interest it is to maintain
+a high standard of quality for the delectation of their million consumers,
+do not exalt their garish painted advertisements in gilded letters as tall
+as Tom Thumb over the doors of village alehouses. You might call for Bass
+at Cairo, Bombay, Sydney, or San Francisco, and Bass would be forthcoming.
+But if you knocked the trestle-table with the bottom of a tankard (the
+correct way) in a rural public, as a signal to the cellar you might call
+for Bass in vain.
+
+When the agricultural labourer drops in on his way home from his work of a
+winter evening--heralding his approach by casting down a couple of logs or
+bundle of wood which he has been carrying with a thud outside the door--he
+does not demand liquor of that character. When in harvest time, after
+sundown--when the shadows forbid farther cutting with the fagging hook at
+the tall wheat--he sits on the form without, under the elm tree, and feels
+a whole pocketful of silver, flush of money like a gold-digger at a
+fortunate rush, he does not indulge in Allsopp or Guinness. He hoarsely
+orders a 'pot' of some local brewer's manufacture--a man who knows exactly
+what he likes, and arranges to meet the hardy digestion of the mower and
+the reaper. He prefers a rather dark beer with a certain twang faintly
+suggestive of liquorice and tobacco, with a sense of 'body,' a thickness
+in it, and which is no sooner swallowed than a clammy palate demands a
+second gulp to wash away the relics of the first. Ugh! The second requires
+a third swig, and still a fourth, and appetite increasing with that it
+feeds on, the stream rushes down the brazen throat that burns for more.
+
+Like the Northern demi-god who drank unwittingly at the ocean from a horn
+and could not empty it, but nevertheless caused the ebb of the sea, so our
+toper, if he cannot contain the cask, will bring it down to the third hoop
+if time and credit will but serve. It would require a ganger's staff to
+measure his capacity--in fact, the limit of the labourer's liquor-power,
+especially in summer, has never yet been reached. A man will lie on his
+back in the harvest field, under a hedge sweet with the June roses that
+smile upon the hay, and never move or take his lips away till a gallon has
+entered into his being, for it can hardly be said to be swallowed. Two
+gallons a day is not an uncommon consumption with men who swing the scythe
+or reaping-hook.
+
+This of course is small beer; but the stuff called for at the low public
+in the village, or by the road just outside, though indescribably nauseous
+to a non-vitiated palate, is not 'small.' It is a heady liquid, which if
+anyone drinks, not being accustomed to it, will leave its effects upon him
+for hours afterwards. But this is what the labourer likes. He prefers
+something that he can feel; something that, if sufficiently indulged in,
+will make even his thick head spin and his temples ache next morning. Then
+he has had the value of his money. So that really good ale would require a
+very large bush indeed before it attracted his custom.
+
+It is a marked feature of labouring life that the respectable inn of the
+village at which the travelling farmer, or even persons higher in rank,
+occasionally call, which has a decent stable, and whose liquors are of a
+genuine character, is almost deserted by the men who seek the reeking tap
+of the ill-favoured public which forms the clubhouse of all the vice of
+the village. While the farmer or passing stranger, calling at the decent
+house really for refreshment, drinks but a glass or two and departs, the
+frequenters of the low place never quit their seats till the law compels
+them, so that for sixpence spent in the one by men with cheque-books in
+their pockets, five shillings are spent in the other by men who have not
+got a loaf of bread at home for their half-starving children and pinched
+wife. To an unprincipled landlord clearly this sort of custom is decidedly
+preferable, and thus it is that these places are a real hardship to the
+licensed victualler whose effort it is to keep an orderly house.
+
+The influence of the low public upon the agricultural labourer's life is
+incalculable--it is his club, almost his home. There he becomes
+brutalised; there he spends his all; and if he awakes to the wretched
+state of his own family at last, instead of remembering that it is his own
+act, he turns round, accuses the farmer of starvation wages, shouts for
+what is really Communism, and perhaps even in his sullen rage descends to
+crime. Let us go with him into such a rural den.
+
+Beware that you do not knock your head against the smoke-blackened beams
+of the low ceiling, and do not put your elbow carelessly on the deal
+table, stained with spilled ale, left uncleaned from last night, together
+with little heaps of ashes, tapped out from pipes, and spots of grease
+from the tallow candles. The old-fashioned settles which gave so cosy an
+air in the olden time to the inn room, and which still linger in some of
+the houses, are not here--merely forms and cheap chairs. A great pot hangs
+over the fire, for the family cooking is done in the public apartment; but
+do not ask to join in the meal, for though the food may be more savoury
+than is dreamed of in your philosophy, the two-grained forks have not been
+cleaned these many a day. Neither is the butcher's wooden skewer, just
+extracted from the meat, an elegant toothpick if you are fastidious.
+
+But these things are trifles when the dish is a plump pheasant, jugged
+hare, brown partridges, or trout--perhaps not exactly in season--as the
+chance may be; or a couple of boiled fowls, or a turkey, or some similar
+toothsome morsel. Perhaps it is the gamey taste thus induced that enables
+them to enjoy joints from the butcher which are downright tainted, for it
+is characteristic of the place and people on the one hand to dine on the
+very best, as above, and yet to higgle over a halfpenny a pound at the
+shop. Nowhere else in all the parish, from the polished mahogany at the
+squire's mansion to the ancient solid oaken table at the substantial
+old-fashioned farmer's, can there be found such a constant supply of food
+usually considered as almost the privilege of the rich. Bacon, it is true,
+they eat of the coarsest kind; but with it eggs new laid and delicious. In
+brief, it is the strangest hodge-podge of pheasant and bread and cheese,
+asparagus and cabbage. But somehow, whatever is good, whatever is held in
+estimation, makes its appearance in that grimy little back room on that
+ragged, dirty table-cloth.
+
+Who pays for these things? Are they paid for at all? There is no licensed
+dealer in game in the village nor within many miles, and it seems passing
+strange. But there are other things almost as curious. The wood pile in
+the back yard is ever high and bulky; let the fire burn never so clear in
+the frosty days there is always a regular supply of firewood. It is the
+same with coal. Yet there is no copse attached to the place, nor is the
+landlord ever seen chopping for himself, nor are the farmers in the habit
+of receiving large orders for logs and faggots. By the power of some magic
+spell all things drift hitherward. A magnet which will draw logs of timber
+and faggots half across the parish, which will pull pheasants off their
+perch, extract trout from the deep, and stay the swift hare in midst of
+her career, is a power indeed to be envied. Had any enchanter of mediaeval
+days so potent a charm?
+
+Perhaps it is the engaging and attractive character of the landlord
+himself. He is a tall, lanky man, usually seen in slippers, and trousers
+too short for his limbs; he 'sloppets' about in his waistcoat and
+shirt-sleeves, hands in pockets, and shoulders forward almost in a hump.
+He hangs about the place, now bringing in a log, now carrying a bucket,
+now spinning a mop, now slouching down the garden to feed the numerous
+fowls that scratch around the stumps of cabbages. Anything, in short, but
+work. Sometimes, however, he takes the trap and horse, and is supposed to
+be gone on a dealing expedition. Sometimes it is only to carry a jar of
+beer up to the men in the field, and to mouch a good armful of fresh-cut
+clover for provender from the swathe. He sips gin the live-long day--weak
+gin always--every hour from morn till a cruel Legislature compels the
+closing of the shutters. He is never intoxicated--it is simply a habit, a
+sort of fuel to feed the low cunning in which his soul delights. So far
+from intoxication is he, that there is a fable of some hard knocks and ill
+usage, and even of a thick head being beaten against the harder stones of
+the courtyard behind, when the said thick head was helpless from much ale.
+Such matters are hushed up in the dark places of the earth. So far from
+intoxication is he, that he has the keenest eye to business.
+
+There is a lone rick-yard up in the fields yonder to which the carters
+come from the farm far away to fetch hay, and straw, and so forth. They
+halt at the public, and are noticed to enjoy good living there, nor are
+they asked for their score. A few trusses of hay, or bundles of straw, a
+bushel of corn, or some such trifle is left behind merely out of
+good-fellowship. Waggons come up laden with tons of coal for the farms
+miles above, far from a railway station; three or four teams, perhaps, one
+after the other. Just a knob or two can scarcely be missed, and a little
+of the small in a sack-bag. The bundles of wood thrown down at the door by
+the labourers as they enter are rarely picked up again; they disappear,
+and the hearth at home is cold. The foxes are blamed for the geese and the
+chickens, and the hunt execrated for not killing enough cubs, but Reynard
+is not always guilty. Eggs and poultry vanish. The shepherds have ample
+opportunities for disposing of a few spare lambs to a general dealer whose
+trap is handy. Certainly, continuous gin does not chill the faculties.
+
+If a can of ale is left in the outhouse at the back and happens to be
+found by a few choice spirits at the hour when the vicar is just
+commencing his sermon in church on Sunday, it is by the purest accident.
+The turnip and swede greens left at the door, picked wholesale from the
+farmers' fields; the potatoes produced from coat pockets by fingers which
+have been sorting heaps at the farmstead; the apples which would have been
+crushed under foot if the labourers had not considerately picked them
+up--all these and scores of other matters scarce worth naming find their
+way over that threshold. Perhaps the man is genial, his manners enticing,
+his stories amusing, his jokes witty? Not at all. He is a silent fellow,
+scarce opening his mouth except to curse the poor scrub of a maid servant,
+or to abuse a man who has not paid his score. He slinks in and lights his
+pipe, smokes it silently, and slinks out again. He is the octopus of the
+hamlet, fastening on the cottage homes and sucking the life-blood from
+them. He misses nothing, and nothing comes amiss to him.
+
+His wife, perhaps, then, may be the centre of attraction? She is a short,
+stout woman, whose cheeks as she walks wobble with fat, whose face is ever
+dirty, and dress (at home) slatternly. But mayhap her heart is in the
+right place, and when Hodge is missed from his accustomed seat by the fire
+of an evening, when it is bruited abroad that he is down with illness,
+hurriedly slips on her bonnet, and saying nothing, carries a basket of
+good things to cheer the inner man? Or, when his wife is confined, perhaps
+she brings some little delicacies, a breast of pheasant, a bottle of port
+wine, and strengthens her with motherly counsel in the hour of her
+travail. Is this so? Hodge's wife could tell you that the cottage door has
+never been darkened by her presence: that she indeed would not acknowledge
+her if passed by chance on the road. For the landlady sails forth to the
+adjacent town in all the glory of those fine feathers that proverbially
+make the fine bird.
+
+It is a goodly spectacle to see her in rustling ample silk, in costly
+sealskin, in a bonnet 'loud' but rich, shading a countenance that glows
+ruddy red as a furnace. A gold chain encircles her portly neck, with a
+gold watch thereto attached; gold rings upon her fingers, in one of which
+sparkles a brilliant diamond; gold earrings, gold brooch, kid gloves
+bursting from the fatness of the fingers they encase. The dingy trap and
+limping rawboned hack which carry her to the outskirts of the town
+scarcely harmonise with so much glory. But at the outskirts she alights,
+and enters the street in full dignity. By some potent alchemy the sweat of
+Hodge's brow has become condensed into that sparkling diamond, which is
+disclosed when the glove is drawn off in the shops, to the admiration of
+all beholders.
+
+Or, if not the wife, perhaps it may be the daughter who is the magnet that
+draws the very timber across the parish? She is not ill-looking, and might
+pass muster in her best dress were it not for a squareness of build, like
+the set of a man rather than the full curves associated with woman. She is
+rarely seen in the house at all, and neither talks to the men nor the
+women who enter. She sallies forth at night, and her friends are the
+scampish among the sons of the lower class of tenant-farmers.
+
+This is the family. How strange and yet how undeniable is it that such a
+house should attract the men whose self-interest, one would imagine, would
+lead them to shun it, and if they must spend their hard-won earnings, at
+least to get a good article for their money! It proves that an appeal to
+reason is not always the way to manage the working man. Such a low house
+is always a nest of agitation: there the idle, drunken, and
+ill-conditioned have their rendezvous, there evil is hatched, and from
+there men take their first step on the road that leads to the gaol. The
+place is often crowded at night--there is scarcely room to sit or stand,
+the atmosphere is thick with smoke, and a hoarse roar of jarring voices
+fills it, above which rises the stave of a song shouted in one unvarying
+key from some corner. Money pours in apace--the draughts are deep, and
+long, and frequent, the mugs are large, the thirst insatiate. The takings,
+compared with the size and situation of the house, must be high, and yet,
+with all this custom and profit, the landlord and his family still grovel.
+And grovel they will in dirt, vice, low cunning, and iniquity--as the
+serpent went on his belly in the dust--to the end of their days.
+
+Why do these places exist? Because in England justice is ever tempered
+with mercy; sometimes with too much mercy. The resident squire and
+magistrate knows the extent of the evil only too well. He sees it with his
+own eyes in the village; he sees it brought before him on the bench; the
+clergyman tells him of it, so do the gamekeeper and the policeman. His
+tenants complain of it. He is perpetually reminded of it, and of what it
+may ultimately mean as these places become the centres of communistic
+propagandas. But though perfectly aware of the evil, to suppress it is
+quite another matter.
+
+First, you must find the power, and then, having the power, the question
+arises, is it wise to exercise it? Though the men who frequent such dens
+are often of the lowest type, or on their way to that condition, they are
+not all of that character. Men of a hard-working and honest stamp go there
+as well. All have their rights alike--rights and liberties which must be
+held sacred even at some disadvantage. In short, the reprobate nature of
+the place may be established, but while it is the chosen resort of the
+people, or of a section of them, unless some great and manifest harm
+arises it cannot be touched. The magistrate will willingly control it as
+far as lies in his province, but unless directly instructed by the
+Legislature he cannot go farther. The truth is, it lies with the labourer
+himself. He is not obliged to visit there. A respectable inn may be found
+in every village if he desires that wholesome conviviality which, when it
+does not overstep certain bounds, forms a bond between man and man. Were
+such low houses suddenly put down, what an outcry would be raised of
+favouritism, tyranny, and so on! When the labourer turns against them
+himself, he will speedily find powerful friends to assist in attaining the
+object.
+
+If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the agricultural
+labourer upon the conclusion of his day's work, exposed as he is to the
+wear and tear of the elements. After following the slow plough along the
+furrows through the mist; after tending the sheep on the hills where the
+rain beats with furious energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of
+trees, and splitting them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may
+naturally ask for refreshment. And it is equally natural that he should
+desire to take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can
+associate freely and speak his mind unchecked. The glass of ale would not
+hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain quarters to
+do evil for an extra quart. Nothing forms so strong a temptation as the
+knowledge that a safe receiver is near at hand.
+
+He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he can take,
+for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass of wine to the
+'City' gentleman who lives delicately. He is to be pitied rather than
+condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather than chastised. Punishment,
+indeed, waits upon him only too doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in
+the shape of sorrows and privations at home. The evil lies not in the ale,
+but in the character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the
+same time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper. No one,
+indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, 'Save me from my
+friends!' To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice it must be stated
+that there is a certain bluff honesty and frankness among them, a rude
+candour, which entitles them to considerable respect as a body. There are
+also men here and there whose strength of character would certainty have
+obtained favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher
+rank of life. But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so
+innocent and free from guile--so lamblike as it suits the purpose of some
+to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may secure sympathy. There
+are very queer black sheep in the flock, and it rather unfortunately
+happens that these, in more ways than one, force themselves, sometimes
+most unpleasantly, upon the notice of the tenant-farmer and the landlord.
+
+A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of choice
+manhood whose head-quarters are at the low 'public.' A tall, well-built
+man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger might take him for
+a favourable example. He holds himself more upright than most of his
+class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked air of deference towards those
+who address him conveys rather a pleasing impression. He can read fairly
+well and sign his name. This man, who is still young, began life as
+carter's lad, in which occupation he had not been long engaged before the
+horse-hair carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared. Whipcord and
+similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new whip.
+This last, not being so easily disposed of, was traced to his possession
+and procured him a sound thrashing. Some short time afterwards a carthorse
+was found in the fields stabbed in several places, though, fortunately,
+not severely. Having already the bad name that hangs the dog, he was
+strongly suspected of this dastardly act in revenge for the thrashing from
+the carter, and threat of dismissal from the employer. No evidence,
+however, could be procured, and though he was sent about his business he
+escaped punishment. As he grew older he fell in with a tribe of
+semi-gipsies, and wandered in their company for a year or two, learning
+their petty pilfering tricks. He then returned to agriculture labour, and,
+notwithstanding the ill-flavour that clung about his doings, found no
+difficulty in obtaining employment.
+
+It is rare in agriculture for a man to be asked much about his character,
+unless he is to be put into a position of some trust. In trades and
+factories--on railways, too--an applicant for employment is not only
+questioned, but has to produce evidence as to his immediate antecedents at
+least. But the custom in farming prescribes no such checks; if the farmer
+requires a man, the applicant is put on to work at once, if he looks at
+all likely. This is especially the case in times of pressure, as when
+there is a great deal of hoeing to be done, in harvest, and when extra
+hands are wanted to assist in feeding the threshing machine. Then the
+first that comes along the road is received, and scarcely a question
+asked. The custom operates well enough in one way, since a man is nearly
+sure of procuring employment, and encounters no obstacles; on the other
+hand, there is less encouragement to preserve a good character. So the
+fellow mentioned quickly got work when he applied for it, and went on
+pretty steadily for a period. He then married, and speedily discovered the
+true use of women--i.e. to work for idle men. The moment he learnt that he
+could subsist upon her labour he ceased to make any effort, and passed his
+time lounging about.
+
+The wife, though neither handsome nor clever, was a hard-working person,
+and supported herself and idle husband by taking in washing. Indignation
+has often been expressed at the moral code of savages, which permits the
+man to lie in his hammock while the woman cultivates the maize; but,
+excepting the difference in the colour of the skin, the substitution of
+dirty white for coppery redness, there is really no distinction. Probably
+washing is of the two harder work than hoeing maize. The fellow 'hung
+about,' and doubtless occasionally put in practice the tricks he had
+acquired from his nomad friends.
+
+The only time he worked was in the height of the harvest, when high wages
+are paid. But then his money went in drink, and drink often caused him to
+neglect the labour he had undertaken, at an important juncture when time
+was of consequence. On one such occasion the employer lost his temper and
+gave him a piece of his mind, ending by a threat of proceedings for breach
+of contract. A night or two afterwards the farmer's rick-yard was ablaze,
+and a few months later the incendiary found himself commencing a term of
+penal servitude. There he was obliged to work, began to walk upright, and
+acquired that peculiarly marked air of deference which at first contrasts
+rather pleasantly with the somewhat gruff address of most labourers.
+During his absence the wife almost prospered, having plenty of employment
+and many kind friends. He signalised his return by administering a
+thrashing--just to re-assert his authority--which, however, the poor woman
+received with equanimity, remarking that it was only his way. He
+recommenced his lounging life, working occasionally when money was to be
+easily earned--for the convict stain does not prevent a man getting
+agricultural employment--and spending the money in liquor. When tolerably
+sober he is, in a sense, harmless; if intoxicated, his companions give him
+the road to himself.
+
+Now there is nothing exceptionally characteristic of the agricultural
+labourer in the career of such a man. Members of other classes of the
+working community are often sent to penal servitude, and sometimes men of
+education and social position. But it is characteristic of agricultural
+life that a man with the stigma of penal servitude can return and
+encounter no overpowering prejudice against him. There are work and wages,
+for him if he likes to take them. No one throws his former guilt in his
+face. He may not be offered a place of confidence, nor be trusted with
+money, as the upper labourers--carters for instance--sometimes are. But
+the means of subsistence are open to him, and he will not be driven by the
+memory of one crime to commit another.
+
+There is no school of crime in the country. Children are not brought up
+from the earliest age to beg and steal, to utter loquacious falsehood, or
+entrap the benevolent with sham suffering. Hoary thieves do not keep
+academies for the instruction of little fingers in the art of theft. The
+science of burglary is unstudied. Though farmhouses are often situate in
+the most lonely places a case of burglary rarely occurs, and if it does,
+is still more rarely traced to a local resident. In such houses there is
+sometimes a good deal of old silver plate, accumulated in the course of
+generations--a fact that must be perfectly well known to the labouring
+class, through the women indoor-servants. Yet such attempts are quite
+exceptional. So, too, are robberies from the person with violence. Serious
+crime is, indeed, comparatively scarce. The cases that come before the
+Petty Sessions are, for the most part, drunkenness, quarreling, neglect or
+absenteeism from work, affiliation, petty theft, and so on.
+
+The fact speaks well for the rural population; it speaks very badly for
+such characters as the one that has been described. If he will not turn
+into the path of honest labour, that is his own fault. The injury he does
+is this, that he encourages others to be idle. Labouring men quit the
+field under the influence of temporary thirst, or that desire for a few
+minutes' change which is not in itself blameworthy. They enter the low
+'public,' call for their quart, and intend to leave again immediately. But
+the lazy fellow in the corner opens conversation, is asked to drink, more
+is called for, there is a toss-up to decide who shall pay, in which the
+idle adept, of course, escapes, and so the thing goes on. Such a man
+becomes a cause of idleness, and a nuisance to the farmers.
+
+Another individual is a huge, raw-boned, double-jointed giant of a man,
+whose muscular strength must be enormous, but whose weakness is beer. He
+is a good workman, and of a civil, obliging disposition. He will commence,
+for instance, making drains for a farmer with the greatest energy, and in
+the best of tempers. A drain requires some little skill. The farmer visits
+the work day by day, and notes with approval that it is being done well.
+But about the third or fourth day the clever workman, whose immense
+strength makes the employment mere child's play to him, civilly asks for a
+small advance of money. Now the farmer has no objection to that, but hands
+it to him with some misgiving. Next morning no labourer is to be seen. The
+day passes, and the next. Then a lad brings the intelligence that his
+parent is just recovering from a heavy drinking bout and will be back
+soon. There is the history of forty years!
+
+The same incident is repeated once or twice a month all the year round.
+Now it is a drain, now hedge-cutting, now hoeing, now haymaking, and now
+reaping. Three or four days' work excellently performed; then a bed in a
+ditch and empty pockets. The man's really vast strength carries him
+through the prostration, and the knocks and bangs and tumbles received in
+a helpless state. But what a life! The worst of it is the man is not a
+reprobate--not a hang-dog, lounging rascal, but perfectly honest, willing
+to oblige, harmless and inoffensive even when intoxicated, and skilful at
+his labour. What is to be done with him? What is the farmer to do who has
+only such men to rely on--perhaps in many cases--without this fellow's
+honesty and good temper--qualities which constantly give him a lift? It is
+simply an epitome of the difficulties too commonly met with in the
+field--bright sunshine, good weather, ripe crops, and men half
+unconscious, or quite, snoring under a hedge! There is no encouragement to
+the tenant to pay high wages in experiences like this.
+
+A third example is a rakish-looking lad just rising into manhood. Such
+young men are very much in demand and he would not have the slightest
+difficulty in obtaining employment, yet he is constantly out of work. When
+a boy he began by summoning the carter where he was engaged for cuffing
+him, charging the man with an assault. It turned out to be a trumpery
+case, and the Bench advised his parents to make him return and fulfil his
+contract. His parents thought differently of it. They had become imbued
+with an inordinate sense of their own importance. They had a high idea of
+the rights of labour; Jack, in short, was a good deal better than his
+master, and must be treated with distinguished respect. The doctrines of
+the Union countenanced the deduction; so the boy did not return. Another
+place was found for him.
+
+In the course of a few months he came again before the Bench. The
+complaint was now one of wrongful dismissal, and a claim for a one pound
+bonus, which by the agreement was to have been paid at the end of the year
+if his conduct proved satisfactory. It was shown that his conduct had been
+the reverse of satisfactory; that he refused to obey orders, that he
+'cheeked' the carters, that he ran away home for a day or two, and was
+encouraged in these goings on by the father. The magistrates, always on
+the side of peace, endeavoured to procure a reconciliation, the farmer
+even paid down the bonus, but it was of no use. The lad did not return.
+
+With little variations the same game has continued ever since. Now it is
+he that complains, now it is his new master; but any way there is always a
+summons, and his face is as familiar in the court as that of the chairman.
+His case is typical. What is a farmer to do who has to deal with a rising
+generation full of this spirit?
+
+Then there are the regular workhouse families, who are perpetually
+applying for parochial relief. From the eldest down to the youngest member
+they seem to have no stamina; they fall ill when all others are well, as
+if afflicted with a species of paralysis that affects body, mind, and
+moral sense at once. If the phrase may be used without irreverence, there
+is no health in them. The slightest difficulty is sufficient to send an
+apparently strong, hale man whining to the workhouse. He localises his
+complaint in his foot, or his arm, or his shoulder; but, in truth, he does
+not know himself what is the matter with him. The real illness is weakness
+of calibre--a looseness of fibre. Many a labourer has an aching limb from
+rheumatism, and goes to plough all the same; many a poor cottage woman
+suffers from that prevalent agony, and bravely gets through her task, and
+keeps her cottage tidy. But these people cannot do it--they positively
+cannot. The summer brings them pain, the winter brings pain, their whole
+life is one long appeal _ad misericordiam_.
+
+The disease seems to spread with the multiplication of the family: the
+sons have it, and the sons' sons after them, so much so that even to bear
+the name is sufficient to stamp the owner as a miserable helpless being.
+All human wretchedness is, of course, to be deeply commiserated, and yet
+it is exasperating to see one man still doing his best under real trouble,
+and another eating contentedly the bread of idleness when there seems
+nothing wrong except a total lack of energy. The old men go to the
+workhouse, the young men go, the women and the children; if they are out
+one month the next sees their return. These again are but broken reeds to
+rely upon. The golden harvest might rot upon the ground for all their
+gathering, the grass wither and die as it stands, without the touch of the
+scythe, the very waggons and carts fall to pieces in the sheds. There is
+no work to be got out of them.
+
+The village, too, has its rookery, though not quite in the same sense as
+the city. Traced to its beginning, it is generally found to have
+originated upon a waste piece of ground, where some squatters settled and
+built their cabins. These, by the growth of better houses around, and the
+rise of property, have now become of some value, not so much for the
+materials as the site. To the original hovels additions have been made by
+degrees, and fresh huts squeezed in till every inch of space is as closely
+occupied as in a back court of the metropolis. Within the cottages are low
+pitched, dirty, narrow, and contracted, without proper conveniences, or
+even a yard or court.
+
+The social condition of the inhabitants is unpleasant to contemplate. The
+young men, as they grow up, arrive at an exaggerated idea of the value of
+their parents' property--the cottage of three rooms--and bitter
+animosities arise between them. One is accused of having had his share out
+in money; another has got into trouble and had his fine paid for him; the
+eldest was probably born before wedlock; so there are plenty of materials
+for recrimination. Then one, or even two of them bring home a wife, or at
+least a woman, and three families live beneath a single roof--with results
+it is easy to imagine, both as regards bickering and immorality. They have
+no wish to quit the place and enter cottages with better accommodation:
+they might rent others of the farmers, but they prefer to be independent,
+and, besides, will not move lest they should lose their rights. Very
+likely a few lodgers are taken in to add to the confusion. As regularly as
+clockwork cross summonses are taken out before the Bench, and then the
+women on either side reveal an unequalled power of abuse and loquacity,
+leaving a decided impression that it is six to one and half a dozen to the
+other.
+
+These rookeries do not furnish forth burglars and accomplished
+pickpockets, like those of cities, but they do send out a gang of lazy,
+scamping fellows and coarse women, who are almost useless. If their
+employer does not please them--if he points out that a waste of time has
+taken place, or that something has been neglected--off they go, for,
+having a hole to creep into, they do not care an atom whether they lose a
+job or not. The available hands, therefore, upon whom the farmers can
+count are always very much below the sum total of the able-bodied
+population. There must be deducted the idle men and women, the drunkards,
+the never satisfied, as the lad who sued every master; the workhouse
+families, the rookery families, and those who every harvest leave the
+place, and wander a great distance in search of exceptionally high wages.
+When all these are subtracted, the residue remaining is often insufficient
+to do the work of the farms in a proper manner. It is got through somehow
+by scratch-packs, so to say--men picked up from the roads, aged men who
+cannot do much, but whose energy puts the younger fellows to shame, lads
+paid far beyond the value of the work they actually accomplish.
+
+Work done in this way is, of course, incomplete and unsatisfactory, and
+the fact supplies one of the reasons why farmers seem disinclined to pay
+high wages. It is not because they object to pay well for hard work, but
+because they cannot get the hard work. There is consequently a growing
+reliance upon floating labour--upon the men and women who tramp round
+every season--rather than on the resident population. Even in the absence
+of any outward agitation--of a strike or open movement in that
+direction--the farmer has considerable difficulties to contend with in
+procuring labour. He has still further difficulties in managing it when he
+has got it. Most labourers have their own peculiar way of finishing a job;
+and however much that style of doing it may run counter to the farmer's
+idea of the matter in hand, he has to let the man proceed after his own
+fashion. If he corrected, or showed the man what he wanted, he would run
+the risk of not getting it done at all. There is no one so thoroughly
+obstinate as an ignorant labourer full of his own consequence. Giving,
+then, full credit to those men whose honest endeavours to fulfil their
+duty have already been acknowledged, it is a complete delusion to suppose
+that all are equally manly.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+
+THE COTTAGE CHARTER. FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+
+The songs sung by the labourer at the alehouse or the harvest home are not
+of his own composing. The tunes whistled by the ploughboy as he goes down
+the road to his work in the dawn were not written for him. Green meads and
+rolling lands of wheat--true fields of the cloth of gold--have never yet
+inspired those who dwell upon them with songs uprising from the soil. The
+solitude of the hills over whose tops the summer sun seems to linger so
+long has not filled the shepherd's heart with a wistful yearning that must
+be expressed in verse or music. Neither he nor the ploughman in the vale
+have heard or seen aught that stirs them in Nature. The shepherd has never
+surprised an Immortal reclining on the thyme under the shade of a hawthorn
+bush at sunny noontide; nor has the ploughman seen the shadowy outline of
+a divine huntress through the mist that clings to the wood across the
+field.
+
+These people have no myths; no heroes. They look back on no Heroic Age, no
+Achilles, no Agamemnon, and no Homer. The past is vacant. The have not
+even a 'Wacht am Rhein' or 'Marseillaise' to chaunt in chorus with
+quickened step and flashing eye. No; nor even a ballad of the hearth,
+handed down from father to son, to be sung at home festivals, as a
+treasured silver tankard is brought out to drink the health of a honoured
+guest. Ballads there are in old books--ballads of days when the yew bow
+was in every man's hands, and war and the chase gave life a colour; but
+they are dead. A cart comes slowly down the road, and the labourer with it
+sings as he jogs along; but, if you listen, it tells you nothing of wheat,
+or hay, or flocks and herds, nothing of the old gods and heroes. It is a
+street ditty such as you may hear the gutter arabs yelling in London, and
+coming from a music hall.
+
+So, too, in material things--in the affairs of life, in politics, and
+social hopes--the labourer has no well-defined creed of race. He has no
+genuine programme of the future; that which is put forward in his name is
+not from him. Some years ago, talking with an aged labourer in a district
+where at that time no 'agitation' had taken place, I endeavoured to get
+from him something like a definition of the wants of his class. He had
+lived many years, and worked all the while in the field; what was his
+experience of their secret wishes? what was the Cottage Charter? It took
+some time to get him to understand what was required; he had been ready
+enough previously to grumble about this or that detail, but when it came
+to principles he was vague. The grumbles, the complaints, and so forth,
+had never been codified. However, by degrees I got at it, and very simple
+it was:--Point 1, Better wages; (2) more cottages; (3) good-sized gardens;
+(4) 'larning' for the children. That was the sum of the cottager's
+creed--his own genuine aspirations.
+
+Since then every one of these points has been obtained, or substantial
+progress made towards it. Though wages are perhaps slightly lower or
+rather stationary at the present moment, yet they are much higher than
+used to be the case. At the same time vast importations of foreign food
+keep the necessaries of life at a lower figure. The number of cottages
+available has been greatly increased--hardly a landlord but could produce
+accounts of sums of money spent in this direction. To almost all of these
+large gardens are now attached. Learning for the children is provided by
+the schools erected in every single parish, for the most part by the
+exertions of the owners and occupiers of land.
+
+Practically, therefore, the four points of the real Cottage Charter have
+been attained, or as nearly as is possible. Why, then, is it that
+dissatisfaction is still expressed? The reply is, because a new programme
+has been introduced to the labourer from without. It originated in no
+labourer's mind, it is not the outcome of a genuine feeling widespread
+among the masses, nor is it the heartbroken call for deliverance issuing
+from the lips of the poet-leader of a downtrodden people. It is totally
+foreign to the cottage proper--something new, strange, and as yet scarcely
+understood in its full meaning by those who nominally support it.
+
+The points of the new Cottage Charter are--(1) The confiscation of large
+estates; (2) the subdivision of land; (3) the abolition of the laws of
+settlement of land; (4) the administration of the land by the authorities
+of State; (5) the confiscation of glebe lands for division and
+distribution; (6) the abolition of Church tithes; (7) extension of the
+county franchise; (8) education gratis, free of fees, or payment of any
+kind; (9) high wages, winter and summer alike, irrespective of season,
+prosperity, or adversity. No. 6 is thrown in chiefly for the purpose of an
+appearance of identity of interest between the labourer and the tenant
+against the Church. Of late it has rather been the cue of the leaders of
+the agitation to promote, or seem to promote, a coalition between the
+labourer and the dissatisfied tenant, thereby giving the movement a more
+colourable pretence in the eyes of the public. Few tenants, however
+dissatisfied, have been deceived by the shallow device.
+
+This programme emanated from no carter or shepherd, ploughman or fogger.
+It was not thought out under the hedge when the June roses decked the
+bushes; nor painfully written down on the deal table in the cottage while
+the winter rain pattered against the window, and, coming down the wide
+chimney, hissed upon the embers. It was brought to the cottage door from a
+distance; it has been iterated and reiterated till at last some begin to
+think they really do want all these things. But with the majority even now
+the propaganda falls flat. They do not enter into the spirit of it. No. 9
+they do understand; that appeals direct, and men may be excused if, with a
+view which as yet extends so short a space around, they have not grasped
+the fact that wages cannot by any artificial combination whatever be kept
+at a high level. The idea of high wages brings a mass of labourers
+together; they vote for what they are instructed to vote, and are thus
+nominally pledged to the other eight points of the new charter Such a
+conception as the confiscation and subdivision of estates never occurred
+to the genuine labourers.
+
+An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new state of
+things would be like. There would be no squire, no parson, no woods or
+preserves--all grubbed for cabbage gardens--no parks, no farmers. 'No
+farmers,' said the old fellow, 'then who's to pay I my wages?' There he
+hit the blot, no doubt. If the first four points of the new charter were
+carried into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist. But if such
+a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a long
+time coming. The idea did not originate with him--he cares nothing for
+it--and can only be got to support it under the guise of an agitation for
+wages. Except by persistent stirring from without he cannot be got to move
+even then. The labourer, in fact, is not by any means such a fool as his
+own leaders endeavour to make him out. He is perfectly well aware that the
+farmer, or any person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay
+the same money in winter as in summer.
+
+Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in the corner
+of an arable field, abutting on the highway. As left by the builders a
+more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined. The cottages themselves
+were well designed and well built, but the surroundings were like a
+wilderness. Heaps of rubbish here, broken bricks there, the ground
+trampled hard as the road itself. No partition from the ploughed field
+behind beyond a mere shallow trench enclosing what was supposed to be the
+garden. Everything bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant. Two families
+went into these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm. The
+aspect of the place immediately began to change. The rubbish was removed,
+the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a quick-set
+hedge was planted round the enclosure. Evening after evening, be the
+weather what it might, these two men were in that garden at work--after a
+long day in the fields. In the dinner hour even they sometimes snatched a
+few minutes to trim something. Their spades turned over the whole of the
+soil, and planting commenced. Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for
+potatoes, onions, parsnips.
+
+Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they set about
+preparing for extras. Fruit trees--apple, plum, and damson--were planted;
+also some roses. Next beehives appeared and were elevated on stands and
+duly protected from the rain. The last work was the building of
+pigsties--rude indeed and made of a few slabs--but sufficient to answer
+the purpose. Flowers in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared
+beside the garden paths. The change was so complete and so quickly
+effected I could hardly realise that so short a time since there had been
+nothing there but a blank open space. Persons travelling along the road
+could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.
+
+I had often been struck with the flourishing appearance of cottage
+gardens, but then those gardens were of old date and had reached that
+perfection in course of years. But here the thing seemed to grow up under
+one's eyes. All was effected by sheer energy. Instead of spending their
+evenings wastefully at 'public,' these men went out into their gardens and
+made what was a desert literally bloom. Nor did they seem conscious of
+doing anything extraordinary, but worked away in the most matter-of-fact
+manner, calling no one's attention to their progress. It would be hard to
+say which garden of the two showed the better result. Their wives are
+tidy, their children clean, their cottages grow more cosy and homelike day
+by day; yet they work in the fields that come up to their very doors, and
+receive nothing but the ordinary agricultural wages of the district.
+
+This proves what can be done when the agricultural labourer really wants
+to do it. And in a very large number of cases it must further be admitted
+that he does want to do it, and succeeds. If any one when passing through
+a rural district will look closely at the cottages and gardens he will
+frequently find evidence of similar energy, and not unfrequently of
+something approaching very nearly to taste. For why does the labourer
+train honeysuckle up his porch, and the out-of-door grape up the southern
+end of his house? Why does he let the houseleek remain on the roof; why
+trim and encourage the thick growth of ivy that clothes the chimney?
+Certainly not for utility, nor pecuniary profit. It is because he has some
+amount of appreciation of the beauty of flowers, of vine leaf, and green
+ivy. Men like these are the real backbone of our peasantry. They are not
+the agitators; it is the idle hang-dogs who form the disturbing element in
+the village.
+
+The settled agricultural labourer, of all others, has the least inducement
+to strike or leave his work. The longer he can stay in one place the
+better for him in many ways. His fruit-trees, which he planted years ago,
+are coming to perfection, and bear sufficient fruit in favourable years
+not only to give him some variety of diet, but to bring in a sum in hard
+cash with which to purchase extras. The soil of the garden, long manured
+and dug, is twice as fertile as when he first disturbed the earth. The
+hedges have grown high, and keep off the bitter winds. In short, the place
+is home, and he sits under his own vine and fig-tree. It is not to his
+advantage to leave this and go miles away. It is different with the
+mechanic who lives in a back court devoid of sunshine, hardly visited by
+the fresh breeze, without a tree, without a yard of earth to which to
+become attached. The factory closes, the bell is silent, the hands are
+discharged; provided he can get fresh employment it matters little. He
+leaves the back court without regret, and enters another in a distant
+town. But an agricultural labourer who has planted his own place feels an
+affection for it. The young men wander and are restless; the middle-aged
+men who have once anchored do not like to quit. They have got the four
+points of their own genuine charter; those who would infuse further vague
+hopes are not doing them any other service than to divert them from the
+substance to the shadow.
+
+Past those two new cottages which have been mentioned there runs a road
+which is a main thoroughfare. Along this road during the year this change
+was worked there walked a mournful procession--men and women on tramp.
+Some of these were doubtless rogues and vagabonds by nature and choice;
+but many, very many, were poor fellows who had really lost employment, and
+were gradually becoming degraded to the company of the professional
+beggar. The closing of collieries, mines, workshops, iron furnaces, &c.,
+had thrown hundreds on the mercy of chance charity, and compelled them to
+wander to and fro. How men like these on tramp must have envied the
+comfortable cottages, the well-stocked gardens, the pigsties, the
+beehives, and the roses of the labourers!
+
+If the labourer has never gone up on the floodtide of prosperity to the
+champagne wages of the miner, neither has he descended to the woe which
+fell on South Wales when children searched the dust-heaps for food, nor to
+that suffering which forces those whose instinct is independence to the
+soup-kitchen. He has had, and still has, steady employment at a rate of
+wages sufficient, as is shown by the appearance of his cottage itself, to
+maintain him in comparative comfort. The furnace may be blown out, and
+strong men may ask themselves, What shall we do next? But still the plough
+turns up the earth morning after morning. The colliery may close, but
+still the corn ripens, and extra wages are paid to the harvest men.
+
+This continuous employment without even a fear of cessation is an
+advantage, the value of which it is difficult to estimate. His wages are
+not only sufficient to maintain him, he can even save a little. The
+benefit clubs in so many villages are a proof of it--each member
+subscribes so much. Whether conducted on a 'sound financial basis' or not,
+the fact of the subscriptions cannot be denied, nor that assistance is
+derived from them. The Union itself is supported in the same way; proving
+that the wages, however complained of, are sufficient, at any rate, to
+permit of subscriptions.
+
+It is held out to the labourer, as an inducement to agitate briskly, that,
+in time, a state of things will be brought about when every man will have
+a small farm of four or five acres upon which to live comfortably,
+independent of a master. Occasional instances, however, of labourers
+endeavouring to exist upon a few acres have already been observed, and
+illustrate the practical working of the scheme. In one case a labourer
+occupied a piece of ground, about three acres in extent, at a low rental
+paid to the lord of the manor, the spot having originally been waste,
+though the soil was fairly good. He started under favourable conditions,
+because he possessed a cottage and garden and a pair of horses with which
+he did a considerable amount of hauling.
+
+He now set up as a farmer, ploughed and sowed, dug and weeded, kept his
+own hours, and went into the market and walked about as independent as any
+one. After a while the three acres began to absorb nearly all his time, so
+that the hauling, which was the really profitable part of the business,
+had to be neglected. Then, the ready money not coming in so fast, the
+horses had to go without corn, and pick up what they could along the
+roadside, on the sward, and out of the hedges. They had, of course, to be
+looked after while thus feeding, which occupied two of the children, so
+that these could neither go to school nor earn anything by working on the
+adjacent farms. The horses meantime grew poor in condition; the winter
+tried them greatly from want of proper fodder; and when called upon to do
+hauling they were not equal to the task. In the country, at a distance
+from towns, there is not always a good market for vegetables, even when
+grown. The residents mostly supply themselves, and what is raised for
+export has to be sold at wholesale prices.
+
+The produce of the three acres consequently did not come up to the
+tenant's expectation, particularly as potatoes, on account of the disease,
+could not be relied on. Meantime he had no weekly money coming in
+regularly, and his wife and family had often to assist him, diminishing
+their own earnings at the same time; while he was in the dilemma that if
+he did hauling he must employ and pay a man to work on the 'farm,' and if
+he worked himself he could not go out with his team. In harvest time, when
+the smaller farmers would have hired his horses, waggon, and himself and
+family to assist them, he had to get in his own harvest, and so lost the
+hard cash.
+
+He now discovered that there was one thing he had omitted, and which was
+doubtless the cause why he did not flourish as he should have done
+according to his calculations. All the agriculturists around kept live
+stock--he had none. Here was the grand secret--it was stock that paid: he
+must have a cow. So he set to work industriously enough, and put up a
+shed. Then, partly by his own small savings, partly by the assistance of
+the members of the sect to which he belonged, he purchased the desired
+animal and sold her milk. In summer this really answered fairly well while
+there was green food for nothing in plenty by the side of little-frequented
+roads, whither the cow was daily led. But so soon as the winter approached
+the same difficulty as with the horses arose, i.e., scarcity of fodder.
+The cow soon got miserably poor, while the horses fell off yet further, if
+that were possible. The calf that arrived died; next, one of the horses.
+The 'hat' was sent round again, and a fresh horse bought; the spring came
+on, and there seemed another chance. What with milking and attending to
+the cow, and working on the 'farm,' scarcely an hour remained in which to
+earn money with the horses. No provision could be laid by for the winter.
+The live stock--the cow and horses--devoured part of the produce of the
+three acres, so that there was less to sell.
+
+Another winter finished it. The cow had to be sold, but a third time the
+'hat' was sent round and saved the horses. Grown wiser now, the 'farmer'
+stuck to his hauling, and only worked his plot at odd times. In this way,
+by hauling and letting out his team in harvest, and working himself and
+family at the same time for wages, he earned a good deal of money, and
+kept afloat very comfortably. He made no further attempt to live out of
+the 'farm,' which was now sown with one or two crops only in the same
+rotation as a field, and no longer cultivated on the garden system. Had it
+not been for the subscriptions he must have given it up entirely long
+before. Bitter experience demonstrated how false the calculations had been
+which seemed to show--on the basis of the produce of a small
+allotment--that a man might live on three or four acres.
+
+He is not the only example of an extravagant estimate being put upon the
+possible product of land: it is a fallacy that has been fondly believed in
+by more logical minds than the poor cottager. That more may be got out of
+the soil than is the case at present is perfectly true; the mistake lies
+in the proposed method of doing it.
+
+There was a piece of land between thirty and forty acres in extent,
+chiefly arable, which chanced to come into the possession of a gentleman,
+who made no pretence to a knowledge of agriculture, but was naturally
+desirous of receiving the highest rental. Up to that time it had been
+occupied by a farmer at thirty shillings per acre, which was thought the
+full value. He did not particularly want it, as it lay separated from the
+farm proper, and gave it up with the greatest alacrity when asked to do so
+in favour of a new tenant. This man turned out to be a villager--a
+blustering, ignorant fellow--who had, however, saved a small sum by
+hauling, which had been increased by the receipt of a little legacy. He
+was confident that he could show the farmers how to do it--he had worked
+at plough, had reaped, and tended cattle, and had horses of his own, and
+was quite sure that farming was a profitable business, and that the
+tenants had their land dirt cheap. He 'knowed' all about it.
+
+He offered three pounds an acre for the piece at once, which was accepted,
+notwithstanding a warning conveyed to the owner that his new tenant had
+scarcely sufficient money to pay a year's rent at that rate. But so rapid
+a rise in the value of his land quite dazzled the proprietor, and the
+labourer--for he was really nothing better, though fortunate enough to
+have a little money--entered on his farm. When this was known, it was
+triumphantly remarked that if a man could actually pay double the former
+rent, what an enormous profit the tenant-farmers must have been making!
+Yet they wanted to reduce the poor man's wages. On the other hand, there
+were not wanting hints that the man's secret idea was to exhaust the land
+and then leave it. But this was not the case--he was honestly in earnest,
+only he had got an exaggerated notion of the profits of farming. It is
+scarcely necessary to say that the rent for the third half year was not
+forthcoming, and the poor fellow lost his all. The land then went begging
+at the old price, for it had become so dirty--full of weeds from want of
+proper cleaning--that it was some time before any one would take it.
+
+In a third case the attempt of a labouring man to live upon a small plot
+of land was successful--at least for some time. But it happened in this
+way. The land he occupied, about six acres, was situated on the outskirts
+of a populous town. It was moderately rented and of fairly good quality.
+His method of procedure was to cultivate a small portion--as much as he
+could conveniently manage without having to pay too much for
+assistance--as a market garden. Being close to his customers, and with a
+steady demand at good prices all the season, this paid very well indeed.
+The remainder was ploughed and cropped precisely the same as the fields of
+larger farms. For these crops he could always get a decent price. The
+wealthy owners of the villas scattered about, some keeping as many horses
+as a gentleman with a country seat, were glad to obtain fresh fodder for
+their stables, and often bought the crops standing, which to him was
+especially profitable, because he could not well afford the cost of the
+labour he must employ to harvest them.
+
+In addition, he kept several pigs, which were also profitable, because the
+larger part of their food cost him nothing but the trouble of fetching it.
+The occupants of the houses in the town were glad to get rid of the refuse
+vegetables, &c.; of these he had a constant supply. The pigs, too, helped
+him with manure. Next he emptied ash-pits in the town, and sifted the
+cinders; the better part went on his own fire, the other on his land. As
+he understood gardening, he undertook the care of several small gardens,
+which brought in a little money. All the rubbish, leaves, trimmings, &c.,
+which he swept from the gardens he burnt, and spread the ashes abroad to
+fertilise his miniature farm.
+
+In spring he beat carpets, and so made more shillings; he had also a small
+shed, or workshop, and did rough carpentering. His horse did his own work,
+and occasionally that of others; so that in half a dozen different ways he
+made money independent of the produce of his land. That produce, too, paid
+well, because of the adjacent town, and he was able to engage assistance
+now and then. Yet, even with all these things, it was hard work, and
+required economical management to eke it out. Still it was done, and under
+the same conditions doubtless might be done by others. But then everything
+lies in those conditions. The town at hand, the knowledge of gardening,
+carpentering, and so on, made just all the difference.
+
+If the land were subdivided in the manner the labourer is instructed would
+be so advantageous, comparatively few of the plots would be near towns.
+Some of the new 'farmers' would find themselves in the centre of Salisbury
+Plain, with the stern trilithons of Stonehenge looking down upon their
+efforts. The occupier of a plot of four acres in such a position--many
+miles from the nearest town--would experience a hard lot indeed if he
+attempted to live by it. If he grew vegetables for sale, the cost of
+carriage would diminish their value; if for food, he could scarcely
+subsist upon cabbage and onions all the year round. To thoroughly work
+four acres would occupy his whole time, nor would the farmers care for the
+assistance of a man who could only come now and then in an irregular
+manner. There would be no villa gardens to attend to, no ash-pits to
+empty, no tubs of refuse for the pig, no carpets to beat, no one who
+wanted rough carpentering done. He could not pay any one to assist him in
+the cultivation of the plot.
+
+And then, how about his clothes, boots and shoes, and so forth? Suppose
+him with a family, where would their boots and shoes come from? Without
+any wages--that is, hard cash received weekly--it would be next to
+impossible to purchase these things. A man could hardly be condemned to a
+more miserable existence. In the case of the tenant of a few acres who
+made a fair living near a large town, it must be remembered that he
+understood two trades, gardening and carpentering, and found constant
+employment at these, which in all probability would indeed have maintained
+him without any land at all. But it is not every man who possesses
+technical knowledge of this kind, or who can turn his hand to several
+things. Imagine a town surrounded by two or three thousand such small
+occupiers, let them be never so clever; where would the extra employment
+come from; where would be the ashpits to empty? Where one could do well, a
+dozen could do nothing. If the argument be carried still further, and we
+imagine the whole country so cut up and settled, the difficulty only
+increases, because every man living (or starving) on his own plot would be
+totally unable to pay another to help him, or to get employment himself.
+No better method could be contrived to cause a fall in the value of
+labour.
+
+The examples of France and China are continually quoted in support of
+subdivision. In the case of France, let us ask whether any of our stalwart
+labourers would for a single week consent to live as the French peasant
+does? Would they forego their white, wheaten bread, and eat rye bread in
+its place? Would they take kindly to bread which contained a large
+proportion of meal ground from the edible chestnut? Would they feel merry
+over vegetable soups? Verily the nature of the man must change first; and
+we have read something about the leopard and his spots. You cannot raise
+beef and mutton upon four acres and feed yourself at the same time; if you
+raise bacon you must sell it in order to buy clothes.
+
+The French peasant saves by stinting, and puts aside a franc by pinching
+both belly and back. He works extremely hard, and for long hours. Our
+labourers can work as hard as he, but it must be in a different way; they
+must have plenty to eat and drink, and they do not understand little
+economies.
+
+China, we are told, however, supports the largest population in the world
+in this manner. Not a particle is wasted, not a square foot of land but
+bears something edible. The sewage of towns is utilised, and causes crops
+to spring forth; every scrap of refuse manures a garden. The Chinese have
+attained that ideal agriculture which puts the greatest amount into the
+soil, takes the greatest amount out of it, and absolutely wastes nothing.
+The picture is certainly charming.
+
+There are, however, a few considerations on the other side. The question
+arises whether our labourers would enjoy a plump rat for supper? The
+question also arises why the Six Companies are engaged in transhipping
+Chinese labour from China to America? In California the Chinese work at a
+rate of wages absolutely impossible to the white man--hence the Chinese
+difficulty there. In Queensland a similar thing is going on. Crowds of
+Chinese enter, or have entered, the country eager for work. If the
+agriculture of China is so perfect; if the sewage is utilised; if every
+man has his plot; if the population cannot possibly become too great, why
+on earth are the Chinese labourers so anxious to get to America or
+Australia, and to take the white man's wages? And is that system of
+agriculture so perfect? It is not long since the Chinese Ambassador
+formally conveyed the thanks of his countrymen for the generous assistance
+forwarded from England during the late fearful famine in China. The
+starvation of multitudes of wretched human beings is a ghastly comment
+upon this ideal agriculture. The Chinese yellow spectre has even
+threatened England; hints have been heard of importing Chinese into this
+country to take that silver and gold which our own men disdained. Those
+who desire to destroy our land system should look round them for a more
+palatable illustration than is afforded by the great Chinese problem.
+
+The truth in the matter seems to be this. A labourer does very well with a
+garden; he can do very well, too, if he has an allotment in addition,
+provided it be not too far from home. Up to a quarter of an acre--in some
+cases half an acre--it answers, because he can cultivate it at odd times,
+and so receive his weekly wages without interruption. But when the plot
+exceeds what he can cultivate in this way--when he has to give whole weeks
+to it--then, of course, he forfeits the cash every Saturday night, and
+soon begins to lose ground. The original garden of moderate size yielded
+very highly in proportion to its extent, because of the amount of labour
+expended on it, and because it was well manured. But three or four acres,
+to yield in like degree, require an amount of manure which it is quite out
+of a labourer's power to purchase; and he cannot keep live stock to
+produce it. Neither can he pay men to work for him consequently, instead
+of being more highly cultivated than the large farms, such plots would not
+be kept so clean and free from weeds, or be so well manured and deeply
+ploughed as the fields of the regular agriculturist.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+
+LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES. THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+
+The altered tone of the labouring population has caused the position of
+the landlord, especially if resident, to be one of considerable
+difficulty. Something like diplomatic tact is necessary in dealing with
+the social and political problems which now press themselves upon the
+country gentleman. Forces are at work which are constantly endeavouring to
+upset the village equilibrium, and it is quite in vain to ignore their
+existence. However honestly he may desire peace and goodwill to reign, it
+is impossible for a man to escape the influence of his own wealth and
+property. These compel him to be a sort of centre around which everything
+revolves. His duties extend far beyond the set, formal lines--the easy
+groove of old times--and are concerned with matters which were once
+thought the exclusive domain of the statesman or the philosopher.
+
+The growth of a public opinion among the rural population is a great fact
+which cannot be overlooked. Some analogy may be traced between the awaking
+of a large class, hitherto almost silent, and the strange new developments
+which occur in the freshly-settled territories of the United States.
+There, all kinds of social experiments are pushed to the extreme
+characteristic of American energy. A Salt Lake City and civilised
+polygamy, and a variety of small communities endeavouring to work out new
+theories of property and government, attest a frame of mind escaped from
+the control of tradition, and groping its way to the future. Nothing so
+extravagant, of course, distinguishes the movement among the agricultural
+labourers of this country. There have been strikes; indignation meetings
+held expressly for the purpose of exciting public opinion; an attempt to
+experimentalise by a kind of joint-stock farming, labourers holding
+shares; and a preaching of doctrines which savour much of Communism. There
+have been marches to London, and annual gatherings on hill tops. These are
+all within the pale of law, and outrage no social customs. But they
+proclaim a state of mind restless and unsatisfied, striving for something
+new, and not exactly knowing what.
+
+Without a vote for the most part, without an all-embracing
+organisation--for the Union is somewhat limited in extent--with few
+newspapers expressing their views, with still fewer champions in the upper
+ranks, the agricultural labourers have become in a sense a power in the
+land. It is a power that is felt rather individually than collectively--it
+affects isolated places, but these in the aggregate reach importance. This
+power presses on the landlord--the resident country gentleman--upon one
+side; upon the other, the dissatisfied tenant-farmers present a rugged
+front.
+
+As a body the tenant-farmers are loyal to their landlords--in some cases
+enthusiastically loyal. It cannot, however, be denied that this is not
+universal. There are men who, though unable to put forth a substantial
+grievance, are ceaselessly agitating. The landlord, in view of
+unfavourable seasons, remits a percentage of rent. He relaxes certain
+clauses in leases, he reduces the ground game, he shows a disposition
+to meet reasonable, and even unreasonable, demands. It is useless.
+There exists a class of tenant-farmers who are not to be satisfied
+with the removal of grievances in detail. They are animated by a
+principle--something far beyond such trifles. Unconsciously, no doubt,
+in many cases that principle approximates very nearly to the doctrine
+proclaimed in so many words by the communistic circles of cities. It
+amounts to a total abolition of the present system of land tenure. The
+dissatisfied tenant does not go so far as minute subdivisions of land
+into plots of a few acres. He pauses at the moderate and middle way which
+would make the tenant of three or four hundred acres the owner of the soil.
+In short, he would step into the landlord's place.
+
+Of course, many do not go so far as this; still there is a class of
+farmers who are for ever writing to the papers, making speeches,
+protesting, and so on, till the landlord feels that, do what he may, he
+will be severely criticised. Even if personally insulted he must betray no
+irritation, or desire to part with the tenant, lest he be accused of
+stifling opinion. Probably no man in England is so systematically
+browbeaten all round as the country gentleman. Here are two main
+divisions--one on each side--ever pressing upon him, and, besides these,
+there are other forces at work. A village, in fact, at the present day, is
+often a perfect battle-ground of struggling parties.
+
+When the smouldering labour difficulty comes to a point in any particular
+district the representatives of the labourers lose no time in illustrating
+the cottager's case by contrast with the landlord's position. He owns so
+many thousand acres, producing an income of so many thousand pounds.
+Hodge, who has just received notice of a reduction of a shilling per week,
+survives on bacon and cabbage. Most mansions have a small home farm
+attached, where, of course, some few men are employed in the direct
+service of the landlord. This home farm becomes the bone of contention.
+Here, they say, is a man with many thousands a year, who, in the midst of
+bitter wintry weather, has struck a shilling a week off the wages of his
+poor labourers. But the fact is that the landlord's representative--his
+steward--has been forced to this step by the action and opinion of the
+tenant-farmers.
+
+The argument is very cogent and clear. They say, 'We pay a rent which is
+almost as much as the land will bear; we suffer by foreign competition,
+bad seasons and so on, the market is falling, and we are compelled to
+reduce our labour expenditure. But then our workmen say that at the home
+farm the wages paid are a shilling or two higher, and therefore they will
+not accept a reduction. Now you must reduce your wages or your tenants
+must suffer.' It is like a tradesman with a large independent income
+giving his workmen high wages out of that independent income, whilst other
+tradesmen, who have only their business to rely on, are compelled by this
+example to pay more than they can afford. This is obviously an unjust and
+even cruel thing. Consequently though a landlord may possess an income of
+many thousands, he cannot, without downright injustice to his tenants, pay
+his immediate _employés_ more than those tenants find it possible to pay.
+
+Such is the simple explanation of what has been described as a piece of
+terrible tyranny. The very reduction of rent made by the landlord to the
+tenant is seized as a proof by the labourer that the farmer, having less
+now to pay, can afford to give him more money. Thus the last move of the
+labour party has been to urge the tenant-farmer to endeavour to become his
+own landlord. On the one hand, certain dissatisfied tenants have made use
+of the labour agitation to bring pressure upon the landlord to reduce
+rent, and grant this and that privilege. They have done their best, and in
+great part succeeded, in getting up a cry that rent must come down, that
+the landlord's position must be altered, and so forth. On the other hand,
+the labour party try to use the dissatisfied tenant as a fulcrum by means
+of which to bring their lever to bear upon the landlord. Both together, by
+every possible method, endeavour to enlist popular sympathy against him.
+
+There exists a party in cities who are animated by the most extraordinary
+rancour against landlords without exception--good, bad, and
+indifferent--just because they are landlords. This party welcomes the
+agitating labourer and the discontented tenant with open arms, and the
+chorus swells still louder. Now the landlords, as a body, are quite aware
+of the difficulties under which farming has been conducted of late, and
+exhibit a decided inclination to meet and assist the tenant. But it by no
+means suits the agitator to admit this; he would of the two rather the
+landlord showed an impracticable disposition, in order that there might be
+grounds for violent declamation.
+
+Fortunately there is a solid substratum of tenants whose sound common
+sense prevents them from listening to the rather enchanting cry, 'Every
+man his own landlord.' They may desire and obtain a reduction of rent, but
+they treat it as a purely business transaction, and there lies all the
+difference. They do not make the shilling an acre less the groundwork of a
+revolution; because ten per cent, is remitted at the audit they do not cry
+for confiscation. But it is characteristic of common sense to remain
+silent, as it is of extravagance to make a noise. Thus the opinion of the
+majority of tenants is not heard; but the restless minority write and
+speak; the agitating labourer, through his agent, writes and speaks, and
+the anti-landlord party in cities write and speak. A pleasant position for
+the landlord this! Anxious to meet reasonable wishes he is confronted with
+unreasonable demands, and abused all round.
+
+Besides the labour difficulty, which has been so blazed abroad as to
+obscure the rest, there are really many other questions agitating the
+village. The school erected under the Education Act, whilst it is doing
+good work, is at the same time in many cases a scene of conflict. The
+landlord can hardly remain aloof, try how he will, because his larger
+tenants are so closely interested. He has probably given the land and
+subscribed heavily--a school board has been avoided; but, of course, there
+is a committee of management, which is composed of members of every party
+and religious denomination. That is fair enough, and the actual work
+accomplished is really very good. But, if outwardly peace, it is inwardly
+contention. First, the agitating labourer is strongly of opinion that,
+besides giving the land and subscribing, and paying a large voluntary
+rate, the landlord ought to defray the annual expenses and save him the
+weekly pence. The sectarian bodies, though neutralised by their own
+divisions, are ill-affected behind their mask, and would throw it off if
+they got the opportunity. The one thing, and the one thing only, that
+keeps them quiet is the question of expense. Suppose by a united
+effort--and probably on a poll of the parish the chapel-goers in mere
+numbers would exceed the church people--they shake off the landlord and
+his party, and proceed to a school board as provided by the Act? Well,
+then they must find the annual expenses, and these must be raised by a
+rate.
+
+Now at present the cottager loudly grumbles because he is asked to
+contribute a few coppers; but suppose he were called upon to pay a heavy
+rate? Possibly he might in such a case turn round against his present
+leaders, and throw them overboard in disgust. Seeing this possibility all
+too clearly, the sectarian bodies remain quiescent. They have no real
+grievance, because their prejudices are carefully respected; but it is not
+the nature of men to prefer being governed, even to their good, to
+governing. Consequently, though no battle royal takes place, it is a
+mistake to suppose that because 'education' is now tolerably quiet there
+is universal satisfaction. Just the reverse is true, and under the surface
+there is a constant undermining process proceeding. Without any downright
+collision there is a distinct division into opposing ranks.
+
+Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of the
+gradual--in some cases the rapid--filling up of the village churchyards.
+It is melancholy to think that so solemn a subject should threaten to
+become a ground for bitter controversy; but that much animosity of feeling
+has already appeared is well known. Already many village graveyards are
+overcrowded, and it is becoming difficult to arrange for the future. From
+a practical point of view there is really but little difficulty, because
+the landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the necessary
+ground. The contention arises in another form, which it would be out of
+place to enter upon here. It will be sufficient to recall the fact that
+such a question is approaching.
+
+Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day. The prevention of
+overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the supply of
+water--these and similar matters press upon the attention of the
+authorities. Out of consideration for the pockets of the ratepayers--many
+of whom are of the poorest class--these things are perhaps rather shelved
+than pushed forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether. Every
+now and then something has to be done. Whatever takes place, of course the
+landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share of the
+burden. If the rates increase, on the one hand, the labourers complain
+that their wages are not sufficient to pay them; and, on the other, the
+tenants state that the pressure on the agriculturist is already as much as
+he can sustain. The labourer expects the landlord to relieve him; the
+tenant grumbles if he also is not relieved. Outside and beyond the
+landlord's power as the owner of the soil, as magistrate and _ex-officio_
+guardian, and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal--a
+family--influence, which at once gives him a leading position, and causes
+everything to be expected of him. He must arbitrate here, persuade there,
+compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and subscribe all round.
+
+This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very different
+matter. No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance parties, and
+preserve at least an outward peace in the parish. He has to note the
+variations of public opinion, and avoid giving offence. In his official
+capacity as magistrate the same difficulty arises. One of the most
+delicate tasks that the magistracy have had set them of recent years has
+been arbitrating between tenant and man--between, in effect, capital and
+labour. That is not, of course, the legal, but it is the true, definition.
+It is a most invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous
+justice with which the law has been administered that a watchful and
+jealous--a bitterly inimical party--ever ready, above all things, to
+attempt a sensation--have not been able to detect a magistrate giving a
+partial decision.
+
+In cases which involve a question of wages or non-fulfilment of contract
+it has often happened that a purely personal element has been introduced.
+The labourer asserts that he has been unfairly treated, that implied
+promises have been broken, perquisites withheld, and abuse lavished upon
+him. On the opposite side, the master alleges that he has been made a
+convenience--the man staying with him in winter, when his services were of
+little use, and leaving in summer; that his neglect has caused injury to
+accrue to cattle; that he has used bad language. Here is a conflict of
+class against class--feeling against feeling. The point in dispute has, of
+course, to be decided by evidence, but whichever way evidence leads the
+magistrates to pronounce their verdict, it is distasteful. If the labourer
+is victorious, he and his friends 'crow' over the farmers; and the farmer
+himself grumbles that the landlords are afraid of the men, and will never
+pronounce against them. If the reverse, the labourers cry out upon the
+partiality of the magistrates, who favour each other's tenants. In both
+cases the decision has been given according to law. But the knowledge that
+this kind of feeling exists--that he is in reality arbitrating between
+capital and labour--renders the resident landlord doubly careful what
+steps he takes at home in his private capacity. He hardly knows which way
+to turn when a question crops up, desiring, above all things, to preserve
+peace.
+
+It has been said that of late there has come into existence in the
+political world 'a power behind Parliament.' Somewhat in the same sense it
+may be said that the labourer has become a power behind the apparent
+authorities of the rural community. Whether directly, or through the
+discontented tenant, or by aid of the circles in cities who hold advanced
+views, the labourer brings a pressure to bear upon almost every aspect of
+country life. That pressure is not sufficient to break in pieces the
+existing order of things; but it is sufficient to cause an unpleasant
+tension. Should it increase, much of the peculiar attraction of country
+life will be destroyed. Even hunting, which it would have been thought
+every individual son of the soil would stand up for, is not allowed to
+continue unchallenged. Displays of a most disagreeable spirit must be
+fresh in the memories of all; and such instances have shown a disposition
+to multiply. Besides the more public difficulties, there are also social
+ones which beset the landowner. It is true that all of these do not
+originate with the labourer, or even concern him, but he it dragged into
+them to suit the convenience of others. 'Coquetting with a vote' is an art
+tolerably well understood in these days; the labourer has not got a
+nominal vote, yet he is the 'power behind,' and may be utilised.
+
+There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be ignored,
+and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy. This energy is
+exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon ecclesiastical
+questions, and concerns an inquiry into the position, of the labourer,
+because for the most part it is directed towards practical objects. It
+shows itself in matters that have no direct bearing upon the Church, but
+are connected with the everyday life of the people. It finds work to do
+outside the precincts of the Church--beyond the walls of the building.
+This work is of a nature that continually increases, and as it extends
+becomes more laborious.
+
+The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and repose.
+Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant shade, and in winter
+the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the noisy winds. Upon the one
+side the green meadows go down to the brook, upon the other the cornfields
+stretch away to the hills. Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside
+the hedge, where the wild flowers bloom--flowers to be lovingly studied,
+food for many a day-dream. The village is out of sight in the hollow--all
+is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark that drops from the sky.
+The house is old, very old; the tiles dull coloured, the walls grey, the
+calm dignity of age clings to it.
+
+A place surely this for reverie--the abode of thought. But the man within
+is busy--full of action. The edge of the great questions of the day has
+reached the village, and he must be up and doing. He does not, indeed,
+lift the latch of the cottage or the farmhouse door indiscreetly--not
+unless aware that his presence will not be resented. He is anxious to
+avoid irritating individual susceptibilities. But wherever people are
+gathered together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may
+go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand makes
+it felt that he is there. He does not remain a passive spectator in the
+background, but comes as prominently to the front as is compatible with
+due courtesy.
+
+When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town, and the
+farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber, he appears in
+the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from the chair. If the
+discussion be purely technical he says nothing; if it touch, as it
+frequently does, upon social topics, such as those that arise out of
+education, of the labour question, of the position of the farmer apart
+from the mere ploughing and sowing, then he delivers his opinion. When the
+local agricultural exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held
+he sits at the social board, and presently makes his speech. The village
+benefit club holds its fête--he is there too, perhaps presiding at the
+dinner, and addresses the assembled men. He takes part in the organisation
+of the cottage flower show; exerts himself earnestly about the allotments
+and the winter coal club, and endeavours to provide the younger people
+with amusements that do not lead to evil--supporting cricket and such
+games as may be played apart from gambling and liquor.
+
+This is but the barest catalogue of his work; there is nothing that
+arises, no part of the life of the village and the country side, to which
+he does not set his hand. All this is apart from abstract theology.
+Religion, of course, is in his heart; but he does not carry a list of
+dogmas in his hand, rather keeping his own peculiar office in the
+background, knowing that many of those with whom he mingles are members of
+various sects. He is simply preaching the practical Christianity of
+brotherhood and goodwill. It is a work that can never be finished, and
+that is ever extending. His leading idea is not to check the inevitable
+motion of the age, but to lone it.
+
+He is not permitted to pursue this course unmolested; there are parties in
+the village that silently oppose his every footstep. If the battle were
+open it would be easier to win it, but it is concealed. The Church is not
+often denounced from the housetop, but it is certainly denounced under the
+roof. The poor and ignorant are instructed that the Church is their
+greatest enemy, the upholder of tyranny, the instrument of their
+subjection, synonymous with lowered wages and privation, more iniquitous
+than the landowner. The clergyman is a Protestant Jesuit--a man of deepest
+guile. The coal club, the cricket, the flower show, the allotments, the
+village _fête_, everything in which he has a hand is simply an effort to
+win the good will of the populace, to keep them quiet, lest they arise and
+overthrow the property of the Church. The poor man has but a few shillings
+a week, and the clergyman is the friend of the farmer, who reduces his
+wages--the Church owns millions and millions sterling. How self-evident,
+therefore, that the Church is the cottager's enemy!
+
+See, too, how he is beautifying that church, restoring it, making it light
+and pleasant to those who resort to it; see how he causes sweeter music
+and singing, and puts new life into the service. This a lesson learnt from
+the City of the Seven Hills--this is the mark of the Beast. But the
+ultimate aim may be traced to the same base motive--the preservation of
+that enormous property.
+
+Another party is for pure secularism. This is not so numerously
+represented, but has increased of recent years. From political motives
+both of these silently oppose him. Nor are the poor and ignorant alone
+among the ranks of his foes. There are some tenant-farmers among them, but
+their attitude is not so coarsely antagonistic. They take no action
+against, but they do not assist, him. So that, although, as he goes about
+the parish, he is not greeted with hisses, the clergyman is full well
+aware that his activity is a thorn in the side of many. They once
+reproached him with a too prolonged reverie in the seclusion of the
+parsonage; now they would gladly thrust him back again.
+
+It may be urged, too, that all his efforts have not produced much visible
+effect. The pews are no more crowded than formerly; in some cases the
+absence of visible effect is said to be extremely disheartening. But the
+fact is that it is yet early to expect much; neither must it be expected
+in that direction. It is almost the first principle of science that
+reaction is equal to action; it may be safely assumed, then, that after
+awhile these labours will bear fruit. The tone of the rising generation
+must perforce be softened and modified by them.
+
+There exists at the present day a class that is morally apathetic. In
+every village, in every hamlet, every detached group of cottages, there
+are numbers of labouring men who are simply indifferent to church and to
+chapel alike. They neither deny nor affirm the primary truths taught in
+all places of worship; they are simply indifferent. Sunday comes and sees
+them lounging about the cottage door. They do not drink to excess, they
+are not more given to swearing than others, they are equally honest, and
+are not of ill-repute. But the moral sense seems extinct--the very idea of
+anything beyond gross earthly advantages never occurs to them. The days go
+past, the wages are paid, the food is eaten, and there is all.
+
+Looking at it from the purely philosophic point of view there is something
+sad in this dull apathy. The most pronounced materialist has a faith in
+some form of beauty--matter itself is capable of ideal shapes in his
+conception. These people know no ideal. It seems impossible to reach them,
+because there is no chord that will respond to the most skilful touch.
+This class is very numerous now--a disheartening fact. Yet perhaps the
+activity and energy of the clergyman may be ultimately destined to find
+its reaction, to produce its effect among these very people. They may
+slowly learn to appreciate tangible, practical work, though utterly
+insensible to direct moral teaching and the finest eloquence of the
+pulpit. Finding by degrees that he is really endeavouring to improve their
+material existence, they may in time awake to a sense of something higher.
+
+What is wanted is a perception of the truth that progress and civilisation
+ought not to end with mere material--mechanical--comfort or wealth. A
+cottager ought to learn that when the highest wages of the best paid
+artisan are readied it is _not_ the greatest privilege of the man to throw
+mutton chops to dogs and make piles of empty champagne bottles. It might
+almost be said that one cause of the former extravagance and the recent
+distress and turbulence of the working classes is the absence of an ideal
+from their minds.
+
+Besides this moral apathy, the cottager too often assumes an attitude
+distinctly antagonistic to every species of authority, and particularly to
+that _prestige_ hitherto attached to property. Each man is a law to
+himself, and does that which seems good in his own eyes. He does not pause
+to ask himself, What will my neighbour think of this? He simply thinks of
+no one but himself, takes counsel of no one, and cares not what the result
+may be. It is the same in little things as great. Respect for authority is
+extinct. The modern progressive cottager is perfectly certain that he
+knows as much as his immediate employer, the squire, and the parson put
+together with the experience of the world at their back. He is now the
+judge--the infallible authority himself. He is wiser far than all the
+learned and the thoughtful, wiser than the prophets themselves. Priest,
+politician, and philosopher must bow their heads and listen to the dictum
+of the ploughman.
+
+This feeling shows itself most strikingly in the disregard of property.
+There used to be a certain tacit agreement among all men that those who
+possessed capital, rank, or reputation should be treated with courtesy.
+That courtesy did not imply that the landowner, the capitalist, or the
+minister of religion, was necessarily in himself superior. But it did
+imply that those who administered property really represented the general
+order in which all were interested. So in a court of justice, all who
+enter remove their hats, not out of servile adulation of the person in
+authority, but from respect for the majesty of the law, which it is every
+individual's interest to uphold. But now, metaphorically speaking, the
+labourer removes his hat for no man. Whether in the case of a manufacturer
+or of a tenant of a thousand-acre farm the thing is the same. The cottager
+can scarcely nod his employer a common greeting in the morning. Courtesy
+is no longer practised. The idea in the man's mind appears to be to
+express contempt for big employer's property. It is an unpleasant symptom.
+
+At present it is not, however, an active, but a passive force; a moral
+_vis inertiae_. Here again the clergyman meets with a cold rebuff. No
+eloquence, persuasion, personal influence even, can produce more than a
+passing impression. But here again, perhaps, his practical activity may
+bring about its reaction. In time the cottager will be compelled to admit
+that, at least, coal club, benefit society, cricket, allotment, &c., have
+done him no harm. In time he may even see that property and authority are
+not always entirely selfish--that they may do good, and be worthy, at all
+events, of courteous acknowledgment.
+
+These two characteristics, moral apathy and contempt of property--i.e., of
+social order--are probably exercising considerable influence in shaping
+the labourer's future. Free of mental restraint, his own will must work
+its way for good or evil. It is true that the rise or fall of wages may
+check or hasten the development of that future. In either case it is not,
+however, probable that he will return to the old grooves; indeed, the
+grooves themselves are gone, and the logic of events must force him to
+move onwards. That motion, in its turn, must affect the rest of the
+community. Let the mind's eye glance for a moment over the country at
+large. The villages among the hills, the villages on the plains, in the
+valleys, and beside the streams represent in the aggregate an enormous
+power. Separately such hamlets seem small and feeble--unable to impress
+their will upon the world. But together they contain a vast crowd, which,
+united, may shoulder itself an irresistible course, pushing aside all
+obstacles by mere physical weight.
+
+The effect of education has been, and seems likely to be, to supply a
+certain unity of thought, if not of action, among these people. The solid
+common sense--the law-abiding character of the majority--is sufficient
+security against any violent movement. But how important it becomes that
+that common sense should be strengthened against the assaults of an
+insidious Socialism! A man's education does not come to an end when he
+leaves school. He then just begins to form his opinions, and in nine cases
+out of ten thinks what he hears and what he reads. Here, in the
+agricultural labourer class, are many hundred thousand young men exactly
+in this stage, educating themselves in moral, social, and political
+opinion.
+
+In short, the future literature of the labourer becomes a serious
+question. He will think what he reads; and what he reads at the present
+moment is of anything but an elevating character. He will think, too, what
+he hears; and he hears much of an enticing but subversive political creed,
+and little of any other. There are busy tongues earnestly teaching him to
+despise property and social order, to suggest the overthrow of existing
+institutions; there is scarcely any one to instruct him in the true lesson
+of history. Who calls together an audience of agricultural labourers to
+explain to and interest them in the story of their own country? There are
+many who are only too anxious to use the agricultural labourer as the
+means to effect ends which he scarcely understands. But there are few,
+indeed, who are anxious to instruct him in science or literature for his
+own sake.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+
+A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+
+The aspect of a corn-growing district in the colder months is perhaps more
+dreary than that of any other country scene. It is winter made visible.
+The very houses at the edge of the village stand out harsh and angular,
+especially if modern and slated, for the old thatched cottages are not
+without a curve in the line of the eaves. No trees or bushes shelter them
+from the bitter wind that rushes across the plain, and, because of the
+absence of trees round the outskirts, the village may be seen from a great
+distance.
+
+The wayfarer, as he approaches along the interminable road, that now rises
+over a hill and now descends into a valley, observes it from afar, his
+view uninterrupted by wood, but the vastness of the plain seems to shorten
+his step, so that he barely gains on the receding roofs. The hedges by the
+road are cropped--cut down mercilessly--and do not afford the slightest
+protection against wind, or rain, or sleet. If he would pause awhile to
+rest his weary limbs no friendly bush keeps off the chilling blast.
+Yonder, half a mile in front, a waggon creeps up the hill, always just so
+much ahead, never overtaken, or seeming to alter its position, whether he
+walks slow or fast. The only apparent inhabitants of the solitude are the
+larks that every now and then cross the road in small flocks. Above, the
+sky is dull and gloomy; beneath, the earth, except, where some snow
+lingers, is of a still darker tint. On the northern side the low mounds
+are white with snow here and there. Mile after mile the open level fields
+extend on either hand; now brown from the late passage of the plough, now
+a pale yellow where the short stubble yet remains, divided by black lines;
+the low-cropped hedges bare of leaves. A few small fir copses are
+scattered about, the only relief to the eye; all else is level, dull,
+monotonous.
+
+When the village is reached at last, it is found to be of considerable
+size. The population is much greater than might have been anticipated from
+the desert-like solitude surrounding the place. In actual numbers, of
+course, it will not bear comparison with manufacturing districts, but for
+its situation, it is quite a little town. Compared with the villages
+situate in the midst of great pastures--where grass is the all-important
+crop--it is really populous. Almost all the inhabitants find employment in
+the fields around, helping to produce wheat and barley, oats and roots. It
+is a little city of the staff of life--a metropolis of the plough.
+
+Every single house, from that of the landowner, through the rent; that of
+the clergyman, through the tithe--down to the humblest cottage, is
+directly interested in the crop of corn. The very children playing about
+the gaps in the hedges are interested in it, for can they not go gleaning?
+If the heralds had given the place a coat of arms it should bear a sheaf
+of wheat. And the reason of its comparative populousness is to be found in
+the wheat also. For the stubborn earth will not yield its riches without
+severe and sustained labour. Instead of tickling it with a hoe, and
+watching the golden harvest leap forth, scarifier and plough, harrow and
+drill in almost ceaseless succession, compel the clods by sheer force of
+iron to deliver up their treasure. In another form it is almost like the
+quartz-crushing at the gold mines--the ore ground out from the solid rock.
+And here, in addition, the ore has to be put into the rock first in the
+shape of manure.
+
+All this labour requires hands to do it, and so--the supply for some time,
+at all events, answering the demand--the village teemed with men. In the
+autumn comes the ploughing, the couch-picking and burning, often second
+ploughing, the sowing by drill or hand, the threshing, &c. In the spring
+will come more ploughing, sowing, harrowing, hoeing. Modern agriculture
+has increased the labour done in the fields. Crops are arranged to succeed
+crops, and each of these necessitates labour, and labour a second and a
+third time. The work on arable land is never finished. A slackness there
+is in the dead of winter; but even then there is still something
+doing--some draining, some trimming of hedges, carting manure for open
+field work. But beyond this there are the sheep in the pens to be attended
+to as the important time of lambing approaches, and there are the horned
+cattle in the stalls still fattening, and leaving, as they reach maturity,
+for the butcher.
+
+The arable agriculturist, indeed, has a double weight upon his mind. He
+has money invested in the soil itself, seed lying awaiting the genial warm
+rain that shall cause it to germinate, capital in every furrow traced by
+the plough. He has money, on the other hand, in his stock, sheep, and
+cattle. A double anxiety is his; first that his crops may prosper, next
+that his stock may flourish. He requires men to labour in the field, men
+to attend to the sheep, men to feed the bullocks; a crowd of labourers are
+supported by him, with their wives and families. In addition to these he
+needs other labour--the inanimate assistance of the steam-engine, and the
+semi-intelligent co-operation of the horse. These, again, must be directed
+by men. Thus it is that the corn village has become populous.
+
+The original idea was that the introduction of machinery would reduce all
+this labour. In point of fact, it has, if anything, increased it. The
+steam-plough will not work itself; each of the two engines requires two
+men to attend to it; one, and often two, ride on the plough itself;
+another goes with the water-cart to feed the boiler: others with the
+waggon for coal. The drill must have men--and experienced men--with it,
+besides horses to draw it, and these again want men The threshing-machine
+employs quite a little troop to feed it; and, turning to the stock in the
+stalls, roots will not pulp or slice themselves, nor will water pump
+itself up into the troughs, nor chaff cut itself. The chaff-cutter and
+pump, and so on, all depend on human hands to keep them going. Such is but
+a very brief outline of the innumerable ways in which arable agriculture
+gives employment. So the labourer and the labourer's family flourish
+exceedingly in the corn tillage. Wages rise; he waxes fat and strong and
+masterful, thinking that he holds the farmer and the golden grain in the
+hollow of his hand.
+
+But now a cloud arises and casts its shadow over the cottage. If the
+farmer depends upon his men, so do the men in equal degree depend upon the
+farmer. This they overlooked, but are now learning again. The farmer, too,
+is not independent and self-sustained, but is at the mercy of many
+masters. The weather and the seasons are one master; the foreign producer
+is another; the markets, which are further influenced by the condition of
+trade at large, form a third master. He is, indeed, very much more in the
+position of a servant than his labourer. Of late almost all these masters
+have combined against the corn-growing farmer. Wheat is not only low but
+seems likely to remain so. Foreign meat also competes with the dearly-made
+meat of the stalls. The markets are dull and trade depressed everywhere.
+Finally a fresh master starts up in the shape of the labourer himself, and
+demands higher wages.
+
+For some length of time the corn-grower puts a courageous face on the
+difficulties which beset him, and struggles on, hoping for better days.
+After awhile, however, seeing that his capital is diminishing, because he
+has been, as it were, eating it, seeing that there is no prospect of
+immediate relief, whatever may happen in the future, he is driven to one
+of two courses. He must quit the occupation or he must reduce his
+expenditure. He must not only ask the labourer to accept a reduction, but
+he must, wherever practicable, avoid employing labour at all.
+
+Now comes the pressure on the corn village. Much but not all of that
+pressure the inhabitants have brought upon themselves through endeavouring
+to squeeze the farmer too closely. If there had been no labour
+organisation whatever when the arable agriculturist began to suffer, as he
+undoubtedly has been suffering, the labourer must have felt it in his
+turn. He has himself to blame if he has made the pain more acute. He finds
+it in this way. Throughout the corn-producing district there has been
+proceeding a gradual shrinkage, as it were, of speculative investment.
+Where an agriculturist would have ploughed deeper, and placed extra
+quantities of manure in the soil, with a view to an extra crop, he has,
+instead, only just ploughed and cleaned and manured enough to keep things
+going. Where he would have enlarged his flock of sheep, or added to the
+cattle in the stalls, and carried as much stock as he possibly could, he
+has barely filled the stalls, and bought but just enough cake and foods.
+Just enough, indeed, of late has been his watchword all through--just
+enough labour and no more.
+
+This cutting down, stinting, and economy everywhere has told upon the
+population of the village. The difference in the expenditure upon a
+solitary farm may be but a trifle--a few pounds; but when some score or
+more farms are taken, in the aggregate the decrease in the cash
+transferred from the pocket of the agriculturist to that of the labourer
+becomes something considerable. The same percentage on a hundred farms
+would amount to a large sum. In this manner the fact of the corn-producing
+farmer being out of spirits with his profession reacts upon the corn
+village. There is no positive distress, but there is just a sense that
+there are more hands about than necessary. Yet at the same moment there
+are not hands enough; a paradox which may be explained in a measure by the
+introduction of machinery.
+
+As already stated, machinery in the field does not reduce the number of
+men employed. But they are employed in a different way. The work all comes
+now in rushes. By the aid of the reaping machine acres are levelled in a
+day, and the cut corn demands the services of a crowd of men and women all
+at once, to tie it up in sheaves. Should the self-binders come into
+general use, and tie the wheat with wire or string at the moment of
+cutting it, the matter of labour will be left much in the same stage. A
+crowd of workpeople will be required all at once to pick up the sheaves,
+or to cart them to the rick; and the difference will lie in this, that
+while now the crowd are employed, say twelve hours, then they will be
+employed only nine. Just the same number--perhaps more--but for less time.
+Under the old system, a dozen men worked all the winter through, hammering
+away with their flails in the barns. Now the threshing-machine arrives,
+and the ricks are threshed in a few days. As many men are wanted (and at
+double the wages) to feed the machine, to tend the 'elevator' carrying up
+the straw to make the straw rick, to fetch water and coal for the engine,
+to drive it, &c. But instead of working for so many months, this rush
+lasts as many days.
+
+Much the same thing happens all throughout arable agriculture--from the
+hoeing to the threshing--a troop are wanted one day, scarcely anybody the
+next. There is, of course, a steady undercurrent of continuous work for a
+certain fixed number of hands; but over and above this are the periodical
+calls for extra labour, which of recent years, from the high wages paid,
+have been so profitable to the labourers. But when the agriculturist draws
+in his investments, when he retrenches his expenditure, and endeavours, as
+far as practicable, to confine it to his regular men, then the
+intermittent character of the extra work puts a strain upon the rest. They
+do not find so much to do, the pay is insensibly decreasing, and they
+obtain, less casual employment meantime.
+
+In the olden times a succession of bad harvests caused sufferings
+throughout the whole of England. Somewhat in like manner, though in a
+greatly modified degree, the difficulties of the arable agriculturist at
+the present day press upon the corn villages. In a time when the
+inhabitants saw the farmers, as they believed, flourishing and even
+treading on the heels of the squire, the corn villagers, thinking that the
+farmer was absolutely dependent upon them, led the van of the agitation
+for high wages. Now, when the force of circumstances has compressed wages
+again, they are both to submit. But discovering by slow degrees that no
+organisation can compel, or create a demand for labour at any price, there
+are now signs on the one hand of acquiescence, and on the other of partial
+emigration.
+
+Thus the comparative density of the population in arable districts is at
+once a blessing and a trouble. It is not the 'pranks' of the farmers that
+have caused emigration, or threats of it. The farmer is unable to pay high
+wages, the men will not accept a moderate reduction, and the idle crowd,
+in effect, tread on each other's heels. Pressure of that kind, and to that
+extent, is limited to a few localities only. The majority have sufficient
+common sense to see their error. But it is in arable districts that
+agitation takes its extreme form. The very number of the population gives
+any movement a vigour and emphasis that is wanting where there may be as
+much discontent but fewer to exhibit it. That populousness has been in the
+past of the greatest assistance to the agriculturist, and there is no
+reason why it should not be so in the future, for it does not by any means
+follow that because agriculture is at present depressed it will always be
+so.
+
+Let the months roll by and then approach the same village along the same
+road under the summer sun. The hedges, though low, are green, and bear the
+beautiful flowers of the wild convolvulus. Trees that were scarcely
+observed before, because bare of leaves, now appear, and crowds of birds,
+finches and sparrows, fly up from the corn. The black swifts wheel
+overhead, and the white-breasted swallows float in the azure. Over the
+broad plain extends a still broader roof of the purest blue--the landscape
+is so open that the sky seems as broad again as in the enclosed
+countries--wide, limitless, very much as it does at sea. On the rising
+ground pause a moment and look round. Wheat and barley and oats stretch
+mile after mile on either hand. Here the red wheat tinges the view, there
+the whiter barley; but the prevailing hue is a light gold. Yonder green is
+the swede, or turnip, or mangold; but frequent as are the fields of roots,
+the golden tint overpowers the green. A golden sun looks down upon the
+golden wheat--the winds are still and the heat broods over the corn. It is
+pleasant to get under the scanty shadow of the stunted ash. Think what
+wealth all that glorious beauty represents. Wealth to the rich man, wealth
+to the poor.
+
+Come again in a few weeks' time and look down upon it. The swarthy reapers
+are at work. They bend to their labour till the tall corn overtops their
+heads. Every now and then they rise up, and stand breast high among the
+wheat. Every field is full of them, men and women, young lads and girls,
+busy as they may be. Yonder the reaping-machine, with its strange-looking
+arms revolving like the vast claws of an unearthly monster beating down
+the grain, goes rapidly round and round in an ever-narrowing circle till
+the last ears fall. A crowd has pounced upon the cut corn. Behind
+them--behind the reapers--everywhere abroad on the great plain rises an
+army, regiment behind regiment, the sheaves stacked in regular ranks down
+the fields. Yet a little while, and over that immense expanse not one
+single, solitary straw will be left standing. Then the green roots show
+more strongly, and tint the landscape. Next come the waggons, and after
+that the children searching for stray ears of wheat, for not one must be
+left behind. After that, in the ploughing time, while yet the sun shines
+warm, it is a sight to watch the teams from under the same ash tree,
+returning from their labour in the afternoon. Six horses here, eight
+horses there, twelve yonder, four far away; all in single file, slowly
+walking home, and needing no order or touch of whip to direct their steps
+to the well-known stables.
+
+If any wish to see the work of farming in its full flush and vigour, let
+them visit a corn district at the harvest time. Down in the village there
+scarcely any one is left at home; every man, woman, and child is out in
+the field. It is the day of prosperity, of continuous work for all, of
+high wages. It is, then, easy to understand why corn villages are
+populous. One cannot but feel the strongest sympathy with these men. The
+scene altogether seems so thoroughly, so intensely English. The spirit of
+it enters into the spectator, and he feels that he, too, must try his hand
+at the reaping, and then slake his thirst from the same cup with these
+bronzed sons of toil.
+
+Yet what a difficult problem lies underneath all this! While the reaper
+yonder slashes at the straw, huge ships are on the ocean rushing through
+the foam to bring grain to the great cities to whom--and to all--cheap
+bread is so inestimable a blessing. Very likely, when he pauses in his
+work, and takes his luncheon, the crust he eats is made of flour ground
+out of grain that grew in far distant Minnesota, or some vast Western
+State. Perhaps at the same moment the farmer himself sits at his desk and
+adds up figure after figure, calculating the cost of production, the
+expenditure on labour, the price of manure put into the soil, the capital
+invested in the steam-plough, and the cost of feeding the bullocks that
+are already intended for the next Christmas. Against these he places the
+market price of that wheat he can see being reaped from his window, and
+the price he receives for his fattened bullock. Then a vision rises before
+him of green meads and broad pastures slowly supplanting the corn; the
+plough put away, and the scythe brought out and sharpened. If so, where
+then will be the crowd of men and women yonder working in the wheat? Is
+not this a great problem, one to be pondered over and not hastily
+dismissed?
+
+Logical conclusions do not always come to pass in practice; even yet there
+is plenty of time for a change which shall retain these stalwart reapers
+amongst us, the strength and pride of the land. But if so, it is certain
+that it must be preceded by some earnest on their part of a desire to
+remove that last straw from the farmer's back--the last straw of
+extravagant labour demands--which have slowly been dragging him down. They
+have been doing their very best to bring about the substitution of grass
+for corn. And the farmer, too, perhaps, must look at home, and be content
+to live in simpler fashion. To do so will certainly require no little
+moral courage, for a prevalent social custom, like that of living fully up
+to the income (not solely characteristic of farmers), is with difficulty
+faced and overcome.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+
+GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+
+On the ground beside the bramble bushes that project into the field the
+grass is white with hoar frost at noon-day, when the rest of the meadow
+has resumed its dull green winter tint. Behind the copse, too, there is a
+broad belt of white--every place, indeed, that would be in the shadow were
+the sun to shine forth is of that colour.
+
+The eager hunter frowns with impatience, knowing that though the eaves of
+the house may drip in the middle of the day, yet, while those white
+patches show in the shelter of the bramble bushes the earth will be hard
+and unyielding. His horse may clear the hedge, but how about the landing
+on that iron-like surface? Every old hoof-mark in the sward, cut out sharp
+and clear as if with a steel die, is so firm that the heaviest roller
+would not produce the smallest effect upon it. At the gateways where the
+passage of cattle has trodden away the turf, the mud, once almost
+impassable, is now hardened, and every cloven hoof that pressed it has
+left its mark as if cast in metal. Along the furrows the ice has fallen
+in, and lies on the slope white and broken, the shallow water having dried
+away beneath it. Dark hedges, dark trees--in the distance they look almost
+black--nearer at hand the smallest branches devoid of leaves are clearly
+defined against the sky.
+
+As the northerly wind drifts the clouds before it the sun shines down, and
+the dead, dry grass and the innumerable tufts of the 'leaze' which the
+cattle have not eaten, take a dull grey hue. Sheltered from the blast
+behind the thick, high hawthorn hedge and double mound, which is like a
+rampart reared against Boreas, it is pleasant even now to stroll to and
+fro in the sunshine. The longtailed titmice come along in parties of six
+or eight, calling to each other as in turn they visit every tree. Turning
+from watching these--see, a redbreast has perched on a branch barely two
+yards distant, for, wherever you may be, there the robin comes and watches
+you. Whether looking in summer at the roses in the garden, or waiting in
+winter for the pheasant to break cover or the fox to steal forth, go where
+you will, in a minute or two, a redbreast appears intent on your
+proceedings.
+
+Now comes a discordant squeaking of iron axles that have not been greased,
+and the jolting sound of wheels passing over ruts whose edges are hard and
+frost-bound. From the lane two manure carts enter the meadow in slow
+procession, and, stopping at regular intervals, the men in charge take
+long poles with hooks at the end and drag down a certain quantity of the
+fertilising material. The sharp frost is so far an advantage to the tenant
+of meadow land that he can cart manure without cutting and poaching the
+turf, and even without changing the ordinary for the extra set of
+broad-wheels on the cart. In the next meadow the hedge-cutters are busy,
+their hands fenced with thick gloves to turn aside the thorns.
+
+Near by are the hay-ricks and cow-pen where a metallic rattling sound
+rises every now and then--the bull in the shed moving his neck and
+dragging his chain through the ring. More than one of the hay-ricks have
+been already half cut away, for the severe winter makes the cows hungry,
+and if their yield of milk is to be kept up they must be well fed, so that
+the foggers have plenty to do. If the dairy, as is most probably the case,
+sends the milk to London, they have still more, because then a regular
+supply has to be maintained, and for that a certain proportion of other
+food has to be prepared in addition to the old-fashioned hay. The new
+system, indeed, has led to the employment of more labour out-of-doors, if
+less within. An extra fogger has to be put on, not only because of the
+food, but because the milking has to be done in less time--with a
+despatch, indeed, that would have seemed unnatural to the old folk.
+Besides which the milk carts to and fro the railway station require
+drivers, whose time--as they have to go some miles twice a day--is pretty
+nearly occupied with their horses and milk tins. So much is this the case
+that even in summer they can scarcely be spared to do a few hours
+haymaking.
+
+The new system, therefore, of selling the milk instead of making butter
+and cheese is advantageous to the labourer by affording more employment in
+grass districts. It is steady work, too, lasting the entire year round,
+and well paid. The stock of cows in such cases is kept up to the very
+highest that the land will carry, which, again, gives more work. Although
+the closing of the cheese lofts and the superannuation of the churn has
+reduced the number of female servants in the house, yet that is more than
+balanced by the extra work without. The cottage families, it is true, lose
+the buttermilk which some farmers used to allow them; but wages are
+certainly better.
+
+There has been, in fact, a general stir and movement in dairy districts
+since the milk selling commenced, which has been favourable to labour. A
+renewed life and energy has been visible on farms where for generations
+things had gone on in the same sleepy manner. Efforts have been made to
+extend the area available for feeding by grubbing hedges and cultivating
+pieces of ground hitherto given over to thistles, rushes, and rough
+grasses. Drains have been put in so that the stagnant water in the soil
+might not cause the growth of those grasses which cattle will not touch.
+Fresh seed has been sown, and 'rattles' and similar plants destructive to
+the hay crop have been carefully eradicated. New gales, new carts, and
+traps, all exhibit the same movement.
+
+The cowyards in many districts were formerly in a very dilapidated
+condition. The thatch of the sheds was all worn away, mossgrown, and bored
+by the sparrows. Those in which the cows were placed at calving time were
+mere dark holes. The floor of the yard was often soft, so that the hoofs
+of the cattle trod deep into it--a perfect slough in wet weather. The cows
+themselves were of a poor character, and in truth as poorly treated, for
+the hay was made badly--carelessly harvested, and the grass itself not of
+good quality--nor were the men always very humane, thinking little of
+knocking the animals about.
+
+Quite a change has come over all this. The cows now kept are much too
+valuable to be treated roughly, being selected from shorthorn strains that
+yield large quantities of milk. No farmer now would allow any such
+knocking about. The hay itself is better, because the grass has been
+improved, and it is also harvested carefully. Rickcloths prevent rain from
+spoiling the rising rick, mowing machines, haymaking machines, and horse
+rakes enable a spell of good weather to be taken advantage of, and the hay
+got in quickly, instead of lying about till the rain returns. As for the
+manure, it is recognised to be gold in another shape, and instead of being
+trodden under foot by the cattle and washed away by the rain, it is
+utilised. The yard is drained and stoned so as to be dry--a change that
+effects a saving in litter, the value of which has greatly risen. Sheds
+have been new thatched, and generally renovated, and even new roads laid
+down across the farms, and properly macadamised, in order that the milk
+carts might reach the highway without the straining and difficulty
+consequent upon wheels sinking half up to the axles in winter.
+
+In short, dairy farms have been swept and garnished, and even something
+like science introduced upon them. The thermometer in summer is in
+constant use to determine if the milk is sufficiently cooled to proceed
+upon its journey. That cooling of the milk alone is a process that
+requires more labour to carry it out. Artificial manures are spread abroad
+on the pastures. The dairy farmer has to a considerable extent awakened to
+the times, and, like the arable agriculturist, is endeavouring to bring
+modern appliances to bear upon his business. To those who recollect the
+old style of dairy farmer the change seems marvellous indeed. Nowhere was
+the farmer more backward, more rude and primitive, than on the small dairy
+farms. He was barely to be distinguished from the labourers, amongst whom
+he worked shoulder to shoulder; he spoke with their broad accent, and his
+ideas and theirs were nearly identical.
+
+In ten years' time--just a short ten years only--what an alteration has
+taken place! It is needless to say that this could not go on without the
+spending of money, and the spending of money means the benefit of the
+labouring class. New cottages have been erected, of course on modern
+plans, so that many of the men are much better lodged than they were, and
+live nearer to their work--a great consideration where cows are the main
+object of attention. The men have to be on the farm very early in the
+morning, and if they have a long walk it is a heavy drag upon them.
+Perhaps the constant intercourse with the towns and stations resulting
+from the double daily visit of the milk carts has quickened the minds of
+the labourers thus employed. Whatever may be the cause, it is certain that
+they do exhibit an improvement, and are much 'smarter' than they used to
+be. It would be untrue to say that no troubles with the labourers have
+arisen in meadow districts. There has been some friction about wages, but
+not nearly approaching the agitation elsewhere. And when a recent
+reduction of wages commenced, many of the men themselves admitted that it
+was inevitable. But the average earnings throughout the year still
+continue, and are likely to continue far above the old rate of payment.
+Where special kinds of cheese are made the position of the labourer has
+also improved.
+
+Coming to the same district in summer time, the meadows have a beauty all
+their own. The hedges are populous with birds, the trees lovely, the brook
+green with flags, the luxuriantly-growing grass decked with flowers. Nor
+has haymaking lost all its ancient charm. Though the old-fashioned sound
+of the mower sharpening his scythe is less often heard, being superseded
+by the continuous rattle of the mowing machine, yet the hay smells as
+sweetly as ever. While the mowing machine, the haymaking machine, and
+horse rake give the farmer the power of using the sunshine, when it comes,
+to the best purpose, they are not without an effect upon the labouring
+population.
+
+Just as in corn districts, machinery has not reduced the actual number of
+hands employed, but has made the work come in spells or rushes; so in the
+meadows the haymaking is shortened. The farmer waits till good weather is
+assured for a few days. Then on goes his mowing machine and levels the
+crop of an entire field in no time. Immediately a whole crowd of labourers
+are required for making the hay and getting it when ready on the waggons.
+Under the old system the mowers usually got drunk about the third day of
+sunshine, and the work came to a standstill. When it began to rain they
+recovered themselves, and slashed away vigorously--when it was not wanted.
+The effect of machinery has been much the same as on corn lands, with the
+addition that fewer women are now employed in haymaking. Those that are
+employed are much better paid.
+
+The hamlets of grass districts are not, as a rule, at all populous. There
+really are fewer people, and at the same time the impression is increased
+by the scattered position of the dwellings. Instead of a great central
+village there are three or four small hamlets a mile or two apart, and
+solitary groups of cottages near farmhouses. One result of this is, that
+allotment gardens are not so common, for the sufficient reason that, if a
+field were set apart for the purpose, the tenants of the plots would have
+to walk so far to the place that it would scarcely pay them. Gardens are
+consequently attached to most cottages, and answer the same purpose; some
+have small orchards as well.
+
+The cottagers have also more firewood than is the case in some arable
+districts on account of the immense quantity of wood annually cut in
+copses and double-mound hedges. The rougher part becomes the labourers'
+perquisite, and they can also purchase wood at a nominal rate from their
+employers. This more than compensates for the absence of gleaning. In
+addition, quantities of wood are collected from hedges and ditches and
+under the trees--dead boughs that have fallen or been broken off by a
+gale.
+
+The aspect of a grazing district presents a general resemblance to that of
+a dairy one, with the difference that in the grazing everything seems on a
+larger scale. Instead of small meadows shut in with hedges and trees, the
+grazing farms often comprise fields of immense extent; sometimes a single
+pasture is as large as a small dairy farm. The herds of cattle are also
+more numerous; of course they are of a different class, but, in mere
+numbers, a grazier often has three times as many bullocks as a dairy
+farmer has cows. The mounds are quite as thickly timbered as in dairy
+districts, but as they are much farther apart, the landscape appears more
+open.
+
+To a spectator looking down upon mile after mile of such pasture land in
+summer from an elevation it resembles a park of illimitable extent. Great
+fields after great fields roll away to the horizon--groups of trees and
+small copses dot the slopes--roan and black cattle stand in the sheltering
+shadows. A dreamy haze hangs over the distant woods--all is large, open,
+noble. It suggests a life of freedom--the gun and the saddle--and, indeed,
+it is here that hunting is enjoyed in its full perfection. The labourer
+falls almost out of sight in these vast pastures. The population is sparse
+and scattered, the hamlets are few and far apart; even many of the
+farmhouses being only occupied by bailiffs. In comparison with a dairy
+farm there is little work to do. Cows have to be milked as well as
+foddered, and the milk when obtained gives employment to many hands in the
+various processes it goes through. Here the bullocks have simply to be fed
+and watched, the sheep in like manner have to be tended. Except in the
+haymaking season, therefore, there is scarcely ever a press for labour.
+Those who are employed have steady, continuous work the year through, and
+are for the most part men of experience in attending upon cattle, as
+indeed they need be, seeing the value of the herds under their charge.
+
+Although little direct agitation has taken place in pasture countries, yet
+wages have equally risen. Pasture districts almost drop out of the labour
+dispute. On the one hand the men are few, on the other the rise of a
+shilling or so scarcely affects the farmer (so far as his grass land is
+concerned, if he has much corn as well it is different), because of the
+small number of labourers he wants.
+
+The great utility of pasture is, of course, the comparatively cheap
+production of meat, which goes to feed the population in cities. Numbers
+of bullocks are fattened on corn land in stalls, but of late it has been
+stated that the cost of feeding under such conditions is so high that
+scarcely any profit can be obtained. The pasture farmer has by no means
+escaped without encountering difficulties; but still, with tolerably
+favourable seasons, he can produce meat much more cheaply than the arable
+agriculturist. Yet it is one of the avowed objects of the labour
+organisation to prevent the increase of pasture land, to stop the laying
+down of grass, and even to plough up some of the old pastures. The reason
+given is that corn land supports so many more agricultural labourers,
+which is so far true; but if corn farming cannot be carried on profitably
+without great reduction of the labour expenses the argument is not worth
+much, while the narrowness of the view is at once evident. The proportion
+of pasture to arable land must settle itself, and be governed entirely by
+the same conditions that affect other trades--i.e.. profit and loss.
+
+It has already been pointed out that the labourer finds it possible to
+support the Union with small payments, and also to subscribe to
+benefit-clubs. The fact suggests the idea that, if facilities were
+afforded, the labourer would become a considerable depositor of pennies.
+The Post-office Savings Banks have done much good, the drawback is that
+the offices are often too distant from the labourer. There is an office in
+the village, but not half the population live in the village. There are
+far-away hamlets and things, besides lonely groups of three or four
+farmhouses, to which a collective name can hardly be given, but which
+employ a number of men. A rural parish is 'all abroad'--the people are
+scattered. To go into the Post-office in the village may involve a walk of
+several miles, and it is closed, too, on Saturday night when the men are
+flush of money.
+
+The great difficulty with penny banks on the other hand is the
+receiver--who is to be responsible for the money? The clergyman would be
+only too glad, but many will have nothing to do with anything under his
+influence simply because he is the clergyman. The estrangement that has
+been promoted between the labourer and the tenant farmer effectually shuts
+the latter out. The landlord's agent cannot reside in fifty places at
+once. The sums are too small to pay for a bank agent to reside in the
+village and go round. There remain the men themselves; and why should not
+they be trusted with the money? Men of their own class collect the Union
+subscriptions, and faithfully pay them in.
+
+Take the case of a little hamlet two, three, perhaps more miles from a
+Post-office Savings Bank, where some thirty labourers  work on the farms.
+Why should not these thirty elect one of their own number to receive their
+savings over Saturday--to be paid in by him at the Post-office? There are
+men among them who might be safely trusted with ten times the money, and
+if the Post-office cannot be opened on Saturday evenings for him to
+deposit it, it is quite certain that his employer would permit of his
+absence, on one day, sufficiently long to go to the office and back. If
+the men wish to be absolutely independent in the matter, all they have to
+do is to work an extra hour for their agent's employer, and so compensate
+for his temporary absence. If the men had it in their own hands like this
+they would enter into it with far greater interest, and it would take root
+among them. All that is required is the consent of the Post-office to
+receive moneys so deposited, and some one to broach the idea to the men in
+the various localities. The great recommendation of the Post-office is
+that the labouring classes everywhere have come to feel implicit faith in
+the safety of deposits made in it. They have a confidence in it that can
+never be attained by a private enterprise, however benevolent, and it
+should therefore be utilised to the utmost.
+
+To gentlemen accustomed to receive a regular income, a small lump sum like
+ten or twenty pounds appears a totally inadequate provision against old
+age. They institute elaborate calculations by professed accountants, to
+discover whether by any mode of investment a small subscription
+proportionate to the labourer's wages can be made to provide him with an
+annuity. The result is scarcely satisfactory. But, in fact, though an
+annuity would be, of course, preferable, even so small a sum as ten or
+twenty pounds is of the very highest value to an aged agricultural
+labourer, especially when he has a cottage, if not his own property, yet
+in which he has a right to reside. The neighbouring farmers, who have
+known him from their own boyhood, are always ready to give him light jobs
+whenever practicable. So that in tolerable weather he still earns
+something. His own children do a little for him. In the dead of the winter
+come a few weeks when he can do nothing, and feels the lack of small
+comforts. It is just then that a couple of sovereigns out of a hoard of
+twenty pounds will tide him over the interval.
+
+It is difficult to convey an idea of the value of these two extra
+sovereigns to a man of such frugal habits and in that position. None but
+those who have mixed with the agricultural poor can understand it. Now the
+wages that will hardly, by the most careful management, allow of the
+gradual purchase of an annuity, will readily permit such savings as these.
+It is simply a question of the money-box. When the child's money-box is at
+hand the penny is dropped in, and the amount accumulates; if there is no
+box handy it is spent in sweets. The same holds true of young and old
+alike. If, then, the annuity cannot be arranged, let the money-box, at all
+events, be brought nearer. And the money-box in which the poor man all
+over the country has the most faith is the Post-office.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+
+HODGE'S LAST MASTERS. CONCLUSION
+
+
+After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest, comes
+the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set and capable of
+immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength must wear away. The limbs
+totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed sight can no longer guide the plough
+in a straight furrow, nor the weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge,
+who, Atlas-like, supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world,
+comes in his old age under the dominion of his last masters at the
+workhouse. There, indeed, he finds almost the whole array of his rulers
+assembled. Tenant farmers sit as the guardians of the poor for their
+respective parishes; the clergyman and the squire by virtue of their
+office as magistrates; and the tradesman as guardian for the market town.
+Here are representatives of almost all his masters, and it may seem to him
+a little strange that it should require so many to govern such feeble
+folk.
+
+The board-room at the workhouse is a large and apparently comfortable
+apartment. The fire is piled with glowing coals, the red light from which
+gleams on the polished fender. A vast table occupies the centre, and
+around it are arranged seats, for each of the guardians. The chairman is,
+perhaps, a clergyman (and magistrate), who for years has maintained
+something like peace between discordant elements. For the board-room is
+often a battle-field where political or sectarian animosities exhibit
+themselves in a rugged way. The clergyman, by force of character, has at
+all events succeeded in moderating the personal asperity of the contending
+parties. Many of the stout, elderly farmers who sit round the table have
+been elected year after year, no one disputing with them that tedious and
+thankless office. The clerk, always a solicitor, is also present, and his
+opinion is continually required. Knotty points of law are for ever arising
+over what seems so simple a matter as the grant of a dole of bread.
+
+The business, indeed, of relieving the agricultural poor is no light
+one--a dozen or fifteen gentlemen often sit here the whole day. The
+routine of examining the relieving officers' books and receiving their
+reports takes up at least two hours. Agricultural unions often include a
+wide space of country, and getting from one village to another consumes as
+much time as would be needed for the actual relief of a much denser
+population. As a consequence, more relieving officers are employed than
+would seem at first glance necessary. Each of these has his records to
+present, and his accounts to be practically audited, a process naturally
+interspersed with inquiries respecting cottagers known to the guardians
+present.
+
+Personal applications for out-door relief are then heard. A group of
+intending applicants has been waiting in the porch for admission for some
+time. Women come for their daughters; daughters for their mothers; some
+want assistance during an approaching confinement, others ask for a small
+loan, to be repaid by instalments, with which to tide over their
+difficulties. One cottage woman is occasionally deputed by several of her
+neighbours as their representative. The labourer or his wife stands before
+the Board and makes a statement, supplemented by explanation from the
+relieving officer of the district. Another hour thus passes. Incidentally
+there arise cases of 'settlement' in distant parishes, when persons have
+become chargeable whose place of residence was recently, perhaps, half
+across the country. They have no parochial rights here and must be
+returned thither, after due inquiries made by the clerk and the exchange
+of considerable correspondence.
+
+The master of the workhouse is now called in and delivers his weekly
+report of the conduct of the inmates, and any events that have happened.
+One inmate, an ancient labourer, died that morning in the infirmary, not
+many hours before the meeting of the Board. The announcement is received
+with regretful exclamations, and there is a cessation of business for a
+few minutes. Some of the old farmers who knew the deceased recount their
+connection with him, how he worked for them, and how his family has lived
+in the parish as cottagers from time immemorial. A reminiscence of a grim
+joke that fell out forty years before, and of which the deceased was the
+butt, causes a grave smile, and then to business again. The master
+possibly asks permission to punish a refractory inmate; punishment is now
+very sparingly given in the house. A good many cases, however, come up
+from the Board to the magisterial Bench--charges of tearing up clothing,
+fighting, damaging property, or of neglecting to maintain, or to repay
+relief advanced on loan. These cases are, of course, conducted by the
+clerk.
+
+There is sometimes a report, to be read by one of the doctors who receive
+salaries from the Board and attend to the various districts, and
+occasionally some nuisance to be considered and order taken for its
+compulsory removal on sanitary grounds. The question of sanitation is
+becoming rather a difficult one in agricultural unions.
+
+After this the various committees of the Board have to give in the result
+of their deliberations, and the representative of the ladies' boarding-out
+committee presents a record of the work accomplished. These various
+committees at times are burdened with the most onerous labours, for upon
+them falls the duty of verifying all the petty details of management.
+Every pound of soap, or candles, scrubbing-brushes, and similar domestic
+items, pass under their inspection, not only the payments for them, but
+the actual articles, or samples of them, being examined. Tenders for
+grocery, bread, wines and spirits for cases of illness, meat, coals, and
+so forth are opened and compared, vouchers, bills, receipts, invoices, and
+so forth checked and audited.
+
+The amount of detail thus attended to is something immense, and the
+accuracy required occupies hour after hour. There are whole libraries of
+account-books, ledgers, red-bound relief-books, stowed away, pile upon
+pile, in the house; archives going back to the opening of the
+establishment, and from which any trifling relief given or expenditure
+inclined years ago can be extracted. Such another carefully-administered
+institution it would be hard to find; nor is any proposed innovation or
+change adopted without the fullest discussion--it may be the suggested
+erection of additional premises, or the introduction of some fresh feature
+of the system, or some novel instructions sent down by the Local
+Government Board.
+
+When such matters or principles are to be discussed there is certain to be
+a full gathering of the guardians and a trial of strength between the
+parties. Those who habitually neglect to attend, leaving the hard labour
+of administration to be borne by their colleagues, now appear in numbers,
+and the board-room is crowded, many squires otherwise seldom seen coming
+in to give their votes. It is as much as the chairman can do to assuage
+the storm and to maintain an approach to personal politeness. Quiet as the
+country appears to the casual observer, there are, nevertheless, strong
+feelings under the surface, and at such gatherings the long-cherished
+animosities burst forth.
+
+Nothing at all events is done in a corner; everything is openly discussed
+and investigated. Every week the visiting committee go round the house,
+and enter every ward and store-room. They taste and test the provisions,
+and the least shortcoming is certain to be severely brought home to those
+who are fulfilling the contracts. They pass through the dormitories, and
+see that everything is clean; woe betide those responsible if a spot of
+dirt be visible! There is the further check of casual and unexpected
+visits from the guardians or magistrates. It is probable that not one
+crumb of bread consumed is otherwise than good, and that not one single
+crumb is wasted. The waste is in the system--and a gigantic waste it is,
+whether inevitable as some contend, or capable of being superseded by a
+different plan.
+
+Of every hundred pounds paid by the ratepayers how much is absorbed in the
+maintenance of the institution and its ramifications, and how very little
+reaches poor deserving Hodge! The undeserving and mean-spirited, of whom
+there are plenty in every village, who endeavour to live upon the parish,
+receive relief thrice as long and to thrice the amount as the
+hard-working, honest labourer, who keeps out to the very last moment. It
+is not the fault of the guardians, but of the rigidity of the law. Surely
+a larger amount of discretionary power might be vested in them with
+advantage! Some exceptional consideration is the just due of men who have
+worked from the morn to the very eve of life.
+
+The labourer whose decease was reported to the Board upon their assembling
+was born some seventy-eight or seventy-nine years ago. The exact date is
+uncertain; many of the old men can only fix their age by events that
+happened when they were growing from boys into manhood. That it must have
+been nearer eighty than seventy years since is known, however, to the
+elderly farmers, who recollect him as a man with a family when they were
+young. The thatched cottage stood beside the road at one end of a long,
+narrow garden, enclosed from the highway by a hedge of elder. At the back
+there was a ditch and mound with elm-trees, and green meadows beyond. A
+few poles used to lean against the thatch, their tops rising above the
+ridge, and close by was a stack of thorn faggots. In the garden three or
+four aged and mossgrown apple-trees stood among the little plots of
+potatoes, and as many plum-trees in the elder hedge. One tall pear-tree
+with scored bark grew near the end of the cottage; it bore a large crop of
+pears, which were often admired by the people who came along the road, but
+were really hard and woody. As a child he played in the ditch and hedge,
+or crept through into the meadow and searched in the spring for violets to
+offer to the passers-by; or he swung on the gate in the lane and held it
+open for the farmers in their gigs, in hope of a halfpenny.
+
+As a lad he went forth with his father to work in the fields, and came
+home to the cabbage boiled for the evening meal. It was not a very roomy
+or commodious home to return to after so many hours in the field, exposed
+to rain and wind, to snow, or summer sun. The stones of the floor were
+uneven, and did not fit at the edges. There was a beam across the low
+ceiling, to avoid which, as he grew older, he had to bow his head when
+crossing the apartment. A wooden ladder, or steps, not a staircase proper,
+behind the whitewashed partition, led to the bedroom. The steps were
+worm-eaten and worn. In the sitting-room the narrow panes of the small
+window were so overgrown with woodbine as to admit but little light. But
+in summer the door was wide open, and the light and the soft air came in.
+The thick walls and thatch kept it warm and cosy in winter, when they
+gathered round the fire. Every day in his manhood he went out to the
+field; every item, as it were, of life centred in that little cottage. In
+time he came to occupy it with his own wife, and his children in their
+turn crept through the hedge, or swung upon the gate. They grew up, and
+one by one went away, till at last he was left alone.
+
+He had not taken much conscious note of the changing aspect of the scene
+around him. The violets flowered year after year; still he went to plough.
+The May bloomed and scented the hedges; still he went to his work. The
+green summer foliage became brown and the acorns fell from the oaks; still
+he laboured on, and saw the ice and snow, and heard the wind roar in the
+old familiar trees without much thought of it. But those old familiar
+trees, the particular hedges he had worked among so many years, the very
+turf of the meadows over which he had walked so many times, the view down
+the road from the garden gate, the distant sign-post and the red-bricked
+farmhouse--all these things had become part of his life. There was no hope
+nor joy left to him, but he wanted to stay on among them to the end. He
+liked to ridge up his little plot of potatoes; he liked to creep up his
+ladder and mend the thatch of his cottage; he liked to cut himself a
+cabbage, and to gather the one small basketful of apples. There was a kind
+of dull pleasure in cropping the elder hedge, and even in collecting the
+dead branches scattered under the trees. To be about the hedges, in the
+meadows, and along the brooks was necessary to him, and he liked to be at
+work.
+
+Three score and ten did not seem the limit of his working days; he still
+could and would hoe--a bowed back is no impediment, but perhaps rather an
+advantage, at that occupation. He could use a prong in the haymaking; he
+could reap a little, and do good service tying up the cut corn. There were
+many little jobs on the farm that required experience, combined with the
+plodding patience of age, and these he could do better than a stronger
+man. The years went round again, and yet he worked. Indeed, the farther
+back a man's birth dates in the beginning of the present century the more
+he seems determined to labour. He worked on till every member of his
+family had gone, most to their last home, and still went out at times when
+the weather was not too severe. He worked on, and pottered round the
+garden, and watched the young green plums swelling on his trees, and did a
+bit of gleaning, and thought the wheat would weigh bad when it was
+threshed out.
+
+Presently people began to bestir themselves, and to ask whether there was
+no one to take care of the old man, who might die from age and none near.
+Where were his own friends and relations? One strong son had enlisted and
+gone to India, and though his time had expired long ago, nothing had ever
+been heard of him. Another son had emigrated to Australia, and once sent
+back a present of money, and a message, written for him by a friend, that
+he was doing well. But of late, he, too, had dropped out of sight. Of
+three daughters who grew up, two were known to be dead, and the third was
+believed to be in New Zealand. The old man was quite alone. He had no hope
+and no joy, yet he was almost happy in a slow unfeeling way wandering
+about the garden and the cottage. But in the winter his half-frozen blood
+refused to circulate, his sinews would not move his willing limbs, and he
+could not work.
+
+His case came before the Board of Guardians. Those who knew all about him
+wished to give him substantial relief in his own cottage, and to appoint
+some aged woman as nurse--a thing that is occasionally done, and most
+humanely. But there were technical difficulties in the way; the cottage
+was either his own or partly his own, and relief could not be given to any
+one possessed of 'property' Just then, too, there was a great movement
+against, out-door relief; official circulars came round warning Boards to
+curtail it, and much fuss was made. In the result the old man was driven
+into the workhouse; muttering and grumbling, he had to be bodily carried
+to the trap, and thus by physical force was dragged from his home. In the
+workhouse there is of necessity a dead level of monotony--there are many
+persons but no individuals. The dining-hall is crossed with forms and
+narrow tables, somewhat resembling those formerly used in schools. On
+these at dinner-time are placed a tin mug and a tin soup-plate for each
+person; every mug and every plate exactly alike. When the unfortunates
+have taken their places, the master pronounces grace from an elevated desk
+at the end of the hall.
+
+Plain as is the fare, it was better than the old man had existed on for
+years; but though better it was not his dinner. He was not sitting in his
+old chair, at his own old table, round which his children had once
+gathered. He had not planted the cabbage, and tended it while it grew, and
+cut it himself. So it was, all through the workhouse life. The dormitories
+were clean, but the ward was not his old bedroom up the worm-eaten steps,
+with the slanting ceiling, where as he woke in the morning he could hear
+the sparrows chirping, the chaffinch calling, and the lark singing aloft.
+There was a garden attached to the workhouse, where he could do a little
+if he liked, but it was not his garden. He missed his plum-trees and
+apples, and the tall pear, and the lowly elder hedge. He looked round
+raising his head with difficulty, and he could not see the sign-post, nor
+the familiar red-bricked farmhouse. He knew all the rain that had fallen
+must have come through the thatch of the old cottage in at least one
+place, and he would have liked to have gone and rethatched it with
+trembling hand. At home he could lift the latch of the garden gate and go
+down the road when he wished. Here he could not go outside the
+boundary--it was against the regulations. Everything to appearance had
+been monotonous in the cottage--but there he did not feel it monotonous.
+
+At the workhouse the monotony weighed upon him. He used to think as he lay
+awake in bed that when the spring came nothing should keep him in this
+place. He would take his discharge and go out, and borrow a hoe from
+somebody, and go and do a bit of work again, and be about in the fields.
+That was his one hope all through his first winter. Nothing else enlivened
+it, except an occasional little present of tobacco from the guardians who
+knew him. The spring came, but the rain was ceaseless. No work of the kind
+he could do was possible in such weather. Still there was the summer, but
+the summer was no improvement; in the autumn he felt weak, and was not
+able to walk far. The chance for which he had waited had gone. Again the
+winter came, and he now rapidly grew more feeble.
+
+When once an aged man gives up, it seems strange at first that he should
+be so utterly helpless. In the infirmary the real benefit of the workhouse
+reached him. The food, the little luxuries, the attention were far
+superior to anything he could possibly have had at home. But still it was
+not home. The windows did not permit him from his bed to see the leafless
+trees or the dark woods and distant hills. Left to himself, it is certain
+that of choice he would have crawled under a rick, or into a hedge, if he
+could not have reached his cottage.
+
+The end came very slowly; he ceased to exist by imperceptible degrees,
+like an oak-tree. He remained for days in a semi-unconscious state,
+neither moving nor speaking. It happened at last. In the grey of the
+winter dawn, as the stars paled and the whitened grass was stiff with hoar
+frost, and the rime coated every branch of the tall elms, as the milker
+came from the pen and the young ploughboy whistled down the road to his
+work, the spirit of the aged man departed.
+
+What amount of production did that old man's life of labour represent?
+What value must be put upon the service of the son that fought in India;
+of the son that worked in Australia; of the daughter in New Zealand, whose
+children will help to build up a new nation? These things surely have
+their value. Hodge died, and the very grave-digger grumbled as he delved
+through the earth hard-bound in the iron frost, for it jarred his hand and
+might break his spade. The low mound will soon be level, and the place of
+his burial shall not be known.
+
+
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hodge and His Masters, by Richard Jefferies</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>
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+Title: Hodge and His Masters
+
+Author: Richard Jefferies
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2004  [eBook #11874]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: iso-8859-1
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+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HODGE AND HIS MASTERS***
+</pre>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center><h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer<br>
+            and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders</h3></center>
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr size="5" noshade>
+<br>
+<br>
+<center>
+<h2>HODGE AND HIS MASTERS</h2>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>RICHARD JEFFERIES</h2>
+<h4>AUTHOR OF<br>
+'THE GAMEKEEPER AT HOME' 'WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY' 'THE
+AMATEUR POACHER' 'ROUND ABOUT A GREAT ESTATE' ETC.</h4>
+</center>
+<br>
+<hr>
+<h3>PREFACE</h3>
+The papers of which this volume is composed originally appeared in
+the <i>Standard</i>, and are now republished by permission of the
+Editor.
+<p>In manners, mode of thought, and way of life, there is perhaps
+no class of the community less uniform than the agricultural. The
+diversities are so great as to amount to contradictions.
+Individuality of character is most marked, and, varying an old saw,
+it might be said, so many farmers so many minds.</p>
+<p>Next to the tenants the landowners have felt the depression, to
+such a degree, in fact, that they should perhaps take the first
+place, having no one to allow them in turn a 20 per cent, reduction
+of their liabilities. It must be remembered that the landowner will
+not receive the fruits of returning prosperity when it comes for
+some time after they have reached the farmer. Two good seasons will
+be needed before the landowner begins to recoup.</p>
+<p>Country towns are now so closely connected with agriculture that
+a description of the one would be incomplete without some mention
+of the other. The aggregate capital employed by the business men of
+these small towns must amount to an immense sum, and the
+depreciation of their investments is of more than local
+concern.</p>
+<p>Although the labourer at the present moment is a little in the
+background, and has the best of the bargain, since wages have not
+much fallen, if at all; yet he will doubtless come to the front
+again. For as agriculture revives, and the sun shines, the
+organisations by which he is represented will naturally display
+fresh vigour.</p>
+<p>But the rapid progress of education in the villages and outlying
+districts is the element which is most worthy of thoughtful
+consideration. On the one hand, it may perhaps cause a powerful
+demand for corresponding privileges; and on the other, counteract
+the tendency to unreasonable expectations. In any case, it is a
+fact that cannot be ignored. Meantime, all I claim for the
+following sketches is that they are written in a fair and impartial
+spirit.</p>
+<p>RICHARD JEFFERIES.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+CHAPTER
+<p>
+I. <a href="#chap1">THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT</a><br>
+II. <a href="#chap2">LEAVING HIS FARM</a><br>
+III. <a href="#chap3">A MAN OF PROGRESS</a><br>
+IV. <a href="#chap4">GOING DOWNHILL</a><br>
+V. <a href="#chap5">THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER</a><br>
+VI. <a href="#chap6">AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS&mdash;OLD STYLE</a><br>
+VII. <a href="#chap7">THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE
+FARMER</a><br>
+VIII. <a href="#chap8">HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'</a><br>
+IX. <a href="#chap9">THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS</a><br>
+X. <a href="#chap10">MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS</a><br>
+XI. <a href="#chap11">FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'</a><br>
+XII. <a href="#chap12">THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'</a><br>
+XIII. <a href="#chap13">AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE</a><br>
+XIV. <a href="#chap14">THE PARSON'S WIFE</a><br>
+XV. <a href="#chap15">A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE</a><br>
+XVI.<a href="#chap16">THE SOLICITOR</a><br>
+XVII. <a href="#chap17">'COUNTY COURT DAY'</a><br>
+XVIII.<a href="#chap18">THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER</a><br>
+XIX. <a href="#chap19">THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS.
+WILLOW-WORK</a><br>
+XX. <a href="#chap20">HODGE'S FIELDS</a><br>
+XXI. <a href="#chap21">A WINTER'S MORNING</a><br>
+XXII. <a href="#chap22">THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN, COTTAGE GIRLS</a><br>
+XXIII. <a href="#chap23">THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS</a><br>
+XXIV. <a href="#chap24">THE COTTAGE CHARTER, FOUR-ACRE FARMERS</a><br>
+XXV. <a href="#chap25">LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES, THE LABOURER AS A
+POWER. MODERN CLERGY</a><br>
+XXVI. <a href="#chap26">A WHEAT COUNTRY</a><br>
+XXVII. <a href="#chap27">GRASS COUNTRIES</a><br>
+XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">HODGE'S LAST MASTERS, CONCLUSION</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br></p>
+<h2>HODGE AND HIS MASTERS</h2>
+<br>
+<h3><a name="chap1" id="chap1">CHAPTER I</a></h3>
+<h3>THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT</h3>
+The doorway of the Jason Inn at Woolbury had nothing particular to
+distinguish it from the other doorways of the same extremely narrow
+street. There was no porch, nor could there possibly be one, for an
+ordinary porch would reach half across the roadway. There were no
+steps to go up, there was no entrance hall, no space specially
+provided for crowds of visitors; simply nothing but an ordinary
+street-door opening directly on the street, and very little, if
+any, broader or higher than those of the private houses adjacent.
+There was not even the usual covered way or archway leading into
+the courtyard behind, so often found at old country inns; the
+approach to the stables and coach-houses was through a separate and
+even more narrow and winding street, necessitating a detour of some
+quarter of a mile. The dead, dull wall was worn smooth in places by
+the involuntary rubbings it had received from the shoulders of
+foot-passengers thrust rudely against it as the market-people came
+pouring in or out, or both together.
+<p>Had the spot been in the most crowded district of the busiest
+part of the metropolis, where every inch of ground is worth an
+enormous sum, the buildings could not have been more jammed
+together, nor the inconvenience greater. Yet the little town was in
+the very midst of one of the most purely agricultural counties,
+where land, to all appearance, was plentiful, and where there was
+ample room and 'verge enough' to build fifty such places. The
+pavement in front of the inn was barely eighteen inches wide; two
+persons could not pass each other on it, nor walk abreast. If a
+cart came along the roadway, and a trap had to go by it, the
+foot-passengers had to squeeze up against the wall, lest the box of
+the wheel projecting over the kerb should push them down. If a
+great waggon came loaded with wool, the chances were whether a
+carriage could pass it or not; as for a waggon-load of straw that
+projected from the sides, nothing could get by, but all must
+wait&mdash;coroneted panel or plain four-wheel&mdash;till the huge
+mass had rumbled and jolted into the more open market-place.</p>
+<p>But hard, indeed, must have been the flag-stones to withstand
+the wear and tear of the endless iron-shod shoes that tramped to
+and fro these mere ribbons of pavements. For, besides the through
+traffic out from the market-place to the broad macadamised road
+that had taken the place and the route of an ancient Roman road,
+there were the customers to the shops that lined each side of the
+street. Into some of these you stepped from the pavement down, as
+it were, into a cave, the level of the shop being eight or ten
+inches below the street, while the first floor projected over the
+pavement quite to the edge of the kerb. To enter these shops it was
+necessary to stoop, and when you were inside there was barely room
+to turn round. Other shops were, indeed, level with the street; but
+you had to be careful, because the threshold was not flush with the
+pavement, but rose a couple of inches and then fell again, a very
+trap to the toe of the unwary. Many had no glass at all, but were
+open, like a butcher's or fishmonger's. Those that had glass were
+so restricted for space that, rich as they might be within in the
+good things of the earth, they could make no 'display.' All the
+genius of a West-end shopman could not have made an artistic
+arrangement in that narrow space and in that bad light; for, though
+so small below, the houses rose high, and the street being so
+narrow the sunshine rarely penetrated into it.</p>
+<p>But mean as a metropolitan shopman might have thought the spot,
+the business done there was large, and, more than that, it was
+genuine. The trade of a country market-town, especially when that
+market-town, like Woolbury, dates from the earliest days of English
+history, is hereditary. It flows to the same store and to the same
+shop year after year, generation after generation, century after
+century. The farmer who walks into the saddler's here goes in
+because his father went there before him. His father went in
+because his father dealt there, and so on farther back than memory
+can trace. It might almost be said that whole villages go to
+particular shops. You may see the agricultural labourers' wives,
+for instance, on a Saturday leave the village in a bevy of ten or a
+dozen, and all march in to the same tradesman. Of course in these
+latter days speculative men and 'co-operative' prices,
+industriously placarded, have sapped and undermined this
+old-fashioned system. Yet even now it retains sufficient hold to be
+a marked feature of country life. To the through traffic,
+therefore, had to be added the steady flow of customers to the
+shops.</p>
+<p>On a market-day like this there is, of course, the incessant
+entry and exit of carts, waggons, traps, gigs, four-wheels, and a
+large number of private carriages. The number of private carriages
+is, indeed, very remarkable, as also the succession of gentlemen on
+thoroughbred horses&mdash;a proof of the number of resident gentry
+in the neighbourhood, and of its general prosperity. Cart-horses
+furbished up for sale, with straw-bound tails and glistening skins;
+'baaing' flocks of sheep; squeaking pigs; bullocks with their heads
+held ominously low, some going, some returning, from the auction
+yard; shouting drovers; lads rushing hither and thither; dogs
+barking; everything and everybody crushing, jostling, pushing
+through the narrow street. An old shepherd, who has done his
+master's business, comes along the pavement, trudging thoughtful
+and slow, with ashen staff. One hand is in his pocket, the elbow of
+the arm projecting; he is feeling a fourpenny-piece, and
+deliberating at which 'tap' he shall spend it. He fills up the
+entire pavement, and stolidly plods on, turning ladies and all into
+the roadway; not from intentional rudeness, but from sheer
+inability to perceive that he is causing inconvenience.</p>
+<p>Unless you know the exact spot it is difficult in all this crowd
+and pushing, with a nervous dread of being gored from behind by a
+bull, or thrown off your feet by a sudden charge of sheep, to
+discover the door of the Jason Inn. That door has been open every
+legitimate and lawful hour this hundred years; but you will very
+likely be carried past it and have to struggle back. Then it is not
+easy to enter, for half a dozen stalwart farmers and farmers' sons
+are coming out; while two young fellows stand just inside, close to
+the sliding bar-window, blocking up the passage, to exchange
+occasional nods and smiles with the barmaid.</p>
+<p>However, by degrees you shuffle along the sanded passage, and
+past the door of the bar, which is full of farmers as thick as they
+can stand, or sit. The rattle of glasses, the chink of spoons, the
+hum of voices, the stamping of feet, the calls and orders, and
+sounds of laughter, mingle in confusion. Cigar-smoke and the steam
+from the glasses fill the room&mdash;all too small&mdash;with a
+thick white mist, through which rubicund faces dimly shine like the
+red sun through a fog.</p>
+<p>Some at the tables are struggling to write cheques, with
+continual jogs at the elbow, with ink that will not flow, pens that
+scratch and splutter, blotting-paper that smudges and blots. Some
+are examining cards of an auction, and discussing the prices which
+they have marked in the margin in pencil. The good-humoured uproar
+is beyond description, and is increased by more farmers forcing
+their way in from the rear, where are their horses or
+traps&mdash;by farmers eagerly inquiring for dealers or friends,
+and by messengers from the shops loaded with parcels to place in
+the customer's vehicle.</p>
+<p>At last you get beyond the bar-room door and reach the end of
+the passage, where is a wide staircase, and at the foot a tall
+eight-day clock. A maid-servant comes tripping down, and in answer
+to inquiry replies that that is the way up, and the room is ready,
+but she adds with a smile that there is no one there yet. It is
+three-quarters of an hour after the time fixed for the reading of a
+most important paper before a meeting specially convened, before
+the assembled Parliament of Hodge's masters, and you thought you
+would be too late. A glance at the staircase proves the truth of
+the maid's story. It has no carpet, but it is white as
+well-scrubbed wood could well be. There is no stain, no dust, no
+foot-mark on it; no heavy shoe that has been tramping about in the
+mud has been up there. But it is necessary to go on or go back, and
+of the two the first is the lesser evil.</p>
+<p>The staircase is guarded by carved banisters, and after going up
+two flights you enter a large and vacant apartment prepared for the
+meeting of the farmers' club. At the farther end is a small
+mahogany table, with an armchair for the president, paper, pens,
+ink, blotting-paper, and a wax candle and matches, in case he
+should want a light. Two less dignified chairs are for the
+secretary (whose box, containing the club records, books of
+reference, &amp;c., is on the table), and for the secretary's
+clerk. Rows of plain chairs stretch across the room, rank after
+rank; these are for the audience. And last of all are two long
+forms, as if for Hodge, if Hodge chooses to come.</p>
+<p>A gleam of the afternoon sun&mdash;as the clouds part
+awhile&mdash;attracts one naturally to the window. The thickness of
+the wall in which it is placed must be some two or three feet, so
+that there is a recess on which to put your arms, if you do not
+mind the dust, and look out. The window is half open, and the
+sounds of the street come up, 'baaing' and bellowing and squeaking,
+the roll of wheels, the tramp of feet, and, more distant, the
+shouting of an auctioneer in the market-place, whose stentorian
+tones come round the corner as he puts up rickcloths for sale.
+Noise of man and animal below; above, here in the chamber of
+science, vacancy and silence. Looking upwards, a narrow streak of
+blue sky can be seen above the ancient house across the way.</p>
+<p>After awhile there comes the mellow sound of bells from the
+church which is near by, though out of sight; bells with a soft,
+old-world tone; bells that chime slowly and succeed each other
+without haste, ringing forth a holy melody composed centuries ago.
+It is as well to pause a minute and listen to their voice, even in
+this railroad age of hurry. Over the busy market-place the notes go
+forth, and presently the hum comes back and dwells in the recess of
+the window. It is a full hour after the time fixed, and now at
+last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of heavy boots
+upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the landing;
+they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk comes,
+and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have company,
+boldly enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary
+arrives; finally the president appears, and with him the lecturer.
+There is a hum of greeting; the minutes are read; the president
+introduces the professor, and the latter stands forth to read his
+paper&mdash;'Science, the Remedy for Agricultural Depression.'</p>
+<p>Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the
+present period of distress. For many years past science had been
+like the voice crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only,
+had listened. Men had, indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone
+away home again, and, as the swine of the proverb, returned to
+their wallowing in the mire. One blade of grass still grew where
+two or even three might be grown; he questioned whether farmers had
+any real desire to grow the extra blades. If they did, they had
+merely to employ the means provided for them. Everything had been
+literally put into their hands; but what was the result? Why,
+nothing&mdash;in point of fact, nothing. The country at large was
+still undrained. The very A B C of progress had been neglected. He
+should be afraid to say what proportion of the land was yet
+undrained, for he should be contradicted, called ill names, and
+cried down. But if they would look around them they could see for
+themselves. They would see meadows full of rank, coarse grass in
+the furrows, which neither horse nor cattle would touch. They would
+see in the wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble,
+and altogether poor; that was where the water had stood and
+destroyed the natural power of the seed. The same cause gave origin
+to that mass of weeds which was the standing disgrace of arable
+districts.</p>
+<p>But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried
+out that the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain&mdash;it was
+their own intense dislike of making any improvement. The <i>vis
+inerti&aelig;</i> of the agricultural class was beyond the limit of
+language to describe. Why, if the land had been drained the rain
+would have done comparatively little damage, and thus they would
+have been independent of the seasons. Look, again, at the hay crop;
+how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted because men would not
+believe that anything would answer which had not been done by their
+forefathers! The hay might have been saved by three distinct
+methods. The grass might have been piled against hurdles or light
+frame-work and so dried by the wind; it might have been pitted in
+the earth and preserved still green; or it might have been dried by
+machinery and the hot blast. A gentleman had invented a machine,
+the utility of which had been demonstrated beyond all doubt. But
+no; farmers folded their hands and watched their hay rotting.</p>
+<p>As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They
+had not cleaned the soil&mdash;there were horse-hoes, and every
+species of contrivances for the purpose; but they would not use
+them. They had not ploughed deeply: they had merely scratched the
+surface as if with a pin. How could the thin upper crust of the
+earth&mdash;the mere rind three inches thick&mdash;be expected to
+yield crop after crop for a hundred years? Deep ploughing could
+only be done by steam: now how many farmers possessed or used
+steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts where such a thing
+was unknown. They had neglected to manure the soil; to restore to
+it the chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak upon
+artificial manure was enough to drive any man who had the power of
+thought into temporary insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to
+see men positively turning away from the means of obtaining good
+crops, and then crying out that they were ruined. With drains,
+steam-ploughs, and artificial manure, a farmer might defy the
+weather.</p>
+<p>Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the
+farmer had good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The
+first he could get if he chose; and without the second, without
+capital, he had no business to be farming at all. He was simply
+stopping the road of a better man, and the sooner he was driven out
+of the way the better. The neglect of machinery was most
+disheartening. A farmer bought one machine, perhaps a
+reaping-machine, and then because that solitary article did not
+immediately make his fortune he declared that machinery was
+useless. Could the force of folly farther go? With machinery they
+could do just as they liked. They could compel the earth to yield,
+and smile at the most tropical rain, or the most continuous
+drought. If only the voice of science had been listened to, there
+would have been no depression at all. Even now it was not too
+late.</p>
+<p>Those who were wise would at once set to work to drain, to
+purchase artificial manure, and set up steam power, and thereby to
+provide themselves with the means of stemming the tide of
+depression. By these means they could maintain a head of stock that
+would be more than double what was now kept upon equal acreage. He
+knew full well one of the objections that would be made against
+these statements. It would be said that certain individuals had
+done all this, had deep ploughed, had manured, had kept a great
+head of valuable stock, had used every resource, and yet had
+suffered. This was true. He deeply regretted to say it was
+true.</p>
+<p>But why had they suffered? Not because of the steam, the
+machinery, the artificial manure, the improvements they had set on
+foot; but because of the folly of their neighbours, of the
+agricultural class generally. The great mass of farmers had made no
+improvements; and, when the time of distress came, they were beaten
+down at every point. It was through these men and their failures
+that the price of stock and of produce fell, and that so much
+stress was put upon the said individuals through no fault of their
+own. He would go further, and he would say that had it not been for
+the noble efforts of such individuals&mdash;the pioneers of
+agriculture and its main props and stays&mdash;the condition of
+farming would have been simply fifty times worse than it was. They,
+and they alone, had enabled it to bear up so long against calamity.
+They had resources; the agricultural class, as a rule, had none.
+Those resources were the manure they had put into the soil, the
+deep ploughing they had accomplished, the great head of stock they
+had got together, and so on. These enabled them to weather the
+storm.</p>
+<p>The cry for a reduction of rent was an irresistible proof of
+what he had put forth&mdash;that it was the farmers themselves who
+were to blame. This cry was a confession of their own incompetency.
+If you analysed it&mdash;if you traced the general cry home to
+particular people&mdash;you always found that those people were
+incapables. The fact was, farming, as a rule, was conducted on the
+hand-to-mouth principle, and the least stress or strain caused an
+outcry. He must be forgiven if he seemed to speak with unusual
+acerbity. He intended no offence. But it was his duty. In such a
+condition of things it would be folly to mince matters, to speak
+softly while everything was going to pieces. He repeated, once for
+all, it was their own fault. Science could supply the remedy, and
+science alone; if they would not call in the aid of science they
+must suffer, and their privations must be upon their own heads.
+Science said, Drain, use artificial manure, plough deeply, keep the
+best breed of stock, put capital into the soil. Call science to
+their aid, and they might defy the seasons.</p>
+<p>The professor sat down and thrust his hand through his hair. The
+president invited discussion. For some few minutes no one rose;
+presently, after a whispered conversation with his friend, an
+elderly farmer stood up from the forms at the very back of the
+room. He made no pretence to rounded periods, but spoke much better
+than might have been expected; he had a small piece of paper in his
+hand, on which he had made notes as the lecture proceeded.</p>
+<p>He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case. He had
+proved to demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers
+were fools. Well, no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for
+everybody thought he could teach the farmer. The chemist, the
+grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine merchant, the lawyer, the
+doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant, the editor, the
+printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the ironmaster, the
+clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and railway
+porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers&mdash;to use
+an expressive Americanism, all the whole "jing-bang"&mdash;could
+teach the ignorant jackass of a farmer.</p>
+<p>Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a
+parcel for his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with
+the draper himself. The draper said he was just going to sell off
+the business and go into dairy farming, which was the most paying
+thing out. That was just when there came over from America a patent
+machine for milking cows. The draper's idea was to milk all his
+cows by one of these articles, and so dispense with labour. He saw
+no more of him for a long time, but had heard that morning that he
+went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and was now
+tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back. Everybody
+thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself,
+and then he found his mistake.</p>
+<p>One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so,
+seemed to him, a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not
+only uncalled-for and priggish, but downright brutal. It was that
+the man with little capital ought to be driven out of farming, and
+the sooner he went to the wall the better. Now, how would all the
+grocers and other tradesmen whom he had just enumerated like to be
+told that if they had not got 10,000<i>l</i>. each they ought to go
+at once to the workhouse! That would be a fine remedy for the
+depression of trade.</p>
+<p>He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man
+with small capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial,
+managed to raise himself and get up in the world. But, oh no;
+nothing of the kind; the small man was the greatest sinner, and
+must be eradicated. Well, he did not hesitate to say that he had
+been a small man himself, and began in a very small way. Perhaps
+the lecturer would think him a small man still, as he was not a
+millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for something in
+the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound or two
+over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there
+was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would
+not prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should like to ask
+the lecturer if he could give the name of one single scientific
+farmer who had prospered?</p>
+<p>Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and
+busted out of the room, and several others followed him, for the
+rain was already splashing against the window-panes. Others looked
+at their watches, and, seeing it was late, rose one by one and
+slipped off. The president asked if any one would continue the
+discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the professor to
+reply.</p>
+<p>The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came
+a heavy rolling sound&mdash;the unmistakable boom of distant
+thunder. He said that the gentleman who had left so abruptly had
+quite misconstrued the tenour of his paper. So far from intending
+to describe farmers as lacking in intelligence, all he wished to
+show was that they did not use their natural abilities, from a
+certain traditionary bowing to custom. They did not like their
+neighbours to think that they were doing anything novel. No one
+respected the feelings that had grown up and strengthened from
+childhood, no one respected the habits of our ancestors, more than
+he did; no one knew better the solid virtues that adorned the homes
+of agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say
+aught&mdash;[Boom! and the rattling of rain against the
+window]&mdash;aught that could&mdash;but he saw that gentlemen were
+anxious to get home, and would conclude.</p>
+<p>A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke
+up and hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so
+blocked with farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that
+movement was impossible. The place was darkened by the overhanging
+clouds, the atmosphere thick and close with the smoke and the
+crush. Flashes of brilliant lightning seemed to sweep down the
+narrow street, which ran like a brook with the storm-water; the
+thunder seemed to descend and shake the solid walls. 'It's rather
+hard on the professor,' said one farmer to another. 'What would
+science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly spoken when the hail
+suddenly came down, and the round white globules, rebounding from
+the pavement, rolled in at the open door. Each paused as he lifted
+his glass and thought of the harvest. As for Hodge, who was
+reaping, he had to take shelter how he might in the open fields.
+Boom! flash! boom!&mdash;splash and hiss, as the hail rushed along
+the narrow street.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap2" id="chap2">CHAPTER II</a></h3>
+<h3>LEAVING HIS FARM</h3>
+A large white poster, fresh and glaring, is pasted on the wall of a
+barn that stands beside a narrow country lane. So plain an
+advertisement, without any colour or attempt at 'display,' would be
+passed unnoticed among the endless devices on a town hoarding.
+There nothing can be hoped to be looked at unless novel and
+strange, or even incomprehensible. But here the oblong piece of
+black and white contrasts sufficiently in itself with red brick and
+dull brown wooden framing, with tall shadowy elms, and the glint of
+sunshine on the streamlet that flows with a ceaseless murmur across
+the hollow of the lane. Every man that comes along stays to read
+it.
+<p>The dealer in his trap&mdash;his name painted in white letters
+on the shaft&mdash;pulls up his quick pony, and sits askew on his
+seat to read. He has probably seen it before in the bar of the
+wayside inn, roughly hung on a nail, and swaying to and fro with
+the draught along the passage. He may have seen it, too, on the
+handing-post at the lonely cross-roads, stuck on in such a manner
+that, in order to peruse it, it is necessary to walk round the
+post. The same formal announcement appears also in the local weekly
+papers&mdash;there are at least two now in the smallest
+place&mdash;and he has read it there. Yet he pauses to glance at it
+again, for the country mind requires reiteration before it can
+thoroughly grasp and realise the simplest fact. The poster must be
+read and re-read, and the printer's name observed and commented on,
+or, if handled, the thickness of the paper felt between thumb and
+finger. After a month or two of this process people at last begin
+to accept it as a reality, like cattle or trees&mdash;something
+substantial, and not mere words.</p>
+<p>The carter, with his waggon, if he be an elderly man, cries
+'Whoa!' and, standing close to the wall, points to each letter with
+the top of his whip&mdash;where it bends&mdash;and so spells out
+'Sale by Auction.' If he be a young man he looks up at it as the
+heavy waggon rumbles by, turns his back, and goes on with utter
+indifference.</p>
+<p>The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose
+minds were formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in
+half a century, have so identified themselves with the order of
+things in the parish that it seems to personally affect them when a
+farmer leaves his place. But young Hodge cares nothing about his
+master, or his fellow's master. Whether they go or stay, prosperous
+or decaying, it matters nothing to him. He takes good wages, and
+can jingle some small silver in his pocket when he comes to the
+tavern a mile or so ahead; so 'gee-up' and let us get there as
+rapidly as possible.</p>
+<p>An hour later a farmer passes on horseback; his horse all too
+broad for his short legs that stick out at the side and show some
+inches of stocking between the bottom of his trousers and his
+boots. A sturdy, thick-set man, with a wide face, brickdust colour,
+fringed with close-cut red whiskers, and a chest so broad he seems
+compelled to wear his coat unbuttoned. He pulls off his hat and
+wipes his partly bald head with a coloured handkerchief, stares at
+the poster a few minutes, and walks his horse away, evidently in
+deep thought. Two boys&mdash;cottagers' children&mdash;come home
+from school; they look round to see that no one observes, and then
+throw flints at the paper till the sound of footsteps alarms
+them.</p>
+<p>Towards the evening a gentleman and lady, the first middle-aged,
+the latter very young&mdash;father and daughter&mdash;approach,
+their horses seeming to linger as they walk through the shallow
+stream, and the cool water splashes above their fetlocks. The
+shooting season is near at hand, Parliament has risen, and the
+landlords have returned home. Instead of the Row, papa must take
+his darling a ride through the lanes, a little dusty as the autumn
+comes on, and pauses to read the notice on the wall. It is his
+neighbour's tenant, not his, but it comes home to him here. It is
+the real thing&mdash;the fact&mdash;not the mere seeing it in the
+papers, or the warning hints in the letters of his own steward.
+'Papa,' is rather quiet for the rest of the ride. Ever since he was
+a lad&mdash;how many years ago is that?&mdash;he has shot with his
+neighbour's party over this farm, and recollects the tenant well,
+and with that friendly feeling that grows up towards what we see
+year after year. In a day or two the clergyman drives by with his
+low four-wheel and fat pony, notes the poster as the pony slackens
+at the descent to the water, and tells himself to remember and get
+the tithe. Some few Sundays, and Farmer Smith will appear in church
+no more.</p>
+<p>Farmer Smith this beautiful morning is looking at the wheat,
+which is, and is not, his. It would have been cut in an ordinary
+season, but the rains have delayed the ripening. He wonders how the
+crop ever came up at all through the mass of weeds that choked it,
+the spurrey that filled the spaces between the stalks below, the
+bindweed that climbed up them, the wild camomile flowering and
+flourishing at the edge, the tall thistles lifting their heads
+above it in bunches, and the great docks whose red seeds showed at
+a distance. He sent in some men, as much to give them something to
+do as for any real good, one day, who in a few hours pulled up
+enough docks to fill a cart. They came across a number of snakes,
+and decapitated the reptiles with their hoes, and afterwards hung
+them all up&mdash;tied together by the tail&mdash;to a bough. The
+bunch of headless snakes hangs there still, swinging to and fro as
+the wind plays through the oak. Vermin, too, revel in weeds, which
+encourage the mice and rats, and are, perhaps, quite as much a
+cause of their increase as any acts of the gamekeeper.</p>
+<p>Farmer Smith a few years since was very anxious for the renewal
+of his lease, just as those about to enter on tenancies desired
+leases above everything. All the agricultural world agreed that a
+lease was the best thing possible&mdash;the clubs discussed it, the
+papers preached it. It was a safeguard; it allowed the tenant to
+develop his energies, and to put his capital into the soil without
+fear. He had no dread of being turned out before he could get it
+back. Nothing like a lease&mdash;the certain preventative of all
+agricultural ills. There was, to appearance, a great deal of truth
+in these arguments, which in their day made much impression, and
+caused a movement in that direction. Who could foresee that in a
+few short years men would be eager to get rid of their leases on
+any terms? Yet such was the fact. The very men who had longed so
+eagerly for the blessing of security of tenure found it the worst
+thing possible for their interest.</p>
+<p>Mr. Smith got his lease, and paid for it tolerably stiffly, for
+at that period all agricultural prices were inflated&mdash;from the
+price of a lease to that of a calf. He covenanted to pay a certain
+fixed rental for so many acres of arable and a small proportion of
+grass for a fixed time. He covenanted to cultivate the soil by a
+fixed rotation; not to sow this nor that, nor to be guided by the
+change of the markets, or the character of the seasons, or the
+appearance of powerful foreign competitors. There was the parchment
+prepared with all the niceties of wording that so many generations
+of lawyers had polished to the highest pitch; not a loophole, not
+so much as a <i>t</i> left uncrossed, or a doubtful interlineation.
+But although the parchment did not alter a jot, the times and
+seasons did. Wheat fell in price, vast shipments came even from
+India, cattle and sheep from America, wool from Australia, horses
+from France; tinned provisions and meats poured in by the ton, and
+cheese, and butter, and bacon by the thousand tons. Labour at the
+same time rose. His expenditure increased, his income decreased;
+his rent remained the same, and rent audit came round with the
+utmost regularity.</p>
+<p>Mr. Smith began to think about his lease, and question whether
+it was such an unmixed blessing. There was no getting out of it,
+that was certain. The seasons grew worse and worse. Smith asked for
+a reduction of rent. He got, like others, ten per cent, returned,
+which, he said looked very liberal to those who knew nothing of
+farming, and was in reality about as useful as a dry biscuit flung
+at a man who has eaten nothing for a week. Besides which, it was
+only a gracious condescension, and might not be repeated next year,
+unless he kept on his good behaviour, and paid court to the
+clergyman and the steward. Unable to get at what he wanted in a
+direct way, Smith tried an indirect one. He went at game, and
+insisted on its being reduced in number. This he could do according
+to the usual terms of agreement; but when it came to the point he
+found that the person called in to assess the damage put it at a
+much lower figure than he had himself; and who was to decide what
+was or was not a reasonable head of game? This attack of his on the
+game did him no good whatever, and was not unnaturally borne in
+mind&mdash;let us not say resented.</p>
+<p>He next tried to get permission to sell straw&mdash;a permission
+that he saw granted to others in moderation. But he was then
+reminded of a speech he had made at a club, when, in a moment of
+temper (and sherry), he had let out a piece of his mind, which
+piece of his mind was duly published in the local papers, and
+caused a sensation. Somebody called the landlord's attention to it,
+and he did not like it. Nor can he be blamed; we none of us like to
+be abused in public, the more especially when, looking at
+precedents, we do not deserve it. Smith next went to the assessment
+committee to get his taxes reduced, on the ground of a loss of
+revenue. The committee sympathised with him, but found that they
+must assess him according to his rent. At least so they were then
+advised, and only did their duty.</p>
+<p>By this time the local bankers had scented a time of trouble
+approaching in the commercial and agricultural world; they began to
+draw in their more doubtful advances, or to refuse to renew them.
+As a matter of fact, Smith was a perfectly sound man, but he had so
+persistently complained that people began to suspect there really
+was something wrong with his finances. He endeavoured to explain,
+but was met with the tale that he had himself started. He then
+honestly produced his books, and laid his position bare to the last
+penny.</p>
+<p>The banker believed him, and renewed part of the advance for a
+short period; but he began, to cogitate in this wise: 'Here is a
+farmer of long experience, born of a farming family, and a
+hardworking fellow, and, more than that, honest. If this man, who
+has hitherto had the command of a fair amount of capital, cannot
+make his books balance better than this, what must be the case with
+some of our customers? There are many who ride about on hunters,
+and have a bin of decent wine. How much of all this is genuine? We
+must be careful; these are hard times.' In short, Smith, without
+meaning it, did his neighbours an immense deal of harm. His very
+honesty injured them. By slow degrees the bank got 'tighter' with
+its customers. It leaked out&mdash;all things leak out&mdash;that
+Smith had said too much, and he became unpopular, which did not
+increase his contentment.</p>
+<p>Finally he gave notice that unless the rent was reduced he
+should not apply to renew the lease, which would soon expire. He
+had not the least intention in his secret mind of leaving the farm;
+he never dreamed that his notice would be accepted. He and his had
+dwelt there for a hundred years, and were as much part and parcel
+of the place as the elm-trees in the hedges. So many farms were in
+the market going a-begging for tenants, it was not probable a
+landlord would let a good man go for the sake of a few shillings an
+acre. But the months went by and the landlord's agents gave no
+sign, and at last Smith realised that he was really going to
+leave.</p>
+<p>Though he had so long talked of going, it came upon him like a
+thunderbolt. It was like an attack of some violent fever that
+shakes a strong man and leaves him as weak as a child. The farmer,
+whose meals had been so hearty, could not relish his food. His
+breakfast dwindled to a pretence; his lunch fell off; his dinner
+grew less; his supper faded; his spirits and water, the old
+familiar 'nightcap,' did him no good. His jolly ringing laugh was
+heard no more; from a thorough gossip he became taciturn, and
+barely opened his lips. His clothes began to hang about him,
+instead of fitting him all too tight; his complexion lost the red
+colour and became sallow; his eyes had a furtive look in them, so
+different to the old straightforward glance.</p>
+<p>Some said he would take to his bed and die; some said he would
+jump into the pond one night, to be known no more in this world.
+But he neither jumped into the pond nor took to his bed. He went
+round his fields just the same as before&mdash;perhaps a little
+more mechanically; but still the old routine of daily work was gone
+through. Leases, though for a short period, do not expire in a day;
+after awhile time began to produce its usual effect. The sharpness
+of the pain wore off, and he set to work to make the best of
+matters. He understood the capacity of each field as well as others
+understand the yielding power of a little garden. His former study
+had been to preserve something like a balance between what he put
+in and what he took out of the soil. Now it became the subject of
+consideration how to get the most out without putting anything in.
+Artificial manures were reduced to the lowest quantity and of the
+cheapest quality, such as was used being, in fact, nothing but to
+throw dust, literally, in the eyes of other people. Times were so
+bad that he could not be expected, under the most favourable
+circumstances, to consume much cake in the stalls or make much
+manure in that way.</p>
+<p>One by one extra expenditures were cut off. Gates, instead of
+being repaired, were propped up by running a pole across. Labour
+was eschewed in every possible way. Hedges were left uncut; ditches
+were left uncleaned. The team of horses was reduced, and the
+ploughing done next to nothing. Cleaning and weeding were gradually
+abandoned. Several fields were allowed to become overrun with
+grass, not the least attention being paid to them; the weeds sprang
+up, and the grass ran over from the hedges. The wheat crop was kept
+to the smallest area. Wheat requires more previous labour and care
+as to soil than any other crop. Labour and preparation cost money,
+and he was determined not to spend a shilling more than he was
+absolutely compelled. He contrived to escape the sowing, of wheat
+altogether on some part of the farm, leaving it out of the
+rotation. That was a direct infringement of the letter of the
+agreement; but who was to prove that he had evaded it? The steward
+could not recollect the crops on several hundred acres; the
+neighbouring tenants, of course, knew very well; but although Smith
+had become unpopular, they were not going to tell tales of him. He
+sold everything he dared off the farm, and many things that he did
+not dare. He took everything out of the soil that it was possible
+to take out. The last Michaelmas was approaching, and he walked
+round in the warm August sunshine to look at the wheat.</p>
+<p>He sat down on an old roller that lay in the corner of the
+field, and thought over the position of things. He calculated that
+it would cost the incoming tenant an expenditure of from one
+thousand two hundred pounds to one thousand five hundred pounds to
+put the farm, which was a large one, into proper condition. It
+could not be got into such condition under three years of labour.
+The new tenant must therefore be prepared to lay out a heavy sum of
+money, to wait while the improvement went on, must live how he
+could meanwhile, and look forward some three years for the
+commencement of his profit. To such a state had the farm been
+brought in a brief time. And how would the landlord come off? The
+new tenant would certainly make his bargain in accordance with the
+state of the land. For the first year the rent paid would be
+nominal; for the second, perhaps a third or half the usual sum; not
+till the third year could the landlord hope to get his full rental.
+That full rental, too, would be lower than previously, because the
+general depression had sent down arable rents everywhere, and no
+one would pay on the old scale.</p>
+<p>Smith thought very hard things of the landlord, and felt that he
+should have his revenge. On the other hand, the landlord thought
+very hard things of Smith, and not wilhout reason. That an old
+tenant, the descendant of one of the oldest tenant-farmer families,
+should exhaust the soil in this way seemed the blackest return for
+the good feeling that had existed for several generations. There
+was great irritation on both sides.</p>
+<p>Smith had, however, to face one difficulty. He must either take
+another farm at once, or live on his capital. The interest of his
+capital&mdash;if invested temporarily in Government
+securities&mdash;would hardly suffice to maintain the comfortable
+style of living he and his rather large family of grown-up sons and
+daughters had been accustomed to. He sometimes heard a faint, far
+off 'still small voice,' that seemed to say it would have been
+wiser to stay on, and wait till the reaction took place and farming
+recovered. The loss he would have sustained by staying on would,
+perhaps, not have been larger than the loss he must now sustain by
+living on capital till such time as he saw something to suit him.
+And had he been altogether wise in omitting all endeavours to gain
+his end by conciliatory means? Might not gentle persuasion and
+courteous language have ultimately produced an impression? Might
+not terms have been arranged had he not been so vehement? The new
+tenant, notwithstanding that he would have to contend with the
+shocking state of the farm, had such favourable terms that if he
+only stayed long enough to let the soil recover, Smith knew he must
+make a good thing of it.</p>
+<p>But as he sat on the wooden roller under the shade of a tree and
+thought these things, listening to the rustle of the golden wheat
+as it moved in the breeze, he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket,
+and glanced down a long, long list of farms to let. Then he
+remembered that his pass-book at the bank showed a very respectable
+row of figures, buttoned up his coat, and strolled homeward with a
+smile on his features. The date fixed for the sale, as announced by
+the poster on the barn, came round, and a crowd gathered to see the
+last of the old tenant. Old Hodge viewed the scene from a distance,
+resting against a gate, with his chin on his hand. He was thinking
+of the days when he first went to plough, years ago, under Smith's
+father. If Smith had been about to enter on another farm old Hodge
+would have girded up his loins, packed his worldly goods in a
+waggon, and followed his master's fortunes thither. But Smith was
+going to live on his capital awhile; and old Hodge had already had
+notice to quit his cottage. In his latter days he must work for a
+new master. Down at the sale young Hodge was lounging round, hands
+in pocket, whistling&mdash;for there was some beer going about. The
+excitement of the day was a pleasurable sensation, and as for his
+master he might go to Kansas or Hong-Kong.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap3" id="chap3">CHAPTER III</a></h3>
+<h3>A MAN OF PROGRESS</h3>
+The sweet sound of rustling leaves, as soothing as the rush of
+falling water, made a gentle music over a group of three persons
+sitting at the extremity of a lawn. Upon their right was a
+plantation or belt of trees, which sheltered them from the noonday
+sun; on the left the green sward reached to the house; from the
+open window came the rippling notes of a piano, and now and again
+the soft accents of the Italian tongue. The walls of the garden
+shut out the world and the wind&mdash;the blue sky stretched above
+from one tree-top to another, and in those tree-tops the cool
+breeze, grateful to the reapers in the fields, played with bough
+and leaf. In the centre of the group was a small table, and on it
+some tall glasses of antique make, and a flask of wine. By the lady
+lay a Japanese parasol, carelessly dropped on the grass. She was
+handsome, and elegantly dressed; her long drooping eyelashes
+fringed eyes that were almost closed in luxurious enjoyment; her
+slender hand beat time to the distant song. Of the two gentlemen
+one was her brother&mdash;the other, a farmer, her husband. The
+brother wore a pith helmet, and his bronzed cheek told of service
+under tropical suns. The husband was scarcely less brown; still
+young, and very active-looking, you might guess his age at forty;
+but his bare forehead (he had thrown his hat on the ground) was
+marked with the line caused by involuntary contraction of the
+muscles when thinking. There was an air of anxiety, of restless
+feverish energy, about him. But just for the moment he was calm and
+happy, turning over the pages of a book. Suddenly he looked up, and
+began to declaim, in a clear, sweet voice:
+<blockquote>'He's speaking now,<br>
+Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"<br>
+For so he calls me. Now I feed myself<br>
+With most delicious poison!'<br></blockquote>
+Just then there came the sharp rattle of machinery borne on the
+wind; he recollected himself, shut the volume, and rose from his
+seat. 'The men have finished luncheon,' he said; 'I must go and see
+how things are getting on.' The Indian officer, after one glance
+back at the house, went with him. There was a private footpath
+through the plantation of trees, and down this the two disappeared.
+Soon afterwards the piano ceased, and a lady came slowly across the
+lawn, still humming the air she had been playing. She was the
+farmer's sister, and was engaged to the officer. The wife looked up
+from the book which she had taken from the table, with a smile of
+welcome. But the smile faded as she said&mdash;'They have gone out
+to the reapers. Oh, this farm will worry him out of his life! How I
+wish he had never bought it! Don't let Alick have anything to do
+with farms or land, dear, when you are married.'
+<p>The girl laughed, sat down, took her hand, and asked if matters
+were really so serious.</p>
+<p>'It is not so much the money I trouble about,' said the wife.
+'It is Cecil himself. His nature is too fine for these dull clods.
+You know him, dear; his mind is full of art&mdash;look at these
+glasses&mdash;of music and pictures. Why, he has just been reading
+"Antony and Cleopatra," and now he's gone to look after reapers.
+Then, he is so fiery and quick, and wants everything done in a
+minute, like the men of business in the "City." He keeps his watch
+timed to a second, and expects the men to be there. They are so
+slow. Everything agricultural is so slow. They say we shall have
+fine seasons in two or three years; only think, <i>years</i>. This
+is what weighs on Cecil.'</p>
+<p>By this time the two men had walked through the plantation, and
+paused at a small gate that opened on the fields. The ground fell
+rapidly away, sloping down for half a mile, so that every portion
+of the fields below was visible at once. The house and gardens were
+situate on the hill; the farmer had only to stand on the edge to
+overlook half his place.</p>
+<p>'What a splendid view!' said the officer. The entire slope was
+yellow with wheat&mdash;on either hand, and in front the surface of
+the crop extended unbroken by hedge, tree, or apparent division.
+Two reaping-machines were being driven rapidly round and round,
+cutting as they went; one was a self-binder and threw the sheaves
+off already bound; the other only laid the corn low, and it had
+afterwards to be gathered up and bound by hand-labour. There was
+really a small army of labourers in the field; but it was so large
+they made but little show.</p>
+<p>'You have a first-rate crop,' said the visitor; 'I see no weeds,
+or not more than usual; it is a capital crop.'</p>
+<p>'Yes,' replied the farmer, 'it is a fine crop; but just think
+what it cost me to produce it, and bear in mind, too, the price I
+shall get for it.' He took out his pocket-book, and began to
+explain.</p>
+<p>While thus occupied he looked anything but a farmer. His dress
+was indeed light and careless, but it was the carelessness of
+breeding, not slovenliness. His hands were brown, but there were
+clean white cuffs on his wrist and gold studs; his neck was brown,
+but his linen spotless. The face was too delicate, too refined with
+all its bronze; the frame was well developed, but too active; it
+lacked the heavy thickness and the lumbering gait of the farmer
+bred to the plough. He might have conducted a great financial
+operation; he might have been the head of a great mercantile house;
+he might have been on 'Change; but that stiff clay there, stubborn
+and unimpressionable, was not in his style.</p>
+<p>Cecil had gone into farming, in fact, as a 'commercial
+speculation,' with the view of realising cent. per cent. He began
+at the time when it was daily announced that old-fashioned farming
+was a thing of the past. Business maxims and business practice were
+to be the rule of the future. Farming was not to be farming; it was
+to be emphatically 'business,' the same as iron, coal, or cotton.
+Thus managed, with steam as the motive power, a fortune might be
+made out of the land, in the same way as out of a colliery or a
+mine. But it must be done in a commercial manner; there must be no
+restrictions upon the employment of capital, no fixed rotation of
+crops, no clauses forbidding the sale of any products. Cecil found,
+however, that the possessors of large estates would not let him a
+farm on these conditions. These ignorant people (as he thought
+them) insisted upon keeping up the traditionary customs; they would
+not contract themselves out of the ancient form of lease.</p>
+<p>But Cecil was a man of capital. He really had a large sum of
+money, and this short-sighted policy (as he termed it) of the
+landlords only made him the more eager to convince them how
+mistaken they were to refuse anything to a man who could put
+capital into the soil. He resolved to be his own landlord, and
+ordered his agents to find him a small estate and to purchase it
+outright. There was not much difficulty in finding an estate, and
+Cecil bought it. But he was even then annoyed and disgusted with
+the formalities, the investigation of title, the completion of
+deeds, and astounded at the length of a lawyer's bill.</p>
+<p>Being at last established in possession Cecil set to work, and
+at the same time set every agricultural tongue wagging within a
+radius of twenty miles. He grubbed up all the hedges, and threw the
+whole of his arable land into one vast field, and had it levelled
+with the theodolite. He drained it six feet deep at an enormous
+cost. He built an engine-shed with a centrifugal pump, which forced
+water from the stream that ran through the lower ground over the
+entire property, and even to the topmost storey of his house. He
+laid a light tramway across the widest part of his estate, and sent
+the labourers to and fro their work in trucks. The chaff-cutters,
+root-pulpers, the winnowing-machine&mdash;everything was driven by
+steam. Teams of horses and waggons seemed to be always going to the
+canal wharf for coal, which he ordered from the pit wholesale.</p>
+<p>A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and,
+having once commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to
+cease. They were for ever at work tearing up the subsoil and
+bringing it to the surface. If he could have done it, he would have
+ploughed ten feet deep. Tons of artificial manure came by canal
+boat&mdash;positively boat loads&mdash;and were stored in the
+warehouse. For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage of
+materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter
+above, hoisted up by a small crane. There was, too, an office,
+where the 'engineer' attended every morning to take his orders, as
+the bailiff might at the back-door of an old farmhouse. Substantial
+buildings were erected for the shorthorn cattle.</p>
+<p>The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all
+thrown together, such divisions as were necessary being made by
+iron railings. Machines of every class and character were
+provided&mdash;reaping-machines, mowing-machines, horse-hoes,
+horse-rakes, elevators&mdash;everything was to be done by
+machinery. That nothing might be incomplete, some new and
+well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled
+artisans&mdash;they could scarcely be called labourers&mdash;who
+were engaged to work these engines. The estate had previously
+consisted of several small farms: these were now thrown all into
+one, otherwise there would not have been room for this great
+enterprise.</p>
+<p>A complete system of booking was organised. From the sale of a
+bullock to the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper.
+All these entries, made in books specially prepared and
+conveniently ruled for the purpose, came under Cecil's eye weekly,
+and were by him re-entered in his ledgers. This writing took up a
+large part of his time, and the labour was sometimes so severe that
+he could barely get through it; yet he would not allow himself a
+clerk, being economical in that one thing only. It was a saying in
+the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the estate
+by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in
+the master's books.</p>
+<p>Cecil's idea was to excel in all things. Some had been famous
+for shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for
+wheat. He would be celebrated for all. His shorthorns should fetch
+fabulous prices; his sheep should be known all over the world; his
+wheat should be the crop of the season. In this way he invested his
+capital in the soil with a thoroughness unsurpassed. As if to prove
+that he was right, the success of his enterprise seemed from the
+first assured. His crops of wheat, in which he especially put
+faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same land,
+totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the
+neighbourhood. Men came from far and near to see them. Such was the
+effect of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing,
+and the consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and
+of liberal manure, that here stood such crops of wheat as had never
+previously been seen. These he sold, as they stood, by auction; and
+no sooner had the purchasers cleared the ground than the engines
+went to work again, tearing up the earth. His meadow lands were
+irrigated by the centrifugal pump, and yielded three crops instead
+of one. His shorthorns began to get known&mdash;for he spared no
+expense upon them&mdash;and already one or two profitable sales had
+been held. His sheep prospered; there was not so much noise made
+about them, but, perhaps, they really paid better than
+anything.</p>
+<p>Meantime, Cecil kept open house, with wine and refreshments, and
+even beds for everybody who chose to come and inspect his place.
+Nothing gave him such delight as to conduct visitors over the
+estate and to enter into minute details of his system. As for the
+neighbouring farmers they were only too welcome. These things
+became noised abroad, and people arrived from strange and far-off
+places, and were shown over this Pioneer's Farm, as Cecil loved to
+call it. His example was triumphantly quoted by every one who spoke
+on agricultural progress. Cecil himself was the life and soul of
+the farmers' club in the adjacent market town. It was not so much
+the speeches he made as his manner. His enthusiasm was contagious.
+If a scheme was started, if an experiment was suggested, Cecil's
+cheque-book came out directly, and the thing was set on foot
+without delay. His easy, elastic step, his bright eye, his warm,
+hearty handshake, seemed to electrify people&mdash;to put some of
+his own spirit into them. The circle of his influence was ever
+increasing&mdash;the very oldest fogeys, who had prophesied every
+kind of failure, were being gradually won over.</p>
+<p>Cecil himself was transcendently happy in his work; his mind was
+in it; no exertion, no care or trouble, was too much. He worked
+harder than any navvy, and never felt fatigue. People said of
+him&mdash;'What a wonderful man!' He was so genuine, so earnest, so
+thorough, men could not choose but believe in him. The sun shone
+brightly, the crops ripened, the hum of the threshing-machine
+droned on the wind&mdash;all was life and happiness. In the summer
+evenings pleasant groups met upon the lawn; the song, the jest went
+round; now and then an informal dance, arranged with much laughter,
+whiled away the merry hours till the stars appeared above the trees
+and the dew descended.</p>
+<p>Yet to-day, as the two leaned over the little gate in the
+plantation and looked down upon the reapers, the deep groove which
+continual thought causes was all too visible on Cecil's forehead.
+He explained to the officer how his difficulties had come about.
+His first years upon the farm or estate&mdash;it was really rather
+an estate than a farm&mdash;had been fairly prosperous,
+notwithstanding the immense outlay of capital. A good percentage,
+in some cases a high-rate of percentage, had been returned upon the
+money put into the soil. The seasons were good, the crops large and
+superabundant. Men's minds were full of confidence, they bought
+freely, and were launching out in all directions.</p>
+<p>They wanted good shorthorn cattle&mdash;he sold them cattle;
+they wanted sheep&mdash;he sold them sheep. They wanted wheat, and
+he sold them the standing crops, took the money, and so cleared his
+profit and saved himself trouble. It was, in fact, a period of
+inflation. Like stocks and shares, everything was going up;
+everybody hastening to get rich. Shorthorns with a strain of blue
+blood fetched fancy prices; corn crops ruled high; every single
+thing sold well. The dry seasons suited the soil of the estate, and
+the machinery he had purchased was rapidly repaying its first cost
+in the saving of labour. His whole system was succeeding, and he
+saw his way to realise his cent. per cent.</p>
+<p>But by degrees the dream faded. He attributed it in the first
+place to the stagnation, the almost extinction, of the iron trade,
+the blowing out of furnaces, and the consequent cessation of the
+demand for the best class of food on the part of thousands of
+operatives and mechanics, who had hitherto been the farmers' best
+customers. They would have the best of everything when their wages
+were high; as their wages declined their purchases declined. In a
+brief period, far briefer than would be imagined, this shrinking of
+demand reacted upon agriculture. The English farmer made his profit
+upon superior articles&mdash;the cheaper class came from abroad so
+copiously that he could not compete against so vast a supply.</p>
+<p>When the demand for high-class products fell, the English farmer
+felt it directly. Cecil considered that it was the dire distress in
+the manufacturing districts, the stagnation of trade and commerce
+and the great failures in business centres, that were the chief
+causes of low prices and falling agricultural markets. The rise of
+labour was but a trifling item. He had always paid good wages to
+good men, and always meant to. The succession of wet seasons was
+more serious, of course; it lowered the actual yield, and increased
+the cost of procuring the yield; but as his lands were well
+drained, and had been kept clean he believed he could have
+withstood the seasons for awhile.</p>
+<p>The one heavy cloud that overhung agriculture, in his opinion
+was the extraordinary and almost world-spread depression of trade,
+and his argument was very simple. When men prospered they bought
+freely, indulged in luxurious living, kept horses, servants, gave
+parties, and consumed indirectly large quantities of food. As they
+made fortunes they bought estates and lived half the year like
+country gentlemen&mdash;that competition sent up the price of land.
+The converse was equally true. In times of pressure households were
+reduced, servants dismissed, horses sold, carriages suppressed.
+Rich and poor acted alike in different degrees but as the working
+population was so much more numerous it was through the low wages
+of the working population in cities and manufacturing districts
+that the farmers suffered most.</p>
+<p>It was a period of depression&mdash;there was no confidence, no
+speculation. For instance a year or two since the crop of standing
+wheat then growing on the very field before their eyes was sold by
+auction, and several lots brought from 16<i>l</i>. to 18<i>l</i>.
+per acre. This year the same wheat would not fetch 8<i>l</i>. per
+acre; and, not satisfied with that price, he had determined to reap
+and thresh it himself. It was the same with the shorthorns, with
+the hay, and indeed with everything except sheep, which had been a
+mainstay and support to him.</p>
+<p>'Yet even now,' concluded Cecil, shutting his pocket-book, 'I
+feel convinced that my plan and my system will be a success. I can
+see that I committed one great mistake&mdash;I made all my
+improvements at once, laid out all my capital, and crippled my
+self. I should have done one thing at a time. I should, as it were,
+have grown my improvements&mdash;one this year, one next. As it
+was, I denuded myself of capital. Had the times continued
+favourable it would not have mattered, as my income would have been
+large. But the times became adverse before I was firmly settled,
+and, to be plain, I can but just keep things going without a
+loan&mdash;dear Bella will not be able to go to the sea this year;
+but we are both determined not to borrow.'</p>
+<p>'In a year or two I am convinced we shall flourish again; but
+the waiting, Alick, the waiting, is the trial. You know I am
+impatient. Of course, the old-fashioned people, the farmers, all
+expect me to go through the Bankruptcy Court. They always said
+these new-fangled plans would not answer, and now they are sure
+they were right. Well, I forgive them their croaking, though most
+of them have dined at my table and drank my wine. I forgive them
+their croaking, for so they were bred up from childhood. Were I
+ill-natured, I might even smile at them, for they are failing and
+leaving their farms by the dozen, which seems a pretty good proof
+that their antiquated system is at best no better than mine. But I
+can see what they cannot see&mdash;signs of improvement. The steel
+industry is giving men work; the iron industry is reviving; the
+mines are slowly coming into work again; America is purchasing of
+us largely; and when other nations purchase of us, part, at least,
+of the money always finds its way to the farmer. Next season, too,
+the weather may be more propitious.</p>
+<p>'I shall hold on, Alick&mdash;a depression is certain to be
+followed by a rise. That has been the history of trade and
+agriculture for generations. Nothing will ever convince me that it
+was intended for English agriculturists to go on using wooden
+ploughs, to wear smock-frocks, and plod round and round in the same
+old track for ever. In no other way but by science, by steam, by
+machinery, by artificial manure, and, in one word, by the exercise
+of intelligence, can we compete with the world. It is ridiculous to
+suppose we can do so by returning to the ignorance and prejudice of
+our ancestors. No; we must beat the world by superior intelligence
+and superior energy. But intelligence, mind, has ever had every
+obstacle to contend against. Look at M. Lesseps and his wonderful
+Suez Canal. I tell you that to introduce scientific farming into
+England, in the face of tradition, custom, and prejudice, is a far
+harder task than overcoming the desert sand.'</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap4" id="chap4">CHAPTER IV</a></h3>
+<h3>GOING DOWNHILL</h3>
+An aged man, coming out of an arable field into the lane, pauses to
+look back. He is shabbily clad, and there is more than one rent in
+his coat; yet it is a coat that has once been a good one, and of a
+superior cut to what a labourer would purchase. In the field the
+ploughman to whom he has been speaking has started his team again.
+A lad walks beside the horses, the iron creaks, and the ploughman
+holding the handles seems now to press upon them with his weight,
+and now to be himself bodily pulled along. A dull November cloud
+overspreads the sky, and misty skits of small rain sweep across the
+landscape. As the old man looks back from the gate, the chill
+breeze whistles through the boughs of the oak above him, tearing
+off the brown dry leaves, and shaking out the acorns to fall at his
+feet. It lifts his grey hair, and penetrates the threadbare coat.
+As he turns to go, something catches his eye on the ground, and
+from the mud in the gateway he picks up a cast horse-shoe. With the
+rusty iron in his hand he passes slowly down the lane, and, as he
+goes, the bitter wind drives the fallen leaves that have been lying
+beside the way rustling and dancing after him.
+<p>From a farmer occupying a good-sized farm he had descended to be
+a farmer's bailiff in the same locality. But a few months since he
+was himself a tenant, and now he is a bailiff at 15<i>s</i>. a week
+and a cottage. There is nothing dramatic, nothing sensational, in
+the history of his descent; but it is, perhaps, all the more full
+of bitter human experiences. As a man going down a steep hill,
+after a long while finds himself on the edge of a precipitous chalk
+pit, and topples in one fall to the bottom, so, though the process
+of going downhill occupied so long, the actual finish came almost
+suddenly. Thus it was that from being a master he found himself a
+servant. He does not complain, nor appeal for pity. His back is a
+little more bowed, he feels the cold a little more, his step is yet
+more spiritless. But all he says about it is that 'Hard work never
+made any money yet.'</p>
+<p>He has worked exceedingly hard all his lifetime. In his youth,
+though the family were then well-to-do, he was not permitted to
+lounge about in idleness, but had to work with the rest in the
+fields. He dragged his heavy nailed shoes over the furrows with the
+plough; he reaped and loaded in harvest time; in winter he trimmed
+the hedgerows, split logs, and looked after the cattle. He enjoyed
+no luxurious education&mdash;luxurious in the sense of
+scientifically arranged dormitories, ample meals, and vacations to
+be spent on horseback, or with the breechloader. Trudging to and
+fro the neighbouring country town, in wind, and wet, and snow, to
+school, his letters were thrashed into him. In holiday time he went
+to work&mdash;his holidays, in fact, were so arranged as to fall at
+the time when the lad could be of most use in the field. If an
+occasion arose when a lad was wanted, his lessons had to wait while
+he lent a hand. He had his play, of course, as boys in all ages
+have had; but it was play of a rude character with the plough lads,
+and the almost equally rough sons of farmers, who worked like
+ploughmen.</p>
+<p>In those days the strong made no pretence to protect the weak,
+or to abnegate their natural power. The biggest lad used his thews
+and sinews to knock over the lesser without mercy, till the lesser
+by degrees grew strong enough to retaliate. To be thrashed, beaten,
+and kicked was so universal an experience that no one ever imagined
+it was not correct, or thought of complaining. They accepted it as
+a matter of course. As he grew older his work simply grew harder,
+and in no respect differed from that of the labourers, except that
+he directed what should be done next, but none the less assisted to
+do it.</p>
+<p>Thus the days went on, the weeks, and months, and years. He was
+close upon forty years old before he had his own will for a single
+day. Up to almost that age he worked on his father's farm as a
+labourer among the labourers, as much under parental authority as
+when he was a boy of ten. When the old man died it was not
+surprising that the son, so long held down in bondage&mdash;bondage
+from which he had not the spirit to escape&mdash;gave way for a
+short period to riotous living. There was hard drinking,
+horse-racing, and card-playing, and waste of substance
+generally.</p>
+<p>But it was not for long, for several reasons. In the first
+place, the lad of forty years, suddenly broken forth as it were
+from school, had gone past the age when youth plunges beyond
+recall. He was a grown man, neither wise nor clever; but with a
+man's sedateness of spirit and a man's hopes. There was no innate
+evil in his nature to lead him into unrighteous courses. Perhaps
+his fault rather lay in his inoffensive disposition&mdash;he
+submitted too easily. Then, in the second place, there was not much
+money, and what there was had to meet many calls.</p>
+<p>The son found that the father, though reputed a substantial man,
+and a man among farmers of high esteem and good family, had been
+anything but rich. First there were secret debts that had run on
+for fully thirty years&mdash;sums of from fifty to one hundred
+pounds&mdash;borrowed in the days of his youth, when he, too, had
+at last been released in a similar manner from similar bondage, to
+meet the riotous living in which he also had indulged. In those
+earlier days there had been more substance in cattle and corn, and
+he had had no difficulty in borrowing ready money from adjoining
+farmers, who afterwards helped him to drink it away. These boon
+companions had now grown old. They had never pressed their ancient
+comrade for the principal, the interest being paid regularly. But
+now their ancient comrade was dead they wanted their money,
+especially when they saw the son indulging himself, and did not
+know how far he might go. Their money was paid, and reduced the
+balance in hand materially.</p>
+<p>Now came a still more serious matter. The old man, years ago,
+when corn farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the
+prospect of profit to take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all
+arable. To do this he was obliged, in farming phrase, to 'take
+up'&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> to borrow&mdash;a thousand pounds, which was
+advanced to him by the bank. Being a man of substance, well
+reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds
+was forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms. The enterprise,
+however, did not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so
+profitable. In the end he had the wisdom to accept his losses and
+relinquish the second farm before it ate him up. Had he only
+carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid the whole of the
+bank's advance, all might yet have been well. But he only repaid
+five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing. The
+bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old
+gentleman upright&mdash;as he was&mdash;was not at all anxious to
+have the money back, as it was earning fair interest. So the five
+hundred remained on loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite
+purpose.</p>
+<p>Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much
+money at command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or
+whether he thought he could increase the produce of his farm by
+putting it in the soil, it is not possible to say. He certainly put
+the five hundred out of sight somewhere, for when his son succeeded
+him it was nowhere to be found. After repaying the small loans to
+his father's old friends, upon looking round the son saw cattle,
+corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred pounds in ready
+money. The ready money had been muddled away&mdash;simply muddled
+away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all
+extravagant.</p>
+<p>The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing
+manner, for the belief still existed that there was money in the
+family. That belief was still further fostered because the old
+friends whose loans had been repaid talked about that repayment,
+and so gave a colour to the idea. The heir, in his slow way,
+thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan. He could
+only repay it by instalments&mdash;a mode which, to a farmer
+brought up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he
+might meet one he would be sure to put off the next&mdash;or by
+selling stock (equivalent to giving up his place), or by borrowing
+afresh. So he asked and obtained a continuation of the loan of the
+five hundred, and was accommodated, on condition that some one
+'backed' him. Some one in the family did back him, and the fatal
+mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden. A loan never
+remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced. In
+itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm
+to carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens
+piled themselves up. By a species of gravitation such a burden
+attracts others, till the last straw breaks the camel's back. This,
+however, was not all.</p>
+<p>The heir discovered another secret which likewise contributed to
+sober him. It appeared that the farm, or rather the stock and so
+on, was really not all his father's. His father's brother had a
+share in it&mdash;a share of which even the most inquisitive
+gossips of the place were ignorant. The brother being the eldest
+(himself in business as a farmer at some distance) had the most
+money, and had advanced a certain sum to the younger to enable him
+to start his farm, more than a generation since. From that day to
+this not one shilling of the principal had been repaid, and the
+interest only partially and at long intervals. If the interest were
+all claimed it would now amount to nearly as much as the principal.
+The brother&mdash;or, rather, the uncle&mdash;did not make himself
+at all unpleasant in the matter. He only asked for about half the
+interest due to him, and at the same time gave the heir a severe
+caution not to continue the aforesaid riotous living. The heir, now
+quite brought down to earth after his momentary exaltation, saw the
+absolute necessity of acquiescence. With a little management he
+paid the interest&mdash;leaving himself with barely enough to work
+the farm. The uncle, on his part, did not act unkindly; it was he
+who 'backed' the heir up at the bank in the matter of the
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred pounds. This five
+hundred pounds the heir had never seen and never would see: so far
+as he was concerned it did not exist; it was a mere figure, but a
+figure for which he must pay. In all these circumstances there was
+nothing at all exceptional.</p>
+<p>At this hour throughout the width and breadth of the country
+there are doubtless many farmers' heirs stepping into their
+fathers' shoes, and at this very moment looking into their affairs.
+It may be safely said that few indeed are those fortunate
+individuals who find themselves clear of similar embarrassments. In
+this particular case detailed above, if the heir's circumstances
+had been rigidly reduced to figures&mdash;if a professional
+accountant had examined them&mdash;it would have been found that,
+although in possession of a large farm, he had not got one scrap of
+capital.</p>
+<p>But he was in possession of the farm, and upon that simple fact
+of possession he henceforth lived, like so many, many more of his
+class. He returned to the routine of labour, which was a part of
+his life. After awhile he married, as a man of forty might
+naturally wish to, and without any imputation of imprudence so far
+as his own age was concerned. The wife he chose was one from his
+own class, a good woman, but, as is said to be often the case, she
+reflected the weakness of her husband's character. He now worked
+harder than ever&mdash;a labourer with the labourers. He thus saved
+himself the weekly expense of the wages of a
+labourer&mdash;perhaps, as labourers do not greatly exert
+themselves, of a man and a boy. But while thus slaving with his
+hands and saving this small sum in wages, he could not walk round
+and have an eye upon the other men. They could therefore waste a
+large amount of time, and thus he lost twice what he saved. Still,
+his intention was commendable, and his persistent, unvarying labour
+really wonderful. Had he but been sharper with his men he might
+still have got a fair day's work out of them while working himself.
+From the habit of associating with them from boyhood he had fallen
+somewhat into their own loose, indefinite manner, and had lost the
+prestige which attaches to a master. To them he seemed like one of
+themselves, and they were as much inclined to argue with him as to
+obey. When he met them in the morning he would say, 'Perhaps we had
+better do so and so,' or 'Suppose we go and do this or that.' They
+often thought otherwise; and it usually ended in a compromise, the
+master having his way in part, and the men in part. This lack of
+decision ran through all, and undid all that his hard work
+achieved. Everything was muddled from morn till night, from year's
+end to year's end. As children came the living indoors became
+harder, and the work out of doors still more laborious.</p>
+<p>If a farmer can put away fifty pounds a year, after paying his
+rent and expenses, if he can lay by a clear fifty pounds of profit,
+he thinks himself a prosperous man. If this farmer, after forty
+years of saving, should chance to be succeeded by a son as thrifty,
+when, he too has carried on the same process for another twenty
+years, then the family may be, for village society, wealthy, with
+three or even four thousand pounds, besides goods and gear. This is
+supposing all things favourable, and men of some ability, making
+the most of their opportunities. Now reverse the process. When
+children came, as said before, our hard-working farmer found the
+living indoors harder, and the labour without heavier. Instead of
+saving fifty pounds a year, at first the two sides of the account
+(not that he ever kept any books) about balanced. Then, by degrees,
+the balance dropped the wrong way. There was a loss, of twenty or
+thirty pounds on the year, and presently of forty or fifty pounds,
+which could only be made good by borrowing, and so increasing the
+payment of interest.</p>
+<p>Although it takes sixty years&mdash;two generations&mdash;to
+accumulate a village fortune by saving fifty pounds a year, it does
+not occupy so long to reduce a farmer to poverty when half that sum
+is annually lost. There was no strongly marked and radical defect
+in his system of farming to amount for it; it was the muddling, and
+the muddling only, that did it. His work was blind. He would never
+miss giving the pigs their dinner, he rose at half-past three in
+the morning, and foddered the cattle in the grey dawn, or milked a
+certain number of cows, with unvarying regularity. But he had no
+foresight, and no observation whatever. If you saw him crossing a
+field, and went after him, you might walk close behind, placing
+your foot in the mark just left by his shoe, and he would never
+know it. With his hands behind his back, and his eyes upon the
+ground, he would plod across the field, perfectly unconscious that
+any one was following him. He carried on the old rotation of
+cropping in the piece of arable land belonging to the farm, but in
+total oblivion of any advantage to be obtained by local change of
+treatment. He could plan nothing out for next year. He spent
+nothing, or next to nothing, on improved implements; but, on the
+other hand, he saved nothing, from a lack of resource and
+contrivance.</p>
+<p>As the years went by he fell out of the social life of the
+times; that is, out of the social life of his own circle. He
+regularly fed the pigs; but when he heard that the neighbours, were
+all going in to the town to attend some important agricultural
+meeting, or to start some useful movement, he put his hands behind
+his back and said that he should not go; he did not understand
+anything about it. There never used to be anything of that sort. So
+he went in to luncheon on bread and cheese and small ale. Such a
+course could only bring him into the contempt of his fellow-men. He
+became a nonentity. No one had any respect for or confidence in
+him. Otherwise, possibly, he might have obtained powerful help, for
+the memory of what his family had been had not yet died out.</p>
+<p>Men saw that he lived and worked as a labourer; they gave him no
+credit for the work, but they despised him for the meanness and
+churlishness of his life. There was neither a piano nor a decanter
+of sherry in his house. He was utterly out of accord with the
+times. By degrees, after many years, it became apparent to all that
+he was going downhill. The stock upon the farm was not so large nor
+of so good a character as had been the case. The manner of men
+visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the very
+carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call
+at a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own
+coarse way that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him,
+and bore him down with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly,
+without showing any spirit; but, on the other hand, without
+resentment, for he never said ill of any man behind his back.</p>
+<p>It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had
+seen a jar of spirits carried into the house from the wine
+merchant's cart. A jar of spirits had been delivered at the house
+at intervals for years and years, far back into his father's time,
+and every one of those who now expressed their disgust at his
+supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in that house
+without stint. He did not drink&mdash;he did not take one-half at
+home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and
+auctions every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and
+they called to mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and
+pointed out to their acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was
+coming home to him.</p>
+<p>No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the
+declining farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain
+every drop, and to linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or
+ten, or fifteen years about. He cannot, like the bankrupt
+tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes, put up his shutters at
+once and retire from view. Even at the end, after the notice, six
+months at least elapse before all is over&mdash;before the farm is
+surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
+place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his
+neighbours are concerned he is in public view for years previously.
+He has to rise in the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees
+them in the road; he passes through groups of them in the
+market-place. As he goes by they look after him, and perhaps
+audibly wonder how long he will last. These people all knew him
+from a lad, and can trace every inch of his descent. The labourers
+in the field know it, and by their manner show that they know
+it.</p>
+<p>His wife&mdash;his wife who worked so hard for so many, many
+years&mdash;is made to know it too. She is conspicuously omitted
+from the social gatherings that occur from time to time. The
+neighbours' wives do not call; their well-dressed daughters, as
+they rattle by to the town in basket-carriage or dog-cart, look
+askance at the shabby figure walking slowly on the path beside the
+road. They criticise the shabby shawl; they sneer at the slow step
+which is the inevitable result of hard work, the cares of
+maternity, and of age. So they flaunt past with an odour of
+perfume, and leave the 'old lady' to plod unrecognised.</p>
+<p>The end came at last. All this blind work of his was of no avail
+against the ocean steamer and her cargo of wheat and meat from the
+teeming regions of the West. Nor was it of avail against the fall
+of prices, and the decreased yield consequent upon a succession of
+bad seasons. The general lack of confidence pressed heavily upon a
+man who did not even attempt to take his natural place among his
+fellow-men. The loan from the bank had gradually grown from five to
+seven or eight hundred by thirties, and forties, and fifties added
+to it by degrees; and the bank&mdash;informed, perhaps, by the same
+busybodies who had discovered that he drank&mdash;declined further
+assistance, and notified that part, at least, of the principal must
+be repaid. The landlord had long been well aware of the state of
+affairs, but refrained from action out of a feeling for the old
+family. But the land, from the farmer's utter lack of capital, was
+now going from bad to worse. The bank having declined to advance
+further, the rent began to fall into arrear. The landlord caused it
+to be conveyed to his tenant that if he would quit the farm, which
+was a large one, he could go into a smaller, and his affairs might
+perhaps be arranged.</p>
+<p>The old man&mdash;for he was now growing old&mdash;put his hands
+behind his back and said nothing, but went on with his usual
+routine of work. Whether he had become dulled and deadened and
+cared nothing, whether hope was extinct, or he could not wrench
+himself from the old place, he said nothing. Even then some further
+time elapsed&mdash;so slow is the farmer's fall that he might
+almost be excused for thinking that it would never come. But now
+came the news that the old uncle who had 'backed' him at the bank
+had been found dead in bed of sheer old age. Then the long-kept
+secret came out at last. The dead man's executors claimed the money
+advanced so many, many years ago.</p>
+<p>This discovery finished it. The neighbours soon had food for
+gossip in the fact that a load of hay which he had sold was met in
+the road by the landlord's agent and turned back. By the strict
+letter of his agreement he could not sell hay off the farm; but it
+had been permitted for years. When they heard this they knew it was
+all over. The landlord, of course, put in his claim; the bank
+theirs. In a few months the household furniture and effects were
+sold, and the farmer and his aged wife stepped into the highway in
+their shabby clothes.</p>
+<p>He did not, however, starve; he passed to a cottage on the
+outskirts of the village, and became bailiff for the tenant of that
+very arable farm to work which years ago his father had borrowed
+the thousand pounds that ultimately proved their ruin. He made a
+better bailiff than a farmer, being at home with every detail of
+practice, but incapable of general treatment. His wife does a
+little washing and charing; not much, for she is old and feeble. No
+charity is offered to them&mdash;they have outlived old
+friends&mdash;nor do they appeal for any. The people of the village
+do not heed them, nor reflect upon the spectacle in their midst.
+They are merged and lost in the vast multitude of the agricultural
+poor. Only two of their children survive; but these, having early
+left the farm and gone into a city, are fairly well-to-do. That, at
+least, is a comfort to the old folk.</p>
+<p>It is, however, doubtful whether the old man, as he walks down
+the lane with his hands behind his back and the dead leaves driven
+by the November breeze rustling after, has much feeling of any kind
+left. Hard work and adversity have probably deadened his finer
+senses. Else one would think he could never endure to work as a
+servant upon that farm of all others, nor to daily pass the scenes
+of his youth. For yonder, well in sight as he turns a corner of the
+lane, stands the house where he dwelt so many, many years; where
+the events of his life came slowly to pass; where he was born;
+where his bride came home; where his children were born, and from
+whose door he went forth penniless.</p>
+<p>Seeing this every day, surely that old man, if he have but one
+spark of feeling left, must drink the lees of poverty to the last
+final doubly bitter dregs.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap5" id="chap5">CHAPTER V</a></h3>
+<h3>THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER</h3>
+'Where do he get the money from, you?' 'It be curious, bean't it; I
+minds when his father drove folks' pigs to market.' These remarks
+passed between two old farmers, one standing on the sward by the
+roadside, and the other talking to him over the low ledge, as a
+gentleman drove by in a Whitechapel dog-cart, groom behind. The
+gentleman glanced at the two farmers, and just acknowledged their
+existence with a careless nod, looking at the moment over their
+heads and far away.
+<p>There is no class so jealous of a rapid rise as old-fashioned
+farming people. They seem to think that if a man once drove pigs to
+market he should always continue to do so, and all his descendants
+likewise. Their ideas in a measure approximate to those of caste
+among the Hindoos. It is a crime to move out of the original
+groove; if a man be lowly he must remain lowly, or never be
+forgiven. The lapse of time makes not the least difference. If it
+takes the man thirty years to get into a fair position he is none
+the less guilty. A period equal to the existence of a generation is
+not sufficient excuse for him. He is not one whit better than if he
+had made his money by a lucky bet on a racehorse. Nor can he ever
+hope to live down this terrible social misdemeanour, especially if
+it is accompanied by the least ostentation.</p>
+<p>Now, in the present day a man who gets money shows off more than
+ever was the case. In the olden time the means of luxury were
+limited, and the fortunate could do little more than drink, and
+tempt others to drink. But to-day the fortunate farmer in the
+dog-cart, dressed like a gentleman, drove his thorough-bred, and
+carried his groom behind. Frank D&mdash;&mdash;, Esq., in the slang
+of the time, 'did the thing grand!' The dog-cart was a first-rate
+article. The horse was a high-stepper, such as are not to be bought
+for a song; the turn-out was at the first glance perfect. But if
+you looked keenly at the groom, there was a suspicion of the plough
+in his face and attitude. He did not sit like a man to the manner
+born. He was lumpy; he lacked the light, active style
+characteristic of the thoroughbred groom, who is as distinct a
+breed as the thoroughbred horse. The man looked as if he had been
+taken from the plough and was conscious of it. His feet were in
+top-boots, but he could not forget the heavy action induced by a
+long course of walking in wet furrows. The critics by the hedge
+were not capable of detecting these niceties. The broad facts were
+enough for them. There was the gentleman in his ulster, there was
+the resplendent turn-out, there was the groom, and there was the
+thoroughbred horse. The man's father drove their pigs to market,
+and they wanted to know where he got the money from.</p>
+<p>Meantime Mr. D&mdash;&mdash;, having carelessly nodded, had gone
+on. Half a mile farther some of his own fields were contiguous to
+the road, yet he did not, after the fashion of the farmer
+generally, pause to gaze at them searchingly; he went on with the
+same careless glance. This fact, which the old-fashioned folk had
+often observed, troubled them greatly. It seemed so unnatural, so
+opposite to the old ideas and ways, that a man should take no
+apparent interest in his own farm. They said that Frank was nothing
+of a farmer; he knew nothing of farming. They looked at his ricks;
+they were badly built, and still worse thatched. They examined his
+meadows, and saw wisps of hay lying about, evidence of neglect; the
+fields had not been properly raked. His ploughed fields were full
+of weeds, and not half worked enough. His labourers had acquired a
+happy-go-lucky style, and did their work anyhow or not at all,
+having no one to look after them. So, clearly, it was not Frank's
+good farming that made him so rich, and enabled him to take so high
+and leading a position.</p>
+<p>Nor was it his education or his 'company' manners. The old folk
+noted his boorishness and lack of the little refinements which mark
+the gentleman. His very voice was rude and hoarse, and seemed
+either to grumble or to roar forth his meaning. They had frequently
+heard him speak in public&mdash;he was generally on the platform
+when any local movement was in progress&mdash;and could not
+understand why he was put up there to address the audience, unless
+it was for his infinite brass. The language he employed was rude,
+his sentences disjointed, his meaning incoherent; but he had a
+knack of an <i>apropos</i> jest, not always altogether savoury, but
+which made a mixed assembly laugh. As his public speeches did not
+seem very brilliant, they supposed he must have the gift of
+persuasion, in private. He did not even ride well to
+hounds&mdash;an accomplishment that has proved a passport to a
+great landlord's favour before now&mdash;for he had an awkward,
+and, to the eye, not too secure a seat in the saddle.</p>
+<p>Nor was it his personal appearance. He was very tall and
+ungainly, with a long neck and a small round head on the top of it.
+His features were flat, and the skin much wrinkled; there seemed
+nothing in his countenance to recommend him to the notice of the
+other sex. Yet he had been twice married; the last time to a
+comparatively young lady with some money, who dressed in the height
+of fashion.</p>
+<p>Frank had two families&mdash;one, grown up, by his first wife,
+the second in the nursery&mdash;but it made no difference to him.
+All were well dressed and well educated; the nursery maids and the
+infants went out for their airings in a carriage and pair. Mrs.
+D&mdash;&mdash;, gay as a Parisian belle, and not without
+pretensions to beauty, was seen at balls, parties, and every other
+social amusement. She seemed to have the <i>entr&eacute;e</i>
+everywhere in the county. All this greatly upset and troubled the
+old folk, whose heads Frank looked over as he carelessly nodded
+them good-morning driving by. The cottage people from whose ranks
+his family had so lately risen, however, had a very decided opinion
+upon the subject, and expressed it forcibly. "'Pend upon it," they
+said, "'pend upon it, he have zucked zumbody in zumhow."</p>
+<p>This unkind conclusion was perhaps not quite true. The fact was,
+that Frank, aided by circumstances, had discovered the ease with
+which a man can borrow. That was his secret&mdash;his philosopher's
+stone. To a certain extent, and in certain ways, he really was a
+clever man, and he had the luck to begin many years ago when
+farming was on the ascending side of the cycle. The single solid
+basis of his success was his thorough knowledge of cattle&mdash;his
+proficiency in dealership. Perhaps this was learnt while assisting
+his father to drive other folks' pigs to market. At all events,
+there was no man in the county who so completely understood cattle
+and sheep, for buying and selling purposes, as Frank. At first he
+gained his reputation by advising others what and when to buy; by
+degrees, as people began to see that he was always right, they felt
+confidence in him, and assisted him to make small investments on
+his own account. There were then few auctioneers, and cattle were
+sold in open market. If a man really was a judge, it was as good to
+him as a reputation for good ale is to an innkeeper. Men flock to a
+barrel of good ale no matter whether the inn be low class or high
+class. Men gather about a good judge of cattle, and will back him
+up. By degrees D&mdash;&mdash; managed to rent a small farm, more
+for the purpose of having a place to turn his cattle into than for
+farming proper&mdash;he was, in fact, a small dealer.</p>
+<p>Soon afterwards there was an election. During the election,
+Frank gained the good-will of a local solicitor and political
+agent. He proved himself an active and perhaps a discreetly
+unscrupulous assistant. The solicitor thought he saw in Frank
+talent of a certain order&mdash;a talent through which he (the
+solicitor) might draw unto himself a share of other people's money.
+The lawyer's judgment of men was as keen as Frank's judgment of
+cattle. He helped Frank to get into a large farm, advancing the
+money with which to work it. He ran no risk; for, of course, he had
+Frank tight in the grasp of his legal fist, and he was the agent
+for the landlord. The secret was this&mdash;the lawyer paid his
+clients four per cent, for the safe investment of their money.
+Frank had the money, worked a large farm with it, and speculated in
+the cattle markets, and realised some fifteen or perhaps twenty per
+cent., of which the lawyer took the larger share. Something of this
+sort has been done in other businesses besides farming. Frank,
+however, was not the man to remain in a state of tutelage, working
+for another. His forte was not saving&mdash;simple accumulation was
+not for him; but he looked round the district to discover those who
+had saved.</p>
+<p>Now, it is a fact that no man is so foolish with his money as
+the working farmer in a small way, who has put by a little coin. He
+is extremely careful about a fourpenny piece, and will wrap a
+sovereign up in several scraps of paper lest he should lose it; but
+with his hundred or two hundred pounds he is quite helpless. It has
+very likely occupied him the best part of his lifetime to add one
+five-pound note to another, money most literally earned in the
+sweat of his brow; and at last he lends it to a man like Frank, who
+has the wit to drive a carriage and ride a thoroughbred. With the
+strange inconsistency so characteristic of human nature, a
+half-educated, working farmer of this sort will sneer in his rude
+way at the pretensions of such a man, and at the same time bow down
+before him.</p>
+<p>Frank knew this instinctively, and, as soon as ever he began to
+get on, set up a blood-horse and a turn-out. By dint of such vulgar
+show and his own plausible tongue he persuaded more than one such
+old fellow to advance him money. Mayhap these confiding persons,
+like a certain Shallow, J.P., have since earnestly besought him in
+vain to return them five hundred of their thousand. In like manner
+one or two elderly ladies&mdash;cunning as magpies in their own
+conceit&mdash;let him have a few spare hundreds. They thought they
+could lay out this money to better advantage than the safe family
+adviser 'uncle John,' with his talk of the Indian railways and a
+guaranteed five per cent. They thought (for awhile) that they had
+done a very clever thing on the sly in lending their spare hundreds
+to the great Mr. Frank D&mdash;&mdash; at a high rate of interest,
+and by this time would perhaps be glad to get the money back again
+in the tea-caddy.</p>
+<p>But Frank was not the man to be satisfied with such small game.
+After a time he succeeded in getting at the 'squire.' The squire
+had nothing but the rents of his farms to live upon, and was
+naturally anxious for an improving tenant who would lay out money
+and put capital into the soil. He was not so foolish as to think
+that Frank was a safe man, and of course he had legal advice upon
+the matter. The squire thought, in fact, that although Frank
+himself had no money, Frank could get it out of others, and spend
+it upon his place. It did not concern the squire where or how Frank
+got his money, provided he had it&mdash;he as landlord was secure
+in case of a crash, because the law gave him precedence over all
+other creditors. So Frank ultimately stepped into one of the
+squire's largest farms and cut a finer dash than ever.</p>
+<p>There are distinct social degrees in agriculture. The man who
+occupies a great farm under a squire is a person of much more
+importance than he who holds a little tenancy of a small
+proprietor. Frank began to take the lead among the farmers of the
+neighbourhood, to make his appearance at public meetings, and to
+become a recognised politician&mdash;of course upon the side most
+powerful in that locality, and most likely to serve his own
+interest. His assurance, and, it must be owned, his ready wit,
+helped him in coming to the front. When at the front, he was
+invited to the houses of really well-to-do country people. They
+condoned his bluff manners&mdash;they were the mark of the true,
+solid British agriculturist. Some perhaps in their hearts thought
+that another day they might want a tenant, and this man would serve
+their turn. As a matter of fact, Frank took every unoccupied farm
+which he could get at a tolerably reasonable rent. He never seemed
+satisfied with the acreage he held, but was ever desirous of
+extending it. He took farm after farm, till at last he held an area
+equal to a fine estate. For some years there has been a disposition
+on the part of landlords to throw farms together, making many small
+ones into one large one. For the time, at all events, Frank seemed
+to do very well with all these farms to look after. Of course the
+same old-fashioned folk made ill-natured remarks, and insisted upon
+it that he merely got what he could out of the soil, and did not
+care in the least how the farming was done. Nevertheless, he
+flourished&mdash;the high prices and general inflation of the
+period playing into his hand.</p>
+<p>Frank was now a very big man, the biggest man thereabout. And it
+was now that he began to tap another source of supply&mdash;to, as
+it were, open a fresh cask&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> the local bank. At
+first he only asked for a hundred or so, a mere bagatelle, for a
+few days&mdash;only temporary convenience. The bank was glad to get
+hold of what really looked like legitimate business, and he
+obtained the bagatelle in the easiest manner&mdash;so easily that
+it surprised him. He did not himself yet quite know how completely
+his showy style of life, his large acreage, his speeches, and
+politics, and familiarity with great people, had imposed upon the
+world in which he lived. He now began to realise that he was
+somebody. He repaid the loan to the day, waited awhile and took a
+larger one, and from that time the frequency and the amount of his
+loans went on increasing.</p>
+<p>We have seen in these latter days bank directors bitterly
+complaining that they could not lend money at more than 7/8 or even
+1/2 per cent., so little demand was there for accommodation. They
+positively could not lend their money; they had millions in their
+tills unemployed, and practically going a-begging. But here was
+Frank paying seven per cent, for short loans, and upon a
+continually enlarging amount. His system, so far as the seasons
+were concerned, was something like this. He took a loan (or renewed
+an old one) at the bank on the security of the first draught of
+lambs for sale, say, in June. This paid the labourers and the
+working expenses of the hay harvest, and of preparing for the corn.
+He took the next upon the second draught of lambs in August, which
+paid the reapers. He took a third on the security of the crops,
+partly cut, or in process of cutting, for his Michaelmas rent. Then
+for the fall of the year he kept on threshing out and selling as he
+required money, and had enough left to pay for the winter's work.
+This was Frank's system&mdash;the system of too many farmers, far
+more than would be believed. Details of course vary, and not all,
+like Frank, need three loans at least in the season to keep them
+going. It is not every man who mortgages his lambs, his ewes (the
+draught from a flock for sale), and the standing crops in
+succession.</p>
+<p>But of late years farming has been carried on in such an
+atmosphere of loans, and credit, and percentage, and so forth, that
+no one knows what is or what is not mortgaged. You see a flock of
+sheep on a farm, but you do not know to whom they belong. You see
+the cattle in the meadow, but you do not know who has a lien upon
+them. You see the farmer upon his thoroughbred, but you do not know
+to whom in reality the horse belongs. It is all loans and debt. The
+vendors of artificial manure are said not to be averse sometimes to
+make an advance on reasonable terms to those enterprising and
+deserving farmers who grow so many tons of roots, and win the
+silver cups, and so on, for the hugest mangold grown with their
+particular manure. The proprietors of the milk-walks in London are
+said to advance money to the struggling dairymen who send them
+their milk. And latterly the worst of usurers have found out the
+farmers&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> the men who advance on bills of sale of
+furniture, and sell up the wretched client who does not pay to the
+hour. Upon such bills of sale English farmers have been borrowing
+money, and with the usual disastrous results. In fact, till the
+disastrous results became so conspicuous, no one guessed that the
+farmer had descended so far. Yet, it is a fact, and a sad one.</p>
+<p>All the while the tradespeople of the market-towns&mdash;the
+very people who have made the loudest outcry about the depression
+and the losses they have sustained&mdash;these very people have
+been pressing their goods upon the farmers, whom they must have
+known were many of them hardly able to pay their rents. Those who
+have not seen it cannot imagine what a struggle and competition has
+been going on in little places where one would think the very word
+was unknown, just to persuade the farmer and the farmer's family to
+accept credit. But there is another side to it. The same tradesman
+who to-day begs&mdash;positively begs&mdash;the farmer to take his
+goods on any terms, in six months' time sends his bill, and, if it
+be not paid immediately, puts the County Court machinery in
+motion.</p>
+<p>Now this to the old-fashioned farmer is a very bitter thing. He
+has never had the least experience of the County Court; his family
+never were sued for debt since they can remember. They have always
+been used to a year's credit at least&mdash;often two, and even
+three. To be threatened with public exposure in the County Court
+because a little matter of five pounds ten is not settled instantly
+is bitter indeed. And to be sued so arbitrarily by the very
+tradesman who almost stuffed his goods down their throats is more
+bitter still.</p>
+<p>Frank D&mdash;&mdash;, Esq.'s coarse grandeur answered very well
+indeed so long as prices were high. While the harvests were large
+and the markets inflated; while cattle fetched good money; while
+men's hearts were full of mirth&mdash;all went well. It is
+whispered now that the grand Frank has secretly borrowed
+25<i>l</i>. of a little cottage shopkeeper in the adjacent
+village&mdash;a man who sells farthing candles and ounces of
+tea&mdash;to pay his reapers. It is also currently whispered that
+Frank is the only man really safe, for the following
+reason&mdash;they are all 'in' so deep they find it necessary to
+keep him going. The squire is 'in,' the bank is 'in,' the lawyer is
+'in,' the small farmers with two hundred pounds capital are 'in,'
+and the elderly ladies who took their bank-notes out of their
+tea-caddies are 'in.' That is to say, Mr. Frank owes them so much
+money that, rather than he should come to grief (when, they must
+lose pretty well all), they prefer to keep him afloat. It is a
+noticeable fact that Frank is the only man who has not raised his
+voice and shouted 'Depression.' Perhaps the squire thinks that so
+repellent a note, if struck by a leading man like Frank, might not
+be to his interest, and has conveyed that thought to the gentleman
+in the dog-cart with the groom behind. There are, however, various
+species of the fa&ccedil;ade farmer.</p>
+<p>'What kind of agriculture is practised here?' the visitor from
+town naturally asks his host, as they stroll towards the turnips
+(in another district), with shouldered guns. 'Oh, you had better
+see Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;,' is the reply, 'He is our leading
+agriculturist; he'll tell you all about it.' Everybody repeats the
+same story, and once Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s name is started
+everybody talks of him. The squire, the clergyman&mdash;even in
+casually calling at a shop in the market town, or at the hotel
+(there are few inns now)&mdash;wherever he goes the visitor hears
+from all of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;. A successful man&mdash;most
+successful, progressive, scientific, intellectual. 'Like to see
+him? Nothing easier. Introduction? Nonsense. Why, he'd be delighted
+to see you. Come with me.'</p>
+<p>Protesting feebly against intruding on privacy, the visitor is
+hurried away, and expecting to meet a solid, sturdy, and somewhat
+gruff old gentleman of the John Hull type, endeavors to hunt up
+some ideas about shorthorns and bacon pigs. He is a little
+astonished upon entering the pleasure grounds to see one or more
+gardeners busy among the parterres and shrubberies, the
+rhododendrons, the cedar deodaras, the laurels, the pampas grass,
+the 'carpet gardening' beds, and the glass of distant hothouses
+glittering in the sun. A carriage and pair, being slowly driven by
+a man in livery from the door down to the extensive stabling,
+passes&mdash;clearly some of the family have just returned. On
+ringing, the callers are shown through a spacious hall with a
+bronze or two on the marble table, into a drawing-room, elegantly
+furnished. There is a short iron grand open with a score carelessly
+left by the last player, a harp in the corner, half hidden by the
+curtains, some pieces of Nankin china on the side tables.</p>
+<p>Where are the cow-sheds? Looking out of window a level lawn
+extends, and on it two young gentlemen are playing tennis, in
+appropriate costume. The laboured platitudes that had been prepared
+about shorthorns and bacon pigs are quite forgotten, and the
+visitor is just about to ask the question if his guide has not
+missed the farm-house and called at the squire's, when Mr.
+X&mdash;&mdash; comes briskly in, and laughs all apology about
+intrusion to the winds in his genial manner. He insists on his
+friends taking some refreshment, will not take refusal; and such is
+the power of his vivacity, that they find themselves sipping
+Madeira and are pressed to come and dine in the evening, before one
+at least knows exactly where he is. 'Just a homely spread, you
+know; pot-luck; a bit of fish and a glass of Moet; now <i>do</i>
+come.' This curious mixture of bluff cordiality, with unexpected
+snatches of refinement, is Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s great charm.
+'Style of farming; tell you with pleasure.' [Rings the bell.]
+'John' (to the manservant), 'take this key and bring me account
+book No. 6 B, Copse Farm; that will be the best way to begin.'</p>
+<p>If the visitor knows anything of country life, he cannot help
+recollecting that, if the old type of farmer was close and
+mysterious about anything, it was his accounts. Not a word could be
+got out of him of profit or loss, or revenue: he would barely tell
+you his rent per acre, and it was doubtful if his very wife ever
+saw his pass-book. Opening account book No. 6 B, the explanation
+proceeds.</p>
+<p>'My system of agriculture is simplicity itself, sir. It is all
+founded on one beautiful commercial precept. Our friends round
+about here [with a wave of the hand, indicating the country
+side]&mdash;our old folks&mdash;whenever they got a guinea put it
+out of sight, made a hoard, hid it in a stocking, or behind a brick
+in the chimney. Ha! ha! Consequently their operations were always
+restricted to the same identical locality&mdash;no scope, sir, no
+expansion. Now my plan is&mdash;invest every penny. Make every
+shilling pay for the use of half a crown, and turn the half-crown
+into seven and sixpence. Credit is the soul of business. There you
+have it. Simplicity itself. Here are the books; see for yourself. I
+publish my balance half-yearly&mdash;like a company. Then the
+public see what you are doing. The earth, sir, as I said at the
+dinner the other day (the idea was much applauded), the earth is
+like the Bank of England&mdash;you may draw on it to any extent;
+there's always a reserve to meet you. You positively can't overdraw
+the account. You see there's such a solid security behind you. The
+fact is, I bring commercial principles into agriculture; the result
+is, grand success. However, here's the book; just glance over the
+figures.'</p>
+<p>The said figures utterly bewilder the visitor, who in courtesy
+runs his eye from top to bottom of the long columns&mdash;farming
+accounts are really the most complicated that can be
+imagined&mdash;so he, meantime, while turning over the pages,
+mentally absorbs the personality of the commercial agriculturist.
+He sees a tall, thin farmer, a brown face and neck, long restless
+sinewy hands, perpetually twiddling with a cigar or a gold
+pencil-case&mdash;generally the cigar, or rather the extinct stump
+of it, which he every now and then sucks abstractedly, in total
+oblivion as to its condition. His dress would pass muster in
+towns&mdash;well cut, and probably from Bond Street. He affects a
+frock and high hat one day, and knickerbockers and sun helmet the
+next. His pockets are full of papers, letters, etc., and as he
+searches amid the mass for some memorandum to show, glimpses may be
+seen of certain oblong strips of blue paper with an impressed
+stamp.</p>
+<p>'Very satisfactory,' says the visitor, handing back No 6 B; 'may
+I inquire how many acres you occupy?'</p>
+<p>Out comes a note-book. 'Hum! There's a thousand down in the
+vale, and fifteen hundred upland, and the new place is about nine
+hundred, and the meadows&mdash;I've mislaid the meadows&mdash;but
+it's near about four thousand. Different holdings, of course. Great
+nuisance that, sir; transit, you see, costs money. City gentlemen
+know that. Absurd system in this country&mdash;the land parcelled
+out in little allotment gardens of two or three hundred acres. Why,
+there's a little paltry hundred and twenty acre freehold dairy farm
+lies between my vale and upland, and the fellow won't let my
+waggons or ploughing-tackle take the short cut, ridiculous. Time it
+was altered, sir. Shooting? Why, yes; I have the shooting. Glad if
+you'd come over.'</p>
+<p>Then more Madeira, and after it a stroll through the gardens and
+shrubberies and down to the sheds, a mile, or nearly, distant.
+There, a somewhat confused vision of 'grand shorthorns,' and an
+inexplicable jumble of pedigrees, grand-dams, and
+'g-g-g-g-g-g-dams,' as the catalogues have it; handsome hunters
+paraded, steam-engines pumping water, steam-engines slicing up
+roots, distant columns of smoke where steam-engines are tearing up
+the soil. All the while a scientific disquisition on ammonia and
+the constituent parts and probable value of town sewage as compared
+with guano. And at intervals, and at parting, a pressing invitation
+to dinner [when pineapples or hot-house grapes are certain to make
+their appearance at dessert]&mdash;such a flow of genial eloquence
+surely was never heard before!</p>
+<p>It requires a week at least of calm reflection, and many
+questions to his host, before the visitor&mdash;quite carried
+away&mdash;can begin to arrange his ideas, and to come slowly to
+the opinion that though Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; is as open as the day
+and frank to a fault, it will take him a precious long time to get
+to the bottom of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;'s system; that is to say, if
+there is any bottom at all to it.</p>
+<p>Mr. X&mdash;&mdash; is, in brief, a gambler. Not in a dishonest,
+or even suspicious sense, but a pure gambler. He is a gigantic
+agricultural speculator; his system is, as he candidly told you,
+credit. Credit not only with the bank, but with everybody. He has
+actually been making use of you, his casual and unexpected visitor,
+as an instrument. You are certain to talk about him; the more he is
+talked of the better, it gives him a reputation, which is beginning
+to mean a great deal in agriculture as it has so long in other
+pursuits. You are sure to tell everybody who ever chooses to
+converse with you about the country of Mr. X&mdash;&mdash;, and Mr.
+X&mdash;&mdash;'s engines, cattle, horses, profuse hospitality, and
+progressive science.</p>
+<p>To be socially popular is a part of his system; he sows corn
+among society as freely as over his land, and looks to some grains
+to take root, and bring him increase a hundred fold, as indeed they
+do. Whatever movement is originated in the neighbourhood finds him
+occupying a prominent position. He goes to London as the
+representative of the local agricultural chamber; perhaps waits
+upon a Cabinet Minister as one of the deputation. He speaks
+regularly at the local chamber meetings; his name is ever in the
+papers. The press are invited to inspect his farms, and are
+furnished with minute details. Every now and then a sketch of his
+life and doings, perhaps illustrated with a portrait, appears in
+some agricultural periodical. At certain seasons of the year
+parties of gentlemen are conducted over his place. In parochial or
+district matters he is a leading man.</p>
+<p>Is it a cottage flower-show, a penny reading, a cricket club, a
+benefit society&mdash;it does not matter what, his subscriptions,
+his name, and his voice are heard in it. He is the life and soul of
+it; the energy comes from him, though others higher in the scale
+may be the nominal heads. And the nominal heads, knowing that he
+can be relied upon politically, are grateful, and give him their
+good word freely. He hunts, and is a welcome companion&mdash;the
+meet frequently takes place at his house, or some of the huntsmen
+call for lunch; in fact, the latter is an invariable thing.
+Everybody calls for lunch who happens to pass near any day; the
+house has a reputation for hospitality. He is the clergyman's right
+hand&mdash;as in managing the school committee. When the bishop
+comes to the confirmation, he is introduced as 'my chief lay
+supporter.' At the Rural Diaconal Conference, 'my chief supporter'
+is one of the lay speakers. Thus he obtains every man's good word
+whose good word is worth anything. Social credit means commercial
+credit. Yet he is not altogether acting a part&mdash;he really
+likes taking the lead and pushing forward, and means a good deal of
+what he says.</p>
+<p>He is especially quite honest in his hospitality. All the same,
+so far as business is concerned, it is pure gambling, which may
+answer very well in favourable times, but is not unlikely to end in
+failure should the strain of depression become too severe. Personal
+popularity, however, will tide him over a great deal. When a man is
+spoken highly of by gentry, clergy, literally everybody, the bank
+is remarkably accommodating. Such a man may get for his bare
+signature&mdash;almost pressed on him, as if his acceptance of it
+were a favour&mdash;what another would have to deposit solid
+security for.</p>
+<p>In plain language, he borrows money and invests it in every
+possible way. His farms are simply the basis of his credit. He buys
+blood shorthorns, he buys blood horses, and he sells them again. He
+buys wheat, hay, &amp;c., to dispose of them at a profit. If he
+chose, he could explain to you the meaning of contango, and even of
+that mysterious term to the uninitiated, 'backwardation.' His
+speculations for the 'account' are sometimes heavy. So much so,
+that occasionally, with thousands invested, he has hardly any ready
+money. But, then, there are the crops; he can get money on the
+coming crops. There is, too, the live stock money can be borrowed
+on the stock.</p>
+<p>Here lies the secret reason of the dread of foreign cattle
+disease. The increase of our flocks and herds is, of course, a
+patriotic cry (and founded on fact); but the secret pinch is
+this&mdash;if foot-and-mouth, pleuro-pneumonia, or rinderpest
+threaten the stock, the tenant-farmer cannot borrow on that
+security. The local bankers shake their heads&mdash;three cases of
+rinderpest are equivalent to a reduction of 25 per cent. in the
+borrowing power of the agriculturist. The auctioneers and our
+friends have large transactions&mdash;'paper' here again. With
+certain members of the hunt he books bets to a high amount; his
+face is not unknown at Tattersall's or at the race meetings. But he
+does not flourish the betting-book in the face of society. He
+bets&mdash;and holds his tongue. Some folks have an ancient and
+foolish prejudice against betting; he respects sincere
+convictions.</p>
+<p>Far and away he is the best fellow, the most pleasant company in
+the shire, always welcome everywhere. He has read widely, is well
+educated; but, above all, he is ever jolly, and his jollity is
+contagious. Despite his investments and speculations, his brow
+never wears that sombre aspect of gloomy care, that knitted
+concentration of wrinkles seen on the face of the City man, who
+goes daily to his 'office.' The out-of-door bluffness, the cheery
+ringing voice, and the upright form only to be gained in the saddle
+over the breezy uplands, cling to him still. He wakes everybody up,
+and, risky as perhaps some of his speculations are, is socially
+enlivening.</p>
+<p>The two young gentlemen, by-the-by, observed playing lawn-tennis
+from the drawing-room window, are two of his pupils, whose high
+premiums and payments assist to keep up the free and generous
+table, and who find farming a very pleasant profession. The most
+striking characteristic of their tutor is his Yankee-like fertility
+of resource and bold innovations&mdash;the very antipodes of the
+old style of 'clod-compeller.'</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap6" id="chap6">CHAPTER VI</a></h3>
+<h3>AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS&mdash;OLD STYLE</h3>
+Towards the hour of noon Harry Hodson, of Upcourt Farm, was slowly
+ascending the long slope that led to his dwelling. In his left hand
+he carried a hare, which swung slightly to and fro as he stepped
+out, and the black-tipped ears rubbed now and then against a bunch
+of grass. His double-barrel was under his right arm. Every day at
+the same hour Harry turned towards home, for he adhered to the ways
+of his fathers and dined at half-past twelve, except when the
+stress of harvest, or some important agricultural operation,
+disturbed the usual household arrangements. It was a beautiful
+October day, sunny and almost still, and, as he got on the high
+ground, he paused and looked round. The stubbles stretched far away
+on one side, where the country rose and fell in undulations. On the
+distant horizon a column of smoke, broadening at the top, lifted
+itself into the sky; he knew it was from the funnel of a
+steam-plough, whose furnace had just been replenished with coal.
+The appearance of the smoke somewhat resembled that left by a
+steamer at sea when the vessel is just below the horizon. On the
+other hand were wooded meadows, where the rooks were
+cawing&mdash;some in the oaks, some as they wheeled round in the
+air. Just beneath him stood a row of wheat ricks&mdash;his own. His
+gaze finally rested upon their conical roofs with satisfaction, and
+he then resumed his walk.
+<p>Even as he moved he seemed to bask in the sunshine; the sunshine
+pouring down from the sky above, the material sunshine of the
+goodly wheat ricks, and the physical sunshine of personal health
+and vigour. His walk was the walk of a strong, prosperous
+man&mdash;each step long, steady, and firm, but quite devoid of
+haste. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, in the very prime of
+life, and though stooping a little, like so many countrymen, very
+tall, and built proportionately broad across the shoulders and
+chest. His features were handsome&mdash;perhaps there was a trace
+of indolence in their good-humoured expression&mdash;and he had a
+thick black beard just marked with one thin wavy line of grey. That
+trace of snow, if anything, rather added to the manliness of his
+aspect, and conveyed the impression that he was at the fulness of
+life when youth and experience meet. If anything, indeed, he looked
+too comfortable, too placid. A little ambition, a little
+restlessness, would perhaps have been good for him.</p>
+<p>By degrees he got nearer to the house; but it was by degrees
+only, for he stayed to look over every gate, and up into almost
+every tree. He stopped to listen as his ear caught the sound of
+hoofs on the distant road, and again at the faint noise of a gun
+fired a mile away. At the corner of a field a team of
+horses&mdash;his own&mdash;were resting awhile as the carter and
+his lad ate their luncheon. Harry stayed to talk to the man, and
+yet again at the barn door to speak to his men at work within with
+the winnowing machine. The homestead stood on an eminence, but was
+hidden by elms and sycamores, so that it was possible to pass at a
+distance without observing it.</p>
+<p>On entering the sitting-room Harry leaned his gun against the
+wall in the angle between it and the bureau, from which action
+alone it might have been known that he was a bachelor, and that
+there were no children about the house to get into danger with
+fire-arms. His elderly aunt, who acted as housekeeper, was already
+at table waiting for him. It was spread with a snow-white cloth,
+and almost equally snow-white platter for bread&mdash;so much and
+so well was it cleaned. They ate home-baked bread; they were so
+many miles from a town or baker that it was difficult to get served
+regularly, a circumstance which preserved that wholesome
+institution. There was a chine of bacon, small ale, and a plentiful
+supply of good potatoes. The farmer did full justice to the sweet
+picking off the chine, and then lingered over an old cheese. Very
+few words were spoken.</p>
+<p>Then, after his dinner, he sat in his arm-chair&mdash;the same
+that he had used for many years&mdash;and took a book. For Harry
+rather enjoyed a book, provided it was not too new. He read works
+of science, thirty years old, solid and correct, but somewhat
+behind the age; he read histories, such as were current in the
+early part of the present century, but none of a later date than
+the end of the wars of the First Napoleon. The only thing modern he
+cared for in literature was a 'society' journal, sent weekly from
+London. These publications are widely read in the better class of
+farmsteads now. Harry knew something of most things, even of
+geology. He could show you the huge vertebr&aelig; of some extinct
+saurian, found while draining was being done. He knew enough of
+arch&aelig;ology to be able to tell any enthusiastic student who
+chanced to come along where to find the tumuli and the earthworks
+on the Downs. He had several Roman coins, and a fine bronze
+spearhead, which had been found upon the farm. These were kept with
+care, and produced to visitors with pride. Harry really did possess
+a wide fund of solid, if quiet, knowledge. Presently, after reading
+a chapter or two, he would drop off into a siesta, till some
+message came from the men or the bailiff, asking for
+instructions.</p>
+<p>The farmstead was, in fact, a mansion of large size, an old
+manor-house, and had it been situate near a fashionable suburb and
+been placed in repair would have been worth to let as much per
+annum as the rent of a small farm. But it stood in a singularly
+lonely and outlying position, far from any village of size, much
+less a town, and the very highway even was so distant that you
+could only hear the horse's hoofs when the current of air came from
+that direction. This was his aunt's&mdash;the
+housekeeper's&mdash;great complaint, the distance to the highway.
+She grumbled because she could not see the carriers' carts and the
+teams go by; she wanted to know what was going on.</p>
+<p>Harry, however, seemed contented with the placid calm of the
+vast house that was practically empty, and rarely left it, except
+for his regular weekly visit to market. After the fashion of a
+thoroughbred farmer he was often rather late home on market nights.
+There were three brothers, all in farms, and all well to do; the
+other two were married, and Harry was finely plagued about being a
+bachelor. But the placid life at the old place&mdash;he had
+succeeded to his father&mdash;somehow seemed to content him. He had
+visitors at Christmas, he read his books of winter evenings and
+after dinner; in autumn he strolled round with his double-barrel
+and knocked over a hare or so, and so slumbered away the days. But
+he never neglected the farming-everything was done almost exactly
+as it had been done by his father.</p>
+<p>Old Harry Hodson was in his time one of the characters of that
+country side. He was the true founder of the Hodson family. They
+had been yeomen in a small way for generations, farming little
+holdings, and working like labourers, plodding on, and never heard
+of outside their fifty-acre farms. So they might have continued
+till this day had not old Harry Hodson arose to be the
+genius&mdash;the very Napoleon&mdash;of farming in that district.
+When the present Harry, the younger, had a visitor to his
+taste&mdash;<i>i.e</i>. one who was not in a hurry&mdash;he would,
+in the evening, pull out the books and papers and letters of his
+late father from the bureau (beside which stood the gun), and
+explain how the money was made. The logs crackled and sparkled on
+the hearth, the lamp burnt clear and bright; there was a low
+singing sound in the chimney; the elderly aunt nodded and worked in
+her arm-chair, and woke up and mixed fresh spirits and water, and
+went off to sleep again; and still Harry would sit and smoke and
+sip and talk. By-and-by the aunt would wish the visitor good-night,
+draw up the clock, and depart, after mixing fresh tumblers and
+casting more logs upon the fire, for well she knew her nephew's
+ways. Harry was no tippler, he never got intoxicated; but he would
+sit and smoke and sip and talk with a friend, and tell him all
+about it till the white daylight came peeping through the chinks in
+the shutters.</p>
+<p>Old Harry Hodson, then, made the money, and put two of his sons
+in large farms, and paid all their expenses, so that they started
+fair, besides leaving his own farm to the third. Old Harry Hodson
+made the money, yet he could not have done it had he not married
+the exact woman. Women have made the fortunes of Emperors by their
+advice and assistance, and the greatest men the world has seen have
+owned that their success was owing to feminine counsel. In like
+manner a woman made the policy of an obscure farmer a success. When
+the old gentleman began to get well to do, and when he found his
+teeth not so strong as of yore, and his palate less able to face
+the coarse, fat, yellowy bacon that then formed the staple of the
+household fare, he actually ventured so far as to have one joint of
+butcher's meat, generally a leg of mutton, once a week. It was
+cooked for Sunday, and, so far as that kind of meat was concerned,
+lasted till the next Sunday. But his wife met this extravagant
+innovation with furious opposition. It was sheer waste; it was
+something almost unpardonably prodigal. They had eaten bacon all
+their lives, often bacon with the bristles thick upon it, and to
+throw away money like this was positively wicked. However, the-old
+gentleman, being stubborn as a horse-nail, persisted; the wife,
+still grumbling, calmed down; and the one joint of meat became an
+institution. Harry, the younger, still kept it up; but it had lost
+its significance in his day, for he had a fowl or two in the week,
+and a hare or a partridge, and, besides, had the choicest hams.</p>
+<p>Now, this dispute between the old gentleman and his
+wife&mdash;this dispute as to which should be most
+parsimonious&mdash;was typical of their whole course of life. If
+one saved cheese-parings, the other would go without cheese at all,
+and be content with dry bread. They lived&mdash;indeed, harder than
+their own labourers, and it sometimes happened that the food they
+thought good enough was refused by a cottager. When a strange
+carter, or shepherd, or other labourer came to the house from a
+distance, perhaps with a waggon for a load of produce or with some
+sheep, it was the custom to give them some lunch. These men,
+unaccustomed even in their own cottages to such coarse food, often
+declined to eat it, and went away empty, but not before delivering
+their opinion of the fare, expressed in language of the rudest
+kind.</p>
+<p>No economy was too small for old Hodson; in the house his wife
+did almost all the work. Nowadays a farmer's house alone keeps the
+women of one, or even two, cottages fully employed. The washing is
+sent out, and occupies one cottage woman the best part of her spare
+time. Other women come in to do the extra work, the cleaning up and
+scouring, and so on. The expense of employing these women is not
+great; but still it is an expense. Old Mrs. Hodson did everything
+herself, and the children roughed it how they could, playing in the
+mire with the pigs and geese. Afterwards, when old Hodson began to
+get a little money, they were sent to a school in a market town.
+There they certainly did pick up the rudiments, but lived almost as
+hard as at home. Old Hodson, to give an instance of his method,
+would not even fatten a pig, because it cost a trifle of ready
+money for 'toppings,' or meal, and nothing on earth could induce
+him to part with a coin that he had once grasped. He never fattened
+a pig (meaning for sale), but sold the young porkers directly they
+were large enough to fetch a sovereign a-piece, and kept the
+money.</p>
+<p>The same system was carried on throughout the farm. The one he
+then occupied was of small extent, and he did a very large
+proportion of the work himself. He did not purchase stock at all in
+the modern sense; he grew them. If he went to a sale he bought one
+or two despicable-looking cattle at the lowest price, drove them
+home, and let them gradually gather condition. The grass they ate
+grew almost as they ate it&mdash;in his own words, 'They cut their
+own victuals'&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> with their teeth. He did not miss
+the grass blades, but had he paid a high price then he would have
+missed the money.</p>
+<p>Here he was in direct conflict with modern farming. The theory
+of the farming of the present day is that time is money, and,
+according to this, Hodson made a great mistake. He should have
+given a high price for his stock, have paid for cake, &amp;c., and
+fattened them up as fast as possible, and then realised. The logic
+is correct, and in any business or manufacture could not be
+gainsaid. But Hodson did just the reverse. He did not mind his
+cattle taking a little time to get into condition, provided they
+cost him no ready money. Theoretically, the grass they ate
+represented money, and might have been converted to a better use.
+But in practice the reverse came true. He succeeded, and other men
+failed. His cattle and his sheep, which he bought cheap and out of
+condition, quietly improved (time being no object), and he sold
+them at a profit, from which there were no long bills to deduct for
+cake.</p>
+<p>He purchased no machinery whilst in this small place&mdash;which
+was chiefly grass land&mdash;with the exception of a second-hand
+haymaking machine. The money he made he put out at interest on
+mortgage of real property, and it brought in about 4 per cent. It
+was said that in some few cases where the security was good he lent
+it at a much higher rate to other farmers of twenty times his
+outward show. After awhile he went into the great farm now occupied
+by his son Harry, and commenced operations without borrowing a
+single shilling. The reason was because he was in no hurry. He
+slowly grew his money in the little farm, and then, and not till
+then, essayed the greater. Even then he would not have ventured had
+not the circumstances been peculiarly favourable. Like the present,
+it was a time of depression generally, and in this particular case
+the former tenant had lived high and farmed bad. The land was in
+the worst possible state, the landlord could not let it, and Hodson
+was given to understand that he could have it for next to nothing
+at first.</p>
+<p>Now it was at this crisis of his life that he showed that in his
+own sphere he possessed the true attribute of genius. Most men who
+had practised rigid economy for twenty years, whose hours, and
+days, and weeks had been occupied with little petty details, how to
+save a penny here and a fourpenny bit yonder, would have become
+fossilised in the process. Their minds would have become as narrow
+as their ways. They would have shrunk from any venture, and
+continued in the old course to the end of their time.</p>
+<p>Old Hodson, mean to the last degree in his way of living, narrow
+to the narrowest point where sixpence could be got, nevertheless
+had a mind. He saw that his opportunity had come, and he struck. He
+took the great corn farm, and left his little place. The whole
+country side at once pronounced him mad, and naturally anticipated
+his failure. The country side did not yet understand two things.
+They did not know how much money he had saved, and they did not
+know the capacity of his mind. He had not only saved money, and
+judiciously invested it, but he had kept it a profound secret,
+because he feared if his landlord learnt that he was saving money
+so fast the rent of the little farm would have been speedily
+raised. Here, again, he was in direct conflict with the modern
+farmer. The modern man, if he has a good harvest or makes a profit,
+at once buys a 'turn-out,' and grand furniture, and in every way
+'exalts his gate,' When landlords saw their tenants living in a
+style but little inferior to that they themselves kept up, it was
+not really very surprising that the rents a few years back began to
+rise so rapidly. In a measure tenants had themselves to blame for
+that upward movement.</p>
+<p>Old Hodson carried his money to a long distance from home to
+invest, so anxious was he that neither his landlord nor any one
+else should know how quickly he was getting rich. So he entered
+upon his new venture&mdash;the great upland farm, with its broad
+cornfields, its expanse of sheep walk and down, its meadows in the
+hollow, its copses (the copses alone almost as big as his original
+holding), with plenty of money in his pocket, and without being
+beholden to bank or lawyer for a single groat. Men thought that the
+size of the place, the big manor-house, and so on, would turn his
+head. Nothing of the kind; he proceeded as cautiously and prudently
+as previously. He began by degrees. Instead of investing some
+thousand pounds in implements and machinery at a single swoop,
+instead of purchasing three hundred sheep right off with a single
+cheque, he commenced with one thing at a time. In this course he
+was favoured by the condition of the land, and by the conditions of
+the agreement. He got it, as it were, gradually into cultivation,
+not all at once; he got his stock together, a score or two at a
+time, as he felt they would answer. By the year the landlord was to
+have the full rent: the new tenant was quite able to pay it, and
+did pay it without hesitation at the very hour it was due. He
+bought very little machinery, nothing but what was absolutely
+necessary&mdash;no expensive steam-plough. His one great idea was
+still the same, <i>i.e.</i> spend no money.</p>
+<p>Yet he was not bigoted or prejudiced to the customs of his
+ancestors&mdash;another proof that he was a man of mind. Hodson
+foresaw, before he had been long at Upcourt Farm, that corn was not
+going in future to be so all in all important as it had been. As he
+said himself, 'We must go to our flocks now for our rent, and not
+to our barn doors.' His aim, therefore, became to farm into and
+through his flock, and it paid him well. Here was a man at once
+economical to the verge of meanness, prudent to the edge of
+timidity, yet capable of venturing when he saw his chance; and
+above all, when that venture succeeded, capable of still living on
+bacon and bread and cheese, and putting the money by.</p>
+<p>In his earlier days Hodson was as close of speech as of
+expenditure, and kept his proceedings a profound secret. As he grew
+older and took less active exercise&mdash;the son resident at home
+carrying out his instructions&mdash;he became more garrulous and
+liked to talk about his system. The chief topic of his discourse
+was that a farmer in his day paid but one rent, to the landlord,
+whereas now, on the modern plan, he paid eight rents, and sometimes
+nine. First, of course, the modern farmer paid his landlord (1);
+next he paid the seedsman (2); then the manure manufacturer (3);
+the implement manufacturer (4); the auctioneer (5); the railroad,
+for transit (6); the banker, for short loans (7); the lawyer or
+whoever advanced half his original capital (8); the schoolmaster
+(9).</p>
+<p>To begin at the end, the rent paid by the modern farmer to the
+schoolmaster included the payment for the parish school; and,
+secondly, and far more important, the sum paid for the education of
+his own children. Hodson maintained that many farmers paid as much
+hard cash for the education of their children, and for the
+necessary social surroundings incident to that education, as men
+used to pay for the entire sustenance of their households. Then
+there was the borrowed capital, and the short loans from the
+banker; the interest on these two made two more rents. Farmers paid
+rent to the railroad for the transit of their goods. The
+auctioneer, whether he sold cattle and sheep, or whether he had a
+dep&ocirc;t for horses, was a new man whose profits were derived
+from the farmers. There were few or no auctioneers or horse
+depositories when he began business; now the auctioneer was
+everywhere, and every country town of any consequence had its
+establishment for the reception and sale of horses. Farmers sunk
+enough capital in steam-ploughs and machinery to stock a small farm
+on the old system, and the interest on this sunk capital
+represented another rent. It was the same with the artificial
+manure merchant and with the seedsman. Farmers used to grow their
+own seed, or, at most, bought from the corn dealers or a neighbour
+if by chance they were out. Now the seedsman was an important
+person, and a grand shop might be found, often several shops, in
+every market town, the owners of which shops must likewise live
+upon the farmer. Here were eight or nine people to pay rent to
+instead of one.</p>
+<p>No wonder farming nowadays was not profitable. No wonder farmers
+could not put their sons into farms. Let any one look round their
+own neighbourhood and count up how many farmers had managed to do
+that. Why, they were hardly to be found. Farmers' sons had to go
+into the towns to get a livelihood now. Farming was too expensive a
+business on the modern system&mdash;it was a luxury for a rich man,
+who could afford to pay eight or nine landlords at once. The way he
+had got on was by paying one landlord only. Old Hodson always
+finished his lecture by thrusting both hands into his breeches
+pockets, and whispering to you confidentially that it was not the
+least use for a man to go into farming now unless he had got ten
+thousand pounds.</p>
+<p>It was through the genius of this man that his three sons were
+doing so well. At the present day, Harry, the younger, took his
+ease in his arm-chair after his substantial but plain dinner, with
+little care about the markets or the general depression. For much
+of the land was on high ground and dry, and the soil there
+benefited by the wet. At the same time sheep sold well, and Harry's
+flocks were large and noted. So he sauntered round with his gun,
+and knocked over a hare, and came comfortably home to dinner, easy
+in his mind, body, and pocket.</p>
+<p>Harry was not a man of energy and intense concentrated purpose
+like his father. He could never have built up a fortune, but, the
+money being there, Harry was just the man to keep it. He was
+sufficiently prudent to run no risk and to avoid speculation. He
+was sufficiently frugal not to waste his substance on riotous
+living, and he was naturally of a placid temperament, so that he
+was satisfied to silently and gradually accumulate little by
+little. His knowledge of farming, imbibed from his father, extended
+into every detail. If he seldom touched an implement now, he had in
+his youth worked like the labourers, and literally followed the
+plough. He was constantly about on the place, and his eye, by
+keeping the men employed, earned far more money than his single arm
+could have done. Thus he dwelt in the lonely manor-house, a living
+proof of the wisdom of his father's system.</p>
+<p>Harry is now looking, in his slow complacent way, for a wife.
+Being forty years of age, he is not in a great hurry, and is not at
+all inclined to make a present of himself to the first pretty face
+he meets. He does not like the girl of the period; he fears she
+would spend too much money. Nor, on the other hand, does he care
+for the country hoyden, whose mind and person have never risen
+above the cheese-tub, with red hands, awkward gait, loud voice, and
+limited conversation. He has read too much, in his quiet way, and
+observed too much, in his quiet way, also, for that. He wants a
+girl well educated, but not above her station, unaffected and yet
+comely, fond of home and home duties, and yet not homely. And it
+would be well if she had a few hundreds&mdash;a very small sum
+would do&mdash;for her dower. It is not that he wants the money,
+which can be settled on herself; but there is a vein of the old,
+prudent common sense running through Harry's character. He is in no
+hurry; in time he will meet with her somewhere.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap7" id="chap7">CHAPTER VII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER</h3>
+Two vehicles were gradually approaching each other from opposite
+directions on a long, straight stretch of country road, which, at
+the first glance, appeared level. The glare of the August sunshine
+reflected from the white dust, the intense heat that caused a
+flickering motion of the air like that which may be seen over a
+flue, the monotonous low cropped hedges, the scarcity of trees, and
+boundless plain of cornfields, all tended to deceive the eye. The
+road was not really level, but rose and fell in narrow, steep
+valleys, that crossed it at right angles&mdash;the glance saw
+across these valleys without recognising their existence. It was
+curious to observe how first one and then the other vehicle
+suddenly disappeared, as if they had sunk into the ground, and
+remained hidden for some time. During the disappearance the vehicle
+was occupied in cautiously going down one steep slope and slowly
+ascending the other. It then seemed to rapidly come nearer till
+another hollow intervened, and it was abruptly checked. The people
+who were driving could observe each other from a long distance, and
+might naturally think that they should pass directly, instead of
+which they did not seem to get much nearer. Some miles away, where
+the same road crossed the Downs, it looked from afar like a white
+line drawn perpendicularly up the hill.
+<p>The road itself was narrow, hardly wider than a lane, but on
+either side was a broad strip of turf, each strip quite twice the
+width of the metalled portion. On the verge of the dust the red
+pimpernel opened its flowers to the bright blue cloudless sky, and
+the lowly convolvulus grew thickly among the tall dusty bennets.
+Sweet short clover flowers stood but a little way back; still
+nearer the hedges the grass was coarser, long, and wire-like. Tall
+thistles stood beside the water furrows and beside the ditch, and
+round the hawthorn bushes that grew at intervals on the sward
+isolated from the hedge. Loose flints of great size lay here and
+there among the grass, perhaps rolled aside surreptitiously by the
+stone-breakers to save themselves trouble. Everything hot and
+dusty. The clover dusty, the convolvulus dusty, the brambles and
+hawthorn, the small scattered elms all dusty, all longing for a
+shower or for a cool breeze.</p>
+<p>The reapers were at work in the wheat, but the plain was so
+level that it was not possible to see them without mounting upon a
+flint heap. Then their heads were just visible as they stood
+upright, but when they stooped to use the hook they disappeared.
+Yonder, however, a solitary man in his shirt-sleeves perched up
+above the corn went round and round the field, and beside him
+strange awkward arms seemed to beat down the wheat. He was driving
+a reaping machine, to which the windmill-like arms belonged. Beside
+the road a shepherd lingered, leaning on a gate, while his flock,
+which he was driving just as fast and no faster than they cared to
+eat their way along the sward, fed part on one side and part on the
+other. Now and then two or three sheep crossed over with the
+tinkling of a bell. In the silence and stillness and brooding heat,
+the larks came and dusted themselves in the white impalpable powder
+of the road. Farther away the partridges stole quietly to an
+anthill at the edge of some barley. By the white road, a white
+milestone, chipped and defaced, stood almost hidden among thistles
+and brambles. Some white railings guarded the sides of a bridge, or
+rather a low arch over a dry watercourse. Heat, dust, a glaring
+whiteness, and a boundless expanse of golden wheat on either
+hand.</p>
+<p>After awhile a towering four-in-hand coach rose out of the
+hollow where it had been hidden, and came bowling along the level.
+The rapid hoofs beat the dust, which sprang up and followed behind
+in a cloud, stretching far in the rear, for in so still an
+atmosphere the particles were long before they settled again. White
+parasols and light dust coats&mdash;everything that could be
+contrived for coolness&mdash;gay feathers and fluttering fringes,
+whose wearers sat in easy attitudes enjoying the breeze created by
+the swift motion. Upon such a day the roof of a coach is more
+pleasant than the thickest shade, because of that current of air,
+for the same leaves that keep off the sun also prevent a passing
+zephyr from refreshing the forehead. But the swifter the horses the
+sweeter the fresh wind to fan the delicate cheek and drooping
+eyelid of indolent beauty. So idle were they all that they barely
+spoke, and could only smile instead of laugh if one exerted himself
+to utter a good jest. The gentleman who handled the ribbons was the
+only one thoroughly awake.</p>
+<p>His eyes were downcast, indeed, because they never left his
+horses, but his ears were sharply alive to the rhythmic beat of the
+hoofs and the faint creak and occasional jingle of the harness. Had
+a single shoe failed to send forth the proper sound as it struck
+the hard dry road, had there been a creak or a jingle too many, or
+too few, those ears would instantly have detected it. The downcast
+eyes that looked neither to the right nor left&mdash;at the golden
+wheat or the broad fields of barley&mdash;were keenly watching the
+ears of the team, and noting how one of the leaders lathered and
+flung white froth upon the dust. From that height the bowed backs
+of the reapers were visible in the corn. The reapers caught sight
+of the coach, and stood up to look, and wiped their brows, and a
+distant hurrah came from the boys among them. In all the pomp and
+glory of paint and varnish the tall coach rolled on, gently swaying
+from side to side as the springs yielded to the irregularities of
+the road. It came with a heavy rumble like far-away thunder over
+the low arch that spanned the dry water-course.</p>
+<p>Meantime the vehicle approaching from the opposite direction had
+also appeared out of a hollow. It was a high, narrow gig of ancient
+make, drawn by a horse too low for the shafts and too fat for work.
+In the gig sat two people closely pressed together by reason of its
+narrow dimensions. The lady wore a black silk dress, of good and
+indeed costly material, but white with the dust that had settled
+upon it. Her hands were covered with black cotton gloves, and she
+held a black umbrella. Her face was hidden by a black veil; thin
+corkscrew curls fringed the back of her head. She was stout, and
+sat heavily in the gig. The man wore a grey suit, too short in the
+trousers&mdash;at least they appeared so as he sat with his knees
+wide apart, and the toe of one heavy boot partly projecting at the
+side of the dash-board. A much-worn straw hat was drawn over his
+eyes, and he held a short whip in his red hand. He did not press
+his horse, but allowed the lazy animal to go jog-trot at his own
+pace. The panels of the gig had lost their original shining polish;
+the varnish had cracked and worn, till the surface was rough and
+grey. The harness was equally bare and worn, the reins mended more
+than once. The whole ramshackle concern looked as if it would
+presently fall to pieces, but the horse was in much too good a
+condition.</p>
+<p>When the four-in-hand had come within about a hundred yards, the
+farmer pulled his left rein hard, and drew his gig right out of the
+road on to the sward, and then stopped dead, to give the coach the
+full use of the way. As it passed he took off his straw hat, and
+his wife stooped low as a makeshift for bowing. An outsider might
+have thought that the aristocratic coach would have gone by this
+extremely humble couple without so much as noticing it. But the
+gentleman who was driving lifted his hat to the dowdy lady, with a
+gesture of marked politeness, and a young and elegantly-dressed
+lady, his sister, nodded and smiled, and waved her hand to her.
+After the coach had rolled some fifty yards away, the farmer pulled
+into the road, and went on through the cloud of dust it had left
+behind it, with a complacent smile upon his hard and weather-worn
+features. 'A' be a nice young gentleman, the Honourable be,' said
+he presently. 'So be Lady Blanche,' replied his wife, lifting her
+veil and looking back after the four-in-hand. 'I'm sure her smile's
+that sweet it be a pleasure for to see her.'</p>
+<p>Half a mile farther the farmer drew out of the road again, drove
+close to the hedge, stopped, and stood up to look over. A
+strongly-built young man, who had been driving the reaping machine
+in his shirt-sleeves, alighted from his seat and came across to the
+hedge.</p>
+<p>'Goes very well to-day,' he said, meaning that the machine
+answered.</p>
+<p>'You be got into a good upstanding piece, John,' replied the old
+man sharply in his thin jerky voice, which curiously contrasted
+with his still powerful frame. 'You take un in there and try
+un'&mdash;pointing to a piece where the crop had been beaten down
+by a storm, and where the reapers were at work. 'You had better put
+the rattletrap thing away, John, and go in and help they. Never
+wasted money in all my life over such a thing as that before. What
+be he going to do all the winter? Bide and rust, I 'spose. Can you
+put un to cut off they nettles along the ditch among they
+stones?'</p>
+<p>'It would break the knives,' said the son.</p>
+<p>'But you could cut um with a hook, couldn't you?' asked the old
+man, in a tone that was meant to convey withering contempt of a
+machine that could only do one thing, and must perforce lie idle
+ten months of the year.</p>
+<p>'That's hardly a fair way of looking at it,' the son
+ventured.</p>
+<p>'John,' said his mother, severely, 'I can't think how you young
+men can contradict your father. I'm sure young men never spoke so
+in my time; and I'm sure your father has been prospered in his
+farming' (she felt her silk dress), 'and has done very well without
+any machines, which cost a deal of money&mdash;and Heaven knows
+there's a vast amount going out every day.'</p>
+<p>A gruff voice interrupted her&mdash;one of the reapers had
+advanced along the hedge, with a large earthenware jar in his
+hand.</p>
+<p>'Measter,' he shouted to the farmer in the gig, 'can't you send
+us out some better tackle than this yer stuff?'</p>
+<p>He poured some ale out of the jar on the stubble with an
+expression of utter disgust.</p>
+<p>'It be the same as I drink myself,' said the farmer, sharply,
+and immediately sat down, struck the horse, and drove off.</p>
+<p>His son and the labourer&mdash;who could hardly have been
+distinguished apart so far as their dress went&mdash;stood gazing
+after him for a few minutes. They then turned, and each went back
+to his work without a word.</p>
+<p>The farmer drove on steadily homewards at the same jog-trot pace
+that had been his wont these forty years. The house stood a
+considerable distance back from the road: it was a gabled building
+of large size, and not without interest. It was approached by a
+drive that crossed a green, where some ducks were waddling about,
+and entered the front garden, which was surrounded by a low wall.
+Within was a lawn and an ancient yew tree. The porch was overgrown
+with ivy, and the trees that rose behind the grey tiles of the roof
+set the old house in a frame of foliage. A fine old English
+homestead, where any man might be proud to dwell. But the farmer
+did not turn up the drive. He followed the road till he came to a
+gate leading into the rickyard, and, there getting out of the gig,
+held the gate open while the horse walked through. He never used
+the drive or the front door, but always came in and went out at the
+back, through the rickyard.</p>
+<p>The front garden and lawn were kept in good order, but no one
+belonging to the house ever frequented it. Had any stranger driven
+up to the front door, he might have hammered away with the narrow
+knocker&mdash;there was no bell&mdash;for half an hour before
+making any one hear, and then probably it would have been by the
+accident of the servant going by the passage, and not by dint of
+noise. The household lived in the back part of the house. There was
+a parlour well furnished, sweet with flowers placed there fresh
+daily, and with the odour of those in the garden, whose scent came
+in at the ever open window; but no one sat in it from week's end to
+week's end. The whole life of the inmates passed in two back
+rooms&mdash;a sitting-room and kitchen.</p>
+<p>With some slight concessions to the times only, Farmer
+M&mdash;&mdash; led the life his fathers led before him, and farmed
+his tenancy upon the same principles. He did not, indeed, dine with
+the labourers, but he ate very much the same food as they did. Some
+said he would eat what no labourer or servant would touch; and, as
+he had stated, drank the same smallest of small beer. His wife made
+a large quantity of home-made wine every year, of which she partook
+in a moderate degree, and which was the liquor usually set before
+visitors. They rose early, and at once went about their work. He
+saw his men, and then got on his horse and rode round the farm. He
+returned to luncheon, saw the men again, and again went out and
+took a turn of work with them. He rode a horse because of the
+distance&mdash;the farm being large&mdash;not for pleasure. Without
+it he could not have visited his fields often enough to satisfy
+himself that the labourers were going on with their work. He did
+not hunt, nor shoot&mdash;he had the right, but never exercised it;
+though occasionally he was seen about the newly-sown fields with a
+single-barrel gun, firing at the birds that congregated in crowds.
+Neither would he allow his sons to shoot or hunt.</p>
+<p>One worked with the labourers, acting as working
+bailiff&mdash;it was he who drove the reaping machine, which, after
+long argument and much persuasion the farmer bought, only to
+grumble at and abuse every day afterwards. The other was
+apprenticed as a lad to a builder and carpenter of the market town,
+and learned the trade exactly as the rest of the men did there. He
+lodged in the town in the cheapest of houses, ate hard bread and
+cheese with the carpenters and masons and bricklayers, and was glad
+when the pittance he received was raised a shilling a week. Once
+now and then he walked over to the farm on Sundays or
+holidays&mdash;he was not allowed to come too often. They did not
+even send him in a basket of apples from the great orchard; all the
+apples were carefully gathered and sold.</p>
+<p>These two sons were now grown men, strong and robust, and better
+educated than would have been imagined&mdash;thanks to their own
+industry and good sense, and not to any schooling they received.
+Two finer specimens of physical manhood it would have been
+difficult to find, yet their wages were no more than those of
+ordinary labourers and workmen. The bailiff, the eldest, had a
+pound a week, out of which he had to purchase every necessary, and
+from which five shillings were deducted for lodgings. It may be
+that he helped himself to various little perquisites, but his
+income from every source was not equal to that of a junior clerk.
+The other nominally received more, being now a skilled workman; but
+as he had to pay for his lodgings and food in town, he was really
+hardly so well off. Neither of these young men had the least chance
+of marrying till their father should die; nothing on earth would
+induce him to part with the money required to set the one in
+business up or the other in a separate farm. He had worked all his
+time under his father, and it seemed to him perfectly natural that
+his sons should work all their time under him.</p>
+<p>There was one daughter, and she, too, was out at work. She was
+housekeeper to an infirm old farmer; that is to say, she
+superintended the dairy and the kitchen, and received hardly as
+much as a cook in a London establishment. Like the sons, she was
+finely developed physically, and had more of the manners of a lady
+than seemed possible under the circumstances.</p>
+<p>Her father's principles of farming were much the same as his
+plan of housekeeping and family government. It consisted of never
+spending any money. He bought no machines. The reaping machine was
+the one exception, and a bitter point with the old man. He entered
+on no extensive draining works, nor worried his landlord to begin
+them. He was content with the tumble-down sheds till it was
+possible to shelter cattle in them no longer. Sometimes he was
+compelled to purchase a small quantity of artificial manure, but it
+was with extreme reluctance. He calculated to produce sufficient
+manure in the stalls, for he kept a large head of fattening cattle,
+and sheep to the greatest extent possible. He would rather let a
+field lie fallow, and go without the crop from it, till nature had
+restored the exhausted fertility, than supply that fertility at the
+cost of spending money. The one guiding motto of his life was
+'Save, not invest.' When once he got hold of a sovereign he parted
+with it no more; not though all the scientific professors in the
+world came to him with their analyses, and statistics, and
+discoveries. He put it in the bank, just as his father would have
+put it into a strong box under his bed. There it remained, and the
+interest that accrued, small as it was, was added to it.</p>
+<p>Yet it was his pride to do his land well. He manured it well,
+because he kept cattle and sheep, especially the latter, to the
+fullest capacity of his acreage; and because, as said before, he
+could and did afford to let land lie fallow when necessary. He was
+in no hurry. He was not anxious for so much immediate percentage
+upon an investment in artificial manure or steam-plough. He might
+have said, with a greater man, 'Time and I are two.' It was Time,
+the slow passage of the years, that gave him his profit. He was
+always providing for the future; he was never out of anything,
+because he was never obliged to force a sale of produce in order to
+get the ready cash to pay the bank its interest upon borrowed
+money. He never borrowed; neither did he ever make a speech, or
+even so much as attend a farmers' club, to listen to a scientific
+lecture. But his teams of horses were the admiration of the country
+side&mdash;no such horses came into the market town. His rent was
+paid punctually, and always with country bank-notes&mdash;none of
+your clean, newfangled cheques, or Bank of England crisp paper, but
+soiled, greasy country notes of small denomination.</p>
+<p>Farmer M&mdash;&mdash; never asked for a return or reduction of
+his rent. The neighbours said that he was cheaply rented: that was
+not true in regard to the land itself. But he certainly was cheaply
+rented if the condition of the farm was looked at. In the course of
+so many long years of careful farming he had got his place into
+such a state of cultivation that it could stand two or three bad
+seasons without much deterioration. The same bad seasons quite
+spoiled the land of such of his neighbours as had relied upon a
+constant application of stimulants to the soil. The stimulating
+substances being no longer applied, as they could not afford to buy
+them, the land fell back and appeared poor.</p>
+<p>Farmer M&mdash;&mdash;, of course, grumbled at the weather, but
+the crops belied his lips. He was, in fact, wealthy&mdash;not the
+wealth that is seen in cities, but rich for a countryman. He could
+have started both his sons in business with solid capital. Yet he
+drank small beer which the reapers despised, and drove about in a
+rusty old gig, with thousands to his credit at that old country
+bank. When he got home that afternoon, he carefully put away some
+bags of coin for the wages of the men, which he had been to fetch,
+and at once started out for the rickyard, to see how things were
+progressing. So the Honourable on the tall four-in-hand saluted
+with marked emphasis the humble gig that pulled right out of the
+road to give him the way, and the Lady Blanche waved her hand to
+the dowdy in the dusty black silk with her sweetest smile. The
+Honourable, when he went over the farm with his breechloader,
+invariably came in and drank a glass of the small beer. The Lady
+Blanche, at least once in the autumn, rode up, alighted, and drank
+one glass of the home-made wine with the dowdy. Her papa, the
+landlord, was an invalid, but he as invariably sent a splendid
+basket of hot-house grapes. But Farmer M&mdash;&mdash; was behind
+the age.</p>
+<p>Had he looked over the hedge in the evening, he might have seen
+a row of reapers walking down the road at the sudden sound of a
+jingling bell behind them, open their line, and wheel like a squad,
+part to the right and part to the left, to let the bicycle pass.
+After it had gone by they closed their rank, and trudged on toward
+the village. They had been at work all day in the uplands among the
+corn, cutting away with their hooks low down the yellow straw. They
+began in the early morning, and had first to walk two miles or more
+up to the harvest field. Stooping, as they worked, to strike low
+enough, the hot sun poured his fierce rays upon their shoulders and
+the backs of their necks. The sinews of the right arm had
+continually to drive the steel through straw and tough weeds
+entangled in the wheat. There was no shadow to sit under for
+luncheon, save that at the side of the shocks, where the sheaves
+radiated heat and interrupted the light air, so that the shadow was
+warmer than the sunshine. Coarse cold bacon and bread, cheese, and
+a jar of small beer, or a tin can of weak cold tea, were all they
+had to supply them with fresh strength for further labour.</p>
+<p>At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were
+resumed, and the walk home began. After so many hours of wearisome
+labour it was hardly strange that their natural senses were
+dulled&mdash;that they did not look about them, nor converse gaily.
+By mutual, if unexpressed consent, they intended to call at the
+wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on the hard bench
+outside, and take a quart of stronger ale. Thus trudging homewards
+after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent
+approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell. When
+he had passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped
+away along the dry and dusty road. He was a tall young gentleman,
+whose form was well set off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle
+costume. He rode well and with perfect command&mdash;the track left
+in the dust was straight, there was no wobbling or uncertainty.</p>
+<p>'That be a better job than ourn, you,' said one of the men, as
+they watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.</p>
+<p>'Ay,' replied his mate, 'he be a vine varmer, he be.'</p>
+<p>Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his
+utmost speed, and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor
+would ha e cared if he had. He was in haste, for he was late, and
+feared every minute to hear the distant dinner bell. It was his
+vacation, and Master Phillip, having temporarily left his studies,
+was visiting a gentleman who had taken a country mansion and
+shooting for the season. His host had accumulated wealth in the
+'City,' and naturally considered himself an authority on country
+matters. Master Phillip's 'governor' was likewise in a large way of
+business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing
+for one of his sons to 'go in' for agriculture&mdash;a highly
+genteel occupation, if rightly followed, with capital and
+intelligence. Phillip liked to ride his bicycle in the cool of the
+evening, and was supposed in these excursions to be taking a survey
+of the soil and the crops, and to be comparing the style of
+agriculture in the district to that to which he had been trained
+while pursuing his studies. He slipped past the wayside inn; he
+glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village;
+and then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went
+by a rickyard. Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load
+of the evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working
+among and directing the rest. The bicyclist without a glance rode
+on, and shortly after reached the lodge gates. They were open, in
+anticipation of his arrival.</p>
+<p>He rode up the long drive, across the park, under the old elms,
+and alighted at the mansion before the dinner bell rang, much to
+his relief; for his host had more than one daughter, and Phillip
+liked to arrange his toilet to perfection before he joined their
+society. His twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, elaborately fitted
+up&mdash;too completely indeed, for he had no use for the
+razor&mdash;soon enabled him to trim and prepare for the
+dining-room. His five-guinea coat, elegant studs, spotless shirt
+and wristbands, valuable seal ring on one finger, patent leather
+boots, keyless watch, eyeglass, gold toothpick in one pocket, were
+all carefully selected, and in the best possible style. Mr.
+Phillip&mdash;he would have scorned the boyish 'master'&mdash;was a
+gentleman, from the perfumed locks above to the polished patent
+leather below. There was <i>ton</i> in his very air, in the 'ah,
+ah,' of his treble London tone of voice, the antithesis of the
+broad country bass. He had a firm belief in the fitness of
+things&mdash;in the unities, so to speak, of suit, action, and
+time.</p>
+<p>When his team were struggling to force the ball by kick, or
+other permitted means, across the tented field, Phillip was arrayed
+in accurate football costume. When he stood on the close-mown lawn
+within the white-marked square of tennis and faced the net, his
+jacket was barred or striped with scarlet. Then there was the
+bicycle dress, the morning coat, the shooting jacket, and the
+dinner coat, not to mention the Ulster or Connaught overcoat, the
+dust coat, and minor items innumerable. Whether Phillip rolled in
+the mire at football, or bestrode a bicycle, or sat down to
+snow-white tablecloth and napkin, he conscientiously dressed the
+part. The very completeness of his prescribed studies&mdash;the
+exhaustive character of the curriculum-naturally induced a frame of
+mind not to be satisfied with anything short of absolute precision,
+and perhaps even apt to extend itself into dilettanteism.</p>
+<p>Like geology, the science of agriculture is so vast, it embraces
+so wide a range, that one really hardly knows where it begins or
+ends. Phillip's knowledge was universal. He understood all about
+astronomy, and had prepared an abstract of figures proving the
+connection of sun-spots, rainfall, and the price of wheat. Algebra
+was the easiest and at the same time the most accurate mode of
+conducting the intricate calculations arising out of the
+complicated question of food&mdash;of flesh formers and heat
+generators&mdash;that is to say, how much a sheep increased in
+weight by gnawing a turnip. Nothing could be more useful than
+botany-those who could not distinguish between a dicotyledon and a
+monocotyledon could certainly never rightly grasp the nature of a
+hedgerow. <i>Bellis perennis</i> and <i>Sinapis arvensis</i> were
+not to be confounded, and <i>Triticum repens</i> was a sure sign of
+a bad farmer. Chemistry proved that too small a quantity of
+silicate made John Barleycorn weak in the knee; ammonia, animal
+phosphates, nitrogen, and so on, were mere names to many ignorant
+folk. The various stages and the different developments of insect
+life were next to be considered.</p>
+<p>As to the soil and strata&mdash;the very groundwork of a
+farm&mdash;geology was the true guide to the proper selection of
+suitable seed. Crops had been garnered by the aid of the electric
+light, the plough had been driven by the Gramme machine;
+electricity, then, would play a foremost part in future farming,
+and should be studied with enthusiasm. Without mathematics nothing
+could be done; without ornithological study, how know which bird
+revelled on grain and which destroyed injurious insects? Spectrum
+analysis detected the adulteration of valuable compounds; the
+photographer recorded the exact action of the trotting horse; the
+telephone might convey orders from one end of an estate to the
+other; and thus you might go through the whole alphabet, the whole
+cyclop&aelig;dia of science, and apply every single branch to
+agriculture.</p>
+<p>It is to be hoped that Phillip's conversational account of his
+studies has been correctly reproduced here. The chemical terms look
+rather weak, but the memory of an ordinary listener can hardly be
+expected to retain such a mass of technicalities. He had piles of
+strongly-bound books, the reward of successful examinations,
+besides diplomas and certificates of proficiency. These subjects
+could be pursued under cover, but there was besides the field work,
+which had a more practical sound; model farms to be visited;
+steam-engines to be seen at work; lectures to be listened to on the
+spot; deep-drainage operations, a new drill, or a new sheaf-binder
+to be looked at. Then there were the experimental
+plots&mdash;something like the little <i>parterres</i> seen at the
+edge of lawns.</p>
+<p>One plot was sown without manure, another was sown with manure,
+a third had a different kind of manure. The dozen mangolds grown in
+one patch were pulled up and carefully weighed. The grains of wheat
+in an ear standing in an adjacent patch were counted and recorded.
+As these plots were about a yard wide, and could be kept clean, no
+matter what the weather; and as a wheelbarrow load of clay, or
+chalk, or sand thrown down would alter the geological formation,
+the results obtained from them were certainly instructive, and
+would be very useful as a guide to the cultivation of a thousand
+acres. There was also a large, heavy iron roller, which the
+scholars could if they chose drag round and round the gravel
+path.</p>
+<p>Architecture, again, touches the agriculturist nearly. He
+requires buildings for the pigs, cattle, horses, labourers, engine
+and machinery, lastly, for himself. Out of doors almost any
+farmhouse that could be visited might be made by a lecturer an
+illustrative example of what ought to be avoided. Scarcely one
+could be found that was not full of mistakes&mdash;utterly wrong,
+and erected regardless of design and utility. Within doors, with
+ink, tracing paper, compasses, straight-edge and ruler, really
+valuable ground plans, front elevations, and so on, could be laid
+down. Altogether, with this circle of science to study, the future
+farmer had very hard work to face. Such exhaustive mental labour
+induced a certain nervousness that could only be allayed by
+relaxation. The bicycle afforded a grateful change. Mounted upon
+the slender, swift-revolving wheel, Mr. Phillip in the cool of the
+evening, after the long day of study, sometimes proceeded to
+stretch his limbs. The light cigar soothed his weary and
+overstrained mind.</p>
+<p>The bicycle by-and-by, as if drawn by the power of gravitation,
+approached more and more nearly to the distant town. It threaded
+the streets, and finally stopped in the archway of an inn. There,
+leaned against the wall, under the eye of the respectful ostler,
+the bicycle reposed. The owner strolled upstairs, and in the
+company of choice spirits studied the laws of right angles, of
+motion, and retarding friction, upon the level surface of the
+billiard table. Somewhere in a not much frequented street there
+could be seen a small window in which a coloured plate of fashions
+was always displayed. There were also some bonnets, trimming, and
+tasteful feathers. Nothing could be more attractive than this
+window. The milliner was young and pretty, and seemed to have a
+cousin equally young and pretty. Poor, lonely, friendless
+creatures, it was not surprising they should welcome a little
+flirtation. The bicycle which so swiftly carries the young man of
+the present day beyond the penetrating vision of his aunt or tutor
+has much to answer for.</p>
+<p>But, as pointed out previously, such exhaustive scientific
+training naturally tends to make the mind mathematical. It cannot
+be satisfied unless its surroundings&mdash;the substantial
+realisation of the concrete-are perfect. So Mr. Phillip had a suit
+for every purpose&mdash;for football, cricket, tennis, bicycle,
+shooting, dining, and strolling about. In the same way he possessed
+a perfect armoury of athletic and other useful implements. There
+were fine bats by the best makers for cricket, rods for trout
+fishing, splendid modified choke-bores, saddles, jockey caps, and
+so on. A gentleman like this could hardly long remain in the
+solitary halls of learning&mdash;society must claim him for
+parties, balls, dinners, and the usual round. It was understood
+that his 'governor' was a man of substantial wealth; that Phillip
+would certainly be placed in an extensive farm, to play the
+pleasant part of a gentleman farmer. People with marriageable
+daughters looked upon the clever scholar as a desirable addition to
+their drawing-rooms. Phillip, in short, found himself by degrees
+involved in a whirl of festivities, and was never at a loss where
+to go for amusement when he could obtain leave to seek
+relaxation. If such social adulation made him a little vain, if it
+led to the purchase of a twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, and to
+frequent consultations with the tailor, it really was not Phillip's
+fault. He felt himself popular, and accepted the position.</p>
+<p>When the vacation came, gathering up a fresh pile of
+grandly-bound prize books, broad sheets of diplomas, and
+certificates, Phillip departed to his friend's mansion for the
+partridge shooting. Coming down the road on the bicycle he overtook
+the reapers, and sprang his bell to warn them. The reapers thought
+Phillip's job better than theirs.</p>
+<p>At dinner, while sipping his claret, Phillip delivered his
+opinion upon the agriculture of the district, which he had surveyed
+from his bicycle. It was incomplete, stationary, or retrograde. The
+form of the fields alone was an index to the character of the
+farmers who cultivated them. Not one had a regular shape. The
+fields were neither circles, squares, parallelograms, nor
+triangles. One side, perhaps, might be straight; the hedgerow on
+the other had a dozen curves, and came up to a point. With such
+irregular enclosures it was impossible that the farmer could plan
+out his course with the necessary accuracy. The same incompleteness
+ran through everything&mdash;one field was well tilled, the next
+indifferently, the third full of weeds. Here was a good modern
+cattle-shed, well-designed for the purpose; yonder was a
+tumble-down building, with holes in the roof and walls.</p>
+<p>So, too, with the implements&mdash;a farmer never seemed to have
+a complete set. One farmer had, perhaps, a reaping machine, but he
+had not got an elevator; another had an elevator, but no
+steam-plough. No one had a full set of machinery. If they drained,
+they only drained one field; the entire farm was never by any
+possibility finished straight off. If the farmer had two new light
+carts of approved construction, he was sure to have three old
+rumbling waggons, in drawing which there was a great waste of
+power. Why not have all light carts? There was no uniformity. The
+farming mind lacked breadth of view, and dwelt too much on detail.
+It was not, of course, the fault of the tenants of the present day,
+but the very houses they inhabited were always put in the wrong
+place. Where the ground was low, flat, and liable to be flooded,
+the farmhouse was always built by a brook. When the storms of
+winter came the brook overflowed, and the place was almost
+inaccessible. In hilly districts, where there was not much water,
+the farmhouse was situate on the slope, or perhaps on the plateau
+above, and in summer very likely every drop of water used had to be
+drawn up there from a distance in tanks.</p>
+<p>The whole of rural England, in short, wanted rearranging upon
+mathematical principles. To begin at the smallest divisions, the
+fields should be mapped out like the squares of a chessboard; next,
+the parishes; and, lastly, the counties. You ought to be able to
+work steam-ploughing tackle across a whole parish, if the rope
+could be made strong enough. If you talked with a farmer, you found
+him somehow or other quite incapable of following a logical
+sequence of argument. He got on very well for a few sentences, but,
+just as one was going to come to the conclusion, his mind seized on
+some little paltry detail, and refused to move any farther. He
+positively could not follow you to a logical conclusion. If you,
+for instance, tried to show him that a certain course of cropping
+was the correct one for certain fields, he would listen for awhile,
+and then suddenly declare that the turnips in one of the said
+fields last year were a failure. That particular crop of turnips
+had nothing at all to do with the system at large, but the farmer
+could see nothing else.</p>
+<p>What had struck him most, however, in that particular district,
+as he traversed it on the bicycle, was the great loss of time that
+must result from the absence of rapid means of communication on
+large farms. The distance across a large farm might, perhaps, be a
+mile. Some farms were not very broad, but extended in a narrow
+strip for a great way. Hours were occupied in riding round such
+farms, hours which might be saved by simple means. Suppose, for
+example, that a gang of labourers were at work in the
+harvest-field, three-quarters of a mile from the farmhouse. Now,
+why not have a field telegraph, like that employed in military
+operations? The cable or wire was rolled on a drum like those used
+for watering a lawn. All that was needed was to harness a pony, and
+the drum would unroll and lay the wire as it revolved. The farmer
+could then sit in his office and telegraph his instructions without
+a moment's delay. He could tap the barometer, and wire to the
+bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the mercury was
+falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the farmer to
+go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
+merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to
+him: why should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could
+drive the farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in
+short, do everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any
+required spot with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his
+office chair, the farmer could control the operations of the farm
+without once soiling his hands. Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his
+remarks, reached his glass of claret, and thus incidentally
+exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap8" id="chap8">CHAPTER VIII</a></h3>
+<h3>HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'</h3>
+A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war
+drums by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at
+the bramble flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower
+to flower, seeking the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as
+their bee ancestors did before the Roman legions marched to Cowey
+Stakes. Their habits have not changed; their 'social' relations are
+the same; they have not called in the aid of machinery to enlarge
+their liquid, wealth, or to increase the facility of collecting it.
+There is a low murmur rather than a buzz along the hedgerow; but
+over it the hot summer breeze brings the thumping, rattling,
+booming sound of hollow metal striking against the ground or in
+contact with other metal. These ringing noises, which so little
+accord with the sweet-scented hay and green hedgerows, are caused
+by the careless handling of milk tins dragged hither and thither by
+the men who are getting the afternoon milk ready for transit to the
+railway station miles away. Each tin bears a brazen badge engraved
+with the name of the milkman who will retail its contents in
+distant London. It may be delivered to the countess in Belgravia,
+and reach her dainty lip in the morning chocolate, or it may be
+eagerly swallowed up by the half-starved children of some back
+court in the purlieus of the Seven Dials.
+<p>Sturdy milkmaids may still be seen in London, sweeping the
+crowded pavement clear before them as they walk with swinging
+tread, a yoke on their shoulders, from door to door. Some remnant
+of the traditional dairy thus survives in the stony streets that
+are separated so widely from the country. But here, beside the hay,
+the hedgerows, the bees, the flowers that precede the
+blackberries&mdash;here in the heart of the meadows the romance has
+departed. Everything is mechanical or scientific. From the
+refrigerator that cools the milk, the thermometer that tests its
+temperature, the lactometer that proves its quality, all is
+mechanical precision. The tins themselves are metal&mdash;wood, the
+old country material for almost every purpose, is
+eschewed&mdash;and they are swung up into a waggon specially built
+for the purpose. It is the very antithesis of the jolting and
+cumbrous waggon used for generations in the hay-fields and among
+the corn. It is light, elegantly proportioned, painted,
+varnished&mdash;the work rather of a coachbuilder than a
+cartwright. The horse harnessed in it is equally unlike the
+cart-horse. A quick, wiry horse, that may be driven in a trap or
+gig, is the style&mdash;one that will rattle along and catch the
+train.</p>
+<p>The driver takes his seat and handles the reins with the air of
+a man driving a tradesman's van, instead of walking, like the true
+old carter, or sitting on the shaft. The vehicle rattles off to the
+station, where ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty such converge at the
+same hour, and then ensues a scene of bustle, chaff, and rough
+language. The tins are placed in the van specially reserved for
+them, the whistle sounds, the passengers&mdash;who have been
+wondering why on earth there was all this noise and delay at a
+little roadside station without so much as a visible
+steeple&mdash;withdraw their heads from the windows; the wheels
+revolve, and, gathering speed, the train disappears round the
+curve, hastening to the metropolis. Then the empty tins returned
+from town have to be conveyed home with more rattling, thumping and
+booming of hollow tin&mdash;there to be carefully cleansed, for
+which purpose vast quantities of hot water must be ready, and coal,
+of course, must be consumed in proportion.</p>
+<p>This beautiful afternoon the booming seems to sound more than
+usual; it may perhaps be the wind that carries the noise along. But
+Mr. George, the farmer, who has been working among the haymakers,
+steps out from the rank, and going some way aside pauses awhile to
+consider. You should not address him as Farmer George. Farmer as an
+affix is not the thing now; farmers are 'Mr. So-and-so.' Not that
+there is any false pride about the present individual; his memory
+goes back too far, and he has had too much experience of the world.
+He leans on his prong&mdash;the sharp forks worn bright as silver
+from use&mdash;stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on the
+top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
+The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and
+thus gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.</p>
+<p>He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight
+into the teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and
+odd summers past. Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of
+the master haymaker must be always watching the horizon to
+windward. He depends on the sky, like the mariner, and spreads his
+canvas and shapes his course by the clouds. He must note their
+varying form and drift; the height and thickness and hue; whether
+there is a dew in the evenings; whether the distant hills are
+clearly defined or misty; and what the sunset portends. From the
+signs of the sunset he learns, like the antique Roman
+husbandman&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>'When the south projects a stormy day,<br>
+And when the clearing north will puff the clouds
+away.'</blockquote>
+According as the interpretation of the signs be favourable,
+adverse, or doubtful, so he gives his orders.
+<p>This afternoon, as he stands leaning on the prong, he marks the
+soft air which seems itself to be heated, and renders the shade, if
+you seek it for coolness, as sultry as the open field. The flies
+are numerous and busy&mdash;the horses can barely stand still, and
+nod their heads to shake them off. The hills seem near, and the
+trees on the summit are distinctly visible. Such noises as are
+heard seem exaggerated and hollow. There is but little cloud, mere
+thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and the blue of the
+sky is hard and opaque. Farmer George recollects that the barometer
+he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does not
+like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze. There is
+a large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for
+carting, indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can,
+and the rest, if left spread about through next
+day&mdash;Sunday&mdash;would be fit on Monday.</p>
+<p>On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the
+sun, if it shines, works as hard and effectually as ever. It is
+always a temptation to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay
+spread about for Sunday, so that on Monday morning he may find it
+made. Another reason why he hesitates is because he knows he will
+have trouble with the labourers, who will want to be off early as
+it is Saturday. They are not so ready to work an hour or two
+overtime as when he was a boy. On the other hand, he recollects
+that the weather cablegrams from America foretell the arrival of a
+depression. What would his grandfather have thought of adjusting
+the work in an English meadow to the tenour of news from the other
+side of the Atlantic?</p>
+<p>Suddenly, while he ponders, there arises a shout from the
+labourers. The hay in one spot, as if seized by an invisible force,
+lifts itself up and revolves round and round, rising higher every
+turn. A miniature cyclone is whirling it up&mdash;a column of hay
+twisting in a circle and rising above the trees. Then the force of
+the whirlwind spends itself; some of the hay falls on the oaks, and
+some drifts with the breeze across the field before it sinks.</p>
+<p>This decides him at once. He resolves to have all the hay carted
+that he can, and the remainder put up into haycocks. The men
+grumble when they hear it; perhaps a year ago they would have
+openly mutinied, and refused to work beyond the usual hour. But,
+though wages are still high, the labourers feel that they are not
+so much the masters as they were&mdash;they grumble, but obey. The
+haycocks are put up, and the rick-cloth unfolded over the partly
+made rick. Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth does not
+touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go
+through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and
+firmly belayed. His caution is justified in the night by a violent
+thunderstorm, and in the morning it is raining steadily.</p>
+<p>It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Thursday it
+does not rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the
+grass hung with raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting
+cloud. The hay cannot be touched; it must lie a day till
+sufficiently dry. Friday is more hopeful. He walks out into the
+fields, and kicks a haycock half over. The hay is still wet, but he
+congratulates himself that not much damage is done. Saturday Is
+warm and fine&mdash;work goes on again. But Sunday is near. Sunday
+is fiery hot. Monday, the rain pours down with tropical
+vehemence.</p>
+<p>Thus the monotonous, heart-breaking days go by and lengthen into
+weeks, and the weeks extend into months. The wheat is turning
+colour, and still the hay lies about, and the farmer has ceased
+even to tap the barometer. Those fields that are not cut are brown
+as brown can be&mdash;the grass has seeded and is over ripe. The
+labourers come every day, and some trifling job is found for
+them&mdash;the garden path is weeded, the nettles cut, and such
+little matters done. Their wages are paid every week in silver and
+gold&mdash;harvest wages, for which no stroke of harvest work has
+been done. He must keep them on, because any day the weather may
+brighten, and then they will be wanted. But the weather does not
+brighten, and the drain of ready cash continues. Besides the men,
+tho mowing machine is idle in the shed. Even if the rain ceases,
+the crops are so laid that it is doubtful if it can be employed.
+The horse-rake is idle, the elevator is idle, the haymaking machine
+is idle, and these represent capital, if not to a large amount. He
+notes the price of hay at the market. For months past it has been
+low&mdash;so low that it has hardly paid him to sell that portion
+of old hay which he felt he could spare. From October of last year
+to June of this [1879] the price remained about the same. It is now
+rising, but he has no more old hay to part with, and the new is not
+yet made. He has to bear in mind that his herd of cows has to be
+kept in high feed all the winter, to supply an unvarying quantity
+of milk to the London purchaser.</p>
+<p><a name="bnote1" id="bnote1">These</a> wet days, forcing him
+unwillingly to stay within doors, send him to his books and
+accounts, and they tell a story somewhat at variance with the
+prevalent belief that dairy-farming is the only branch of farming
+that is still profitable. First, as to the milk-selling. Cows
+naturally yield a larger supply in the summer than in winter but by
+the provisions of the contract between the farmer and the milkman
+the quantity sent in summer is not to exceed and the quantity in
+winter not to fall short of, a stipulated amount.<a href=
+"#fnote1">[1]</a> The price received in summer is about fivepence
+or fivepence-halfpenny per imperial gallon, afterwards retailed in
+London at about one shilling and eightpence. When the cost of
+conveyance to the station, of the horses, of the wear and tear, of
+the men who have to be paid for doing nothing else but look after
+the milk, is deducted, the profit to the farmer is but small. He
+thinks, too, that he notices a decided falling-off in the demand
+for milk even at this price.</p>
+<p>Some dairies find a difficulty in disposing of the
+milk&mdash;they cannot find a purchaser. He has himself a
+considerable surplus over and above what the contract allows him to
+send. This must either be wasted entirely or made into butter and
+cheese. In order to make cheese, the plant, the tubs, vats,
+presses, and so on, must be kept in readiness, and there must be an
+experienced person to superintend the work. This person must be
+paid a salary, and lodge and board in the house, representing
+therefore a considerable outlay. The cheese, when made and sent to
+market, fluctuates of course in price: it may be as low as
+fourpence a pound wholesale; it may go as high as sixpence.
+Fourpence a pound wholesale will not pay for the making; sixpence
+will leave a profit; but of late the price has gone rather to the
+lower than the higher figure. A few years since, when the iron
+industries flourished, this kind of cheese had a good and ready
+sale, and there was a profit belonging to it; but since the iron
+trade has been in so depressed a condition this cheese has sold
+badly. The surplus milk consequently brings no profit, and is only
+made into cheese because it shall not be wasted, and in the hope
+that possibly a favourable turn of the cheese market may happen.
+Neither the summer cheese nor the summer milk is bringing him in a
+fortune.</p>
+<p>Meantime the hay is spoiling in the fields. But a few years ago,
+when agricultural prices were inflated, and men's minds were full
+of confidence, he recollects seeing standing grass crops sold by
+auction for 5<i>l</i>. the acre, and in some cases even higher
+prices were realised. This year similar auctions of standing grass
+crops hardly realised 30<i>s</i>. an acre, and in some instances a
+purchaser could not be found even at that price. The difference in
+the value of grass represented by these prices is very great.</p>
+<p>He has no pigs to sell, because, for a long while past, he has
+had nothing upon which to feed them, the milk being sold. The
+pigsties are full of weeds; he can hardly fatten one for his own
+use, and has scarcely better facilities for keeping pigs than an
+agricultural labourer. The carriage of the milk to the station
+requires at least two quick horses, and perhaps more; one cannot do
+it twice a day, even with a very moderate load. The hard highway
+and the incessant work would soon knock a single horse up. The
+mowing machine and the horse-rake must be drawn by a similar horse,
+so that the dairy farm may be said to require a style of horse like
+that employed by omnibus proprietors. The acreage being limited, he
+can only keep a certain number of horses, and, therefore, has no
+room for a brood mare.</p>
+<p>Farmer George is aware that nothing now pays like a brood cart
+mare with fair good luck. The colt born in April is often sold six
+months afterwards, in September, for 20<i>l</i>. or 25<i>l</i>.,
+and even up to 30<i>l</i>., according to excellence. The value of
+cart-horse colts has risen greatly, and those who are fortunately
+able to maintain a brood mare have reaped the profit. But Mr.
+George, selling the milk, and keeping a whole stud of nags for the
+milk cart, the mowing machine, the horse-rake, and so forth, cannot
+maintain a brood mare as well. In the winter, it is true, the milk
+may sell for as high a price as tenpence per gallon of four quarts,
+but then he has a difficulty in procuring the quantity contracted
+for, and may perhaps have to buy of neighbours to keep up the
+precise supply.</p>
+<p>His herd must also be managed for the purpose, and must be well
+fed, and he will probably have to buy food for them in addition to
+his hay. The nag horses, too, that draw the milk waggon, have to be
+fed during the winter, and are no slight expense. As for fattening
+a beast in a stall, with a view to take the prize at Christmas at
+the local show, he has abandoned that, finding that it costs more
+to bring the animal up to the condition required than he can
+afterwards sell it for. There is no profit in that. America presses
+upon him hard, too&mdash;as hard, or harder, than on the
+wheat-grower. Cases have been known of American cheese being sold
+in manufacturing towns as low as twopence per pound
+retail&mdash;given away by despairing competition.</p>
+<p>How, then, is the dairyman to succeed when he cannot, positively
+cannot, make cheese to sell at less than fourpence per pound
+wholesale? Of course such instances are exceptional, but American
+cheese is usually sold a penny or more a pound below the English
+ordinary, and this cuts the ground from under the dairyman's feet;
+and the American cheese too is acquiring a reputation for richness,
+and, price for price, surpasses the English in quality. Some people
+who have long cherished a prejudice against the American have
+found, upon at last being induced to try the two, that the Canadian
+cheddar is actually superior to the English cheddar, the English
+selling at tenpence per pound and the Canadian at sevenpence.</p>
+<p>Mr. George finds he pays a very high rent for his grass
+land&mdash;some 50<i>s</i>. per acre&mdash;and upon reckoning up
+the figures in his account-books heaves a sigh. His neighbours
+perchance may be making fortunes, though they tell quite a
+different tale, but he feels that he is not growing rich. The work
+is hard, or rather it is continuous. No one has to attend to his
+duties so regularly all the year round as the man who looks after
+cows. They cannot be left a single day from the 1st of January to
+the 31st of December. Nor is the social state of things altogether
+pleasant to reflect on. His sons and daughters have all left home;
+not one would stay and take to the dairy work. They have gone into
+the towns, and found more congenial employment there. He is himself
+growing in years. His wife, having once left off making cheese when
+the milk selling commenced, and having tasted the sweets of rest,
+is unwilling to return to that hard labour. When it is done he must
+pay some one to do it.</p>
+<p>In every way ready money is going out of the house. Cash to pay
+the haymakers idling about in the sheds out of the rain; cash to
+pay the men who manage the milk; cash to pay the woman who makes
+the cheese out of the surplus milk; cash to pay the blacksmith for
+continually re-shoeing the milk cart nags and for mending machines;
+cash to pay the brewer and the butcher and the baker, neither of
+whom took a sovereign here when he was a lad, for his father ate
+his own bacon, brewed his own beer, and baked his own bread; cash
+to pay for the education of the cottagers' children; cash, a great
+deal of cash, to pay the landlord.</p>
+<p>Mr. George, having had enough of his accounts, rises and goes to
+the window. A rain cloud sweeping along the distant hills has
+hidden them from sight, and the rack hurries overhead driven before
+the stormy wind. There comes a knock at the door. It is the
+collector calling the second time for the poor rates, which have
+grown heavier of late.</p>
+<p>But, however delayed, the haymaking is finished at last, and
+by-and-by, when the leaves have fallen and the hunting commences, a
+good run drives away for the time at least the memory of so
+unpropitious a season. Then Mr. George some mild morning forms one
+of a little group of well-mounted farmers waiting at a quiet corner
+while the hounds draw a great wood. Two of them are men long past
+middle age, whose once tawny beards are grizzled, but who are still
+game, perhaps more so than the rising generation. The rest have
+followed them here, aware that these old hands know every inch of
+the country, and are certain to be in the right place. The spot is
+not far from the park wall, where the wood runs up into a
+wedge-shaped point, and ends in a low mound and hedge. Most of the
+company at the meet in the park have naturally cantered across the
+level sward, scattering the sheep as they go, and are now assembled
+along the side of the wood, near where a green 'drive' goes through
+it, and apparently gives direct access to the fields beyond. From
+thence they can see the huntsman in the wood occasionally, and
+trace the exact course the hounds are taking in their search.</p>
+<p>A gallant show it is by the wood! Horsemen and horsewomen, late
+comers hastening up, restless horses, a throng for ever in motion,
+and every now and then the blast of a horn rising up from the trees
+beneath. A gallant show indeed, but two old cunning ones and their
+followers have slipped away down to this obscure corner where they
+can see nothing of it, and are themselves hidden. They know that
+the wood is triangular in shape, and that from this, the apex, they
+have merely to pass the low hedge in front, and, turning to the
+left, ride along the lower side, and so bisect the course the fox
+will probably take. They know that the 'drive,' which offers so
+straight and easy a descent through the wood from the park, is
+pleasant enough till the lower ground is reached. There the soft,
+oozy earth, which can never dry under the trees, is poached into a
+slough through which even timber carriages cannot be drawn. Nor can
+a horseman slip aside, because of the ash poles and thorn thickets.
+Those who are trapped there must return to the park and gallop all
+round the wood outside, unless they like to venture a roll in that
+liquid mud. Any one can go to a meet, but to know all the
+peculiarities of the covers is only given to those who have ridden
+over the country these forty years. In this corner a detached copse
+of spruce fir keeps off the wind&mdash;the direction of which they
+have noted&mdash;and in this shelter it is almost warm.</p>
+<p>The distant crack of a whip, the solitary cry of a hound, a
+hollow shout, and similar sounds, come frequently, and now and then
+there is an irrepressible stir in the little group as they hear one
+of the many false alarms that always occur in drawing a great wood.
+To these noises they are keenly sensitive, but utterly ignore the
+signs of other life around them. A pheasant, alarmed by the hounds,
+comes running quietly, thinking to escape into the line of isolated
+copses that commences here; but, suddenly confronted by the
+horsemen just outside, rises with an uproar, and goes sailing down
+over the fields. Two squirrels, happy in the mild weather, frisk
+out of the copse into the dank grass, till a curvet of one of the
+horses frightens them up into the firs again.</p>
+<p>Horses and men are becoming impatient. 'That dalled keeper has
+left an earth open,' remarks one of the riders. His companion
+points with his whip at the hedge just where it joins the wood. A
+long slender muzzle is thrust for a moment cautiously over the bare
+sandy mound under cover of a thorn stole. One sniff, and it is
+withdrawn. The fox thought also to steal away along the copses, the
+worst and most baffling course he could choose. Five minutes
+afterwards, and there is this time no mistake. There comes from the
+park above the low, dull, rushing roar of hundreds of hoofs, that
+strike the sward together, and force by sheer weight the reluctant
+earth to resound. The two old hands lead over the hedge, and the
+little company, slipping along below the wood, find themselves well
+on the track, far in front of the main body. There is a block in
+the treacherous 'drive,' those who where foremost struggling to get
+back, and those behind struggling to come down. The rest at last,
+learning the truth, are galloping round the outside, and taking it
+out of their horses before they get on the course at all.</p>
+<p>It is a splendid burst, and the pace is terrible. The farmers'
+powerful horses find it heavy going across the fresh ploughed
+furrows and the wet 'squishey' meadows, where the double mounds
+cannot be shirked. Now a lull, and the two old hands, a little at
+fault, make for the rising ground, where are some ricks, and a
+threshing machine at work, thinking from thence to see over the
+tall hedgerows. Upon the rick the labourers have stopped work, and
+are eagerly watching the chase, for from that height they can see
+the whole field. Yonder the main body have found a succession of
+fields with the gates all open: some carting is in progress, and
+the gates have been left open for the carter's convenience. A
+hundred horsemen and eight or ten ladies are galloping in an
+extended line along this route, riding hardest, as often happens,
+when the hounds are quiet, that they may be ready when the chiding
+commences.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the labourers exclaim and point, the hounds open, and
+the farmers, knowing from the direction they point where to ride,
+are off. But this time the fox has doubled, so that the squadrons
+hitherto behind are now closest up, and the farmers in the rear:
+thus the fortune of war changes, and the race is not to the swift.
+The labourers on the rick, which stands on the side of a hill, are
+fully as excited as the riders, and they can see what the hunter
+himself rarely views, <i>i.e.</i> the fox slipping ahead before the
+hounds. Then they turn to alternately laugh at, and shout
+directions to a disconsolate gentleman, who, ignorant of the
+district, is pounded in a small meadow. He is riding frantically
+round and round, afraid to risk the broad brook which encircles it,
+because of the treacherous bank, and maddened by the receding sound
+of the chase. A boy gets off the rick and runs to earn sixpence by
+showing a way out. So from the rick Hodge has his share of the
+sport, and at that elevation can see over a wide stretch of what
+he&mdash;changing the 'd' into a 'j'&mdash;calls 'the juke's
+country.'</p>
+<p>It is a famous land. There are spaces, which on the map look
+large, and yet have no distinctive character, no individuality as
+it were. Such broad expanses of plain and vale are usefully
+employed in the production of cattle and corn. Villages, hamlets,
+even towns are dotted about them, but a list of such places would
+not contain a single name that would catch the eye. Though
+occupying so many square miles, the district, so far as the world
+is concerned, is non-existent. It is socially a blank. But 'the
+juke's country' is a well-known land. There are names connected
+with it which are familiar not only in England, but all the world
+over, where men&mdash;and where do they not?&mdash;converse of
+sport. Something beyond mere utility, beyond ploughing and sowing,
+has given it within its bounds a species of separate nationality.
+The personal influence of an acknowledged leader has organised
+society and impressed it with a quiet enthusiasm. Even the
+bitterest Radical forgives the patrician who shoots or rides
+exceptionally well, and hunting is a pursuit which brings the peer
+and the commoner side by side.</p>
+<p>The agricultural population speak as one man upon the subject.
+The old farmer will tell you with pride how his advice was sought
+when disease entered the kennels, and how his remedy saved the
+lives of valuable hounds. The farmer's son, a mere lad, whose head
+barely rises to his saddle, talks of 'the duke' as his hero. This
+boy knows the country, and can ride straight, better than many a
+gentleman with groom and second horse behind. Already, like his
+elders, he looks forward impatiently to the fall of the leaf. The
+tenants' wives and daughters allude with pleasure to the annual
+social gatherings at the mansion, and it is apparent that something
+like a real bond exists between landlord and tenant. No false pride
+separates the one from the other&mdash;intercourse is easy, for a
+man of high and ancient lineage can speak freely to the humblest
+labourer without endangering his precedence. It needs none of the
+parvenu's <i>hauteur</i> and pomp to support his dignity. Every
+tenant is treated alike.</p>
+<p>On small estates there is sometimes a complaint that the largest
+tenant is petted while the lesser are harshly treated. Nothing of
+that is known here. The tenants are as well content as it is
+possible for men to be who are passing under the universal
+depression. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>&mdash;it would be impossible for
+that ancient house to stoop to meanness. The head rides to the
+hunt, as his ancestors rode to battle, with a hundred horsemen
+behind him. His colours are like the cockades of olden times. Once
+now and then even Royalty honours the meet with its presence. Round
+that ancient house the goodwill of the county gathers; and when any
+family event&mdash;as a marriage&mdash;takes place, the hearty
+congratulations offered come from far beyond the actual property.
+His pastime is not without its use&mdash;all are agreed that
+hunting really does improve the breed of horses. Certainly it gives
+a life, a go, a social movement to the country which nothing else
+imparts.</p>
+<p>It is a pleasant land withal&mdash;a land of hill and vale, of
+wood and copse. How well remembered are the copses on the hills,
+and the steeples, those time-honoured landmarks to wandering
+riders! The small meadows with double mounds have held captive many
+a stranger. The river that winds through them enters by-and-by a
+small but ancient town, with its memories of the fierce Danes, and
+its present talk of the hunt. About five o'clock on winter
+afternoons there is a clank of spurs in the courtyard of the old
+inn, and the bar is crowded with men in breeches and top-boots. As
+they refresh themselves there is a ceaseless hum of conversation,
+how so-and-so came a cropper, how another went at the brook in
+style, or how some poor horse got staked and was mercifully shot. A
+talk, in short, like that in camp after a battle, of wounds and
+glory. Most of these men are tenant farmers, and reference is sure
+to be made to the price of cheese, and the forthcoming local
+agricultural show.</p>
+<p>This old market town has been noted for generations as a great
+cheese centre. It is not, perhaps, the most convenient situation
+for such a market, and its population is inconsiderable; but the
+trade is, somehow or other, a tradition of the place, and
+traditions are hard to shake. Efforts have been made to establish
+rival markets in towns nearer to the modern resorts of commerce,
+but in vain. The attempt has always proved a failure, and to this
+day the prices quoted at this place rule those of the adjoining
+counties, and are watched in distant cities. The depression made
+itself felt here in a very practical manner, for prices fell to
+such an extent that the manufacture of the old style of cheese
+became almost a dead loss. Some farmers abandoned it, and at much
+trouble and expense changed their system, and began to produce
+Cheddar and Stilton. But when the Stilton was at last ready, there
+was no demand for it. Almost suddenly, however, and quite recently,
+a demand sprang up, and the price of that cheese rose. They say
+here in the bar that this probably saved many from difficulties;
+large stocks that had been lying on hand unsaleable for months
+going off at a good price. They hope that it is an omen of
+returning prosperity, and do not fail to observe the remarkable
+illustration it affords of the close connection between trade and
+agriculture. For no sooner did the iron trade revive than the price
+of cheese responded. The elder men cannot refrain from chuckling
+over the altered tone of the inhabitants of cities towards the
+farmers. 'Years ago,' they say, 'we were held up to scorn, and told
+that we were quite useless; there was nothing so contemptible as
+the British farmer. Now they have discovered that, after all, we
+are some good, and even Manchester sympathises with us.'</p>
+<p>It is now hoped that the forthcoming local show&mdash;largely
+patronised and promoted by the chief of the hunting
+field&mdash;will be better than was at one time anticipated. Those
+who would like to see the real working of an agricultural show such
+as this should contrive to visit the yard early in the morning of
+the opening day, some few hours before the public are admitted. The
+bustle, the crash of excited exhibitors, the cries of men in charge
+of cattle, the apparently inextricable confusion, as if everything
+had been put off to the last moment&mdash;the whole scene is
+intensely agricultural. Every one is calling for the secretary. A
+drover wants to know where to put his fat cattle; a carter wants to
+ask where a great cart-horse is to stand&mdash;he and his horse
+together are hopelessly floundering about in the crowd. The agent
+of a firm of implement manufacturers has a telegram that another
+machine is coming, and is anxious for extra space; the
+representative of an artificial manure factory is vainly seeking a
+parcel that has got mislaid. The seedsman requires permission to
+somewhat shift his stall; wherever is the secretary?</p>
+<p>When he appears, a clergyman at once pounces on him to apply for
+tickets for the dinner, and is followed by a farmer, who must have
+a form and an explanation how to fill it up. One of his labourers
+has decided at the last minute to enter for a prize&mdash;he has
+had a year to make up his mind in. A crowd of members of the
+Society are pushing round for a private view, and watching the
+judges at their work. They all turn to the secretary to ask where
+such and such an exhibit may be found, and demand why on earth the
+catalogues are not ready? Mr. Secretary, a stout tenant farmer, in
+breeches and top-boots, whose broad face beams with good nature
+(selected, perhaps, for that very quality), pants and wipes his
+forehead, for, despite the cold, the exertion and the universal
+flurry have made him quiet hot. He gives every inquirer a civil
+answer, and affably begs the eager folk that press upon him to come
+up into the committee-room.</p>
+<p>At this a satisfied smile replaces the troubled expression upon
+their faces. They feel that their difficulties are at an end; they
+have got hold of the right man at last&mdash;there is something
+soothing in the very sound of the committee-room. When they get up
+into this important apartment they find it quite empty. There is a
+blazing fire in the grate, and littered on the long table is a mass
+of forms, letters, lists, and proofs of the catalogue waiting for
+the judges' decision to be entered. After half an hour or so their
+hopes begin to fall, and possibly some one goes down to try and
+haul the secretary up into his office. The messenger finds that
+much-desired man in the midst of an excited group; one has him by
+the arm pulling him forward, another by the coat dragging him back,
+a third is bawling at him at the top of a powerful voice.</p>
+<p>By-and-by, however, the secretary comes panting up into the
+committee-room with a letter in his hand and a pleased expression
+on his features. He announces that he has just had a note from his
+Grace, who, with his party, will be here early, and who hopes that
+all is going on well. Then to business, and it is surprising how
+quickly he disposes of it. A farmer himself, he knows exactly what
+is wanted, and gives the right order without a moment's hesitation.
+It is no new experience to him, and despite all this apparent
+confusion, everything presently falls into its place.</p>
+<p>After the opening of the show there is a meeting, at which
+certain prizes are distributed, among them rewards to the best
+ploughman in 'the juke's country,' and to those labourers who have
+remained longest in the service of one master. For the graceful
+duty of presentation a marchioness has been selected, who, with
+other visitors of high social rank, has come over from that famous
+hunting mansion. To meet that brilliant party the whole
+agricultural interest has assembled. The room is crowded with
+tenant farmers, the entire hunting field is present. Every
+clergyman in the district is here, together with the gentry, and
+many visitors for the hunting season. Among them, shoulder to
+shoulder, are numbers of agricultural labourers, their wives, and
+daughters, dressed in their best for the occasion. After some
+speeches, a name is called, and an aged labourer steps forward.</p>
+<p>His grandchildren are behind him; two of his sons, quite elderly
+themselves, attend him almost to the front, so that he may have to
+make but a few steps unsupported. The old man is frosted with age,
+and moves stiffly, like a piece of mechanism rather than a living
+creature, nor is there any expression&mdash;neither smile nor
+interest&mdash;upon his absolutely immobile features. He wears
+breeches and gaiters, and a blue coat cut in the style of two
+generations since. There is a small clear space in the midst of the
+well-dressed throng. There he stands, and for the moment the hum is
+hushed.</p>
+<p>For sixty years that old man laboured upon one farm; sixty years
+of ploughing and sowing, sixty harvests. What excitement, what
+discoveries and inventions&mdash;with what giant strides the world
+has progressed while he quietly followed the plough! An
+acknowledgment has been publicly awarded to him for that long and
+faithful service. He puts forth his arm; his dry, horny fingers are
+crooked, and he can neither straighten nor bend them. Not the least
+sign appears upon his countenance that he is even conscious of what
+is passing. There is a quick flash of jewelled rings ungloved to
+the light, and the reward is placed in that claw-like grasp by the
+white hand of the marchioness.</p>
+<p>Not all the gallant cavalry of the land fearlessly charging
+hedge and brook can, however, repel the invasion of a foe mightier
+than their chief. Frost sometimes comes and checks their gaiety.
+Snow falls, and levels every furrow, and then Hodge going to his
+work in the morning can clearly trace the track of one of his most
+powerful masters, Squire Reynard, who has been abroad in the night,
+and, likely enough, throttled the traditional grey goose. The
+farmer watches for the frozen thatch to drip; the gentleman
+visiting the stable looks up disconsolately at the icicles
+dependent from the slated eave with the same hope. The sight of a
+stray seagull wandering inland is gladly welcomed, as the harbinger
+of drenching clouds sweeping up on soft south-westerly gales from
+the nearest coast.</p>
+<p>The hunt is up once more, and so short are the hours of the day
+in the dead of the year, that early night often closes round the
+chase. From out of the gloom and the mist comes the distant note of
+the horn, with a weird and old-world sound. By-and-by the labourer,
+trudging homeward, is overtaken by a hunter whose horse's neck
+droops with weariness. His boots are splashed with mud, his coat
+torn by the thorns. He is a visitor, vainly trying to find his way
+home, having come some ten or fifteen miles across country since
+the morning. The labourer shows the route&mdash;the longest way
+round is the shortest at night&mdash;and as they go listens eagerly
+to the hunter's tale of the run. At the cross roads they part with
+mutual goodwill towards each other, and a shilling, easily earned,
+pays that night for the cottager's pipe and glass of ale.</p>
+<h4>Footnotes:</h4>
+<a name="fnote1" id="fnote1"></a><a href="#bnote1">1.</a> An
+improvement upon this system has been introduced by the leading
+metropolitian dairy company. The farmer is asked to fix a minimum
+quantity which he will engage to supply daily, but he can send as
+much more as he likes. This permits of economical and natural
+management in a dairy, which was very difficult under the rigid
+rule mentioned above.
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap9" id="chap9">CHAPTER IX</a></h3>
+<h3>THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS</h3>
+A pair of well-matched bays in silver-plated harness, and driven by
+a coachman in livery, turn an easy curve round a corner of the
+narrow country road, forcing you to step on the sward by the
+crimson-leaved bramble bushes, and sprinkling the dust over the
+previously glossy surface of the newly fallen horse chestnuts. Two
+ladies, elegantly dressed, lounge in the carriage with that
+graceful idleness&mdash;that indifferent indolence&mdash;only to be
+acquired in an atmosphere of luxury. Before they pass out of sight
+round another turn of the road it is possible to observe that one
+at least possesses hair of the fashionable hue, and a complexion
+delicately brilliant&mdash;whether wholly natural or partly aided
+by art. The other must be pronounced a shade less rich in the
+colours of youth, but is perhaps even more expensively dressed. An
+experienced observer would at once put them down as mother and
+daughter, as, indeed, they are.
+<p>The polished spokes of the wheels glitter in the sun, the hoofs
+of the high-stepping pair beat the firm road in regular cadence,
+and smoothly the carriage rolls on till the brown beech at the
+corner hides it. But a sense of wealth, of social station, and
+refinement&mdash;strange and in strong contrast to the rustic
+scene&mdash;lingers behind, like a faint odour of perfume. There
+are the slow teams pulling stolidly at the ploughs&mdash;they were
+stopped, of course, for the carters to stare at the equipage; there
+are the wheat ricks; yonder a lone farmstead, and black cattle
+grazing in the pasture. Surely the costly bays, whose hoofs may
+even now be heard, must belong to the lordly owner of these broad
+acres&mdash;this undulating landscape of grass and stubble, which
+is not beautiful but evidently fertile!</p>
+<p>A very brief inquiry at the adjacent market town disposes of
+this natural conclusion. It is the carriage of a tenant
+farmer&mdash;but what a tenant! The shopkeepers here are eloquent,
+positively gratefully eloquent, in the praise of his wife and
+daughter. Customers!&mdash;no such customers had been known in the
+old borough from time immemorial. The tradesman as he speaks
+involuntarily pulls out his till, glances in, and shuts it up with
+a satisfied bang. The old style of farmer, solid and substantial
+enough, fumbling at the bottom of his canvas bag for silver and
+gold, was a crusty curmudgeon where silk and satin, kid gloves, and
+so forth were concerned. His wife had to look sharp after her
+poultry, geese and turkeys, and such similar perquisites, in order
+to indulge in any innocent vanity, notwithstanding that the rent
+was paid and a heavy balance at the bank.</p>
+<p>Then he would have such a length of credit&mdash;a year at
+least&mdash;and nowadays a shopkeeper, though sure of his money,
+cannot wait long for it. But to ask for the account was to give
+mortal offence. The bill would be paid with the remark, intended to
+be intensely sarcastic, 'Suppose you thought we was a-going to run
+away&mdash;eh?' and the door would never again be darkened by those
+antique breeches and gaiters. As for the common run of ordinary
+farmers, their wives bought a good deal, but wanted it cheap and,
+looking at the low price of corn and the 'paper' there was floating
+about, it did not do to allow a long bill to be run up. But the
+Grange people&mdash;ah! the Grange people put some life into the
+place. 'Money! they must have heaps of money' (lowering his voice
+to a whisper). 'Why, Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; brought him a fortune,
+sir; why, she's got a larger income than our squire' (as if it
+were, rank treason to say so). 'Mr. &mdash;&mdash; has got money
+too, and bless you, they holds their heads as high as their
+landlord's, and good reason they should. They spend as much in a
+week as the squire do in a month, and don't cheapen nothing, and
+your cheque just whenever you like to ask for it. That's what I
+calls gentlefolks.' For till and counter gauge long descent, and
+heraldic quarterings, and ancestral Crusaders, far below the chink
+of ready money, that synonym for all the virtues.</p>
+<p>The Grange people, indeed, are so conspicuous, that there is
+little secrecy about them or their affairs. The house they reside
+in&mdash;it cannot be called a farmstead&mdash;is a large
+villa-like mansion of recent erection, and fitted with every modern
+convenience. The real farmstead which it supplanted lies in a
+hollow at some distance, and is occupied by the head bailiff, for
+there are several employed. As the architecture of the villa is
+consonant with modern 'taste,' so too the inferior is furnished in
+the 'best style,' of course under the supervision of the mistress.
+Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; has filled it with rosewood and ormolu, with
+chairs completely gilt, legs, back, seat, and all, with luxurious
+ottomans, 'occasional' tables inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, soft
+carpets, polished brazen grate-fittings, semi-ecclesiastical,
+semi-medi&aelig;val, and so forth.</p>
+<p>Everywhere the glitter of glass, mirrors over the mantelpieces,
+mirrors let into panels, glass chiffoniers, and pendent prisms of
+glass round the ornamental candlesticks. Mixed with this some of
+the latest productions of the new English Renaissance&mdash;stiff,
+straight-back, plain oak chairs, such as men in armour may have
+used&mdash;together with Japanese screens. In short, just such a
+medley of artistic styles as may be seen in scores of suburban
+villas where money is of little account, and even in houses of
+higher social pretensions. There is the usual illustrated
+dining-room literature, the usual <i>bric-&agrave;-brac</i>, the
+usual cabinet series of poets. There are oil paintings on the
+walls; there is an immense amount of the most expensive
+electroplate on the dinner table; the toilet accessories in the
+guest chambers are 'elegant' and <i>recherch&eacute;</i>. The
+upholsterer has not been grudged.</p>
+<p>For Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; is the daughter of a commercial man, one
+of the principals of a great firm, and has been accustomed to these
+things from her youth upwards. She has no sympathies with the past,
+that even yet is loth to quit its hold of the soil and of those who
+are bred upon it. The ancient simplicity and plainness of country
+life are positively repulsive to her; she associates them with
+poverty. Her sympathies are with warm, well-lighted rooms, full of
+comfort, shadowless because of the glare of much gas. She is not
+vulgar, just the reverse&mdash;she is a thorough lady, but she is
+not of the country and its traditions. She is the city and the
+suburb transplanted to the midst of corn, and grass, and cattle.
+She has her maid, skilled in the toilet, her carriage and pair and
+pony carriage, grooms, footmen, just exactly as she would have done
+had she brought her magnificent dowry to a villa at Sydenham.</p>
+<p>In the season, with her daughter, she goes to town, and drives
+daily in the park, just the same as to-day she has driven through
+the leaf-strewn country-lane to the market town. They go also to
+the sea-side, and now and then to the Continent. They are, of
+course, invited to the local balls, and to many of the best houses
+on more private occasions. The ramifications of finance do not
+except the proudest descendants of the Crusaders, and the 'firm'
+has its clients even among them. Bonnets come down from Madame
+Louise, boxes of novels from Mudie's; 'Le Follet' is read in the
+original, and many a Parisian romance as well. Visitors are
+continually coming and going&mdash;the carriage is perpetually
+backwards and forwards to the distant railway station. Friends come
+to the shooting, the hunting, the fishing; there is never any lack
+of society.</p>
+<p>The house is full of servants, and need be, to wait upon these
+people. Now, in former days, and not such a great while since, the
+best of servants came from the country. Mistresses sought for them,
+and mourned when, having imbibed town ways and town independence,
+they took their departure to 'better' themselves. But that is a
+thing of the past; it is gone with the disappearance of the old
+style of country life. Servant girls in farmhouses when young used
+to have a terribly hard life: hard work, hard fare, up early of a
+morning, stone flags under foot by day, bare boards under foot
+upstairs, small pay, and hard words too often. But they turned out
+the best of women, the healthiest and strongest, the most sought
+after. Now they learn a great deal about Timbuctoo, and will soon,
+no doubt, about Cyprus; but the 'servant from the country' is no
+more. Nothing less will suit them to begin with than the service of
+the parish clergyman, then they aspire to the Grange, get there,
+and receive a finishing education, and can never afterwards
+condescend to go where a footman is not kept. They become, in
+short, fine ladies, whose fathers are still at the
+plough&mdash;ladies who at home have been glad of bread and bacon,
+and now cannot possibly survive without hot butcher's meat every
+day, and game and fish in their seasons.</p>
+<p>But to return. Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; and her daughter have also
+their saddle horses. They do not often hunt, but frequently go to
+the meet. They have, it is true, an acceptable excuse for
+preferring riding to walking&mdash;the fashion of tying the dress
+back so tightly makes it extremely difficult for a lady to get over
+a country stile. The rigours of winter only enable them to appear
+even yet more charming in furs and sealskin. In all this the Grange
+people have not laid themselves open to any reproach as to the
+extravagance or pretension of their doings. With them it is
+genuine, real, unaffected: in brief, they have money, and have a
+right to what it can purchase.</p>
+<p>Mr. &mdash;&mdash; is not a tenant farmer from necessity;
+personally he is not a farmer at all, and knows no more of
+shorthorns than the veriest 'City' man. He has a certain taste for
+country life, and this is his way of enjoying it&mdash;and a very
+acute way, too, when you come to analyse it. The major portion of
+his capital is, with his wife's, in the 'firm'; it is administered
+and employed for him by men whose family interests and his are
+identical, whose knowledge of business is profound, whose own
+capital is there too. It is a fortunate state of things, not
+brought about in a day, but the growth of more than one generation.
+Now this man, as has been remarked, has a taste for country
+life&mdash;that is to say, he is an enthusiast over
+horses&mdash;not betting, but horses in their best form. He likes
+to ride and drive about, to shoot, and fish, and hunt. There is
+nothing despicable in this, but, after the manner of men, of course
+he must find an excuse.</p>
+<p>He found it in the children when they were young&mdash;two boys
+and one girl. It was better for them to have country air, to ride
+about the country lanes, and over the hills. The atmosphere
+altogether was more healthy, more manly than in the suburbs of a
+city. The excuse is a good one. Now come the means; two plans are
+open to him. He can buy an estate, or he can rent a large farm, or
+rather series of farms. If he purchases a fine estate he must
+withdraw his capital from business. In the first place, that would
+be inconvenient to old friends, and even unjust to them; in the
+second place, it would reduce his income most materially. Suppose
+we say, not for absolute exactness, but for the sake of present
+contrast, that capital well invested in business brings in ten per
+cent. The same capital invested in land brings in, say, three per
+cent. nominally; but is it as much in reality if you deduct those
+expensive improvements upon which tenants insist nowadays, and the
+five per cents, and ten per cents, allowed off the rent in bad
+years? At all events, it is certain that landlords, as a class, are
+investing more and more every year in business, which looks as if
+they did not consider land itself sufficiently remunerative. In
+addition, when you have bought your estate, should you subsequently
+wish to realise, the difficulties and delays are very trying. You
+cannot go down to your broker and say, 'Sell me a thousand acres
+this morning.' Capital in land is locked up.</p>
+<p>Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, having been trained in traditions of ready
+money and easy transfer, does not like this prospect. But as the
+tenant of a great farm it is quite another matter. The larger part
+of his capital still remains in the 'firm,' and earns him a
+handsome income. That which is invested in stock, cattle, horses,
+implements, &amp;c., is in a sense readily negotiable if ever he
+should desire to leave. Instead of having to pet and pamper
+discontented tenants, his landlord has to pet and pamper him. He
+has, in fact, got the upper hand. There are plenty of landlords who
+would be only too glad to get the rich Mr. &mdash;&mdash; to manure
+and deep-plough their lands; but there are comparatively few Mr.
+&mdash;&mdash;'s whose rent-day payments can be implicitly relied
+on. Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, in point of fact, gets all the sweets of
+the country gentleman's life, and leaves the owner all the sour. He
+has no heir presumptive to check his proceedings; no law of entail
+to restrain him; no old settlements to bind him hand and foot; none
+of those hundred and one family interests to consult which
+accumulate in the course of years around a landed estate, and so
+seriously curtail the freedom of the man in possession, the head of
+the family. So far as liberty and financial considerations go, he
+is much better off than his landlord, who perhaps has a title.
+Though he knows nothing of farming, he has the family instinct of
+accounts and figures; he audits the balance-sheets and books of his
+bailiff personally, and is not easily cheated. Small peculations of
+course go on, but nothing serious. The farms pay their way, and
+contribute a trifle towards the household expenses. For the rest,
+it is taken out in liberty, out-of-door life, field sports, and
+unlimited horses. His wife and daughter mix in the best society the
+county affords, besides their annual visits to town and the
+sea-side: they probably enjoy thrice the liberty and pleasure they
+would elsewhere. Certainly they are in blooming health. The eldest
+son is studying for the law, the younger has the commercial
+instinct more strongly developed, and is already with the 'firm.'
+Both of them get the full benefit of country life whenever they
+wish; both of them feel that there is plenty of capital behind
+them, and not the slightest jealousy exists on account of
+primogeniture. Of course they have their troubles&mdash;what family
+has not its troubles?&mdash;but on the whole their position is an
+enviable one.</p>
+<p>When Mrs. &mdash;&mdash; and her daughter rustle into their pew
+at church&mdash;placed next in honour to that of the proprietor of
+the soil&mdash;all eyes are turned upon them. The old-fashioned
+farmer's wife, who until her years pressed heavily upon her made
+the cheese and butter in her husband's dairy, is not so old but
+that her eyes can distinguish the colour of a ribbon. She may talk
+of such things as vanities, and unknown in her day, but for all
+that a pair of keen eyes criticise skirt, and trimmings, and
+braidings, and so forth, as displayed up in the Grange pew. Her
+daughter, who is quite young&mdash;for in her mother's time farming
+people did not marry till late in life&mdash;brings a still keener
+pair of eyes to bear in the same direction.</p>
+<p>The bonnets from Regent Street are things to think over and talk
+of. The old lady disinters her ancient finery; the girl, by hook or
+crook, is determined to dress in the fashion. If one farmer's wife
+is a fine lady, why not another? Do not even the servant girls at
+the Grange come out twenty times finer than people who have a
+canvas bag full of sovereigns at home, and many such bags at the
+bank? So that the Grange people, though they pay their way
+handsomely, and plough deep and manure lavishly, and lead the van
+of agriculture, are not, perhaps, an unmixed good. They help on
+that sapping and undermining of the ancient, sturdy simplicity, the
+solid oak of country character, replacing it with veneer. It is
+not, of course, all, or a tenth part, their fault, or in any way
+traceable to them. It is part and parcel of the wide-spread social
+changes which have gradually been proceeding.</p>
+<p>But the tenant farmer's wife who made the butter and cheese, and
+even helped to salt bacon, where is she now? Where are the healthy
+daughters that used to assist her? The wife is a fine
+lady&mdash;not, indeed, with carriage and pair, but with a dandy
+dog-cart at least; not with three-guinea bonnets, but with a costly
+sealskin jacket. There are kid gloves on her hands; there is a
+suspicion of perfume about her; there is a rustling of silk and
+satin, and a waving of ostrich feathers. The daughter is pale and
+interesting, and interprets Beethoven, and paints the old mill;
+while a skilled person, hired at a high price, rules in the dairy.
+The son rides a-hunting, and is glib on the odds. The
+'offices'&mdash;such it is the fashion to call the places in which
+work was formerly done&mdash;are carefully kept in the background.
+The violets and snowdrops and crocuses are rooted up, all the sweet
+and tender old flowers ruthlessly eradicated, to make way for a
+blazing parterre after the manner of the suburban villa&mdash;gay
+in the summer, in the spring a wilderness of clay, in the autumn a
+howling desert of musty evergreens..</p>
+<p>The 'civilisation' of the town has, in fact, gone out and taken
+root afresh in the country. There is no reason why the farmer
+should not be educated; there is no reason why his wife should not
+wear a sealskin jacket, or the daughter interpret Beethoven. But
+the question arises, Has not some of the old stubborn spirit of
+earnest work and careful prudence gone with the advent of the piano
+and the oil painting? While wearing the dress of a lady, the wife
+cannot tuck up her sleeves and see to the butter, or even feed the
+poultry, which are down at the pen across 'a nasty dirty field.' It
+is easy to say that farming is gone to the dogs, that corn is low,
+and stock uncertain, and rents high, and so forth. All that is
+true, but difficulties are nothing new; nor must too much be
+expected from the land.</p>
+<p>A moderate-sized farm, of from 200 to 800 acres, will no more
+enable the mistress and the misses to play the fine lady to-day
+than it would two generations ago. It requires work now the same as
+then&mdash;steady, persevering work&mdash;and, what is more
+important, prudence, economy, parsimony if you like; nor do these
+necessarily mean the coarse manners of a former age. Manners may be
+good, education may be good, the intellect and even the artistic
+sense may be cultivated, and yet extravagance avoided. The proverb
+is true still: 'You cannot have your hare and cook him too.' Now so
+many cook their hares in the present day without even waiting to
+catch them first. A euphuism has been invented to cover the
+wrongfulness of this system; it is now called 'discounting.' The
+fine lady farmers discount their husbands' corn and fat cattle,
+cheese and butter, before they reach the market. By-and-by the
+plough stops in the furrow, and the team is put up to auction, and
+farewell is said to the old homestead for evermore.</p>
+<p>There was no warmer welcome to be met with in life than used to
+be bestowed upon the fortunate visitor to an old house in the
+country where the people were not exactly farmers in the ordinary
+sense, because they were sufficiently well off to be independent,
+and yet made no pretence to gentility. You dropped in quite
+unexpectedly and informally after a pleasant stroll about the
+fields with a double-barrel, untrammelled by any attendant. The
+dogs were all over cleavers sticking to their coats, and your boots
+had to be wiped with a wisp of straw; your pocket was heavy with a
+couple of rabbits or a hare, and your hands black enough from
+powder and handling gates and stiles. But they made you feel
+immediately that such trifles were not of the slightest
+account.</p>
+<p>The dogs were allowed to rush in anyhow and set to work to lick
+their paws by the fire as if the house was their own. Your apology
+about your boots and general state of disorder was received with a
+smile by the mistress, who said she had sons of her own, and knew
+their ways. Forthwith one sturdy son seized the double-barrel, and
+conveyed it to a place of safety; a second took the rabbits or the
+hare, that you might not be incommoded by such a lump in your
+pocket, and sent the game on home to your quarters by a labourer; a
+third relieved you of your hat. As many tall young ladies rose to
+offer you a seat, so that it was really difficult to know which way
+to turn, besides which the old grandfather with silvery hair
+pressed you to take his chair by the fire.</p>
+<p>They had just sat down to the old-fashioned tea at half-past
+four, and in a moment there was a cup and plate ready. The tea had
+a fragrant scent, warm and grateful after the moist atmosphere of
+the meadows, smelling of decaying leaves. The mistress suggested
+that a nip of brandy might improve it, thinking that tea was hardly
+strong enough for a man. But that was, declined; for what could be
+more delicious than the sweet, thick cream poured in by a liberal
+hand? A fine ham had already been put on the table, as if by
+magic&mdash;the girls really seemed to anticipate everything you
+could possibly want. As for the butter, it was exquisite, and so,
+too, the home-baked bread, the more so, because only touched in the
+processes of preparing by the whitest and softest of hands. Such
+simple things become luxuries when brought to perfection by loving
+care. The old dog on the hearthrug came thrusting his nose into
+your hands, making almost too great friends, being perfectly well
+aware (cunning old fellow) that he could coax more out of a visitor
+than one of the family, who knew how he had stuffed all day.</p>
+<p>Over all there was an atmosphere of welcome, a genial
+brightness. The young men were anxious to tell you where the best
+sport could be got. The young ladies had a merry, genuine,
+unaffected smile&mdash;clearly delighted to see you, and not in the
+least ashamed of it. They showed an evident desire to please,
+without a trace of an <i>arri&eacute;re pens&eacute;e</i>. Tall,
+well-developed, in the height of good health, the bloom upon the
+cheek and the brilliant eyes formed a picture irresistibly
+charming. But it was the merry laugh that so long dwelt in the
+memory&mdash;nothing so thoroughly enchants one as the woman who
+laughs from her heart in the joyousness of youth. They joined
+freely in the conversation, but did not thrust themselves forward.
+They were, of course, eager for news of the far away world, but not
+a hint was breathed of those social scandals which now form our
+favourite gossip. From little side remarks concerning domestic
+matters it was evident that they were well acquainted with
+household duties. Indeed, they assisted to remove the things from
+the table without any consciousness that it was a menial task.</p>
+<p>It was not long after tea before, drawing round the fire, pipes
+were produced, and you were asked to smoke. Of course you declined
+on account of the ladies, but it was none the less pleasant to be
+asked. There was the great secret of it all-the genuine, liberal,
+open-handed and open-hearted proffering of all the house contained
+to the guest. And it was none the less an amusing conversation
+because each of the girls candidly avowed her own opinions upon
+such topics as were started&mdash;blushing a little, it is true, if
+you asked the reason for the opinion, for ladies are not always
+quite ready with the why and wherefore. But the contrast of
+character, the individuality displayed, gave a zest and interest to
+the talk; so that the hour wore late before you were aware of it.
+Then, if you would go, two, at least, of the three boys piloted you
+by the best and cleanest route, and did not wish you farewell till
+you were in the straight road. This was not so many years ago.</p>
+<p>Today, if you call at such a country house, how strangely
+different is the reception! None of the family come to the door to
+meet you. A servant shows you into a parlour&mdash;drawing-room is
+the proper word now&mdash;well carpeted and furnished in the modern
+style. She then takes your name&mdash;what a world of change is
+shown in that trifling piece of etiquette! By-and-by, after the
+proper interval, the ladies enter in morning costume, not a stray
+curl allowed to wander from its stern bands, nature rigidly
+repressed, decorum&mdash;'Society'&mdash;in every flounce and
+trimming. You feel that you have committed a solecism coming on
+foot, and so carrying the soil on your boots from the fields
+without into so elegant an apartment Visitors are obviously
+expected to arrive on wheels, and in correct trim for company. A
+remark about the crops falls on barren ground; a question
+concerning the dairy, ignorantly hazarded, is received with so much
+<i>hauteur</i> that at last you see such subjects are considered
+vulgar. Then a touch of the bell, and decanters of port and sherry
+are produced and our wine presented to you on an electro salver
+together with sweet biscuits. It is the correct thing to sip one
+glass and eat one biscuit.</p>
+<p>The conversation is so insipid, so entirely confined to the
+merest platitudes, that it becomes absolutely a relief to escape.
+You are not pressed to stay and dine, as you would have been in the
+old days&mdash;not because there is a lack of hospitality, but
+because they would prefer a little time for preparation in order
+that the dinner might be got up in polite style. So you
+depart&mdash;chilled and depressed. No one steps with you to open
+the gate and exchange a second farewell, and express a cordial wish
+to see you again there. You feel that you must walk in measured
+step and place your hat precisely perpendicular, for the eyes of
+'Society' are upon you. What a comfort when you turn a corner
+behind the hedge and can thrust your hands into your pockets and
+whistle!</p>
+<p>The young ladies, however, still possess one thing which they
+cannot yet destroy&mdash;the good constitution and the rosy look
+derived from ancestors whose days were spent in the field under the
+glorious sunshine and the dews of heaven. They worry themselves
+about it in secret and wish they could appear more
+ladylike&mdash;i.e. thin and white. Nor can they feel quite so
+languid and indifferent, and <i>blas&eacute;</i> as they desire.
+Thank Heaven they cannot! But they have succeeded in obliterating
+the faintest trace of character, and in suppressing the slightest
+approach to animation. They have all got just the same opinions on
+the same topics&mdash;that is to say, they have none at all; the
+idea of a laugh has departed. There is a dead line of uniformity.
+But if you are sufficiently intimate to enter into the inner life
+of the place it will soon be apparent that they either are or wish
+to appear up to the 'ways of the world.'</p>
+<p>They read the so-called social journals, and absorb the gossip,
+tittle-tattle, and personalities&mdash;absorb it because they have
+no means of comparison or of checking the impression it produces of
+the general loose tone of society. They know all about it, much
+more than you do. No turn of the latest divorce case or great
+social exposure has escaped them, and the light, careless way in
+which it is the fashion nowadays to talk openly of such things, as
+if they were got up like a novel&mdash;only with living
+characters&mdash;for amusement, has penetrated into this distant
+circle. But then they have been to half the leading
+watering-places&mdash;from Brighton to Scarborough; as for London,
+it is an open book to them; the railways have long dissipated the
+pleasing mysteries that once hung over the metropolis. Talk of this
+sort is, of course, only talk; still it is not a satisfactory sign
+of the times. If the country girl is no longer the hoyden that
+swung on the gates and romped in the hay, neither has she the
+innocent thought of the olden days.</p>
+<p>At the same time our friends are greatly devoted to the
+Church&mdash;old people used to attend on Sundays as a sacred and
+time honoured duty, but the girls leave them far behind, for they
+drive up in a pony carriage to the distant church at least twice a
+week besides. They talk of matins and even-song; they are full of
+vestments, and have seen 'such lovely things' in that line. At
+Christmas and Easter they are mainly instrumental in decorating the
+interior till it becomes perfectly gaudy with colour, and the old
+folk mutter and shake their heads. Their devotion in getting
+hothouse flowers is quite touching. One is naturally inclined to
+look with a liberal eye upon what is capable of a good
+construction. But is all this quite spontaneous? Has the new curate
+nothing at all to do with it? Is it not considered rather the
+correct thing to be 'High' in views, and even to manifest an
+Ultramontane tendency? There is a rather too evident determination
+to go to the extreme&mdash;the girls are clearly bent upon
+thrusting themselves to the very front of the parish, so that no
+one shall be talked of but the Misses &mdash;&mdash;. Anything is
+seized upon, that will afford an opening for posing before the
+world of the parish, whether it be an extreme fashion in dress or
+in ritual.</p>
+<p>And the parish is splitting up into social cliques. These girls,
+the local leaders of fashion, hold their heads far above those
+farmers' sons who bear a hand in the field. No one is eligible who
+takes a share in manual work: not even to be invited to the house,
+or even to be acknowledged if met in the road. The Misses
+&mdash;&mdash;, whose papa is well-to-do, and simply rides round on
+horseback to speak to the men with his steam-plough, could not
+possibly demean themselves to acknowledge the existence of the
+young men who actually handle a fork in the haymaking time. Nothing
+less than the curate is worthy of their smile. A very great change
+has come over country society in this way. Of course, men (and
+women) with money were always more eligible than those without; but
+it is not so very long ago that one and all&mdash;well-to-do and
+poor&mdash;had one bond in common. Whether they farmed large or
+small acres, all worked personally. There was no disgrace in the
+touch of the plough&mdash;rather the contrary; now it is
+contamination itself.</p>
+<p>The consequence is that the former general goodwill and
+acquaintanceship is no more. There are no friendly meetings; there
+is a distinct social barrier between the man and the woman who
+labours and the one who does not. These fashionable young ladies
+could not possibly even go into the hayfield because the sun would
+spoil their complexion, they refresh themselves with a&euml;rated
+waters instead. They could not possibly enter the dairy because it
+smells so nasty. They would not know their father's teams if they
+met them on the road. As for speaking to the workpeople&mdash;the
+idea would be too absurd!</p>
+<p>Once on a time a lift in the waggon just across the wet turf to
+the macadamised road&mdash;if it chanced to be going that
+way&mdash;would have been looked upon as a fortunate thing. The
+Misses &mdash;&mdash; would indeed stare if one of their papa's
+carters touched his hat and suggested that they should get up. They
+have a pony carriage and groom of their own. He drives the
+milk-cart to the railway station in the morning; in the afternoon
+he dons the correct suit and drives the Misses &mdash;&mdash; into
+the town to shopping. Now there exists a bitter jealousy between
+the daughters of the tradesmen in the said town and these young
+ladies. There is a race between them as to which shall be first in
+fashion and social rank. The Misses &mdash;&mdash; know very well
+that it galls their rivals to see them driving about so grandly
+half the afternoon up and down the streets, and to see the big
+local people lift their hats, as the banker, with whom, of course,
+the large farmer has intimate dealings. All this is very little; on
+paper it reads moan and contemptible: but in life it is
+real&mdash;in life these littlenesses play a great part. The Misses
+&mdash;&mdash; know nothing of those long treasured recipes
+formerly handed down in old country houses, and never enter the
+kitchen. No doubt, if the fashion for teaching cooking presently
+penetrates into the parish, they will take a leading part, and with
+much show and blowing of trumpets instruct the cottager how to boil
+the pot. Anything, in short, that happens to be the rage will
+attract them, but there is little that is genuine about them,
+except the eagerness for a new excitement.</p>
+<p>What manner of men shall accept these ladies as their future
+helpmates? The tenant farmers are few and far between that could
+support their expenditure upon dress, the servants they would
+require, and last, but not least, the waste which always
+accompanies ignorance in household management. Nor, indeed, do they
+look for tenant farmers, but hope for something higher in the
+scale.</p>
+<p>The Misses &mdash;&mdash; are fortunate in possessing a 'papa'
+sufficiently well-to-do to enable them to live in this manner. But
+there are hundreds of young ladies whose fathers have not got so
+much capital in their farms, while what they have is perhaps
+borrowed. Of course these girls help cheerfully in the household,
+in the dairy, and so forth? No. Some are forced by necessity to
+assist in the household with unwilling hands: but few, indeed,
+enter the dairy. All dislike the idea of manual labour, though
+never so slight. Therefore they acquire a smattering of knowledge,
+and go out as governesses. They earn but a small stipend in that
+profession, because they have rarely gone through a sufficiently
+strict course of study themselves. But they would rather live with
+strangers, accepting a position which is often invidious, than lift
+a hand to work at home, so great is the repugnance to manual
+labour. These, again, have no domestic knowledge (beyond that of
+teaching children), none of cooking, or general household
+management. If they marry a tenant farmer of their own class, with
+but small capital, they are too often a burden financially. Whence
+comes this intense dislike to hand work&mdash;this preference for
+the worst paid head work? It is not confined, of course, to the
+gentler sex. No more striking feature of modern country life can be
+found.</p>
+<p>You cannot blame these girls, whether poor or moderately
+well-to-do, for thinking of something higher, more refined and
+elevating than the cheese-tub or the kitchen. It is natural, and it
+is right, that they should wish to rise above that old, dull, dead
+level in which their mothers and grandmothers worked from youth to
+age. The world has gone on since then&mdash;it is a world of
+education, books, and wider sympathies. In all this they must and
+ought to share. The problem is how to enjoy the intellectual
+progress of the century and yet not forfeit the advantages of the
+hand labour and the thrift of our ancestors? How shall we sit up
+late at night, burning the midnight oil of study, and yet rise with
+the dawn, strong from sweet sleep, to guide the plough? One good
+thing must be scored down to the credit of the country girls of the
+day. They have done much to educate the men. They have shamed them
+out of the old rough, boorish ways; compelled them to abandon the
+former coarseness, to become more gentlemanly in manner. By their
+interest in the greater world of society, literature, art, and
+music (more musical publications probably are now sold for the
+country in a month than used to be in a year), they have made the
+somewhat narrow-sighted farmer glance outside his parish. If the
+rising generation of tenant farmers have lost much of the bigoted
+provincial mode of thought, together with the provincial
+pronunciation, it is undoubtedly due to the influence of the higher
+ideal of womanhood that now occupies their minds. And this is a
+good work to have accomplished.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap10" id="chap10">CHAPTER X</a></h3>
+<h3>MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS</h3>
+A country 'roadside' railway station seemed deserted upon a warm
+August afternoon. It was all but concealed on that level ground by
+the hedges and trees of the fields with which it was surrounded.
+There was no sound of man or wheels, and nothing moving upon the
+platform. On the low green banks of the rail, where the mast-like
+telegraph poles stood, the broad leaves of the coltsfoot almost
+covered the earth, and were dusty with the sand whirled up an hour
+since behind the rushing express. By the footpath, higher up under
+the close-cropped hedge, the yarrow flourished, lifting its white
+flower beside the trodden soil. The heavy boots of the platelayers
+walking to and fro to their work on the permanent way brushed
+against it, and crushed the venturous fibres of the creeping
+cinquefoil that stretched into the path. From the yellow standing
+wheat the sparrows rose in a bevy, and settled upon the hedge,
+chirping merrily. Farther away, where a meadow had been lately
+mown, the swallows glided to and fro, but just above the short
+grass, round and round, under the shadow of the solitary oaks. Over
+the green aftermath is the swallows' favourite haunt when the day,
+though passing fair, does not look like settled weather. For lack
+of such weather the reapers have not yet entered the ripening corn.
+<p>But, for the hour, the sun shines brightly, and a narrow line
+along the upper surfaces of the metals, burnished by the polishing
+friction of a thousand wheels, glints like silver under the rays.
+The red brick of the booking-office looks redder and more staring
+under the fierce light. The door is locked, and there is no
+waiting-room in which to take shelter; nothing but a projecting
+roof over a part of the platform. On the lintel is the
+stationmaster's name painted in small white letters, like the name
+of the landlord over the doorway of an inn. Two corded boxes lie on
+the platform, and near them stand half a dozen rusty milk tins,
+empty. With the exception of a tortoiseshell cat basking in the
+sunshine, there seems nothing living in the station, and the long
+endless rails stretching on either side in a straight line are
+vacant. For hours during the day the place slumbers, and a
+passenger gliding by in the express may well wonder why a station
+was built at all in the midst of trees and hedges without so much
+as a single visible house.</p>
+<p>But by night and very early in the morning there is bustle
+enough. Then the white painted cattle pen yonder, from which the
+animals are forced into the cattle trucks, is full of frightened
+beasts, lowing doubtfully, and only goaded in by the resounding
+blows upon their backs. Then the sheep file in in more patient
+ranks, but also doubtful and bleating as they go. An engine snorts
+to and fro, shunting coal waggons on to the siding&mdash;coal for
+the traction engines, and to be consumed in threshing out the
+golden harvest around. Signalmen, with red and green lights, rush
+hither and thither, the bull's-eyes now concealed by the trucks,
+and now flashing out brightly like strange will-o'-the-wisps. At
+intervals long and heavy goods trains go by, causing the solid
+earth to tremble.</p>
+<p>Presently the sun rises over the distant hills, and the red arms
+of the signals stand out clearly defined, and then the noise of
+wheels, the shouts of the drivers, and the quick sound of hoofs
+betoken the approach of the milk carts with their freight for the
+early morning train. From the platform it is out of sight; but a
+few yards from the gate a small inn is hidden under the tall elms
+of the hedgerow. It has sprung up since the railway came, and is
+called the Railway Hotel. It proffers good stabling, and even a fly
+and posting for the passenger who finds himself set down at that
+lonely place&mdash;a mere road&mdash;without the certainty of a
+friendly carriage meeting him. The porter may, perhaps, be taking
+his glass within. The inspector or stationmaster (whichever may be
+technically correct), now that the afternoon express has gone
+safely through, has strolled up the line to his garden, to see how
+his potatoes are getting on. He knows full well that the slow,
+stopping train despatched just after it will not reach his station
+for at least an hour.</p>
+<p>Outside the 'Hotel' stands a pony cart&mdash;a gaily coloured
+travelling rug lies across the seat, and the pony, a perfect little
+beauty, is cropping the grass by the hedge side. By-and-by a
+countryman comes up the road, evidently a labourer dressed in his
+best&mdash;he hastens to the 'Hotel,' instead of to the station,
+and finds from the porter that he is at least twenty minutes too
+soon. Then a waggon arrives, and stops while the carter drinks.
+Presently the porter and the labourer stroll together over to the
+platform, and after them a young fellow&mdash;a farmer's son, not
+yet a man but more than a boy&mdash;comes out and re-arranges the
+travelling rug in the pony cart. He then walks on to the platform,
+whistling defiantly with his hands in his pockets, as if he had got
+an unpleasant duty to perform, but was not going to be intimidated.
+He watches the stationmaster unlock the booking-office, and follows
+him in out of idle curiosity.</p>
+<p>It is booking-office, parcel-office, waiting-room and all
+combined, and the telegraph instrument is there too, some of the
+needles blocked over with a scrap of paper. The place is crammed
+with sacks, bags, boxes, parcels and goods mixed together, such as
+ironwork for agricultural machines, and in a corner lies a
+rick-cloth smelling strongly of tar like the rigging of a ship. On
+the counter, for there is no sliding window as usual at large
+stations, stands the ticket-stamping machine, surrounded with piles
+of forms, invoices, notices, letters, and the endless documents
+inseparable from railway business, all printed on a peculiar paper
+with a faint shade of yellow.</p>
+<p>Somebody says 'A' be coming,' and the young farmer walks out to
+watch the white steam now just visible far away over the trees. The
+train runs round the curve on to the straight, and the engine in
+front grows gradually larger and larger as it comes nearer, visibly
+vibrating till the brake draws it up at the platform.</p>
+<p>Master Jack has no difficulty in identifying the passenger he
+has come to meet. His sister, a governess, coming home for a
+holiday, is the only person that alights, and the labourer, dressed
+for the occasion, is the only one who gets in. No sooner is he in
+than he gapes out of the window open-mouthed at Miss
+S&mdash;&mdash;. She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress from
+the dust and dirt of travel. Her fashionable hat has an air of the
+West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as
+those must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots.
+Up goes her parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from
+the glaring sun. Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss
+her; he looks her up and down with a kind of contemptuous
+admiration, nods, and asks how much luggage? He has, you see, been
+repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions. Mademoiselle points to
+her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already taken out. He
+worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon her
+with cheerful alacrity. She gives him a small coin, but looks the
+other way, without a sign of recognition. The luggage is placed in
+the pony cart.</p>
+<p>Mademoiselle gets in without so much as patting the beautiful
+little creature in the shafts. Her ticket is the only first-class
+ticket that has been given up at that lonely station all the week.
+'Do make haste,' she remarks petulantly as her brother pauses to
+speak to a passing man who looks like a dealer. Master Jack turns
+the pony cart, and away they go rattling down the road. The porter,
+whilom an agricultural labourer, looks after them with a long and
+steady stare. It is not the first time he has seen this, but he can
+hardly take it in yet.</p>
+<p>'She do come the lady grandish, don't her?' the dealer remarks
+meditatively. 'Now her father&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+<p>'Ay,' interrupts the porter, 'he be one of the old sort; but
+she&mdash;&mdash;' he cannot get any further for lack of an
+appropriate illustration. The arrival of mademoiselle periodically
+takes their breath away at that little place.</p>
+<p>As the pair rattle along in the pony trap there is for a time a
+total silence. Mademoiselle looks neither to the right nor the
+left, and asks after nobody. She does not note the subtle tint of
+bronze that has begun to steal over the wheat, nor the dark
+discoloured hay, witness of rough weather, still lying in the
+meadows. Her face&mdash;it is a very pretty face&mdash;does not
+light up with any enthusiasm as well-remembered spots come into
+sight. A horseman rides round a bend of the road, and meets
+them&mdash;he stares hard at her&mdash;she takes no heed. It is a
+young farmer, an old acquaintance, anxious for some sign of
+recognition. After he has passed he lifts his hat, like a true
+countryman, unready at the moment. As for the brother, his features
+express gathering and almost irrepressible disgust. He kicks with
+his heavy boots, he whistles, and once now and then gives a species
+of yell. Mademoiselle turns up her pretty nose, and readjusts her
+chevron gloves.</p>
+<p>'Have you not got any cuffs, Jack?' she asks, 'your wrists look
+so bare without them.'</p>
+<p>Jack makes no reply. Another silence. Presently he points with
+an expression meant to be sardonic at a distant farmhouse with his
+whip.</p>
+<p>'Jenny's married,' he says, full well aware that this
+announcement will wake her up, for there had been of old a sort of
+semi-feud or rivalry between the two girls, daughters of
+neighbouring farmers, and both with pretensions to good looks.</p>
+<p>'Who to?' she asks eagerly.</p>
+<p>'To old Billy L&mdash;&mdash;; lots of tin.'</p>
+<p>'Pshaw!' replies mademoiselle. 'Why, he's sixty, a nasty, dirty
+old wretch.'</p>
+<p>'He has plenty of money,' suggests Jack.</p>
+<p>'What you think plenty of money, perhaps. He is nothing but a
+farmer,' as if a farmer was quite beneath her notice.</p>
+<p>Just then a farmer rode out into the road from the gateway of a
+field, and Jack pulled up the pony. The farmer was stout, elderly,
+and florid; he appeared fairly well-to-do by his dress, but was
+none too particular to use his razor regularly. Yet there was a
+tenderness&mdash;almost a pathos&mdash;in the simple words he
+used:&mdash;'Georgie, dear, come home?' 'Yes, papa,' and she kissed
+his scrubby chin as he bent down from his horse. He would not go to
+the station to meet her; but he had been waiting about behind the
+hedge for an hour to see her come along. He rode beside the pony
+cart, but Georgie did not say anything more, or ask after any one
+else.</p>
+<p>As they turned a corner the farmer pointed ahead. 'There's your
+mother, Georgie, looking over the garden wall.' The yearning mother
+had been there these two hours, knowing that her darling could not
+arrive before a certain time, and yet unable in her impatience to
+stay within. Those old eyes were dim with tears under the
+spectacles as Georgie quietly kissed her forehead, and then
+suddenly, with something like generous feeling, her lips.</p>
+<p>They went in, an old pointer, whose days in the stubble were
+nearly over, following close at Georgie's heels, but without
+obtaining a pat for his loving memory. The table was spread for
+tea&mdash;a snowy cloth, the whitest of bread, the most delicious
+golden butter, the ham fresh cooked, as Georgie might be hungry,
+the thick cream, the silver teapot, polished for Georgie, and the
+bright flowers in the vase before her plate. The window was open,
+with its view of the old, old hills, and a breath of summer air
+came in from the meadow. The girl glanced round, frowned, and went
+upstairs to her room without a word, passing on the landing the
+ancient clock in its tall case, ticking loud and slow.</p>
+<p>And this was 'home.' The whole place jarred upon her, fresh as
+she was from a fine house in Belgravia. The sitting-room beneath,
+which she had so quickly left, looked cheerful and homely, but it
+was that very homeliness that jarred upon her. The teapot was real
+silver, but it was of old-fashioned shape. Solid as the furniture
+was, and still after so many years of service worth money, yet it
+was chipped by kicks from iron-shod boots, which had also worn the
+dingy carpet bare. There was an absence of the nick-nacks that
+strew the rooms of people in 'Society.' There was not even a
+bell-handle to pull; if you wanted the maid of all work, you must
+open the door and call to her. These little things, trifles as they
+may be, repelled her. It was a bitter cup to her to come
+'home.'</p>
+<p>Mr. S&mdash;&mdash; was a farmer of fair means, and, compared
+with many of his neighbours, well-to-do, and well connected. But he
+was still a yeoman only, and personally made pretensions to nothing
+more. Though he himself had received little or no education, he
+quite saw the value of it, and was determined that his children
+should be abreast of the times. Accordingly, so soon as Georgie
+grew old enough, a governess with high recommendations, and who
+asked what the farmer then thought a high price (he knows more
+about such things now!) was had down from London. Of course the
+rudimentary A B C of learning could just as well have been imparted
+by an ordinary person, but Mr. and Mrs. S&mdash;&mdash; had a
+feeling which they could not perhaps have expressed in words, that
+it was not so much the actual reading and writing, and French and
+music, and so on, as a social influence that was needed to
+gradually train the little country girl into a young lady fit to
+move in higher society.</p>
+<p>The governess did her work thoroughly. Georgie was not allowed
+to walk in the wet grass, to climb up the ladder on to the
+half-completed hayrick, and romp under the rick-cloth, to paddle
+with naked feet in the shallow brook, or any other of the things
+that country children have done from time immemorial. Such things
+she was taught were not ladylike, and, above all, she was kept away
+from the cottage people. She was not permitted to enter their
+doors, to converse with the women, or to watch the carter with his
+horses. Such vulgar folk and their vulgar dialect were to be
+carefully avoided. Nor must she get into a hedge after a
+bird's-nest, lest she should tear her frock.</p>
+<p>It was not long before the governess really ruled the house. The
+farmer felt himself totally unable to interfere in these matters;
+they were outside his experience altogether. His wife did not like
+it, but for Georgie's sake she gave up her former habits, and
+endeavoured to order the house according to the ideas of the
+governess from London. The traditions, as it were, of the place
+were upset. It was not a solitary instance, the same thing has
+happened in scores of farmhouses to a more or less degree. Mr.
+S&mdash;&mdash; all his life had ridden on horseback, or driven a
+gig, which did very well for him and his wife. But the governess
+thought Georgie ought to learn to ride and drive, and gigs were so
+much out of fashion. So the pony cart and pony were purchased for
+her, and in this she went into the distant market town twice or
+more weekly. Sometimes it was for shopping, sometimes to fetch
+household goods, sometimes to see friends; any excuse answered very
+well. The governess said, and really believed, that it was better
+for Georgie to be away from the farm as much as possible, to see
+town people (if only a country town), and to learn their ways.</p>
+<p>The many cheap illustrated papers giving the last details of
+fashionable costumes were, of course, brought home to be carefully
+read in the evenings. These publications have a large circulation
+now in farmhouses. Naturally Georgie soon began to talk about, and
+take an interest&mdash;as girls will do&mdash;in the young
+gentlemen of the town, and who was and who was not eligible. As for
+the loud-voiced young farmers, with their slouching walk, their
+ill-fitting clothes, and stupid talk about cows and wheat, they
+were intolerable. A banker's clerk at least&mdash;nothing could be
+thought of under a clerk in the local banks; of course, his salary
+was not high, but then his 'position.' The retail grocers and
+bakers and such people were quite beneath one's notice&mdash;low,
+common persons. The 'professional tradesmen' (whatever that may be)
+were decidedly better, and could be tolerated. The solicitors, bank
+managers, one or two brewers (wholesale&mdash;nothing retail),
+large corn factors or coal merchants, who kept a carriage of some
+kind&mdash;these formed the select society next under, and, as it
+were, surrounding the clergy and gentry. Georgie at twelve years
+old looked at least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be
+avoided above all things.</p>
+<p>As she grew older her mind was full of the local assembly ball.
+The ball had been held for forty years or more, and had all that
+time been in the hands of the exclusive upper circles of the market
+town. They only asked their own families, relations (not the poor
+ones), and visitors. When Georgie was invited to this ball it was
+indeed a triumph. Her poor mother cried with pleasure over her ball
+dress. Poor woman, she was a good, a too good, mother, but she had
+never been to a ball. There were, of course, parties, picnics, and
+so on, to which Georgie, having entered the charmed circle, was now
+asked; and thus her mind from the beginning centred in the town.
+The sheep-fold, the cattle-pen, the cheese-tub, these were thrust
+aside. They did not interest her, she barely understood the meaning
+when her father took the first prize at an important cattle show.
+What So-and-so would wear at the flower show, where all the select
+would come, much more nearly concerned her.</p>
+<p>At the high-class academy where her education was finished the
+same process went on. The other girls quickly made her thoroughly
+understand (a bitter knowledge) that the great people in the little
+market town, the very richest of them, were but poor in comparison
+with their papas. Their papas were in the 'City,' or on ''Change,'
+and had as many thousands a year as the largest farmer she knew
+could reckon hundreds. Georgie felt ashamed of her papa,
+recollecting his crumpled old hat, and his scrubby chin. Being
+really a nice girl, under the veneer that was so industriously
+placed upon her, she made friends among her fellow scholars, and
+was invited to more than one of their grand homes in Kensington and
+the suburbs of London. There she learned all the pomp of villa
+life, which put into the shade the small incomes which displayed
+their miserable vanities in the petty market town. Footmen,
+butlers, late dinners, wines, carriages, the ceaseless gossip of
+'Society' were enough to dazzle the eyes of a girl born so near the
+cowshed. The dresses she had to wear to mix with these grand
+friends cost a good deal&mdash;her parents sacrificing their own
+comforts for her advantage&mdash;and yet, in comparison with the
+beautiful costumes she saw, they seemed shabby.</p>
+<p>Georgie was so far fortunate as to make friends of some of the
+elder people, and when she had passed her examinations, and
+obtained the diplomas and certificates which are now all essential,
+through their interest she obtained at starting a very high salary.
+It was not long before she received as much as sixty or seventy
+pounds a year. It was not only that she really was a clever and
+accomplished girl, but her recommendations were influential. She
+was employed by wealthy people, who really did not care what they
+paid so long as their children were in good hands. Now to the old
+folk at home, and to the neighbours, this seemed an immense salary
+for a girl, especially when the carriage, the footmen, the wines,
+and late dinners, and so on, were taken into consideration. The
+money, however, was of very little use to her. She found it
+necessary to dress equal to her place. She had to have several
+dresses to wear, according to the time of day, and she had to have
+new ones very often, or she might be told petulantly and pointedly
+by her mistress that 'one gets so weary of seeing the same dresses
+every day.' Instead of the high salary leaving a handsome profit,
+her father had occasionally to pay a stiff bill for her. But then
+the 'position'&mdash;look at the 'position' and the society.</p>
+<p>Georgie, in process of time, went to Scotland, to Paris, the
+South of France, to Rome, and Naples. Being a discreet girl, and
+having a winning manner, she became as much a companion to her
+mistress as governess, and thus saw and heard more of the world
+than she would otherwise have done. She saw some very grand people
+indeed occasionally. After this, after the Continent, and, above
+all, London in the season, the annual visit to the old farmhouse
+came to be a bitter time of trial. Georgie had come home now for a
+few days only, to ask for money, and already before she had
+scarcely spoken had rushed upstairs to hide her feeling of
+repulsion in the privacy of her room.</p>
+<p>Her welcome had been warm, and she knew that under the rude
+exterior it was more than warm; but the absence of refinement
+jarred upon her. It all seemed so uncouth. She shrank from the
+homely rooms; the very voice of her mother, trembling with emotion,
+shocked her ear, unaccustomed to country pronunciation. She missed
+the soft accents of the drawing-room. From her window she could see
+nothing but the peaceful fields&mdash;the hateful green trees and
+hedges, the wheat, and the hateful old hills. How miserable it was
+not to be born to Grosvenor Square!</p>
+<p>Georgie's case was, of course, exceptional in so far as her
+'success' was concerned. She possessed good natural parts,
+discretion, and had the advantage of high-class recommendations.
+But apart from her 'success,' her case was not exceptional. The
+same thing is going on in hundreds of farmhouses. The daughters
+from the earliest age are brought up under a system of education
+the practical tendency of which is to train their minds out of the
+associations of farming. When later on they go out to teach they
+are themselves taught by the social surroundings of the households
+into which they enter to still more dislike the old-fashioned ways
+of agriculture. Take twenty farmers' families, where there are
+girls, and out of that twenty fifteen will be found to be preparing
+for a scholastic life. The farmer's daughter does not like the
+shop-counter, and, as she cannot stay at home, there is nothing
+left to her but the profession of governess. Once thoroughly imbued
+with these 'social' ideas, and a return to the farm is almost
+impossible. The result is a continuous drain of women out of
+agriculture&mdash;of the very women best fitted in the beginning to
+be the helpmate of the farmer. In no other calling is the
+assistance of the wife so valuable; it is not too much to say that
+part at least of the decadence of agriculture is owing to the lack
+of women willing to devote themselves as their mothers did before
+them. It follows that by degrees the farming caste is dying out.
+The sons go to the city, the daughters go to the city; in a
+generation, or little more, a once well-known farming family
+becomes extinct so far as agriculture is concerned.</p>
+<p>How could such a girl as poor Georgie, looking out of window at
+the hateful fields, and all at discord with the peaceful scene,
+settle down as the mistress of a lonely farmhouse?</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap11" id="chap11">CHAPTER XI</a></h3>
+<h3>FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'</h3>
+An agricultural district, like a little kingdom, has its own
+capital city. The district itself is as well defined as if a
+frontier line had been marked out around it, with sentinels and
+barriers across the roads, and special tolls and duties. Yet an
+ordinary traveller, upon approaching, fails to perceive the
+difference, and may, perhaps, drive right through the territory
+without knowing it. The fields roll on and rise into the hills, the
+hills sink again into a plain, just the same as elsewhere; there
+are cornfields and meadows; villages and farmsteads, and no visible
+boundary. Nor is it recognised upon the map. It does not fit into
+any political or legal limit; it is neither a county, half a
+county, a hundred, or police division. But to the farmer it is a
+distinct land. If he comes from a distance he will at once notice
+little peculiarities in the fields, the crops, the stock, or
+customs, and will immediately inquire if it be not such and such a
+place that he has heard of. If he resides within thirty miles or so
+he will ever since boyhood have heard 'the uplands' talked of as if
+it were a separate country, as distinct as France. Cattle from the
+uplands, sheep, horses, labourers, corn or hay, or anything and
+anybody from thence, he has grown up accustomed to regard almost as
+foreign.
+<p>There is good reason, from an agricultural point of view, for
+this. The district, with its capital city, Fleeceborough, really is
+distinct, well marked, and defined. The very soil and substrata are
+characteristic. The products are wheat, and cattle, and sheep, the
+same as elsewhere, but the proportions of each, the kind of sheep,
+the traditionary methods and farm customs are separate and marked.
+The rotation of crops is different, the agreements are on a
+different basis, the very gates to the fields have peculiar
+fastenings, not used in other places. Instead of hedges, the
+fields, perhaps, are often divided by dry stone walls, on which,
+when they have become old, curious plants may sometimes be found.
+For the flora, too, is distinct; you may find herbs here that do
+not exist a little way off, and on the other hand, search how you
+will, you will not discover one single specimen of a simple flower
+which strews the meadows elsewhere.</p>
+<p>Here the very farmhouses are built upon a different plan, and
+with different materials; the barns are covered with old stone
+slates, instead of tiles or thatch. The people are a nation amongst
+themselves. Their accent is peculiar and easily recognised, and
+they have their own folklore, their own household habits,
+particular dainties, and way of life. The tenant farmers, the
+millers, the innkeepers, and every Hodge within 'the uplands' (not
+by any means all hills)&mdash;in short, every one is a citizen of
+Fleeceborough. Hodge may tend his flock on distant pastures, may
+fodder his cattle in far-away meadows, and dwell in little hamlets
+hardly heard of, but all the same he is a Fleeceborough man. It is
+his centre; thither he looks for everything.</p>
+<p>The place is a little market town, the total of whose population
+in the census records sounds absurdly small; yet it is a complete
+world in itself; a capital city, with its kingdom and its ruler,
+for the territory is practically the property of a single family.
+Enter Fleeceborough by whichever route you will, the first object
+that fixes the attention is an immensely high and endless wall. If
+you come by carriage one way, you skirt it for a long distance; if
+you come the other, you see it as you pass through the narrow
+streets every now and then at the end of them, closing the prospect
+and overtopping the lesser houses. By railway it is conspicuous
+from the windows; and if you walk about the place, you continually
+come upon it. It towers up perpendicular and inaccessible, like the
+curtain wall of an old fortification: here and there the upper
+branches of some great cedar or tall pine just show above it. One
+or more streets for a space run conterminous with it&mdash;the wall
+on one side, the low cottage-houses on the other, and their
+chimneys are below the coping. It does not really encircle the
+town, yet it seems everywhere, and is the great fact of the
+place.</p>
+<p>If you wander about examining this wall, and wondering where it
+begins and where it ends, and what is inside, you may perchance
+come upon a gateway of noble proportions. It is open, but one
+hesitates to pass through, despite the pleasant vista of trees and
+green sward beyond. There is a watchman's wooden hut, and the aged
+sentinel is reading his newspaper in the shadow, his breast
+decorated with medal and clasp, that tell of honourable service. A
+scarlet-coated soldier may, too, be strolling thereabout, and the
+castellated top of a barrack-like building near at hand is
+suggestive of military force. You hesitate, but the warden invites
+you to walk at your leisure under the old trees, and along the
+endless glades. If you enter, you pass under the metal scrollwork
+of the iron gates, and, above, the gilded circle of a coronet
+glistens in the sunshine. These are the private demesnes of a
+prince and ruler of Hodge&mdash;the very highest and most powerful
+of his masters in that part of the country. The vast wall encloses
+his pleasure-grounds and mansion; the broad iron gates give access
+to mile after mile of park and wood, and the decorated warden or
+pensioner has but to open them for the free entry of all
+Fleeceborough and her citizens. Of course the position of the
+barrack is a mere accident, yet it gives an air of power and
+authority&mdash;the place is really as open, the beautiful park as
+common and accessible as the hill-top under the sky. A peer only at
+Westminster, here he is a prince, whose dominions are almost
+co-extensive with the horizon; and this, the capital city, is for
+the most part his.</p>
+<p>Far away stretches that little kingdom, with its minor towns of
+villages, hamlets, and farms. Broad green meadows, where the cattle
+graze beside the streams and in the plains; rolling uplands,
+ploughed and sown, where the barley nourishes; deep rich
+wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey church towers; new
+glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient farmhouses
+tenanted for generations by the same families.</p>
+<p>Farmers have long since discovered that it is best to rent under
+a very large owner, whether personal as in this case, or impersonal
+as a college or corporation. A very large owner like this can be,
+and is, more liberal. He puts up sheds, and he drains, and
+improves, and builds good cottages for the labourers. Provided, of
+course, that no serious malpractice comes to light, he, as
+represented by his steward, never interferes, and the tenant is
+personally free. No one watches his goings out and comings in; he
+has no sense of an eye for ever looking over the park wall. There
+is a total absence of the grasping spirit sometimes shown. The
+farmer does not feel that he will be worried to his last shilling.
+In case of unfavourable seasons the landlord makes no difficulty in
+returning a portion of the rent; he anticipates such an
+application. Such immense possessions can support losses which
+would press most heavily upon comparatively small properties. At
+one side of the estate the soil perchance is light and porous, and
+is all the better for rain; on the other, half across the county,
+or quite, the soil is deep and heavy and naturally well watered and
+flourishes in dry summers. So that there is generally some one
+prospering if another suffers, and thus a balance is
+maintained.</p>
+<p>A reserve of wealth has, too, slowly accumulated in the family
+coffers, which, in exceptional years, tides the owner over with
+little or no appreciable inconvenience. With an income like this,
+special allowances, even generous allowances, can be and are made,
+and so the tenants cease to feel that their landlord is living out
+of their labour. The agreements are just; there is no rapacity.
+Very likely the original lease or arrangement has expired half a
+century since; but no one troubles to renew it. It is well
+understood that no change will be effected. The tenure is as steady
+as if the tenant had an Act of Parliament at his back.</p>
+<p>When men have once settled, they and their descendants remain,
+generation after generation. By degrees their sons and sons'
+descendants settle too, and the same name occurs perhaps in a dozen
+adjacent places. It is this fixed unchangeable character of the
+district which has enabled the mass of the tenants not indeed to
+become wealthy, but to acquire a solid, substantial standing. In
+farming affairs money can be got together only in the slow passage
+of years; experience has proved that beyond a doubt. These people
+have been stationary for a length of time, and the moss of the
+proverb has grown around them. They walk sturdily, and look all men
+in the face; their fathers put money in the purse. Times are hard
+here as everywhere, but if they cannot, for the present season, put
+more in that purse, its contents are not, at all events, much
+diminished, and enable them to maintain the same straightforward
+manliness and independence. By-and-by, they know there will come
+the chink of the coin again.</p>
+<p>When the tenant is stationary, the labourer is also. He stays in
+the same cottage on the same farm all his life, his descendants
+remain and work for the same tenant family. He can trace his
+descent in the locality for a hundred years. From time immemorial
+both Hodge and his immediate employers have looked towards
+Fleeceborough as their capital. Hodge goes in to the market in
+charge of his master's sheep, his wife trudges in for household
+necessaries. All the hamlet goes in to the annual fairs. Every
+cottager in the hamlet knows somebody in the town; the girls go
+there to service, the boys to get employment. The little village
+shops obtain their goods from thence. All the produce&mdash;wheat,
+barley, oats, hay, cattle, and sheep&mdash;is sent into the capital
+to the various markets held there. The very ideas held in the
+villages by the inhabitants come from Fleeceborough; the local
+papers published there are sold all round, and supply them with
+news, arguments, and the politics of the little kingdom. The
+farmers look to Fleeceborough just as much or more. It is a
+religious duty to be seen there on market days. Not a man misses
+being there; if he is not visible, his circle note it, and guess at
+various explanations.</p>
+<p>Each man has his own particular hostelry, where his father, and
+his grandfather, put up before him, and where he is expected to
+dine in the same old room, with the pictures of famous rams, that
+have fetched fabulous prices, framed against the walls, and ram's
+horns of exceptional size and peculiar curve fixed up above the
+mantelpiece. Men come in in groups of two or three, as dinner time
+approaches, and chat about sheep and wool, and wool and sheep; but
+no one finally settles himself at the table till the chairman
+arrives. He is a stout, substantial farmer, who has dined there
+every market day for the last thirty or forty years.</p>
+<p>Everybody has his own particular seat, which he is certain to
+find kept for him. The dinner itself is simple enough, the waiters
+perhaps still more simple, but the quality of the viands is beyond
+praise. The mutton is juicy and delicious, as it should be where
+the sheep is the very idol of all men's thoughts; the beef is short
+and tender of grain; the vegetables, nothing can equal them, and
+they are all here, asparagus and all, in profusion. The landlord
+grows his own vegetables&mdash;every householder in Fleeceborough
+has an ample garden&mdash;and produces the fruit from his own
+orchards for the tarts. Ever and anon a waiter walks round with a
+can of ale and fills the glasses, whether asked or not. Beef and
+mutton, vegetables and fruit tarts, and ale are simple and plain
+fare, but when they are served in the best form, how will you
+surpass them? The real English cheese, the fresh salads, the
+exquisite butter&mdash;everything on the table is genuine, juicy,
+succulent, and rich. Could such a dinner be found in London, how
+the folk would crowd thither! Finally, comes the waiter with his
+two clean plates, the upper one to receive the money, the lower to
+retain what is his. If you are a stranger, and remember what you
+have been charged elsewhere in smoky cities for tough beef, stringy
+mutton, waxy potatoes, and the very bread black with smuts, you
+select half a sovereign and drop it on the upper plate. In the
+twinkling of an eye eight shillings are returned to you; the charge
+is a florin only.</p>
+<p>They live well in Fleeceborough, as every fresh experience of
+the place will prove; they have plentiful food, and of the best
+quality; poultry abounds, for every resident having a great garden
+(many, too, have paddocks) keeps fowls; fresh eggs are common; as
+for vegetables and fruit, the abundance is not to be described. A
+veritable cornucopia&mdash;a horn of plenty&mdash;seems to forever
+pour a shower of these good things into their houses. And their
+ale! To the first sight it is not tempting. It is thick, dark, a
+deep wine colour; a slight aroma rises from it like that which
+dwells in bonded warehouses. The first taste is not pleasing; but
+it induces a second, and a third. By-and-by the flavour grows upon
+the palate; and now beware, for if a small quantity be thrown upon
+the fire it will blaze up with a blue flame like pure alcohol. That
+dark vinous-looking ale is full of the strength of malt and hops;
+it is the brandy of the barley. The unwary find their heads
+curiously queer before they have partaken, as it seems to them, of
+a couple of glasses. The very spirit and character of Fleeceborough
+is embodied in the ale; rich, strong, genuine. No one knows what
+English ale is till he has tried this.</p>
+<p>After the market dinner the guests sit still&mdash;they do not
+hurry away to counter and desk; they rest awhile, and dwell as it
+were on the flavour of their food. There is a hum of pleasant talk,
+for each man is a right boon companion. The burden of that talk has
+been the same for generations&mdash;sheep and wool, wool and sheep.
+Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to 'he,' what 'he' will
+do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support such and such a
+movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view will 'he'
+take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
+special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that
+favoured man is an object of the deepest interest, and is
+cross-questioned all round the table till his small item of
+authentic intelligence has been thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the
+resident within those vast and endless walls, with the metal gates
+and the gilded coronet above&mdash;the prince of this kingdom and
+its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally hastening
+hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.</p>
+<p>It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads
+converging on the town are visible. The province lies stretched out
+beneath. There is the gleam of water&mdash;the little river, with
+its ancient mills&mdash;that flows beside the town; there are the
+meadows, with their pleasant footpaths. Yonder the ploughed fields
+and woods, and yet more distant the open hills. Along every road,
+and there are many, the folk are hastening to their capital city,
+in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or sturdily
+trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
+hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the
+chest as you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend
+themselves in mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force.
+For how many years, how many centuries, has this little town and
+this district around it been distinct and separate? In the days
+before the arrival of the Roman legions it was the country of a
+distinct tribe, or nation, of the original Britons. But if we speak
+of history we shall never have done, for the town and its antique
+abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled more or
+less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
+camp yonder on the hills to to-day&mdash;down to the last puff of
+the locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs
+in with passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and
+the latest novel from London.</p>
+<p>Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous
+in the town here. Men marry in the place, find their children
+employment in the place, and will not move, if they can help it.
+Their families&mdash;well-to-do and humble alike&mdash;have been
+there for so many, many years. The very carter, or the little
+tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you (and prove to you
+by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade with pike or
+matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case may be,
+besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
+pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people
+believe in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit&mdash;when
+the young man seeks his fortune in New Zealand or America&mdash;he
+writes home the fullest information, and his letters published in
+the local print read curiously to an outsider, so full are they of
+local inquiries, and answers to friends who wished to know this or
+that. In the end he comes back&mdash;should he succeed in getting
+the gold which tempted him away&mdash;to pass his latter days
+gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
+Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
+narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and
+they have the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes
+in the world. They have a town council held now and then in an
+ancient wainscoted hall, with painted panels and coats of arms,
+carved oaken seats black with age, and narrow windows from which
+men once looked down into the street, wearing trunk hose and
+rapier.</p>
+<p>But they have at least two other councils that meet much more
+often, and that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when
+his shop is shut, after he has strolled round his garden, and taken
+his supper, the tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and
+there finds his circle assembled. They are all there, the rich and
+the moderately well-to-do, the struggling, and the poor. Each
+delivers his opinion over the social glass, or between the
+deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is extremely
+moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the glass
+nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common
+hall&mdash;the informal place of meeting.</p>
+<p>It is here that, the real government of the town is
+planned&mdash;the mere formal resolutions voted in the ancient
+council-room are the outcome of the open talk, and the quiet
+whisper here. No matter what subject is to the front, the question
+is always heard&mdash;What will 'he' do? What will 'he' say to it?
+The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The cottage
+hospital; the flower show; the cattle show, or agricultural
+exhibition; the new market buildings arose through his
+subscriptions and influence; the artesian well, sunk that the town
+might have the best of water, was bored at his expense; and so on
+through the whole list of town affairs. When 'he' takes the lead
+all the lesser gentry&mdash;many of whom, perhaps, live in his
+manor houses&mdash;follow suit, and with such powerful support to
+back it a movement is sure to succeed, yet 'he' is rarely seen; his
+hand rarely felt; everything is done, but without obtrusiveness. At
+these nightly councils at the chief hostelries the farmers of the
+district are almost as numerous as the townsmen. They ride in to
+hear the news and exchange their own small coin of gossip. They
+want to know what 'he' is going to do, and little by little of
+course it leaks out.</p>
+<p>But the town is not all so loyal. There is a section which is
+all the more vehemently rebellious because of the spectacle of its
+staid and comfortable neighbours. This section is very small, but
+makes a considerable noise. It holds meetings and utters
+treasonable speeches, and denounces the 'despot' in fiery language.
+It protests against a free and open park; it abhors artesian wells;
+it detests the throwing open of nut woods that all may go forth
+a-nutting; it waxes righteously indignant at every gift, be it
+prizes for the flower show or a new market site. It scorns those
+mean-spirited citizens that cheer these kindly deeds. It asks why?
+Why should we wait till the park gates are open? Why stay till the
+nut woods are declared ready? Why be thankful for pure water? Why
+not take our own? This one man has no right to these parks and
+woods and pleasure grounds and vast walls; these square miles of
+ploughed fields, meadows and hills. By right they should all be
+split up into little plots to grow our potatoes. Away with gilded
+coronet and watchman, batter down these walls, burn the ancient
+deeds and archives, put pick and lever to the tall church tower;
+let us have the rights of man! These violent ebullitions make not
+the least different. All the insults they can devise, all the petty
+obstructions they can set up, the mud they can fling, does not
+alter the calm course of the 'despot' one jot. The artesian well is
+bored, and they can drink pure water or not, as pleases them. The
+prizes are offered, and they can compete or stand aloof.
+Fleeceborough smiles when it meets at night in its council-rooms,
+with its glass and pipe; Fleeceborough knows that the traditional
+policy of the Hall will continue, and that policy is acceptable to
+it.</p>
+<p>What manner of man is this 'despot' and prince behind his vast
+walls? Verily his physique matters nothing; whether he be old or of
+middle age, tall or short, infirm or strong. The policy of the
+house keeps the actual head and owner rather in the background. His
+presence is never obtruded; he is rarely seen; you may stay in his
+capital for months and never catch a glimpse of him. He will not
+appear at meetings, that every man may be free, nor hesitate to say
+his say, and abuse what he lists to abuse. The policy is simply
+perfect freedom, with support and substantial assistance to any and
+to every movement set on foot by the respectable men of
+Fleeceborough, or by the tenant farmers round about. This has been
+going on for generations; so that the personnel of the actual owner
+concerns little. His predecessors did it, he does it, and the next
+to come will do it. It is the tradition of the house. Nothing is
+left undone that a true princely spirit could do to improve, to
+beautify, or to preserve.</p>
+<p>The antiquities of the old, old town are kept for it, and not
+permitted to decay; the ancient tesselated pavements of Roman
+villas carefully protected from the weather; the remnants of the
+enclosing walls which the legions built for their defence saved
+from destruction; the coins of the emperors and of our own early
+kings collected; the spurs, swords, spearheads, all the fragments
+of past ages arranged for inspection and study by every one who
+desires to ponder over them. Chipped flints and arrowheads, the
+bones of animals long extinct, and the strange evidences of yet
+more ancient creatures that swam in the seas of the prehistoric
+world, these too are preserved at his cost and expense.
+Arch&aelig;ologists, geologists, and other men of science come from
+afar to see these things and to carry away their lessons. The
+memories of the place are cherished. There was a famous poet who
+sang in the woods about the park; his hermitage remains, and
+nothing is lost that was his. Art-treasures there are, too,
+heirlooms to be seen behind those vast walls by any who will be at
+the trouble of asking.</p>
+<p>Such is the policy of Hodge's own prince, whose silent influence
+is felt in every household for miles about, and felt, as all must
+admit, however prejudiced against the system, in this case for
+good. His influence reaches far beyond the bounds even of that
+immense property. The example communicates itself to others, and
+half the county responds to that pleasant impulse. It is a
+responsible position to hold; something, perhaps, a little like
+that of the Medici at Florence in the olden times. But here there
+is no gonfalon, no golden chain of office, no velvet doublet,
+cloak, and rapier, no guards with arquebuss or polished crossbow.
+An entire absence of state and ceremony marks this almost unseen
+but powerful sway. The cycle of the seasons brings round times of
+trial here as over the entire world, but the conditions under which
+the trial is sustained could scarcely in our day, and under our
+complicated social and political system, be much more
+favourable.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap12" id="chap12">CHAPTER XII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'</h3>
+A cock pheasant flies in frantic haste across the road, beating the
+air with wide-stretched wings, and fast as he goes, puts on yet a
+faster spurt as the shot comes rattling up through the boughs of
+the oak beneath him. The ground is, however, unfavourable to the
+sportsman, and the bird escapes. The fir copse from which the
+pheasant rose covers a rather sharp descent on one side of the
+highway. On the level above are the ploughed fields, but the slope
+itself is too abrupt for agricultural operations, and the soil
+perhaps thin and worthless. It is therefore occupied by a small
+plantation. On the opposite side of the road there grows a fine row
+of oaks in a hedge, under whose shade the dust takes long to dry
+when once damped by a shower. The sportsman who fired stands in the
+road; the beaters are above, for they desire the game to fly in a
+certain direction; and what with the narrow space between the firs
+and the oaks, the spreading boughs, and the uncertainty of the spot
+where the pheasant would break cover, it is not surprising that he
+missed.
+<p>The shot, after tearing through the boughs, rises to some height
+in the air, and, making a curve, falls of its own weight only, like
+pattering hail&mdash;and as harmless&mdash;upon an aged woman,
+just then trudging slowly round the corner. She is a cottager, and
+has been to fetch the weekly dole of parish bread that helps to
+support herself and infirm husband. She wears a long cloak that
+nearly sweeps the ground on account of her much-bowed back, and
+carries a flag basket full of bread in one hand, and a bulging
+umbrella, which answers as a walking stick, in the other. The poor
+old body, much startled, but not in the least injured, scuttles
+back round the corner, exclaiming, 'Lor! it be Filbard a-shooting:
+spose a'had better bide a bit till he ha' done.' She has not long
+to wait. The young gentleman standing in the road gets a shot at
+another cock; this time the bird flies askew, instead of straight
+across, and so gives him a better opportunity. The pheasant falls
+crash among the nettles and brambles beside the road. Then a second
+and older gentleman emerges from the plantation, and after a time a
+keeper, who picks up the game.</p>
+<p>The party then proceed along the road, and coming round the
+corner the great black retriever runs up to the old woman with the
+most friendly intentions, but to her intense confusion, for she is
+just in the act of dropping a lowly curtsey when the dog rubs
+against her. The young gentleman smiles at her alarm and calls the
+dog; the elder walks on utterly indifferent. A little way up the
+road the party get over the gate into the meadows on that side, and
+make for another outlying plantation. Then, and not till then, does
+the old woman set out again, upon her slow and laborious journey.
+'Filbard be just like a gatepost,' she mutters; 'a' don't take no
+notice of anybody.' Though she had dropped the squire so lowly a
+curtsey, and in his presence would have behaved with profound
+respect, behind his back and out of hearing she called him by his
+family name without any prefix. The cottagers thereabout almost
+always did this in speaking among themselves of their local
+magnate. They rarely said 'Mr.'; it was generally 'Filbard,' or,
+even more familiarly, 'Jim Filbard.' Extremes meet. They hardly
+dared open their mouths when they saw him, and yet spoke of him
+afterwards as if he sat with them at bacon and cabbage time.</p>
+<p>Squire Filbard and one of his sons were walking round the
+outlying copses that October day with the object of driving the
+pheasants in towards the great Filbard wood, rather than of making
+a bag. The birds were inclined to wander about, and the squire
+thought a little judicious shooting round the outskirts would do
+good, and at the same time give his son some sport without
+disturbing the head of game he kept up in the wood itself. The
+squire was large made, tall, and well proportioned, and with a
+bearded, manly countenance. His neck was, perhaps, a little thick
+and apoplectic-looking, but burnt to a healthy brick-dust colour by
+exposure to the sun. The passing years had drawn some crows'-feet
+round the eyes, but his step was firm, his back straight, and he
+walked his ancestral acres every inch the master. The defect of his
+features was the thinness of the lips, and a want of character in a
+nose which did not accord with a good forehead. His hands, too,
+were very large and puffy; his finger-nails (scrupulously clean)
+were correspondingly large, and cut to a sharp point, that seemed
+to project beyond the tip of the finger, and gave it a scratchy
+appearance.</p>
+<p>The chimneys of Filbard Hall showed for some distance above the
+trees of the park, for the house stood on high ground. It was of
+red brick, somewhat square in style, and had little of the true
+Elizabethan character&mdash;it was doubtless later in date, though
+not modern. The chimneys, however, had a pleasing appearance over
+the trees; they were in stacks, and rather larger, or broader
+apparently at the top than where they rose from the roof. Such
+chimneys are not often seen on recent buildings. A chimney seems a
+simple matter, and yet the aspect of a house from a distance much
+depends upon its outline. The mansion was of large size, and stood
+in an extensive park, through which carriage drives swept up to the
+front from different lodge gates. Each of the drives passed under
+avenues of trees&mdash;the park seemed to stretch on either hand
+without enclosure or boundary&mdash;and the approach was not
+without a certain stateliness. Within the apartments were
+commodious, and from several there were really beautiful views.
+Some ancient furniture, handed down generation after generation,
+gave a character to the rooms; the oak staircase was much admired,
+and so was the wainscoating of one part.</p>
+<p>The usual family portraits hung on the walls, but the present
+squire had rather pushed them aside in favour of his own peculiar
+hobby. He collected antique Italian pictures&mdash;many on
+panels&mdash;in the pre-Raphaelite style. Some of these he had
+picked up in London, others he had found and purchased on the
+Continent. There were saints with glories or <i>nimbi</i> round
+their heads, Madonnas and kneeling Magi, the manger under a kind of
+penthouse, and similar subjects&mdash;subjects the highest that
+could be chosen. The gilding of the <i>nimbi</i> seemed well done
+certainly, and was still bright, but to the ordinary eye the
+stiffness of the figures, the lack of grace, the absence of soul in
+the composition was distressingly apparent. It was, however, the
+squire's hobby, and it must be admitted that he had very high
+authority upon his side. Some sensitive persons rather shrank from
+seeing him handle these painted panels with those peculiar scratchy
+finger-nails; it set their teeth on edge. He gave considerable sums
+of money for many of these paintings, the only liberality he
+permitted himself, or was capable of.</p>
+<p>His own room or study was almost bare, and the solitary window
+looked on a paved passage that led to the stables. There was
+nothing in it but a large table, a bookcase, and two or three of
+the commonest horsehair chairs; the carpet was worn bare. He had
+selected this room because there was a door close by opening on the
+paved passage. Thus the bailiff of the Home Farm, the steward, the
+gamekeeper, the policeman, or any one who wished to see him on
+business, could come to the side door from the back and be shown in
+to him without passing through the mansion. This certainly was a
+convenient arrangement; yet one would have thought that he would
+have had a second and more private study in which to follow his own
+natural bent of mind. But the squire received the gardener and gave
+him directions about the cucumbers&mdash;for he descended even to
+such minuti&aelig; as that&mdash;sitting at the same table on which
+he had just written to an Italian art collector respecting a
+picture, or to some great friend begging him to come and inspect a
+fresh acquisition. The bookcase contained a few law books, a manual
+for the direction of justices&mdash;the squire was on the
+commission&mdash;a copy of Burke, and in one corner of a shelf a
+few musty papers referring to family history. These were of some
+value, and the squire was proud of showing them to those who took
+an interest in arch&aelig;ology; yet he kept them much as if they
+had been receipts for the footman's livery, or a dozen bottles of
+stable medicine. He wrote with a quill pen, and as it went up and
+down it scratched the paper as if it had been those sharp
+projecting finger-nails.</p>
+<p>In this study he spent many hours when at home&mdash;he rose
+late, and after breakfast repaired hither. The steward was usually
+in attendance. He was a commonplace man, but little above the
+description of a labourer. He received wages not much superior to
+those a labourer takes in summer time, but as he lived at the Home
+Farm (which was in hand) there were of course some perquisites. A
+slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he pottered about and
+looked after things in general. One morning perhaps he would come
+in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going to
+cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been
+paid for. Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the
+Home Farm, or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which
+was decaying. A cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft. One of
+the tenants wanted a new shed put up, but it did not seem
+necessary; the old one would do very well if people were not so
+fidgety. The wife or daughter of one of the cottage people was
+taking to drink and getting into bad ways. This or that farmer had
+had some sheep die. Another farmer had bought some new
+silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village
+gossip.</p>
+<p>Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in
+or was sent for. The squire kept a large head of pheasants for
+certain reasons, but he was not over-anxious to pay for them. The
+keeper grumbled about his wages, that he had no perquisites, and
+that the shooting season never brought him any fees&mdash;unless
+the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every year.
+This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.
+He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs,
+and to give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted
+renewing. The steward had seen it, and thought it might be
+repaired; why did the keeper think it ought to be renewed
+altogether? And was there not plenty of larch timber lying about,
+that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a very good
+spar-gate, without purchasing one? Why couldn't old Hooker, the
+hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?</p>
+<p>Next came the coachman&mdash;the squire did not keep up anything
+of a stud, just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary
+riding horses and a pony for the children. The coachman had to
+explain why a new lock was wanted on the stable door; why the
+blacksmith's bill was so much for shoes; after which there was a
+long gossip about the horses of a gentleman who had come down and
+rented a place for the season. The gardener sometimes had an
+interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold from the
+orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire
+delighted. As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear
+with patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty
+bottles.</p>
+<p>The squire would have had the cook in and discussed the
+stock-pot with her for a full hour, but the cook set up her back.
+She wouldn't, no, that she wouldn't; and the squire found that the
+cook was mistress of the situation. She was the only personage who
+did not pass him with deference. She tossed her head, and told her
+fellow-servants audibly that he was a poor, mean-spirited man; and
+as for missis, she was a regular Tartar&mdash;there! In this they
+thoroughly agreed. The coachman and footman, when out with the
+carriage, and chancing to get a talk with other coachmen and
+footmen, were full of it. He was the meanest master they had ever
+known; yet they could not say that he paid less wages, or that they
+were ill-fed&mdash;it was this meddling, peddling interference they
+resented. The groom, when he rode into town for the letter-bag,
+always stopped to tell Ills friends some fresh instance of it. All
+the shopkeepers and tradesmen, and everybody else, had heard of it.
+But they were none the less obsequious when the squire passed up
+the street. The servants were never so glad as when young master
+came home with the liberal views imbibed in modern centres of
+learning, and with a free, frank mode of speech. But miss, the sole
+daughter, they simply hated; she seemed to have ten times the
+meanness of her papa, and had been a tell-tale from childhood. The
+kitchen said she saved her curl papers to sell as waste paper.</p>
+<p>The 'missis' was as haughty, as unapproachable, and disdainful
+as the master was inquisitive; she never spoke to, looked at, nor
+acknowledged any one&mdash;except the three largest tenants and
+their wives. To these, who paid heavily, she was gracious. She
+dressed in the very extreme and front of fashion&mdash;the squire
+himself quite plainly, without the least pretence of dandyism.
+Hateful as the village folk thought her <i>hauteur</i> and open
+contempt for them, they said she was more the lady than the squire
+was the gentleman.</p>
+<p>The squire's time, when at home, like everything else, was
+peddled away. He rode into market one day of the week; he went to
+church on Sundays with unfailing regularity, and he generally
+attended the petty sessional bench on a third day. Upon the bench,
+from the long standing of his family, he occupied a prominent
+position. His mind invariably seized the minuti&aelig; of the
+evidence, and never seemed to see the point or the broad bearings
+of the case. He would utterly confuse a truthful witness, for
+instance, who chanced to say that he met the defendant in the road.
+'But you said just now that you and he were both going the same
+way; how, then, could you meet him?' the squire would ask, frowning
+sternly. Whether the witness overtook or met the defendant mattered
+nothing to the point at issue; but the squire, having got a
+satisfactory explanation, turned aside, with an aggravating air of
+cleverness. For the rest of the week the squire could not account
+for his time. He sometimes, indeed, in the hunting season, rode to
+the meet; but he rarely followed. He had none of the enthusiasm
+that makes a hunter; besides, it made the horse in such a heat, and
+would work him out too quick for economy.</p>
+<p>He went out shooting, but not in regular trim. He would carry
+his gun across to the Home Farm, and knock over a rabbit on the
+way; then spend two hours looking at the Alderney cow, the roof of
+the pig-sty, and the poultry, and presently stroll across a corner
+of the wood, and shoot a pheasant. The head of game was kept up for
+the purpose of letting the mansion from time to time when the
+squire or his lady thought it desirable to go on the Continent,
+that the daughter might acquire the graces of travel. A visit to
+London in the season, a visit to the seaside, and then home in the
+autumn to peddle about the estate, made up the year when they did
+not go abroad. There was a broad park, noble trees, a great
+mansion, a stately approach; but within it seemed all littleness of
+spirit.</p>
+<p>The squire's own private study&mdash;the morning-room of the
+owner of this fine estate&mdash;was, as previously observed, next
+the passage that led to the stables, and the one window looked out
+on a blank wall. It was in this room that he conducted his business
+and pleasure, and his art researches. It was here that he received
+the famous 'Round Robin' from his tenants. The estate was not very
+large&mdash;something between 3,000 and 4,000 acres&mdash;but much
+of it was good and fertile, though heavy land, and highly rented.
+Had the squire received the whole of his rents for his own private
+use he would have been well off as squires go. But there was a flaw
+or hitch somewhere in the right, or title, or succession. No one
+knew the precise circumstances, because, like so many similar
+family disputes, when the lawyers were ready, and the case had come
+before the tribunal, a compromise was arrived at, the terms of
+which were only known to the tribunal and the parties directly
+concerned.</p>
+<p>But everybody knew that the squire had to pay heavy pensions to
+various members of another branch of the family; and it was
+imagined that he did not feel quite fixed in the tenure&mdash;that
+possibly the case might, under certain circumstances, be heard of
+again&mdash;since it was noticed that he did not plant trees, or
+make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase the permanent
+attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was only
+lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
+place&mdash;without absolute damage&mdash;and to invest or spend
+nothing. After all these payments had been made the squire's income
+was much reduced, and thus, with all these broad acres, these
+extensive woods, and park, and mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and
+so forth, he was really a poor man. Not poor in the sense of actual
+want, but a man in his position had, of course, a certain
+appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages&mdash;even cooks&mdash;are
+not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to those
+who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with
+liberal ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who
+insists on dressing in the fashion is expensive.</p>
+<p>Now, taking all those things into consideration, and
+remembering, too, that the squire as a good father (which he was
+admittedly) wished to make provision for the future of his
+children, it may perhaps, after all, be questioned whether he
+really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared. Under the
+circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him was
+to be careful in little things. Even his hobby&mdash;the
+pre-Raphaelite pictures&mdash;was not without its advantage in this
+sense; the collection was certainly worth more than he gave for it,
+for he got it all by careful bargaining, and it could be sold again
+at a profit. The careful superintendence of the Alderney cow, the
+cucumber frames, and the rabbits, might all be carried out for the
+very best of objects, the good of his children.</p>
+<p>Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles
+of agriculture, the wetness of the seasons&mdash;which played havoc
+with the game&mdash;the low prices, and the loud talk that was
+going on around him. But he made no sign. He might have been deaf,
+dumb, and blind. He walked by the wheat, but did not see the
+deficiency of the crop, nor the extraordinary growth of weeds.
+There were voices in the air like the mutterings of a coming storm,
+but he did not hear them. There were paragraphs in the
+papers&mdash;how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
+returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did not
+understand. Rent days came and went, and no sign was made. His
+solicitor received the rents, but nothing could be got out of him
+by the farmers. The little farmers hardly liked to take the lead:
+some of them did not dare. The three largest farmers looked at each
+other and wondered which would speak first. They were awkwardly
+situated. The squire's wife acknowledged their wives and daughters,
+and once now and then deigned to invite them to the mansion. The
+squire himself presented them with specimens of a valuable breed of
+poultry he was bringing up at the Home Farm. It was difficult to
+begin unpleasant business.</p>
+<p>Meantime the solicitor gathered up the cheques, wished them good
+afternoon and departed. Another rent day came round, and still no
+sign. The squire's policy was, in fact, to ignore. He ignored the
+depression altogether&mdash;could not see that it existed in that
+county at all. Recollect, it was the only policy open to him.
+Whether the rents paid to him were large or small, his expenses
+would be the same. There were the members of the other branch of
+the family to be paid in full. There were the carriages, the
+servants, the gamekeepers, and so on. He could reduce nothing; no
+wonder that he was slow to acknowledge that he must be himself
+reduced. The fatal day&mdash;so long dreaded&mdash;came at
+last.</p>
+<p>A large letter lay on the table in the study one morning, along
+with the other letters. He did not recognise the handwriting, and
+naturally opened it first. It was a 'Round Robin' from the tenants.
+All had signed a memorial, setting forth the depression, and
+respectfully, even humbly, asking that their case be taken into
+consideration, and that a percentage be returned, or the rent
+reduced. Their heavy land, they pointed out, had been peculiarly
+difficult to work in such seasons. They had suffered exceptionally,
+and they trusted he would take no offence. But there was an
+unmistakable hint that they were in earnest. All signed
+it&mdash;from the ungrateful largest tenants, who had had presents
+of fancy poultry, and whose wives had been smiled upon, down to the
+smallest working farmer, who could hardly be distinguished from his
+own labourers.</p>
+<p>The squire read the names over twice, pointing to each with his
+sharp, scratchy finger-nail. There were other letters from the
+members of the other branch of the family whose pensions were just
+due in full. Suppose he returned ten per cent. of the rents to the
+tenants, that would not be like ten per cent. upon the entire
+rental, but perhaps twenty-five or thirty per cent, upon that
+portion of the rental which actually went into his own pocket. A
+man can hardly be expected to cheerfully tender other people a
+third of his income. But sprawling and ill-written as many of the
+signatures were to the 'Round Robin'&mdash;the pen held by heavy
+hands&mdash;yet they were genuine, and constituted a very
+substantial fact, that must be yielded to.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap13" id="chap13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h3>
+<h3>AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE</h3>
+Perhaps the magistrate most regular in his attendance at a certain
+country Petty Sessional Court is young Squire Marthorne. Those who
+have had business to transact at such Courts know the difficulty
+that often arises from the absence of a second magistrate, there
+being a numerous class of cases with which one justice of the peace
+is not permitted to deal. There must be two, and it sometimes
+happens that only one is forthcoming. The procedure adopted varies
+much in different divisions, according to the population and the
+percentage of charges brought up. Usually a particular day is
+appointed when it is understood that a full bench will be present,
+but it not unfrequently happens that another and less formal
+meeting has to be held, at which the attendance is uncertain. The
+district in which Mr. Marthorne resides chances to be somewhat
+populous, and to include one or two turbulent places that furnish a
+steady supply of offenders. The practice therefore is to hold two
+Courts a week; at one of these, on the Saturday, the more important
+cases are arranged to be heard, when there are always plenty of
+magistrates. At the other, on the Tuesday, remands and smaller
+matters are taken, and there then used to be some delay.
+<p>One justice thought his neighbour would go, another thought the
+same of his neighbour, and the result was nobody went. Having
+tacitly bound themselves to attend once a week, the justices, many
+of whom resided miles away, did not care formally to pledge
+themselves to be invariably present on a second day. Sometimes the
+business on that second day was next to nothing, but occasionally
+serious affairs turned up, when messengers had to be despatched to
+gather a quorum.</p>
+<p>But latterly this uncertainty has been put an end to through the
+regular attendance of young Squire Marthorne, of Marthorne House.
+The Marthornes are an old family, and one of the best connected in
+the county, though by no means rich, and, whether it was the lack
+of great wealth or a want of energy, they had until recently rather
+dropped out of the governing circle. When, however, the young
+squire, soon after his accession to the property, in the natural
+course of events, was nominated to the Commission of the Peace, he
+began to exhibit qualities calculated to bring him to the front. He
+developed an aptitude for business, and at the same time showed a
+personal tact and judgment which seemed to promise a future very
+different from the previous stagnation of his family.</p>
+<p>These qualities came first into play at the Petty Sessions,
+which, apart from the criminal business, is practically an informal
+weekly Parliament of local landowners. Marthorne, of course, was
+well known to the rest long before his appearance among them as a
+colleague. He had gained some reputation at college; but that had
+long since been forgotten in the prestige he had attained as a
+brilliant foxhunter. Even in the days before his accession, when
+his finances were notoriously low, he had somehow contrived to ride
+a first-rate horse. Everybody likes a man who rides a good horse.
+At the same time there was nothing horsey about him; he was always
+the gentleman. Since his succession the young squire, as he was
+familiarly described&mdash;most of the others being
+elderly&mdash;-had selected his horses with such skill that it was
+well known a very great man had noticed them, so that when he came
+to the Bench, young as he was, Marthorne escaped the unpleasant
+process of finding his level&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> being thoroughly put
+down.</p>
+<p>If not received quite as an equal by that assemblage of elderly
+gentlemen, he was made to feel that at all events they would listen
+to what he had to say. That is a very great point gained. Marthorne
+used his advantage with judgment. He displayed a modesty highly
+commendable in a young man. He listened, and only spoke for the
+purpose of acquiring information. Nothing is so pleasing as to find
+a man of intelligence willingly constituting himself your pupil.
+They were all anxious to teach him the business of the county, and
+the more he endeavoured to learn from them the cleverer they
+thought him.</p>
+<p>Now, the business of the county was not very intricate; the
+details were innumerable, but the general drift was easy to
+acquire. Much more complicated to see through were all the little
+personal likings, dislikings, petty spites, foibles, hobbies,
+secret understandings, family jars, and so forth, which really
+decide a man's vote, or the scale into which he throws his
+influence. There were scores of squires dotted over the county,
+each of whom possessed local power more or less considerable, and
+each of whom might perchance have private relations with men who
+held high office in the State. Every family had its history and its
+archives containing records of negotiations with other families.
+People who met with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the
+same party, might have grudges half a century old, but not yet
+forgotten. If you made friends with one, you might mortally offend
+the other. The other would say nothing, but another day a whisper
+to some great authority might destroy the hopes of the aspirant.
+Those who would attain to power must study the inner social life,
+and learn the secret motives that animate men. But to get at the
+secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote,
+would occupy one for years.</p>
+<p>Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle,
+knew the main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to
+work, he quickly felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment
+he might irritate some one's hidden prejudice. He looked round for
+an older man who knew all about it, and could inform him. This man
+he found in the person of the Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions.
+The nominal Chairman, like many other unpaid officials, held the
+place because of old family greatness, not from any personal
+ability&mdash;family greatness which was in reality a mere
+tradition. The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the
+circle.</p>
+<p>A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for
+its own sake, and understood every technicality. With little or no
+personal ambition, he had assisted in every political and social
+movement in the county for half a century, and knew the secret
+motives of every individual landowner. With large wealth, nothing
+to do, and childless, he took a liking to young Marthorne. The old
+man wished for nothing better than to talk; the young squire
+listened attentively. The old man was delighted to find some one
+who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty Sessional
+business. Thus it was that the people who had to attend the Local
+Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it
+was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their
+business facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates. The
+Vice-Chairman was always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there.
+It sometimes happened that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or
+Hodge the recent pugilist, was stolidly waiting for his sentence,
+the two justices in the retiring room were convulsed with laughter;
+the one recounting, the other imbibing, some curious racy anecdote
+concerning the family history of a local magnate.</p>
+<p>Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for
+solid qualities, for work and application. Not only at the Bench,
+but at the Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice
+of the peace is <i>ex officio</i> a member, he steadily worked at
+details, sat patiently upon committees, audited endless accounts,
+read interminable reports, and was never weary of work. The farmers
+began to talk about him, and to remark to each other what a
+wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a
+pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was. The applause was well
+earned, for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work
+than that of attending Boards which never declare dividends. He
+next appeared at the farmers' club, at first as a mere spectator,
+and next, though with evident diffidence, as a speaker.</p>
+<p>Marthorne was no orator; he felt when he stood up to speak an
+odd sensation in the throat, as if the glottis had contracted. He
+was, in fact, very nervous, and for the first two or three
+sentences had not the least idea what he had said. But he forced
+himself to say it&mdash;his will overruled his physical weakness.
+When said it was not much&mdash;only a few safe
+platitudes&mdash;but it was a distinct advance. He felt that next
+time he should do better, and that his tongue would obey his mind.
+His remarks appeared in the local print, and he had started as a
+speaker. He was resolved to be a speaker, for it is evident to all
+that, without frequent public speech, no one can now be a
+representative man. Marthorne, after this, never lost an
+opportunity of speaking&mdash;if merely to second a resolution, to
+propose a toast, he made the most of it. One rule he laid down for
+himself, namely, never to say anything original. He was not
+speaking to propound a new theory, a new creed, or view of life.
+His aim was to become the mouthpiece of his party. Most probably
+the thought that seemed to him so clever might, if publicly
+expressed, offend some important people. He, therefore, carefully
+avoided anything original. High authorities are now never silent;
+when Parliament closes they still continue to address the public,
+and generally upon more or less stirring questions of the time.</p>
+<p>In those addresses, delivered by the very leaders of his own
+party, Marthorne found the material, and caught from their diligent
+perusal the spirit in which to use it. In this way, without
+uttering a single original idea of his own, and with very little
+originality of expression, the young orator succeeded perfectly in
+his aim. First, he became recognised as a speaker, and, therefore,
+extremely useful; secondly, he was recognised as one of the
+soundest exponents of politics in the county. Marthorne was not
+only clever, but 'safe.' His repute for the latter quality was of
+even more service to him than for talent; to be 'safe' in such
+things is a very great recommendation. Personal reputation is of
+slow growth, but it does grow. The Vice-Chairman, Marthorne's
+friend and mentor, had connections with very high people indeed. He
+mentioned Marthorne to the very high people. These, in their turn,
+occasionally cast a glance at what Marthorne was doing. Now and
+then they read a speech of his, and thought it extremely good,
+solid, and well put. It was understood that a certain M.P. would
+retire at the next election; and they asked themselves whom they
+had to take his place?</p>
+<p>While this important question was exercising the minds of those
+in authority, Marthorne was energetically at work gaining the
+social suffrage. The young squire's lady&mdash;he had married in
+his minority for beauty and intelligence, and not for
+money&mdash;was discovered to be a very interesting young person.
+Her beauty and intelligence, and, let it be added, her true
+devotion to her husband's cause, proved of fifty times more value
+to him than a dowry of many manors. Her tact smoothed the way
+everywhere; she made friends for him in all directions, especially
+perhaps during the London season. Under the whirl and glitter of
+that fascinating time there are latent possibilities of important
+business. Both Marthorne and his lady had by birth and connections
+the <i>entr&eacute;e</i> into leading circles; but many who have
+that <i>entr&eacute;e</i> never attain to more influence in society
+than the furniture of the drawing-room.</p>
+<p>These two never for a moment lost sight of the country while
+they enjoyed themselves in town. Everything they said or did was
+said and done with a view to conciliate people who might have
+direct or indirect influence in the country. In these matters,
+ladies of position still retain considerable power in their hands.
+The young squire and his wife put themselves to immense trouble to
+get the good-will of such persons, and being of engaging manners
+they in time succeeded. This was not effected at once, but three or
+four years are a very short time in which to develop personal
+influence, and their success within so brief a period argues
+considerable skill.</p>
+<p>At home again in the autumn the same efforts were diligently
+continued. The mansion itself was but of moderate size and by no
+means convenient, but the squire's lady transformed it from a
+gaunt, commonplace country house into an elegant and charming
+residence. This she contrived without great expense by the exercise
+of good taste and a gift of discriminating between what was and
+what was not. The exterior she left alone&mdash;to alter an
+exterior costs a heavy sum and often fails. But the interior she
+gradually fitted in a novel fettle, almost entirely after her own
+design. The gardens, too, under her supervision, became equally
+inviting. The house got talked about, and was itself a social
+success.</p>
+<p>On his part, the squire paid as much attention to the estate. It
+was not large, far from sufficient of itself, indeed, to support
+any social or political pretensions without the most rigid economy.
+And the pair were rigidly economical. The lady dressed in the
+height of the fashion, and drove the most beautiful horses, and yet
+she never wasted a shilling upon herself. Her own little private
+whims and fancies she resolutely refused to gratify. Every coin was
+spent where it would produce effect. In like manner, the squire
+literally never had half a sovereign in his pocket. He selected the
+wines in his cellar with the greatest care, and paid for them
+prices which the wine merchant, in these days of cheap wines, was
+unaccustomed to receive from men of thrice his income. The squire
+paid for the very best wine, and in private drank a cheap claret.
+But his guests, many of them elderly gentlemen, when once they had
+dined with him never forgot to come again. His bins became known
+throughout the county; very influential people indeed spoke of them
+with affection. It was in this way that the squire got a high value
+out of his by no means extensive rents.</p>
+<p>He also looked after the estate personally. Hodge, eating his
+luncheon under the hedge in October, as he slowly munched his
+crust, watched the squire strolling about the fields, with his gun
+under his arm, and wondered why he did not try the turnips. The
+squire never went into the turnip field, and seemed quite oblivious
+that he carried a gun, for when a covey rose at his feet he did not
+fire, but simply marked them down. His mind, in fact, was busy with
+more important matters, and, fond as he was of shooting, he wanted
+the birds for some one else's delectation. After he had had the
+place a little while, there was not a square inch of waste ground
+to be found. When the tenants were callous to hints, the squire
+gave them pretty clearly to understand that he meant his land to be
+improved, and improved it was. He himself of his own free motive
+and initiative ordered new buildings to be erected where he, by
+personal inspection, saw that they would pay. He drained to some
+extent, but not very largely, thinking that capital sunk in drains,
+except in particular soils, did not return for many years.</p>
+<p>Anxious as he was to keep plenty of game, he killed off the
+rabbits, and grubbed up many of the small covers at the corners and
+sides of arable fields which the tenants believed injurious to
+crops. He repaired labourers' cottages, and added offices to
+farmsteads. In short, he did everything that could be done without
+too heavy an expenditure. To kill off the rabbits, to grub the
+smaller coverts, to drain the marshy spots, to thatch the cottages,
+put up cattle sheds, and so on, could be effected without burdening
+the estate with a loan. But, small as these improvements were in
+themselves, yet, taken together, they made an appreciable
+difference.</p>
+<p>There was a distinct increase in the revenue of the estate after
+the first two years. The increase arose in part from the diminished
+expenses, for it has been found that a tumble-down place is more
+costly to maintain than one in good repair. The tenants at first
+were rather alarmed, fearing lest the change should end in a
+general rise of rents. It did not. The squire only asked an
+increase when he had admittedly raised the value of the land, and
+then only to a moderate amount. By degrees he acquired a reputation
+as the most just of landlords. His tenantry were not only
+satisfied, but proud of him; for they began to foresee what was
+going to happen.</p>
+<p>Yet all these things had been done for his own interest&mdash;so
+true is it that the interest of the landlord and the tenant are
+identical. The squire had simply acted judiciously, and from
+personal inspection. He studied his estate, and attended to it
+personally. Of course he could not have done these things had he
+not succeeded to a place but little encumbered with family
+settlements. He did them from interested motives, and not from mere
+sentiment. But, nevertheless, credit of a high order was justly
+accorded to him. So young a man might naturally have expended his
+income on pleasure. So young a wife might have spent his rents in
+frivolity. They worked towards an end, but it was a worthy
+end&mdash;for ambition, if not too extravagant, is a virtue. Men
+with votes and influence compared this squire in their minds with
+other squires, whose lives seemed spent in a slumberous
+donothingness.</p>
+<p>Thus, by degrees, the young squire's mansion and estate added to
+his reputation. The labour which all this represented was immense.
+Both the squire and his wife worked harder than a merchant in his
+office. Attending Boards and farmers' clubs, making speeches,
+carrying on correspondence, looking after the estate, discharging
+social duties, filled up every moment of his time. Superintending
+the house, the garden, corresponding, and a hundred other labours,
+filled up every moment of hers. They were never idle; to rise
+socially and politically requires as great or greater work than for
+a poor man to achieve a fortune.</p>
+<p>Ultimately the desired result began to be apparent. There grew
+up a general feeling that the squire was the best man for the place
+in Parliament which, in the course of events, must ere long be
+vacant. There was much heartburning and jealousy secretly felt
+among men twice his age, who had waited and hoped for years for
+such an opening, till at last they had rusted and become incapable
+of effort. But, cynical as they might be in private, they were too
+wise to go openly against the stream. A few friendly words spoken
+in season by a great man whose goodwill had been gained decided the
+matter. At an informal meeting of the party&mdash;how much more is
+effected at informal than at formal assemblies!&mdash;Marthorne was
+introduced as the successor to the then representative. The young
+squire's estate could not, of course, bear the heavy pecuniary
+strain which must arise; but before those who had the control of
+these things finally selected him they had ascertained that there
+would be no difficulty with respect to money. Marthorne's old
+friend and mentor, the wealthy Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions,
+who had inducted him into the county business, announced that he
+should bear the larger part of the expense. He was not a little
+proud of his <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i>.</p>
+<p>The same old friend and mentor, wise with the knowledge and
+experience which long observation of men had given him, advised the
+young squire what to do when the depression first came upon
+agriculture. The old man said, 'Meet it; very likely it will not
+last two years. What is that in the life of an estate?' So the
+young squire met it, and announced at once that he should return a
+percentage of his rents. 'But not too high a percentage,' said the
+old man; 'let us ascertain what the rest of the landowners think,
+else by a too liberal reduction you may seem to cast a reflection
+upon them.' The percentage was returned, and continued, and the
+young squire has tided over the difficulty.</p>
+<p>His own tenantry and the farming interest generally are proud of
+him. Hodge, who, slow as he is, likes a real man, says, 'He beant
+such a bad sort of a veller, you; a' beant above speaking to we!'
+When the time comes the young squire will certainly be
+returned.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap14" id="chap14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h3>
+<h3>THE PARSON'S WIFE</h3>
+It is pleasant, on a sunny day to walk through a field of wheat
+when the footpath is bordered on either side by the ripening crop,
+without the intervention of hedge or fence. Such a footpath,
+narrow, but well kept, leads from a certain country churchyard to
+the highway road, and passes on the way a wicket gate in a thick
+evergreen shrubbery which surrounds the vicarage lawn and gardens.
+This afternoon the wheat stands still and upright, without a
+motion, in the burning sunshine, for the sun, though he has sloped
+a little from his highest meridian altitude, pours an even fiercer
+beam than at the exact hour of noon. The shadeless field is exposed
+to the full glare of the brilliant light. There are no trees in the
+field itself, the hedges are cut low and trimmed to the smallest
+proportions, and are devoid of timber; and, as the ground is high
+and close to the hills, all the trees in sight are beneath, and can
+be overlooked. Whether in sunshine or storm there is no
+shelter&mdash;no medium; the wind rushes over with its utmost fury,
+or the heat rests on it undisturbed by the faintest current. Yet,
+sultry as it is, the footpath is a pleasant one to follow.
+<p>The wheat ears, all but ripe&mdash;to the ordinary eye they are
+ripe, but the farmer is not quite satisfied&mdash;rise to the waist
+or higher, and tempt the hand to pluck them. Butterflies flutter
+over the surface, now descending to some flower hidden beneath, now
+resuming their joyous journey. There is a rich ripe feeling in the
+very atmosphere, the earth is yielding her wealth, and a delicate
+aroma rises from her generous gifts. Far as the eye can see, the
+rolling plains and slopes present various tints of
+yellow&mdash;wheat in different stages of ripeness, or of different
+kinds; oats and barley&mdash;till the hedges and woods of the vale
+conceal the farther landscape on the one hand and the ridge of the
+hills upon the other.</p>
+<p>Nothing conveys so strong an impression of substantial wealth as
+the view of wheat-fields. A diamond ornament in a window may be
+ticketed as worth so many hundreds of pounds; but the glittering
+gem, and the sum it represents, seem rather abstract than real. But
+the wheat, the golden wheat, is a great fact that seizes hold of
+the mind; the idea comes of itself that it represents solid
+wealth.</p>
+<p>The tiles of the vicarage roof&mdash;all of the house visible
+above the shrubbery&mdash;look so hot and dry in the glaring
+sunshine that it does not seem possible for vegetation to exist
+upon them; yet they are tinted with lichen. The shrubbery has an
+inviting coolness about it&mdash;the thick evergreens, the hollies
+on which the berries are now green, the cedars and ornamental trees
+planted so close together that the passer-by cannot see through,
+must surely afford a grateful shade&mdash;a contrast with the heat
+of the wheat-field and the dust of the highway below. Just without
+the wicket gate a goat standing upon his hind legs, his fore legs
+placed against the palings, is industriously nibbling the tenderest
+leaves of the shrubs and trees which he can reach. Thus extended to
+his full length he can reach considerably higher than might be
+supposed, and is capable of much destruction. Doubtless he has got
+out of bounds.</p>
+<p>Inside the enclosure the reverend gentleman himself reclines in
+an arm-chair of cane-work placed under the shade of the verandah,
+just without the glass door or window opening from the drawing-room
+upon the lawn. His head has fallen back and a little to one side,
+and an open book lies on his knee; his soft felt hat is bent and
+crumpled; he has yielded to the heat and is slumbering. The blinds
+are partly down the window, but a glimpse can be obtained of a
+luxurious carpet, of tables in valuable woods and inlaid, of a fine
+piano, of china, and the thousand and one nicknacks of highly
+civilised life. The reverend gentleman's suit of black, however, is
+not new; it is, on the contrary, decidedly rusty, and the sole of
+one of his boots, which is visible, is much worn. Over his head the
+roses twine round the pillars of the verandah, and there is a
+<i>parterre</i> of brilliant flowers not far from his feet.</p>
+<p>His wife sits, a few yards distant, under a weeping ash, whose
+well-trained boughs make a perfect tent, and shield her from the
+sun. She has a small table before her, and writing materials, and
+is making notes with the utmost despatch from some paper or
+journal. She is no longer young, and there are marks of much care
+and trouble on her forehead; but she has still a pleasing
+expression upon her features, her hands are exquisitely white, and
+her figure, once really good, retains some of the outline that
+rendered it beautiful. Wherever you saw her you would say, That is
+a lady. But her dress, tasteful though it be, is made of the
+cheapest material, and looks, indeed, as if it had been carefully
+folded away last summer, and was now brought out to do duty a
+second time.</p>
+<p>The slow rumble of waggon wheels goes down the road, close to
+the lawn, but concealed by the trees, against whose boughs the
+sheaves of the load rustle as they go past. Wealth rolling by upon
+the waggon, wealth in the well-kept garden, in the smart lawn, in
+the roses, the bright flowers, the substantial well-furnished
+house, the luxurious carpet, and the china; wealth, too, all around
+in the vast expanse of ripening wheat. He has nothing to do but to
+slumber in the cane chair and receive his tithe of the harvest. She
+has nothing to do but to sit under the shadow of the weeping ash
+and dream dreams, or write verses. Such, at least, might be the
+first impression.</p>
+<p>The publication from which she is so earnestly making notes is
+occupied with the management of bees, and she is so busy because
+the paper is only borrowed, and has to be returned. Most of the
+papers and books that come to the vicarage have to be hastily read
+for the same reason. Mrs. F&mdash;&mdash; is doing her very best
+and hardest to increase the Rev. F&mdash;&mdash;'s income&mdash;she
+has tried to do so for some years, and despite repeated failures is
+bravely, perhaps a little wearily, still trying. There is not much
+left for her to experiment with. The goat surreptitiously nibbling
+the valuable shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that
+once seemed to promise fair. Goats at one time (she was persuaded)
+were the means of ready wealth&mdash;they could live anywhere, on
+anything (the shrubs to wit), and yielded such rich milk; it far
+surpassed that of the shorthorn; there was the analysis to prove
+it! Such milk must of course be worth money, beside which there
+were the kids, and the cheese and butter.</p>
+<p>Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse
+than that of the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation,
+that no one would have them on the land. The milk was all the
+analysis declared it, but in that outlying village, which did not
+contain two houses above the quality of a farmstead, there was no
+one to buy it. There was a prejudice against the butter which could
+not be got over; and the cheese&mdash;well, the cheese resembled a
+tablet of dark soap. Hodge would not eat it at a gift; he smelt it,
+picked a morsel off on the tip of his clasp knife, and threw it
+aside in contempt. One by one the goats were got rid of, and now
+but two or three remained; she could not make up her mind to part
+with all, for living creatures, however greatly they have
+disappointed, always enlist the sympathies of women.</p>
+<p>Poultry was the next grand discovery&mdash;they ate their heads
+off, refused to lay eggs, and, when by frequent purchase they
+became numerous and promised to pay, quietly died by the score,
+seized with an epidemic. She learnt in visiting the cottagers how
+profitable their allotment gardens were to them, and naturally
+proceeded to argue that a larger piece of ground would yield
+proportionately larger profit if cultivated on the same principle.
+If the cottagers could pay a rent for an acre which, in the
+aggregate, was three times that given by the ordinary farmer, and
+could even then make a good thing of it, surely intelligence and
+skill might do the same on a more extended scale. How very foolish
+the farmers were! they might raise at least four times the produce
+they did, and they might pay three times the rent. As the vicar had
+some hundred and fifty acres of glebe let at the usual agricultural
+rent, if the tenants could be persuaded or instructed to farm on
+the cottager's system, what an immense increase it would be to his
+income! The tenants, however, did not see it. They shrugged their
+shoulders, and made no movement The energetic lady resolved to set
+an example, and to prove to them that they were wrong.</p>
+<p>She rented an acre of arable land (at the side of the field),
+giving the tenant a fair price for it. First it had to be enclosed
+so as to be parted off from the open field. The cost of the palings
+made the vicar wince; his lady set it duly down to debit. She
+planted one-half potatoes, as they paid thirty pounds per acre, and
+on the rest put in hundreds of currant bushes, set a strawberry bed
+and an asparagus bed, on the principle that luxuries of that kind
+fetch a high price and occupy no more space than cabbages. As the
+acre was cultivated entirely by the spade, the cost of the labour
+expended upon it ran up the figures on the debit side to an amount
+which rather startled her. But the most dispiriting part of the
+commencement was the length of time to wait before a crop came.
+According to her calculations that represented so much idle capital
+sunk, instead of being rapidly turned over. However, she consoled
+herself with the pig-sty, in which were half a dozen animals, whose
+feeding she often personally superintended.</p>
+<p>The potatoes failed, and did not pay for the digging; the
+currant bushes were blighted; the strawberries were eaten by
+snails, and, of course, no asparagus could be cut for three years;
+a little item, this last, quite overlooked. The pigs returned
+exactly the sum spent upon them; there was neither profit nor loss,
+and there did not appear any chance of making a fortune out of
+pork. The lady had to abandon the experiment quite disheartened,
+and found that, after all her care and energy, her books showed a
+loss of fifteen pounds. It was wonderful it was not more; labour
+was so expensive, and no doubt she was cheated right and left.</p>
+<p>She next tried to utilise her natural abilities, and to turn her
+accomplishments to account. She painted; she illuminated texts; she
+undertook difficult needlework of various kinds, in answer to
+advertisements which promised ample remuneration for a few hours'
+labour. Fifteen hours' hard work she found was worth just
+threepence, and the materials cost one shilling: consequently she
+laboriously worked herself poorer by ninepence.</p>
+<p>Finally, she was studying bees, which really seemed to hold out
+some prospect of success. Yonder were the hills where they could
+find thyme in abundance; the fields around supplied clover; and the
+meadows below were full of flowers. So that hot summer day, under
+the weeping ash, she was deep in the study of the 'Ligurian queen,'
+the 'super' system, the mysteries of 'driving,' and making sketches
+of patent hives. Looking up from her sketch she saw that her
+husband had fallen asleep, and stayed to gaze at him
+thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>He looked worn, and older than he really was; as if rest or
+change would do him good; as if he required luxuries and petting.
+She sighed, and wondered whether the bees would enable her to buy
+him such things, for though the house was well furnished and
+apparently surrounded with wealth, they were extremely poor. Yet
+she did not care for money for their own household use so much as
+to give him the weight in parish affairs he so sadly needed. She
+felt that he was pushed aside, treated as a cipher, and that he had
+little of the influence that properly belonged to him. Her two
+daughters, their only children, were comfortably, though not
+grandly, married and settled; there was no family anxiety. But the
+work, the parish, the people, all seemed to have slipped out of her
+husband's hands. She could not but acknowledge that he was too
+quiet and yielding, that he lacked the brazen voice, the personal
+force that imposes upon men. But surely his good intentions, his
+way of life, his gentle kindness should carry sway. Instead of
+which the parish seemed to have quite left the Church, and the
+parson was outside the real modern life of the village. No matter
+what he did, even if popular, it soon seemed to pass out of his
+hands.</p>
+<p>There was the school, for instance. He could indeed go across
+and visit it, but he had no control, no more than the veriest
+stranger that strolled along the road. He had always been anxious
+for a good school, and had done the best he could with means so
+limited before the new Acts came into operation. When they were
+passed he was the first to endeavour to carry them out and to save
+the village the cost and the possible quarrelling of a school
+board. He went through all the preliminary work, and reconciled, as
+far as possible, the jarring interests that came into play. The two
+largest landlords of the place were unfortunately not on good
+terms. Whatever the one did the other was jealous of, so that when
+one promised the necessary land for the school, and it was
+accepted, the other withdrew his patronage, and declined to
+subscribe. With great efforts the vicar, nevertheless, got the
+school erected, and to all appearance the difficulty was
+surmounted.</p>
+<p>But when the Government inspection took place it was found that,
+though not nearly filled with scholars, there was not sufficient
+cubic space to include the children of a distant outlying hamlet,
+which the vicar had hoped to manage by a dame school. These poor
+children, ill fed and young, could hardly stand walking to and from
+the village school&mdash;a matter of some five miles daily, and
+which in winter and wet weather was, in itself, a day's work for
+their weary little limbs. As the vicar could not raise money enough
+to pay a certificated teacher at the proposed branch or dame
+school, the scheme had to be abandoned. Then, according to red
+tape, it was necessary to enlarge the village school to accommodate
+these few children, and this notwithstanding that the building was
+never full. The enlargement necessitated a great additional
+expenditure The ratepayers did, indeed, after much bickering and
+much persuasion, in the end pay off the deficiency; but in the
+meantime, the village had been brought to the verge of a school
+board.</p>
+<p>Religious differences came to the front&mdash;there was, in
+fact, a trial of force between the denominations. Till then for
+many years these differences had slumbered and been almost
+forgotten; they were now brought into collision, and the social
+quiet of the place was upset. A council of the chief farmers and
+some others was ultimately formed, and, as a matter of fact, really
+did represent the inhabitants fairly well. But while it represented
+the parish, it left the vicar quite outside. He had a voice, but
+nothing more. He was not the centre&mdash;the controlling
+spirit.</p>
+<p>He bore it meekly enough, so far as he was personally concerned;
+but he grieved about it in connection with his deep religious
+feelings and his Church. The Church was not in the front of all, as
+it should be. It was hard after all his labour; the rebuffs, the
+bitter remarks, the sneers of those who had divergent views, and,
+perhaps worse than all, the cold indifference and apathy of those
+who wished things to remain in the old state, ignoring the fact
+that the law would not suffer it. There were many other things
+besides the school, but they all went the same way. The modern
+institution was introduced, championed by the Church, worked for by
+the Church, but when at last it was successful, somehow or other it
+seemed to have severed itself from the Church altogether. The vicar
+walked about the village, and felt that, though nominally in it, he
+was really out of it.</p>
+<p>His wife saw it too, still more clearly than he did. She saw
+that he had none of the gift of getting money out of people. Some
+men seem only to have to come in contact with others to at once
+receive the fruits of their dormant benevolent feelings. The rich
+man writes his cheque for 100<i>l</i>., the middle-class well-to-do
+sends his bank notes for 20<i>l</i>., the comfortable middle-class
+man his sovereigns. A testimonial is got up, an address engrossed
+on vellum, speeches are made, and a purse handed over containing a
+draft for so many hundreds, 'in recognition, not in reward, of your
+long continued and successful ministrations.' The art of causing
+the purse-strings to open is an art that is not so well understood,
+perhaps, among the orthodox as by the unorthodox. The Rev.
+F&mdash;&mdash; either could not, or would not, or did not know how
+to ask, and he did not receive.</p>
+<p>Just at present his finances were especially low. The tenants
+who farmed the glebe land threatened to quit unless their rents
+were materially reduced, and unless a considerable sum was expended
+upon improvements. To some very rich men the reduction of rents has
+made a sensible difference; to the Rev. F&mdash;&mdash; it meant
+serious privations. But he had no choice; he had to be satisfied
+with that or nothing. Then the vicarage house, though substantial
+and pleasant to look at, was not in a good state within. The rain
+came through in more places than one, and the ancient woodwork of
+the roof was rotten. He had already done considerable repairing,
+and knew that he must soon do more. The nominal income of the
+living was but moderate; but when the reductions were all made,
+nothing but a cheese-paring seemed left. From this his
+subscriptions to certain ecclesiastical institutions had to be
+deducted.</p>
+<p>Lastly, he had received a hint that a curate ought to be kept
+now that his increasing age rendered him less active than before.
+There was less hope now than ever of anything being done for him in
+the parish. The landowners complained of rent reductions, of farms
+idle on their hands, and of increasing expenses. The farmers
+grumbled about the inclement seasons, their continual losses, and
+the falling markets. It was not a time when the churlish are almost
+generous, having such overflowing pockets. There was no
+testimonial, no address on vellum, no purse with banker's draft for
+the enfeebled servant of the Church slumbering in the cane chair in
+the verandah.</p>
+<p>Yet the house was exquisitely kept, marvellously kept
+considering the class of servants they were obliged to put up with.
+The garden was bright and beautiful with flowers, the lawn smooth;
+there was an air of refinement everywhere. So the clergyman slept,
+and the wife turned again to her sketch of the patent hive, hoping
+that the golden honey might at last bring some metallic gold. The
+waggon rumbled down the road, and Hodge, lying at full length on
+the top of the load, could just see over the lowest part of the
+shrubbery, and thought to himself what a jolly life that parson
+led, sleeping the hot hours away in the shade.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap15" id="chap15">CHAPTER XV</a></h3>
+<h3>A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE</h3>
+'He can't stroddle thuck puddle, you: can a'?'
+<p>'He be going to try: a' will leave his shoe in it.'</p>
+<p>Such were the remarks that passed between two agricultural women
+who from behind the hedge were watching the approach of the curate
+along a deep miry lane. Where they stood the meadow was high above
+the level of the lane, which was enclosed by steep banks thickly
+overgrown with bramble, briar, and thorn. The meadows each side
+naturally drained into the hollow, which during a storm was filled
+with a rushing torrent, and even after a period of dry weather was
+still moist, for the overhanging trees prevented evaporation. A row
+of sarsen stones at irregular intervals were intended to afford
+firm footing to the wayfarer, but they were nothing more than traps
+for the unwary. Upon placing the foot on the smooth rounded surface
+it immediately slipped, and descended at an angle into a watery
+hole. The thick, stiff, yellow clay held the water like a basin;
+the ruts, quite two feet deep, where waggon wheels had been drawn
+through by main force, were full to the brim. In summer heats they
+might have dried, but in November, though fine, they never
+would.</p>
+<p>Yet if the adventurous passenger, after gamely struggling,
+paused awhile to take breath, and looked up from the mud, the view
+above was beautiful. The sun shone, and lit up the oaks, whose
+every leaf was brown or buff; the gnats played in thousands in the
+mild air under the branches. Through the coloured leaves the blue
+sky was visible, and far ahead a faintly bluish shadow fell athwart
+the hollow. There were still blackberries on the bramble, beside
+which the brown fern filled the open spaces, and behind upon the
+banks the mosses clothed the ground and the roots of the trees with
+a deep green. Two or more fieldfares were watching in an elm some
+distance down; the flock to which they belonged was feeding, partly
+in the meadow and partly in the hedge. Every now and then the larks
+flew over, uttering their call-note. Behind a bunch of rushes a
+young rabbit crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the
+hole hard by, doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to
+enter the burrow.</p>
+<p>It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not
+the least current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the
+exertion. His boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at
+every step; they came out with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the
+marks of footsteps, planting his step where the weight of some
+carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down firm. Where these
+failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a few inches
+wide, between two sets of ruts. In a minute he felt the ridge
+giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts. Next
+he crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked
+in the tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting
+bough quietly lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it
+suspended, instead of dropping it in the mud. Still he made
+progress, though slow; now with a giant stride across an
+exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from side to side. The
+lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance. But there
+was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any other
+obstacle. It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or
+wrong, in these cynical days. He was too young to have acquired
+much worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which
+arises from thorough conviction and the sense of personal
+consecration conferred by the mission on the man. He pushed on
+steadily till brought to a stop by a puddle, broad, deep, and
+impassable, which extended right across the lane, and was some six
+or eight yards long. He tried to slip past at the side, but the
+banks were thick with thorns, and the brambles overhung the water;
+the outer bushes coated with adhesive mud. Then he sounded the
+puddle with his stick as far as he could reach, and found it deep
+and the bottom soft, so that the foot would sink into it. He
+considered, and looked up and down the lane.</p>
+<p>The two women, of whose presence he was unconscious, watched him
+from the high and dry level of the meadow, concealed behind the
+bushes and the oaks. They wore a species of smock frock gathered in
+round the waist by a band over their ordinary dress; these smock
+frocks had once been white, but were now discoloured with dirt and
+the weather. They were both stout and stolid-looking, hardy as the
+trees under which they stood. They were acorn picking, searching
+for the dropped acorns in the long rank grass by the hedge, under
+the brown leaves, on the banks, and in the furrows. The boughs of
+the oak spread wide&mdash;the glory of the tree is its
+head&mdash;and the acorns are found in a circle corresponding with
+the outer circumference of the branches. Some are still farther
+afield, because in falling they strike the boughs and glance aside.
+A long slender pole leaning against the hedge was used to thrash
+the boughs within reach, and so to knock down any that
+remained.</p>
+<p>A sack half filled was on the ground close to the trunk of the
+oak, and by it was a heap of dead sticks, to be presently carried
+home to boil the kettle. Two brown urchins assisted them, and went
+where the women could not go, crawling under the thorns into the
+hedge, and creeping along the side of the steep bank, gathering
+acorns that had fallen into the mouths of the rabbit holes, or that
+were lying under the stoles. Out of sight under the bushes they
+could do much as they liked, looking for fallen nuts instead of
+acorns, or eating a stray blackberry, while their mothers rooted
+about among the grass and leaves of the meadow. Such continual
+stooping would be weary work for any one not accustomed to it. As
+they worked from tree to tree they did not observe the colours of
+the leaves, or the wood-pigeons, or the pheasant looking along the
+edge of the ditch on the opposite side of the field. If they paused
+it was to gossip or to abuse the boys for not bringing more acorns
+to the sack.</p>
+<p>But when the boys, hunting in the hedge, descried the curate in
+the distance and came back with the news, the two women were
+suddenly interested. The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the
+coloured leaves were not worthy of a glance. To see a gentleman up
+to his ankles in mud was quite an attraction. The one stood with
+her lap half-full of acorns; the other with a basket on her arm.
+The two urchins lay down on the ground, and peered from behind a
+thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely distinguishable from the
+brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes. The puddle was too
+wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was there any way
+round it.</p>
+<p>The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go
+back. He tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee&mdash;he wore
+them short always&mdash;and stepped into the water. At this the
+urchins could barely suppress a shout of delight&mdash;they did,
+however, suppress it&mdash;and craned forward to see him splash.
+The curate waded slowly to the middle, getting deeper and deeper,
+and then suddenly found firmer footing, and walked the rest of the
+way with the water barely over his boots. After he was through he
+cleansed his boots on a wisp of grass and set off at a good pace,
+for the ground past the pool began to rise, and the lane was
+consequently drier. The women turned again to their acorns,
+remarking, in a tone with something like respect in it, 'He didn't
+stop for the mud, you: did a'?'</p>
+<p>Presently the curate reached the highway with its hard surface,
+and again increased his pace. The hedges here were cut each side,
+and as he walked rapidly, leaning forward, his shovel-hat and
+shoulders were visible above them, and his coat tails floated in
+the breeze of his own progress. His heavy boots&mdash;they were
+extremely thick and heavy, though without nails&mdash;tramped,
+tramped, on the hard road. With a stout walking-stick in one hand,
+and in the other a book, he strode forward, still more swiftly as
+it seemed at every stride. A tall young man, his features seemed
+thin and almost haggard; out of correspondence with a large frame,
+they looked as if asceticism had drawn and sharpened them. There
+was earnestness and eagerness&mdash;almost feverish
+eagerness&mdash;in the expression of his face. He passed the
+meadows, the stubble fields, the green root crops, the men at
+plough, who noticed his swift walk, contrasting with their own slow
+motion; and as he went his way now and then consulted a little slip
+of paper, upon which he had jotted memoranda of his engagements.
+Work, work, work&mdash;ceaseless work. How came this? What could
+there be to do in a sparely-populated agricultural district with,
+to appearance, hardly a cottage to a mile?</p>
+<p>After nearly an hour's walking he entered the outskirts of a
+little country town, slumbering outside the railway system, and,
+turning aside from the street, stopped at the door of the ancient
+vicarage. The resident within is the ecclesiastical head of two
+separate hamlets lying at some miles' distance from his own parish.
+Each of these hamlets possesses a church, though the population is
+of the very sparsest, and in each he maintains a resident curate. A
+third curate assists him in the duties of the home parish, which is
+a large one, that is, in extent. From one of these distant hamlets
+the curate, who struggled so bravely through the mire, has walked
+in to consult with his superior. He is shown into the library, and
+sinks not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who is
+engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.</p>
+<p>This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval
+times. Some have conjectured that the present library and the
+adjoining rooms (the partitions being modern) originally formed the
+refectory of a monastic establishment. Others assign it to another
+use; but all agree that it is monastic and antique. The black oak
+rafters of the roof, polished as it were by age, meet overhead
+unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one place a figure seems
+at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth like a spectre
+from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
+colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy
+when first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat
+or two of plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was
+carelessly laid on, the tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted
+woman in a flowing robe, with upraised arm, stands ever in the act
+to bless. Only half one of the windows of the original hall is in
+this apartment&mdash;the partition wall divides it. There yet
+remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as they are and
+small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems to
+tone the room.</p>
+<p>The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a
+gaunt severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the
+wide expanse of wall. On the table are a few books and some
+letters, with foreign postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed
+handwriting of Continental scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp
+hangs suspended by a slender chain. In a corner are some fragments
+of stone mouldings and wood carvings like the panel of an ancient
+pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides those on the
+table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet or
+covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
+fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are
+the works of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the
+fireplace and the hearth restored; for in that outlying district
+there is plenty of wood. Though of modern make, the heavy brass
+fire-irons are of ancient shape. The fire has gone out&mdash;the
+logs are white with the ash that forms upon decaying embers; it is
+clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called a library, but
+really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal comfort.
+If examined closely the floor yonder bears the marks of feet that
+have walked monotonously to and fro in hours of thought. When the
+eye has taken in these things, as the rustle of the brown leaves
+blown against the pane without in the silence is plainly audible,
+the mind seems in an instant to slip back four hundred years.</p>
+<p>The weary curate has closed his eyes, and starts as a servant
+enters bringing him wine, for the vicar, utterly oblivious of his
+own comfort, is ever on the watch for that of others. His
+predecessor, a portly man, happy in his home alone, and, as report
+said, loving his ease and his palate, before he was preferred to a
+richer living, called in the advice of architects as to converting
+the ancient refectory to some use. In his time it was a mere
+lumber-room, into which all the odds and ends of the house were
+thrown. Plans were accordingly prepared for turning one part of it
+into a cosy breakfast parlour, and the other into a conservatory.
+Before any steps, however, were taken he received his
+preferment&mdash;good things flow to the rich&mdash;and departed,
+leaving behind him a favourable memory. If any inhabitant were
+asked what the old vicar did, or said, and what work he
+accomplished, the reply invariably was, 'Oh! hum! he was a very
+good sort of man: he never interfered with anybody or
+anything!'</p>
+<p>Accustomed to such an even tenour of things, all the <i>vis
+inerti&aelig;</i> of the parish revolted when the new vicar
+immediately evinced a determination to do his work thoroughly. The
+restless energy of the man alone set the stolid old folk at once
+against him. They could not 'a-bear to see he a-flying all over the
+parish: why couldn't he bide at home?' No one is so rigidly opposed
+to the least alteration in the conduct of the service as the old
+farmer or farmer's wife, who for forty years and more has listened
+to the same old hymn, the same sing-song response, the same style
+of sermon. It is vain to say that the change is still no more than
+what was&mdash;contemplated by the Book of Common Prayer. They
+naturally interpret that book by what they have been accustomed to
+from childhood. The vicar's innovations were really most
+inoffensive, and well within even a narrow reading of the rubric.
+The fault lay in the fact that they were innovations, so far as the
+practice of that parish was concerned. So the old folk raised their
+voices in a chorus of horror, and when they met gossiped over the
+awful downfall of the faith. All that the vicar had yet done was to
+intone a part of the service, and at once many announced that they
+should stay away.</p>
+<p>Next he introduced a choir. The sweet voices of the white-robed
+boys rising along the vaulted roof of the old church melted the
+hearts of those who, with excuses for their curiosity to their
+neighbours, ventured to go and hear them. The vicar had a natural
+talent, almost a genius, for music. There was a long struggle in
+his mind whether he might or might not permit himself an organ in
+his library. He decided it against himself, mortifying the spirit
+as well as the flesh, but in the service of the Church he felt that
+he might yield to his inclination. By degrees he gathered round him
+the best voices of the parish; the young of both sexes came gladly
+after awhile to swell the volume of song. How powerful is the
+influence of holy music upon such minds as are at all inclined to
+serious devotion! The church filled more and more every Sunday, and
+people came from the farthest corners of the parish, walking miles
+to listen. The young people grew enthusiastic, and one by one the
+old folk yielded and followed them.</p>
+<p>At the same time the church itself seemed to change. It had been
+cold and gloomy, and gaunt within, for so many generations, that no
+one noticed it. A place of tombs, men hurried away from it as
+quickly as possible. Now, little touches here and there gradually
+gave it the aspect of habitation. The new curtains hung at the door
+of the vestry, and drawn, too, across the main entrance when
+service began, the <i>fleur-de-lys</i> on the crimson ground gave
+an impression of warmth. The old tarnished brazen fittings of the
+pews were burnished up, a new and larger stove (supplied at the
+vicar's expense) diffused at least some little heat in winter. A
+curate came, one who worked heart and soul with the vicar, and the
+service became very nearly choral, the vicar now wearing the
+vestment which his degree gave him the strict right to assume.
+There were brazen candlesticks behind the altar, and beautiful
+flowers. Before, the interior was all black and white. Now there
+was a sense of colour, of crimson curtains, of polished brass, of
+flowers, and rich-toned altar cloth. The place was lit up with a
+new light. After the first revolt of the old folk there was little
+opposition, because the vicar, being a man who had studied human
+nature and full of practical wisdom as well as learning, did all
+things gradually. One thing as introduced at a time, and the
+transition&mdash;after the first start&mdash;was effected
+imperceptibly. Nor was any extravagant ritual thrust upon the
+congregation; nor any suspicious doctrine broached.</p>
+<p>In that outlying country place, where men had no knowledge of
+cathedrals, half the offices of the Church had been forgotten. The
+vicar brought them back again. He began early morning services; he
+had the church open all day for private prayer. He reminded the
+folk of Lent and Eastertide, which, except for the traditional
+pancakes, had almost passed out of their lives. Festivals, saints'
+days, midnight service, and, above all, the Communion, were
+insisted upon and brought home to them. As in many other country
+districts, the Communion had nearly dropped into disuse. At first
+he was alone, but by-and-by a group of willing lay helpers grew up
+around him. The churchwardens began to work with him; then a few of
+the larger tenant farmers. Of the two great landed proprietors, one
+was for him from the first, the other made no active opposition,
+but stood aloof. When, in the autumn, the family of the one that
+was for him came home, a fresh impetus was given. The ladies of the
+mansion came forward to join in the parish and Church work, and
+then other ladies, less exalted, but fairly well-to-do, who had
+only been waiting for a leader, crowded after.</p>
+<p>For the first time in the memory of man the parish began to be
+'visited.' Lay sisters accepted the charge of districts; and thus
+there was not a cottage, nor an old woman, but had the change
+brought home to her. Confirmation, which had been almost forgotten,
+was revived, and it was surprising what a number of girls came
+forward to be prepared. The Bishop, who was not at all predisposed
+to view the 'movement' with favour, when he saw the full church,
+the devotional congregation, and after he had visited the vicarage
+and seen into what was going on personally, expressed openly a
+guarded approval, and went away secretly well pleased. Rightly or
+wrongly, there was a 'movement' in the parish and the outlying
+hamlets: and thus it was that the curate, struggling through the
+mire, carried in his face the expression of hard work. Work, work,
+work; the vicar, his three curates and band of lay helpers, worked
+incessantly.</p>
+<p>Besides his strictly parochial duties, the vicar wrote a manual
+for use in the schools, he attended the Chambers of Agriculture,
+and supported certain social movements among the farmers; he
+attended meetings, and, both socially and politically, by force of
+character, energy, and the gift of speech, became a power in the
+country side. Still striving onwards, he wrote in London
+periodicals, he published a book, he looked from the silence of his
+gaunt study towards the great world, and sometimes dreamed of what
+he might have done had he not been buried in the country, and of
+what he might even yet accomplish. All who came in contact with him
+felt the influence of his concentrated purpose: one and all, after
+they had worked their hardest, thought they had still not done so
+much as he would have done.</p>
+<p>The man's charm of manner was not to be resisted; he believed
+his office far above monarchs, but there was no personal
+pretension. That gentle, pleasing manner, with the sense of
+intellectual power behind it, quite overcame the old folk. They all
+spoke with complacent pride of 'our vicar'; and, what was more,
+opened their purses. The interior of the church was restored, and a
+noble organ built. When its beautiful notes rose and fell, when
+sweet voices swelled the wave of sound, then even the vicar's
+restless spirit was soothed in the fulfilment of his hope. A large
+proportion of the upper and middle class of the parish was, without
+a doubt, now gathered around him; and there was much sympathy
+manifested from adjacent parishes with his objects, sympathy which
+often took the form of subscriptions from distant people.</p>
+<p>But what said Hodge to it all? Hodge said nothing. Some few
+young cottage people who had good voices, and liked to use them,
+naturally now went to church. So did the old women and old men, who
+had an eye to charity. But the strong, sturdy men, the carters and
+shepherds, stood aloof; the bulk and backbone of the agricultural
+labouring population were not in the least affected. They viewed
+the movement with utter indifference. They cleaned their boots on a
+Sunday morning while the bells were ringing, and walked down to
+their allotments, and came home and ate their cabbage, and were as
+oblivious of the vicar as the wind that blew. They had no present
+quarrel with the Church; no complaint whatever; nor apparently any
+old memory or grudge; yet there was a something, a blank space as
+it were, between them and the Church. If anything, the 'movement'
+rather set them against going.</p>
+<p>Agricultural cottagers have a strong bias towards Dissent in one
+form or another; village chapels are always well filled. Dissent,
+of course, would naturally rather dislike a movement of the kind.
+But there was no active or even passive opposition. The cottage
+folk just ignored the Church; nothing more and nothing less. No
+efforts were spared to obtain their good-will and to draw them into
+the fold, but there was absolutely no response. Not a labourer's
+family in that wide district was left unvisited. The cottages were
+scattered far apart, dotted here and there, one or two down in a
+narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green wall of the
+hills. Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree or
+hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet
+elevated fields. A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring
+red brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible
+miles away. An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half
+a mile from the highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army
+might have ravaged the country and never found it. How many, many
+miles of weary walking such rounds as these required!</p>
+<p>Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it
+was wonderful with what skill the cottage women
+especially&mdash;the men being often away at work&mdash;adapted
+themselves to the new <i>r&eacute;gime</i>. Each time they told a
+more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and
+exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe. In the art
+of encouraging attentions of this sort no one excels the cottage
+women; the stories they will relate, with the smallest details
+inserted in the right place, are something marvellous. At first you
+would exclaim with the deepest commiseration, such a case of
+suffering and privation as this cannot possibly be equalled by any
+in the parish; but calling at the next cottage, you are presented
+with a yet more moving relation, till you find the whole population
+are plunged in misery and afflicted with incredible troubles. They
+cannot, surely, be the same folk that work so sturdily at harvest.
+But when the curate has administered words of consolation and
+dropped the small silver dole in the palm, when his shovel-hat and
+black frock-coat tails have disappeared round the corner of the
+copse, then in a single second he drops utterly out of mind. No one
+comes to church the more. If inquiries are made why they did not
+come, a hundred excuses are ready; the rain, a bad foot, illness of
+the infant, a cow taken ill and requiring attention, and so on.</p>
+<p>After some months of such experience the curate's spirits
+gradually decline; his belief in human nature is sadly shaken. Men
+who openly oppose, who argue and deny, are comparatively easy to
+deal with; there is the excitement of the battle with evil. But a
+population that listens, and apparently accepts the message, that
+is so thankful for little charities, and always civil, and yet
+turns away utterly indifferent, what is to be done with it? Might
+not the message nearly as well be taken to the cow at her crib, or
+the horse at his manger? They, too, would receive a wisp of sweet
+hay willingly from the hand.</p>
+<p>But the more bitter the experience, the harder the trial, the
+more conscientiously the curate proceeds upon his duty, struggling
+bravely through the mire. He adds another mile to his daily
+journey: he denies himself some further innocent recreation. The
+cottages in the open fields are comparatively pleasant to visit,
+the sweet fresh air carries away effluvia. Those that are so
+curiously crowded together in the village are sinks of foul smell,
+and may be of worse&mdash;places where, if fever come, it takes
+hold and quits not. His superior requests him earnestly to refrain
+awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a
+holiday&mdash;even orders him to desist from overmuch labour. The
+man's mind is in it, and he cannot obey. What is the result?</p>
+<p>Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance
+be strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people
+on the one side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats
+are passing to and fro. A bath-chair approaches, and a young man
+clad in black gets out of it, where some friendly iron railings
+afford him a support for his hand. There, step by step, leaning
+heavily on the rails, he essays to walk as a child. The sockets of
+his joints yield beneath him, the limbs are loose, the ankle twists
+aside; each step is an enterprise, and to gain a yard a task. Thus
+day by day the convalescent strives to accustom the sinews to their
+work. It is a painful spectacle; how different, how strangely
+altered, from the upright frame and the swift stride that struggled
+through the miry lane, perhaps even then bearing the seeds of
+disease imbibed in some foul village den, where duty called
+him!</p>
+<p>His wan, white face seems featureless; there is nothing but a
+pair of deep-set eyes. But as you pass, and momentarily catch their
+glance, they are bright and burning still with living faith.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap16" id="chap16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h3>
+<h3>THE SOLICITOR</h3>
+In glancing along the street of a country town, a house may
+sometimes be observed of a different and superior description to
+the general row of buildings. It is larger, rises higher, and
+altogether occupies more space. The fa&ccedil;ade is stylish, in
+architectural fashion of half a century since. To the modern eye it
+may not perhaps look so interesting as the true old gabled roofs
+which seem so thoroughly English, nor, on the other hand, so bright
+and cheerful as the modern suburban villa. But it is substantial
+and roomy within. The weather has given the front a sombre hue, and
+the windows are dingy, as if they rarely or never knew the care of
+a housemaid. On the ground floor the windows that would otherwise
+look on to the street are blocked to almost half their height with
+a wire blind so closely woven that no one can see in, and it is not
+easy to see out. The doorway is large, with stone steps and
+porch&mdash;the doorway of a gentleman's house. There is business
+close at hand&mdash;shops and inns, and all the usual offices of a
+town&mdash;but, though in the midst, this house wears an air of
+separation from the rest of the street.
+<p>When it was built&mdash;say fifty years ago, or more&mdash;it
+was, in fact, the dwelling-house of an independent gentleman.
+Similar houses may be found in other parts of the place, once
+inhabited by retired and wealthy people. Such persons no longer
+live in towns of this kind&mdash;they build villas with lawns and
+pleasure grounds outside in the environs, or, though still
+retaining their pecuniary interest, reside at a distance. Like
+large cities, country towns are now almost given over to offices,
+shops, workshops, and hotels. Those who have made money get away
+from the streets as quickly as possible. Upon approaching nearer to
+this particular building the street door will be found to be wide
+open to the public, and, if you venture still closer, a name may be
+seen painted in black letters upon the side of the passage wall,
+after the manner of the brokers in the courts off Throgmorton
+Street, or of the lawyers in the Temple. It is, in fact, the office
+of a country solicitor&mdash;most emphatically one of Hodge's many
+masters&mdash;and is admirably suited for his purpose, on account
+of its roomy interior.</p>
+<p>The first door within opens on the clerks' room, and should you
+modestly knock on the panels instead of at once turning the handle,
+a voice will invite you to 'Come in.' Half of the room is
+partitioned off for the clerks, who sit at a long high desk, with a
+low railing or screen in front of them. Before the senior is a
+brass rail, along which he can, if he chooses, draw a red curtain.
+He is too hard at work and intent upon some manuscript to so much
+as raise his head as you enter. But the two younger men, eager for
+a change, look over the screen, and very civilly offer to attend to
+your business. When you have said that you wish to see the head of
+the firm, you naturally imagine that your name will be at once
+shouted up the tube, and that in a minute or two, at farthest, you
+will be ushered into the presence of the principal. In that small
+country town there cannot surely be much work for a lawyer, and a
+visitor must be quite an event. Instead, however, of using the tube
+they turn to the elder clerk, and a whispered conversation takes
+place, of which some broken sentences may be caught&mdash;'He can't
+be disturbed,' 'It's no use,' 'Must wait.' Then the elder clerk
+looks over his brass rail and says he is very sorry, but the
+principal is engaged, the directors of a company are with him, and
+it is quite impossible to say exactly when they will leave. It may
+be ten minutes, or an hour. But if you like to wait (pointing with
+his quill to a chair) your name shall be sent up directly the
+directors leave.</p>
+<p>You glance at the deck, and elect to wait. The older clerk nods
+his head, and instantly resumes his writing. The chair is old and
+hard&mdash;the stuffing compressed by a generation of weary
+suitors; there are two others at equal distances along the wall.
+The only other furniture is a small but solid table, upon which
+stands a brass copying-press. On the mantelpiece there are scales
+for letter-weighing, paper clips full of papers, a county
+Post-office directory, a railway time-table card nailed to the
+wall, and a box of paper-fasteners. Over it is a map, dusty and
+dingy, of some estate laid out for building purposes, with a
+winding stream running through it, roads passing at right angles,
+and the points of the compass indicated in an upper corner.</p>
+<p>On the other side of the room, by the window, a framed
+advertisement hangs against the wall, like a picture, setting forth
+the capital and reserve and the various advantages offered by an
+insurance company, for which the firm are the local agents. Between
+the chairs are two boards fixed to the wall with some kind of hook
+or nail for the suspension of posters and printed bills. These
+boards are covered with such posters, announcing sales by auction,
+farms to be let, houses to be had on lease, shares in a local bank
+or gasworks for sale, and so on, for all of which properties the
+firm are the legal representatives. Though the room is of fair size
+the ceiling is low, as in often the case in old houses, and it has,
+in consequence, become darkened by smoke and dust, therein, after
+awhile, giving a gloomy, oppressive feeling to any one who has
+little else to gaze at. The blind at the window rises far too high
+to allow of looking out, and the ground glass above it was designed
+to prevent the clerks from wasting their time watching the
+passers-by in the street. There is, however, one place where the
+glass is worn and transparent, and every now and then one of the
+two younger clerks mounts on his stool and takes a peep through to
+report to his companion.</p>
+<p>The restraint arising from the presence of a stranger soon wears
+off; the whisper rises to a buzz of talk; they laugh, and pelt each
+other with pellets of paper. The older clerk takes not the least
+heed. He writes steadily on, and never lifts his head from the
+paper&mdash;long hours of labour have dimmed his sight, and he has
+to stoop close over the folio. He may be preparing a brief, he may
+be copying a deposition, or perhaps making a copy of a deed; but
+whatever it is, his whole mind is absorbed and concentrated on his
+pen. There must be no blot, no erasure, no interlineation. The hand
+of the clock moves slowly, and the half-heard talk and jests of the
+junior clerks&mdash;one of whom you suspect of making a pen-and-ink
+sketch of you&mdash;mingle with the ceaseless scrape of the
+senior's pen, and the low buzz of two black flies that circle for
+ever round and round just beneath the grimy ceiling. Occasionally
+noises of the street penetrate; the rumble of loaded waggons, the
+tramp of nailed shoes, or the sharp quick sound of a trotting
+horse's hoofs. Then the junior jumps up and gazes through the
+peephole. The directors are a very long time upstairs. What can
+their business be? Why are there directors at all in little country
+towns?</p>
+<p>Presently there are heavy footsteps in the passage, the door
+slowly opens, and an elderly labourer, hat in hand, peers in. No
+one takes the least notice of him. He leans on his stick and blinks
+his eyes, looking all round the room; then taps with the stick and
+clears his throat&mdash;'Be he in yet?' he asks, with emphasis on
+the 'he.' 'No, he be not in,' replies a junior, mocking the old
+man's accent and grammar. The senior looks up, 'Call at two
+o'clock, the deed is not ready,' and down goes his head again. 'A
+main bit o' bother about this yer margidge' (mortgage), the
+labourer remarks, as he turns to go out, not without a complacent
+smile on his features for the law's delays seem to him grand, and
+he feels important. He has a little property&mdash;a cottage and
+garden&mdash;upon which he is raising a small sum for some purpose,
+and this 'margidge' is one of the great events of his life. He
+talked about it for two or three years before he ventured to begin
+it; he has been weeks making up his mind exactly what to do after
+his first interview with the solicitor&mdash;he would have been
+months had not the solicitor at last made it plain that he could
+waste no more time&mdash;and when it is finally completed he will
+talk about it again to the end of his days. He will be in and out
+asking for 'he' all day long at intervals, and when the interview
+takes place it will be only for the purpose of having everything
+already settled explained over to him for the fiftieth time. His
+heavy shoes drag slowly down the passage&mdash;he will go to the
+street corner and talk with the carters who come in, and the old
+women, with their baskets, a-shopping, about 'this yer law
+job.'</p>
+<p>There is a swifter step on the lead-covered staircase, and a
+clerk appears, coming from the upper rooms. He has a telegram and a
+letter in one hand, and a bundle of papers in the other. He shows
+the telegram and the letter to his fellow clerks&mdash;even the
+grave senior just glances at the contents silently, elevates his
+eyebrows, and returns to his work. After a few minutes' talk and a
+jest or two the clerk rushes upstairs again.</p>
+<p>Another caller comes. It is a stout, florid man, a young farmer
+or farmer's son, riding-whip in hand, who produces a red-bound
+rate-book from a pocket in his coat made on purpose to hold the
+unwieldy volume. He is a rate-collector for his parish, and has
+called about some technicalities. The grave senior clerk examines
+the book, but cannot solve the difficulties pointed out by the
+collector, and, placing it on one side, recommends the inquirer to
+call in two hours' time. Steps again on the stairs, and another
+clerk comes down leisurely, and after him still another. Their only
+business is to exchange a few words with their friends, for
+pastime, and they go up again.</p>
+<p>As the morning draws on, the callers become more numerous, and
+it is easy to tell the positions they occupy by the degree of
+attention they receive from the clerks. A tradesman calls three or
+four times, with short intervals between&mdash;he runs over from
+his shop; the two juniors do not trouble to so much as look over
+the screen, and barely take the trouble to answer the anxious
+inquiry if the principal is yet disengaged. They know, perhaps, too
+much about his bills and the state of his credit. A builder looks
+in&mdash;the juniors are tolerably civil and explain to him that it
+is no use calling for yet another hour at least. The builder
+consults his watch, and decides to see the chief clerk (who is
+himself an attorney, having passed the examination), and is
+forthwith conducted upstairs. A burly farmer appears, and the grave
+senior puts his head up to answer, and expresses his sorrow that
+the principal is so occupied. The burly farmer, however, who is
+evidently a man of substance, thinks that the chief clerk can also
+do what he wants, and he, too, is ushered upstairs. Another farmer
+enters&mdash;a rather rougher-looking man&mdash;and, without saying
+a word, turns to the advertisement boards on which the posters of
+farms to be let, &amp;c., are displayed. These he examines with the
+greatest care, pointing with his forefinger as he slowly reads, and
+muttering to himself. Presently he moves to go. 'Anything to suit
+you, sir?' asks the senior clerk. 'Aw, no; I knows they be too much
+money,' he replies, and walks out.</p>
+<p>A gentleman next enters, and immediately the juniors sink out of
+sight, and scribble away with eager application; the senior puts
+down his pen and comes out from his desk. It is a squire and
+magistrate. The senior respectfully apologises for his employer
+being so occupied. The gentleman seems a little impatient. The
+clerk rubs his hands together deprecatingly, and makes a desperate
+venture. He goes upstairs, and in a few minutes returns; the papers
+are not ready, but shall be sent over that evening in any case.
+With this even the squire must fain be satisfied and depart. The
+burly farmer and the builder come downstairs together amicably
+chatting, and after them the chief clerk himself. Though young, he
+has already an expression of decision upon his features, an air of
+business about him; in fact, were he not thoroughly up to his work
+he would not remain in that office long. To hold that place is a
+guarantee of ability. He has a bundle of cheques, drafts, &amp;c.,
+in his hand, and after a few words with the grave senior at the
+desk, strolls across to the bank.</p>
+<p>No sooner has the door closed behind him than a shoal of clerks
+come tripping down on tip-toe, and others appear from the back of
+the house. They make use of the opportunity for a little gossip.
+Voices are heard in the passage, and an aged and infirm labouring
+man is helped in by a woman and a younger man. The clerks take no
+notice, and the poor old follow props himself against the wall, not
+daring to take a chair. He is a witness. He can neither read nor
+write, but he can recollect 'thuck ould tree,' and can depose to a
+fact worth perhaps hundreds of pounds. He has come in to be
+examined; he will be driven in a week or two's time from the
+village to the railway station in a fly, and will talk about it and
+his visit to London till the lamp of life dies out.</p>
+<p>A footman calls with a note, a groom brings another, the letters
+are carelessly cast aside, till one of the juniors, who has been
+watching from the peephole, reports that the chief clerk is coming,
+and everybody scuttles back to his place. Callers come still more
+thickly; another solicitor, well-to-do, and treated with the utmost
+deference; more tradesmen; farmers; two or three auctioneers, in
+quick succession; the well-brushed editor of a local paper; a
+second attorney, none too well dressed, with scrubby chin and face
+suspiciously cloudy, with an odour of spirits and water and tobacco
+clinging to his rusty coat. He belongs to a disappearing type of
+country lawyer, and is the wreck, perhaps, of high hopes and good
+opportunities. Yet, wreck as he is, when he gets up at the Petty
+Sessions to defend some labourer, the bench of magistrates listen
+to his maundering argument as deferentially as if he were a Q.C.
+They pity him, and they respect his cloth. The scrubby attorney
+whistles a tune, and utters an oath when he learns the principal is
+engaged. Then he marches out, with his hat on one side of his head,
+to take another 'refresher.'</p>
+<p>Two telegrams arrive, and are thrown aside; then a gentleman
+appears, whom the senior goes out to meet with an air of deference,
+and whom he actually conducts himself upstairs to the principal's
+room. It is a local banker, who is thus admitted to the directors'
+consultation. The slow hand of the clock goes round, and, sitting
+wearily on the hard chair, you wonder if ever it will be possible
+to see this much-sought man. By-and-by a door opens above, there is
+a great sound of voices and chatting, and half a dozen
+gentlemen&mdash;mostly landed proprietors from their
+appearance&mdash;come downstairs. They are the directors, and the
+consultation is over. The senior clerk immediately goes to the
+principal, and shortly afterwards reappears and asks you to come
+up.</p>
+<p>As you mount the lead-covered stairs you glance down and observe
+the anxious tradesman, the ancient labourer, and several others who
+have crowded in, all eyeing you with jealous glances. But the
+senior is holding the door open&mdash;you enter, and it closes
+noiselessly behind you. A hand with a pen in it points to a chair,
+with a muttered 'Pardon&mdash;half a moment' and while the
+solicitor just jots down his notes you can glance round the
+apartment. Shelves of calf-bound law books; piles of japanned
+deed-boxes, some marked in white letters 'Trustees of,' or
+'Executors of' and pigeon-holes full of papers seem to quite hide
+the walls. The floor is covered with some material noiseless to
+walk on (the door, too, is double, to exclude noise and draught);
+the furniture is solid and valuable; the arm-chair you occupy
+capacious and luxurious. On the wall hangs a section of the
+Ordnance map of the district. But the large table, which almost
+fills the centre of the room, quickly draws the attention from
+everything else.</p>
+<p>It is on that table that all the business is done; all the
+energies of the place are controlled and directed from thence. At
+the first glance it appears to support a more chaotic mass of
+papers. They completely conceal it, except just at the edge.
+Bundles of letters tied with thin red tape, letters loose, letters
+unopened; parchment deeds with the seals and signature just
+visible; deeds with the top and the words, 'This indenture,' alone
+glowing out from the confusion; deeds neatly folded; broad
+manuscript briefs; papers fastened with brass fasteners; papers
+hastily pinned together; old newspapers marked and underlined in
+red ink; a large sectional map, half unrolled and hanging over the
+edge; a small deed-box, the lid open, and full of blue paper in
+oblong strips; a tall porcupine-quill pen sticking up like a
+spire; pocket-books; books open; books with half a dozen papers in
+them for markers; altogether an utter chaos. But the confusion is
+only apparent; the master mind knows the exact position of every
+document, and can lay his hand on it the moment it is wanted.</p>
+<p>The business is such that even the master mind can barely keep
+pace with it. This great house can hardly contain it; all the
+clerks we saw rushing about cannot get through the work, and much
+of the mechanical copying or engrossing goes to London to be done.
+The entire round of country life comes here. The rolling hills
+where the shepherd watches his flock, the broad plains where the
+ploughman guides the share, the pleasant meadows where the roan
+cattle chew the cud, the extensive parks, the shady woods, sweet
+streams, and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle, all have their
+written counterpart in those japanned deed-boxes. Solid as is the
+land over which Hodge walks stolid and slow, these mere written
+words on parchment are the masters of it all. The squire comes here
+about intricate concerns of family settlements which in their
+sphere are as hard to arrange as the diplomatic transactions of
+Governments. He comes about his tenants and his rent; he comes to
+get new tenants.</p>
+<p>The tenants resort to the solicitor for farms, for improvements,
+reductions, leases, to negotiate advances, to insure for the
+various affairs of life. The clergyman comes on questions that
+arise out of his benefice, the churchyard, ecclesiastical
+privileges, the schools, and about his own private property. The
+labourer comes about his cottage and garden&mdash;an estate as
+important to him as his three thousand acres to the squire&mdash;or
+as a witness. The tradesman, the builder, the banker come for
+financial as well as legal objects. As the town develops, and plots
+are needed for houses and streets, the resort to the solicitor
+increases tenfold. Companies are formed and require his advice.
+Local government needs his assistance. He may sit in an official
+position in the County Court, or at the bench of the Petty
+Sessions. Law suits&mdash;locally great&mdash; are carried through
+in the upper Courts of the metropolis; the counsel's name appears
+in the papers, but it is the country solicitor who has prepared
+everything for him, and who has marshalled that regiment of
+witnesses from remote hamlets of the earth. His widening circle of
+landlord clients have each their attendant circles of tenants, who
+feel confidence in their leader's legal adviser. Parochial officers
+come to him; overseer, rate-collector, church warden, tithing-man.
+The all-important work of registering voters fills up the space
+between one election and another. At the election his offices are
+like the head-quarters of an army. He may represent some ancient
+college, or corporation with lands of vast extent. Ladies with a
+little capital go home content when he has invested their money in
+mortgage of real property. Still the work goes on increasing;
+additional clerks have to be employed; a fresh wing has to be built
+to the old house. He has, too, his social duties; he is, perhaps,
+the head or mainspring of a church movement&mdash;this is not for
+profit, but from conviction. His lady is carried to and fro in the
+brougham, making social visits. He promotes athletic clubs,
+reading-rooms, shows, exhibitions. He is eagerly seized upon by
+promoters of all kinds, because he possesses the gift of
+organisation. It becomes a labour merely to catalogue his
+engagements like this. Let the rain rain, or the sun shine, the pen
+never stays work.</p>
+<p>Personally he is the very antithesis is of what might be
+predicated of the slow, comfortable, old-fashioned lawyer. He is in
+the prime of life, physically full of vigour, mentally persevering
+with untiring perseverance, the embodiment of energy, ever anxious
+to act, to do rather than to delay. As you talk with him you find
+his leading idea seems to be to arrange your own half-formed views
+for you; in short, to show you what you really do want, to put your
+desire into shape. He interprets you. Many of the clients who come
+to him are the most impracticable men in the world. A farmer, for
+instance, with a little money, is in search of a farm. Find him
+twenty farms just the size for his capital, he will visit them all
+and discover a fault in each, and waver and waver till the proper
+season for entering on possession is past. The great problem with
+country people is how to bring them to the point. You may think you
+have got all your witnesses ready for the train for London, and, as
+the bell rings, find that one has slipped away half a mile to talk
+with the blacksmith about the shoeing of his mare. Even the squire
+is trying when, he talks of this or that settlement. Of course, as
+he is educated, no lengthy and oft-repeated explanations are
+needed; but the squire forgets that time is valuable, and lingers
+merely to chat. He has so much time to spare, he is apt to overlook
+that the solicitor has none. The clergyman will talk, talk, talk in
+rounded periods, and nothing will stop him; very often he drives
+his wife in with him from the village, and the wife must have her
+say. As for Hodge and his mortgage, ten years would not suffice for
+his business, were he allowed to wander on. The problem is to bring
+these impracticable people to the point with perfect courtesy. As
+you talk with him yourself, you feel tempted to prolong the
+interview&mdash;so lucid an intellect exercises an indefinable
+charm.</p>
+<p>Keen and shrewd as he is, the solicitor has a kindly reputation.
+Men say that he is slow to press them, that he makes allowances for
+circumstances; that if the tenant is honestly willing to discharge
+his obligation he need fear no arbitrary selling up. But he is
+equally reputed swift of punishment upon those who would take
+shelter behind more shallow pretence, or attempt downright deceit.
+Let a man only be straightforward, and the solicitor will wait
+rather than put the law in force. Therefore, he is popular, and
+people have faith in him. But the labour, the incessant
+supervision, the jotting down of notes, the ceaseless interviews,
+the arguments, the correspondence, the work that is never finished
+when night comes, tell even upon that physical vigour and mental
+elasticity. Hodge sleeps sound and sees the days go by with calm
+complacency. The man who holds that solid earth, as it were, in the
+japanned boxes finds a nervous feeling growing upon him despite his
+strength of will. Presently nature will have her way; and, weary
+and hungry for fresh air, he rushes off for awhile to distant
+trout-stream, moor, or stubble.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap17" id="chap17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h3>
+<h3>'COUNTY-COURT DAY'</h3>
+The monthly sitting of the County Court in a country market town is
+an event of much interest in all the villages around, so many of
+the causes concerning agricultural people. 'County-Court Day' is
+looked upon as a date in the calendar by which to recollect when a
+thing happened, or to arrange for the future.
+<p>As the visitor enters the doorway of the Court, at a distance
+the scene appears imposing. Brass railings and red curtains
+partition off about a third of the hall, and immediately in the
+rear of this the Judge sits high above the rest on a raised and
+carpeted dais. The elevation and isolation of the central figure
+adds a solemn dignity to his office. His features set, as it were,
+in the wig, stand out in sharp relief&mdash;they are of a keenly
+intellectual cast, and have something of the precise clearness of
+an antique cameo. The expression is that of a mind in continuous
+exercise&mdash;of a mind accustomed not to slow but to quick
+deliberation, and to instant decision. The definition of the face
+gives the eyes the aspect of penetration, as if they saw at once
+beneath the surface of things.</p>
+<p>If the visitor looks only at the Judge he will realise the
+dignity of the law; the law which is the outcome and result of so
+many centuries of thought. But if he glances aside from the central
+figure the impression is weakened by the miserable, hollow, and
+dingy framing. The carpet upon the da&iuml;s and the red curtains
+before it ill conceal the paltry substructure. It is composed of
+several large tables, heavy and shapeless as benches, placed side
+by side to form a platform. The curtains are dingy and threadbare
+the walls dingy; the ceiling, though lofty, dingy; the boxes on
+either side for Plaintiff and Defendant are scratched and defaced
+by the innumerable witnesses who have blundered into them, kicking
+their shoes against the woodwork. The entire apparatus is movable,
+and can be taken to pieces in ten minutes, or part of it employed
+for meetings of any description. There is nothing appropriate or
+convenient; it is a makeshift, and altogether unequal to the
+pretensions of a Court now perhaps the most useful and most
+resorted to of any that sit in the country.</p>
+<p>Quarter sessions and assizes come only at long intervals, are
+held only in particular time-honoured places, and take cognisance
+only of very serious offences which happily are not numerous. The
+County Court at the present day has had its jurisdiction so
+enlarged that it is really, in country districts, the leading
+tribunal, and the one best adapted to modern wants, because its
+procedure is to a great extent free from obsolete forms and
+technicalities. The Plaintiff and the Defendant literally face
+their Judge, practically converse with him, and can tell their
+story in their own simple and natural way. It is a fact that the
+importance and usefulness of the country County Court has in most
+places far outgrown the arrangements made for it. The Judges may
+with reason complain that while their duties have been enormously
+added to, their convenience has not been equally studied, nor their
+salaries correspondingly increased.</p>
+<p>In front, and below the Judge's desk, just outside the red
+curtain, is a long and broad table, at which the High Bailiff sits
+facing the hall. By his side the Registrar's clerk from time to
+time makes notes in a ponderous volume which contains a minute and
+exact record of every claim. Opposite, and at each end, the lawyers
+have their chairs and strew the table with their papers.</p>
+<p>As a rule a higher class of lawyers appear in the County Court
+than before the Petty Sessional Bench. A local solicitor of ability
+no sooner gets a 'conveyancing' practice than he finds his time too
+valuable to be spent arguing in cases of assault or petty larceny.
+He ceases to attend the Petty Sessions, unless his private clients
+are interested or some exceptional circumstances induce him. In the
+County Court cases often arise which concern property, houses and
+lands, and the fulfilment of contracts. Some of the very best
+lawyers of the district may consequently be seen at that table, and
+frequently a barrister or two of standing specially retained is
+among them.</p>
+<p>A low wooden partition, crossing the entire width of the hall,
+separates the 'bar' from the general public, Plaintiff and
+Defendant being admitted through a gangway. As the hall is not
+carpeted, nor covered with any material, a new-comer must walk on
+tip-toe to avoid raising the echo of hollow boards, or run the risk
+of a reproof from the Judge, anxiously endeavouring to catch the
+accents of a mumbling witness. Groups of people stand near the
+windows whispering, and occasionally forgetting, in the eagerness
+of the argument, that talking is prohibited. The room is already
+full, but will be crowded when the 'horse case' comes on again.
+Nothing is of so much interest as a 'horse case.' The issues raised
+concern almost every countryman, and the parties are generally well
+known. All the idlers of the town are here, and among them many a
+rascal who has been, through the processes, and comes again to
+listen and possibly learn a dodge by which to delay the execution
+of judgment. Some few of the more favoured and respectable persons
+have obtained entrance to the space allotted to the solicitors, and
+have planted themselves in a solid circle round the fire,
+effectually preventing the heat from benefiting anyone else.
+Another fire, carefully tended by a bailiff, burns in the grate
+behind the Judge, but, as his seat is so far from it, without
+adding much to his comfort. A chilly draught sweeps along the
+floor, and yet at the same time there is a close and somewhat fetid
+atmosphere at the height at which men breathe. The place is ill
+warmed and worse ventilated; altogether without convenience, and
+comfortless.</p>
+<p>To-day the Judge, to suit the convenience of the solicitors
+engaged in the 'horse case,' who have requested permission to
+consult in private, has asked for a short defended cause to fill up
+the interval till they are ready to resume. The High Bailiff calls
+'Brown <i>v</i>. Jones,' claim 8<i>s</i>. for goods supplied. No
+one at first answers, but after several calls a woman in the body
+of the Court comes forward. She is partly deaf, and until nudged by
+her neighbours did not hear her husband's name. The Plaintiff is a
+small village dealer in tobacco, snuff, coarse groceries, candles,
+and so on. His wife looks after the little shop and he works with
+horse and cart, hauling and doing odd jobs for the farmers. Instead
+of attending himself he has sent his wife to conduct the case. The
+Defendant is a labourer living in the same village, who, like so
+many of his class, has got into debt. He, too, has sent his wife to
+represent him. This is the usual course of the cottagers, and of
+agricultural people who are better off than cottagers. The men
+shirk out of difficulties of this kind by going off in the morning
+early to their work with the parting remark, 'Aw, you'd better see
+about it; I don't knaw nothing about such jobs.'</p>
+<p>The High Bailiff has no easy task to swear the Plaintiff's
+representative. First, she takes the book and kisses it before the
+formula prescribed has been repeated. Then she waits till the
+sentence is finished and lifts the book with the left hand instead
+of the right. The Registrar's clerk has to go across to the box and
+shout an explanation into her ear. 'Tell the truth,' says the old
+lady, with alacrity; 'why, that's what I be come for.' The Judge
+asks her what it is she claims, and she replies that that man, the
+Registrar's clerk, has got it all written down in his book. She
+then turns to the Defendant's wife, who stands in the box opposite,
+and shouts to her, 'You knows you ain't paid it.'</p>
+<p>It is in vain that the Judge endeavours to question her, in vain
+that the High Bailiff tries to calm her, in vain that the clerk
+lays his hand on her arm&mdash;she is bent on telling the Defendant
+a bit of her mind. The Court is perforce compelled to wait till it
+is over, when the Judge, seeing that talking is of no avail, goes
+at once to the root of the matter and asks to see her books. A
+dirty account-book, such as may be purchased for threepence, is
+handed up to him; the binding is broken, and some of the leaves are
+loose. It is neither a day-book, a ledger, nor anything
+else&mdash;there is no system whatever, and indeed the Plaintiff
+admits that she only put down about half of it, and trusted to
+memory for the rest. Here is a date, and after it some figures, but
+no articles mentioned, neither tea nor candles. Next come some
+groceries, and the price, but no one's name, so that it is
+impossible to tell who had the goods. Then there are pages with
+mysterious dots and strokes and half-strokes, which ultimately turn
+out to mean ounces and half-ounces of tobacco. These have neither
+name nor value attached. From end to end nothing is crossed off, so
+that whether an account be paid or not cannot be ascertained.</p>
+<p>While the Judge laboriously examines every page, trying by the
+light of former experience to arrive at some idea of the meaning,
+the Defendant's wife takes up her parable. She chatters in return
+at the Plaintiff, then she addresses the High Bailiff, who orders
+her to remain quiet, and, finally, turns round and speaks to the
+crowd. The Judge, absorbed in the attempt to master the
+account-book, does not for the moment notice this, till, as he
+comes to the conclusion that the book is utterly valueless, he
+looks up and finds the Defendant with her back turned gesticulating
+and describing her wrongs to the audience. Even his command of
+silence is with reluctance obeyed, and she continues to mutter to
+herself. When order is restored the Judge asks for her defence,
+when the woman immediately produces a receipt, purporting to be for
+this very eight shillings' worth. At the sight of this torn and
+dirty piece of paper the Plaintiff works herself into a fury, and
+speaks so fast and so loud (as deaf people will) that no one else
+can be heard. Till she is made to understand that she will be sent
+out of Court she does not desist. The Judge looks at the receipt,
+and finds it correct; but still the Plaintiff positively declares
+that she has never had the money. Yet she admits that the receipt
+is in her handwriting. The Judge asks the Defendant who paid over
+the cash, and she replies that it was her husband. The account-book
+contains no memorandum of any payment at all. With difficulty the
+Judge again obtains silence, and once more endeavours to understand
+a page of the account-book to which the Plaintiff persists in
+pointing. His idea is now to identify the various articles
+mentioned in the receipt with the articles put down on that
+particular page.</p>
+<p>After at least three-quarters of an hour, during which the book
+is handed to and fro by the clerk from Judge to Plaintiff, that she
+may explain the meaning of the hieroglyphics, some light at last
+begins to dawn. By dint of patiently separating the mixed entries
+the Judge presently arrives at a partial comprehension of what the
+Plaintiff has been trying to convey. The amount of the receipted
+bill and the amount of the entries in the page of the account-book
+are the same; but the articles entered in the book and those
+admitted to be paid for are not. The receipt mentions candles; the
+account-book has no candles. Clearly they are two different debts,
+which chanced to come to the same figure. The receipt, however, is
+not dated, and whether it is the Defendant who is wilfully
+misrepresenting, or whether the Plaintiff is under a mistaken
+notion, the Judge for the time cannot decide. The Defendant
+declares that she does not know the date and cannot fix it&mdash;it
+was a 'main bit ago,' and that is all she can say.</p>
+<p>For the third time the Judge, patient to the last degree, wades
+through the account-book. Meanwhile the hands of the clock have
+moved on. Instead of being a short case, this apparently simple
+matter has proved a long one, and already as the afternoon advances
+the light of the dull winter's day declines. The solicitors engaged
+in the 'horse case,' who retired to consult, hoping to come to a
+settlement, returned into Court fully an hour ago, and have since
+been sitting at the table waiting to resume. Besides these some
+four or five other lawyers of equal standing are anxiously looking
+for a chance of commencing their business. All their clients are
+waiting, and the witnesses; they have all crowded into the Court,
+the close atmosphere of which is almost intolerable.</p>
+<p>But having begun the case the Judge gives it his full and
+undivided attention. Solicitors, clients, witnesses, cases that
+interest the public, causes that concern valuable property, or
+important contracts must all be put aside till this trifling matter
+is settled. He is as anxious as any, or more so, to get on, because
+delay causes business to accumulate&mdash;the adjourned causes, of
+course, having to be heard at next Court, and thus swelling the
+list to an inordinate length. But, impatient as he may be,
+especially as he is convinced that one or other of the parties is
+keeping back a part of the truth, he is determined that the subject
+shall be searched to the bottom. The petty village shopkeeper and
+the humble cottager obtain as full or fuller attention than the
+well-to-do Plaintiffs and Defendants who can bring down barristers
+from London.</p>
+<p>'What have you there?' the Registrar's clerk demands of the
+Plaintiff presently. She has been searching in her pocket for a
+snuff-box wherewith to refresh herself, and, unable to immediately
+discover it, has emptied the contents of the pocket on the ledge of
+the witness-box. Among the rest is another little account-book.</p>
+<p>'Let me see that,' demands the Judge, rather sharply, and no
+wonder. 'Why did you not produce it before?'</p>
+<p>'Aw, he be last year's un; some of it be two years ago,' is the
+reply.</p>
+<p>Another long pause. The Judge silently examines every page of
+the account-book two years old. Suddenly he looks up. 'This
+receipt,' he says, 'was given for an account rendered eighteen
+months ago. Here in this older book are the entries corresponding
+with it. The present claim is for a second series of articles which
+happened to come to the same amount, and the Defendant, finding
+that the receipt was not dated, has endeavoured to make it do duty
+for the two.'</p>
+<p>'I tould you so,' interrupts the Plaintiff. 'I tould you so, but
+you wouldn't listen to I.'</p>
+<p>The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit
+the Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws
+down his pen and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask
+the High Bailiff if there are any other judgments out against the
+Defendant. So many years' experience of the drifts, subterfuges,
+paltry misrepresentations and suppressions&mdash;all the mean and
+despicable side of poor humanity&mdash;have indeed wearied him,
+but, at the same time, taught forbearance. He hesitates to be
+angry, and delays to punish. The people are poor, exceedingly poor.
+The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they are
+ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in
+better circumstances. There are two other judgments against the
+Defendant, who is earning about 12s. a week, and the verdict is 1s.
+a month, first payment that day three weeks.</p>
+<p>Then the solicitor for the Plaintiff in the 'horse case' rises
+and informs the Judge that the parties cannot settle it, and the
+case must proceed. The Plaintiff and Defendant take their places,
+and some thirty witnesses file through the gangway to the
+witness-room to be out of Court. The bailiffs light the gas as the
+gloom deepens, and the solicitor begins his opening speech. The
+Judge has leant back in his chair, closed his eyes, and composed
+himself to listen. By the time two witnesses have been examined the
+hour has arrived when the Judge can sit no longer. He must leave,
+because on the morrow he has to hold a Court in another part of the
+county. The important 'horse case' and the other causes must wait a
+month.. He sits to the very last moment, then hastily stuffs deeds,
+documents, papers of all descriptions into a portmanteau already
+overflowing, and rushes to his carriage.</p>
+<p>He will go through much the same work to-morrow; combating the
+irritating misrepresentations, exposing suppressors, discovering
+the truth under a mountain of crass stupidity and wilful deceit.
+Next day he will be again at work; and the same process will go on
+the following week. In the month there are perhaps about five
+days&mdash;exclusive of Sundays&mdash;upon which he does not sit.
+But those days are not holidays. They are spent in patiently
+reading a mass of deeds, indentures, contracts, vouchers,
+affidavits, evidence of every description and of the most
+voluminous character. These have been put in by solicitors, as part
+of their cases, and require the most careful attention. Besides
+causes that are actually argued out in open Court, there are others
+which, by consent of both parties, are placed in his hands as
+arbitrator. Many involve nice points of law, and require a written
+judgment in well-chosen words.</p>
+<p>The work of the County Court Judge at the present day is simply
+enormous; it is ceaseless and never finished, and it demands a
+patience which nothing can ruffle. No matter how much falsehood may
+annoy him, a Judge with arbitrary power entrusted to him must not
+permit indignation alone to govern his decision. He must make
+allowances for all.</p>
+<p>For the County Court in country districts has become a tribunal
+whose decisions enter, as it were, into the very life of the
+people. It is not concerned with a few important cases only; it has
+to arrange and finally settle what are really household affairs.
+Take any village, and make inquiries how many householders there
+are who have not at one time or other come under the jurisdiction
+of the County Court? Either as Plaintiff, or Defendant, or as
+witness, almost every one has had such experience, and those who
+have not have been threatened with it. Beside those defended cases
+that come before the Judge, there are hundreds upon hundreds of
+petty claims, to which no defence is offered, and which are
+adjudicated upon by the Registrar at the same time that the Judge
+hears the defended causes.</p>
+<p>The labourer, like so many farmers in a different way, lives on
+credit and is perpetually in debt. He purchases his weekly goods on
+the security of hoeing, harvest, or piece work, and his wages are
+continually absorbed in payment of instalments, just as the
+tenant-farmer's income is too often absorbed in the payment of
+interest and instalments of his loans. No one seems ever to pay
+without at least a threat of the County Court, which thus occupies
+a position like a firm appointed to perpetually liquidate a vast
+estate. It is for ever collecting shillings and half-crowns.</p>
+<p>This is one aspect of the County Court; the other is its
+position with respect to property. It is the great arbitrator of
+property&mdash;of houses and land, and deeds and contracts. Of
+recent years the number of the owners of land has immensely
+increased&mdash;that is, of small pieces&mdash;and the litigation
+has correspondingly grown. There is enough work for a man of high
+legal ability in settling causes of this character alone, without
+any 'horse case' with thirty witnesses, or any dispute that
+involves the conflict of personal testimony.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap18" id="chap18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER</h3>
+The most imposing building in a certain country market town is the
+old Bank, so called familiarly to distinguish it from the new one.
+The premises of the old Bank would be quite unapproached in
+grandeur, locally, were it not for the enterprise of the new
+establishment. Nothing could be finer than the fa&ccedil;ade of the
+old Bank, which stands out clear and elegant in its fresh paint
+among the somewhat dingy houses and shops of the main street. It is
+rather larger in size, more lofty, and has the advantage of being a
+few yards nearer to the railway station. But the rival institution
+runs it very close. It occupies a corner on the very verge of the
+market-place&mdash;its door facing the farmer as he concludes his
+deal&mdash;and it is within a minute of the best hotels, where much
+business is done. It is equally white and clean with fresh paint,
+and equally elegant in design.
+<p>A stranger, upon a nice consideration of the circumstances,
+might find a difficulty in deciding on which to bestow his
+patronage; and perhaps the chief recommendation of the old
+establishment lies in the fact that it is the older of the two. The
+value of antiquity was never better understood than in these modern
+days. Shrewd men of business have observed that the quality of
+being ancient is the foundation of credit. Men believe in that
+which has been long established. Their fathers dealt there, they
+deal themselves, and if a new-comer takes up his residence he is
+advised to do likewise.</p>
+<p>A visitor desirous of looking on the outside, at least of
+country banking, would naturally be conducted to the old Bank. If
+it were an ordinary day, <i>i.e.</i> not a market or fair, he might
+stand on the pavement in front sunning himself without the least
+inconvenience from the passenger traffic. He would see, on glancing
+Up and down the street, one or two aged cottage women going in or
+out of the grocer's, a postman strolling round, and a distant
+policeman at the farthest corner. A sprinkling of boys playing
+marbles at the side of the pavement, and two men loading a waggon
+with sacks of flour from a warehouse, complete the scene as far as
+human life is concerned. There are dogs basking on doorsteps,
+larger dogs rambling with idleness in the slow sway of their tails,
+and overhead black swifts (whose nests are in the roofs of the
+higher houses) dash to and fro, uttering their shrill screech.</p>
+<p>The outer door of the bank is wide open&mdash;fastened
+back&mdash;ostentatiously open, and up the passage another mahogany
+door, closed, bears a polished brazen plate with the word 'Manager'
+engraved upon it. Everything within is large and massive. The swing
+door itself yields with the slow motion of solidity, and unless you
+are agile as it closes in the rear, thrusts you forward like a
+strong gale. The apartment is large and lofty: there is room for a
+crowd, but at present there is no one at the counter. It is long
+enough and broad enough for the business of twenty customers at
+once; so broad that the clerks on the other side are beyond arm's
+reach. But they have shovels with which to push the gold towards
+you, and in a small glass stand is a sponge kept constantly damp,
+across which the cashier draws his finger as he counts the silver,
+the slight moisture enabling him to sort the coin more swiftly.</p>
+<p>The fittings are perfect, as perfect as in a London bank, and
+there is an air of extreme precision. Yonder open drawers are full
+of pass-books; upon the desks and on the broad mantelpiece are
+piles of cheques, not scattered in disorder but arranged in exact
+heaps. The very inkstands are heavy and vast, and you just catch a
+glimpse round the edge of the semi-sentry box which guards the desk
+of the chief cashier, of a ledger so huge that the mind can hardly
+realise the extent of the business which requires such ponderous
+volumes to record it. Then beyond these a glass door, half open,
+apparently leads to the manager's room, for within it is a table
+strewn with papers, and you can see the green-painted iron wall of
+a safe.</p>
+<p>The clerks, like the place, are somewhat imposing; they are in
+no hurry, they allow you time to look round you and imbibe the
+sense of awe which the magnificent mahogany counter and the brazen
+fittings, all the evidences of wealth, are so calculated to
+inspire. The hollow sound of your footstep on the floor does not
+seem heard; the slight 'Ahem!' you utter after you have waited a
+few moments attracts no attention, nor the rustling of your papers.
+The junior clerks are adding up column after column of figures, and
+are totally absorbed; the chief cashier is pondering deeply over a
+letter and annotating it. By-and-by he puts it down, and slowly
+approaches. But after you have gone through the preliminary
+ceremony of waiting, which is an institution of the place, the
+treatment quite changes. Your business is accomplished with
+practised ease, any information you may require is forthcoming on
+the instant, and deft fingers pass you the coin. In brief, the
+whole machinery of banking is here as complete as in Lombard
+Street. The complicated ramifications of commercial transactions
+are as well understood and as closely studied as in the 'City.' No
+matter what your wishes, provided, of course, that your credentials
+are unimpeachable, they will be conducted for you satisfactorily
+and without delay.</p>
+<p>Yet the green meadows are within an arrow shot, and standing on
+the threshold and looking down a cross street you can see the elms
+of the hedgerows closing in the prospect. It is really wonderful
+that such conveniences should he found in so apparently
+insignificant a place. The intelligence and courtesy of the
+officials is most marked. It is clear, upon reflection, that such
+intelligence, such manners, and knowledge not only of business but
+of men (for a banker and a banker's agent has often to judge at a
+moment's notice whether a man be a rogue or honest), cannot be had
+for nothing. They must be paid for, and, in so far at least as the
+heads are concerned, paid liberally. It is known that the old Bank
+has often paid twenty and twenty-five per cent, to its
+shareholders. Where does all this money come from? From Hodge,
+toiling in the field and earning his livelihood in the sweat of his
+brow? One would hardly think so at first, and yet there are no
+great businesses or manufactories here. Somehow or other the money
+that pays for this courtesy and commercial knowledge, for these
+magnificent premises and furniture, that pays the shareholders
+twenty-five per cent., must be drawn from the green meadows, the
+cornfields, and the hills where the sheep feed.</p>
+<p>On an ordinary day the customers that come to the bank's counter
+may be reckoned on the fingers. Early in the morning the
+Post-Office people come for their cash and change; next, some of
+the landlords of the principal inns with their takings; afterwards,
+such of the tradesmen as have cheques to pay in. Later on the
+lawyers' clerks, or the solicitors themselves drop in; in the
+latter case for a chat with the manager. A farmer or two may call,
+especially on a Friday, for the cash to pay the labourers next day,
+and so the morning passes. In the afternoon one or more of the
+local gentry or clergy may drive up or may not&mdash;it is a chance
+either way&mdash;and as the hour draws near for closing some of the
+tradesmen come hurrying in again. Then the day, so far as the
+public are concerned, is over. To-morrow sees the same event
+repeated.</p>
+<p>On a market-day there is a great bustle; men hustle in and out,
+with a bluff disregard of conventional politeness, but with no
+intention of rudeness. Through the open doors comes the lowing of
+cattle, and the baaing of sheep; the farmers and dealers that crowd
+in and out bring with them an odour of animals that exhales from
+their garments. The clerks are now none too many, the long broad
+counter none too large; the resources of the establishment are
+taxed to the utmost. The manager is there in person, attending to
+the more important customers.</p>
+<p>In the crush are many ladies who would find their business
+facilitated by coming on a different day. But market-day is a
+tradition with all classes; even the gentry appear in greater
+numbers. If you go forth into the Market-place you will find it
+thronged with farmers. If you go into the Corn Hall or Exchange,
+where the corndealers have their stands, and where business in
+cereals and seeds is transacted; if you walk across to the auction
+yard for cattle, or to the horse depository, where an auction of
+horses is proceeding; everywhere you have to push your way through
+groups of agriculturists. The hotels are full of them (the
+stable-yards full of their various conveyances), and the
+restaurant, the latest innovation in country towns, is equally
+filled with farmers taking a chop, and the inner rooms with ladies
+discussing coffee and light refreshments.</p>
+<p>Now every farmer of all this crowd has his cheque-book in the
+breast pocket of his coat. Let his business be what it may, the
+purchase of cattle, sheep, horses, or implements, seed, or any
+other necessary, no coin passes. The parties, if the transaction be
+private, adjourn to their favourite inn, and out comes the
+cheque-book. If a purchase be effected at either of the auctions
+proceeding it is paid for by cheque, and, on the other hand, should
+the farmer be the vendor, his money comes to him in the shape of a
+cheque. With the exception of his dinner and the ostler, the farmer
+who comes to market carries on all his transactions with paper. The
+landlord of the hotel takes cash for the dinner, and the ostler
+takes his shilling. For the rest, it is all cheques cheques,
+cheques; so that the whole business of agriculture, from the
+purchase of the seed to the sale of the crop, passes through the
+bank.</p>
+<p>The toll taken by the bank upon such transactions as simple
+buying and selling is practically <i>nil</i>; its profit is
+indirect. But besides the indirect profit there is the direct
+speculation of making advances at high interest, discounting bills,
+and similar business. It might almost be said that the crops are
+really the property of the local banks, so large in the aggregate
+are the advances made upon them. The bank has, in fact, to study
+the seasons, the weather, the probable market prices, the import of
+grain and cattle, and to keep an eye upon the agriculture of the
+world. The harvest and the prices concern it quite as much as the
+actual farmer who tills the soil. In good seasons, with a crop
+above the average, the business of the bank expands in
+corresponding ratio. The manager and directors feel that they can
+advance with confidence; the farmer has the means to pay. In bad
+seasons and with short crops the farmer is more anxious than ever
+to borrow; but the bank is obliged to contract its sphere of
+operations.</p>
+<p>It usually happens that one or more of the directors of a
+country bank are themselves farmers in a large way&mdash;gentlemen
+farmers, but with practical knowledge. They are men whose entire
+lives have been spent in the locality, and who have a very wide
+circle of acquaintances and friends among agriculturists. Their
+forefathers were stationed there before them, and thus there has
+been an accumulation of local knowledge. They not only thoroughly
+understand the soil of the neighbourhood, and can forecast the
+effect of particular seasons with certainty, but they possess an
+intimate knowledge of family history, what farmer is in a bad way,
+who is doubtful, or who has always had a sterling reputation. An
+old-established country bank has almost always one or more such
+confidential advisers. Their assistance is invaluable.</p>
+<p>Since agriculture became in this way, through the adoption of
+banking, so intimately connected with commerce, it has responded,
+like other businesses, to the fluctuations of trade. The value of
+money in Threadneedle Street affects the farmer in an obscure
+hamlet a hundred miles away, whose fathers knew nothing of money
+except as a coin, a token of value, and understood nothing of the
+export or import of gold. The farmer's business is conducted
+through the bank, but, on the other hand, the bank cannot restrict
+its operations to the mere countryside. It is bound up in every
+possible manner with the vast institutions of the metropolis. Its
+private profits depend upon the rate of discount and the tone of
+the money market exactly in the same way as with those vast
+institutions. A difficulty, a crisis there is immediately felt by
+the country bank, whose dealings with its farmer customers are in
+turn affected.</p>
+<p>Thus commerce acts upon agriculture. <i>Per contra</i>, the
+tradesmen of the town who go to the bank every morning would tell
+you with doleful faces that the condition of agriculture acts upon
+trade in a most practical manner. Neither the farmer, nor the
+farmer's wife and family expend nearly so much as they did at their
+shops, and consequently the sums they carry over to the bank are
+much diminished in amount. The local country tradesman probably
+feels the depression of agriculture all but as much as the farmer
+himself. The tradesman is perhaps supported by the bank; if he
+cannot meet his liabilities the bank is compelled to withdraw that
+support.</p>
+<p>Much of this country banking seems to have grown up in very
+recent times. Any elderly farmer out yonder in the noisy market
+would tell you that in his young days when he first did business he
+had to carry coin with him, especially if at a distance from home.
+It was then the custom to attend markets and fairs a long way off,
+such markets being centres where the dealers and drovers brought
+cattle. The dealers would accept nothing but cash; they would not
+have looked at a cheque had such a thing been proffered them. This
+old Bank prides itself upon the reputation it enjoyed, even in
+those days. It had the power of issuing notes, and these notes were
+accepted by such men, even at a great distance, the bank having so
+good a name. They were even preferred to the notes of the Bank of
+England, which at one time, in outlying country places, were looked
+on with distrust, a state of things which seems almost incredible
+to the present generation.</p>
+<p>In those days men had no confidence. That mutual business
+understanding, the credit which is the basis of all commerce of the
+present time, did not exist. Of course this only applies to the
+country and to country trading; the business men of cities were
+years in advance of the agriculturists in this respect. But so good
+was the reputation of the old Bank, even in those times, that its
+notes were readily accepted. It is, indeed, surprising what a
+reputation some of the best of the country banks have achieved.
+Their names are scarcely seen in the money articles of the daily
+press. But they do a solid business of great extent, and their
+names in agricultural circles are names of power. So the old Bank
+here, though within an arrow shot of the green meadows, though on
+ordinary days a single clerk might attend to its customers, has
+really a valuable <i>client&egrave;le.</i></p>
+<p>Of late years shrewd men of business discovered that the ranks
+of the British farmer offered a wonderful opportunity for
+legitimate banking. The farmer, though he may not be rich, must of
+necessity be the manager, if not the actual owner, of considerable
+capital. A man who farms, if only a hundred acres, must have some
+capital. It may not be his own&mdash;it may be borrowed; still he
+has the use of it. Here, then, a wide field opened itself to
+banking enterprise. Certainly there has been a remarkable extension
+of banking institutions in the country. Every market town has its
+bank, and in most cases two&mdash;branches of course, but banks to
+all intents and purposes. Branches are started everywhere.</p>
+<p>The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new.
+It is simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose
+original centre may perhaps be in another county. It is every whit
+as respectable as the other, and as well conducted. Its branch as
+yet lacks local antiquity, but that is the only difference. The
+competition for the farmer's business between these branches,
+scattered all over the length and breadth of the country, must of
+necessity be close. When the branch, or new Bank, came here, it was
+started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the most
+convenient situation that could be secured.</p>
+<p>Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a
+small and dingy basement. The room was narrow, badly lit, and still
+worse ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the
+customers complained of the stuffy atmosphere. The ancient fittings
+had become worn and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the
+conveniences in every way defective. When it was known that a new
+branch was to be opened the directors of the old Bank resolved that
+the building, which had so long been found inadequate, should be
+entirely renovated. They pulled it down, and the present
+magnificent structure took its place.</p>
+<p>Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose
+fa&ccedil;ades could hardly be surpassed in a city. There is
+perhaps a little rivalry between the managers of the two
+institutions, in social as well as in business matters. Being so
+long established there the old Bank numbers among its customers
+some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and
+solicitors. The manager coming into contact with these, and being
+himself a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain
+position. If any public movement is set on foot, the banks strive
+as to which shall be most to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity,
+the old Bank, perhaps, secures a social precedence. Both managers
+belong to the 'carriage people' of the town.</p>
+<p>Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or
+sheep, or jolting in on a waggon. His wife comes, too, on foot,
+through the roughest weather, to fetch her household goods. His
+daughter comes into the hiring fair, and stands waiting for
+employment on the pavement in the same spot used for the purpose
+from time immemorial, within sight of the stately fa&ccedil;ades of
+the banks. He himself has stood in the market-place with reaping
+hook or hoe looking for a master. Humble as he may be, it is clear
+that the wealth in those cellars&mdash;the notes and the gold
+pushed over the counters in shovels&mdash;must somehow come from
+the labour which he and his immediate employer&mdash;the
+farmer&mdash;go through in the field.</p>
+<p>It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or
+shepherd, who desires a new situation, to advertise. Instead of
+waiting for the chance of the hiring fair, he trudges into the
+market town and calls at the office of the oldest established local
+paper. There his wishes are reduced to writing for him, he pays his
+money, and his advertisement appears. If there is an farmer
+advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the same time
+takes the address, and goes over to offer his services. The farmer
+and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the
+medium between them.</p>
+<p>The vitality and influence of the old-fashioned local newspaper
+is indeed a remarkable feature of country life. It would be thought
+that in these days of cheap literature, these papers, charging
+twopence, threepence, and even fourpence per copy, could not
+possibly continue to exist. But, contrary to all expectation, they
+have taken quite a fresh start, and possess a stronger hold than
+ever upon the agricultural population. They enter into the old
+homesteads, and every member of the farmer's family carefully scans
+them, certain of finding a reference to this or that subject or
+person in whom he takes an interest.</p>
+<p>Some such papers practically defy competition. In the outlying
+towns, where no factories have introduced a new element, it is vain
+for the most enterprising to start another. The squire, the
+clergyman, the lawyer, the tenant-farmer, the wayside innkeeper
+stick to the old weekly paper, and nothing can shake it. It is one
+of the institutions of agriculture.</p>
+<p>The office is, perhaps, in a side street of the quiet
+market-town, and there is no display to catch the casual purchaser.
+No mystery surrounds the editor's sanctum; the visitor has but to
+knock, and is at once admitted to his presence. An office could
+scarcely be more plainly furnished. A common table, which has,
+however, one great virtue&mdash;it does not shake when written
+on&mdash;occupies the centre. Upon one side is a large desk or
+bureau; the account-books lying open show that the editor, besides
+his literary labour, has to spend much time in double entry. Two
+chairs are so completely hidden under 'exchanges' that no one can
+sit upon them. Several of these 'exchanges' are from the United
+States or Australia, for the colonists are often more interested
+and concerned about local affairs in the old country than they are
+with the doings in the metropolis. Against the wall, too, hangs a
+picture of a fine steamer careering under sail and steam, and near
+it a coloured sectional map of some new township marked out in
+squares. These are the advertisements of an Atlantic or Australian
+line, or of both; and the editor is their agent. When the young
+ploughman resolves to quit the hamlet for the backwoods of America
+or the sheepwalks of Australia, he comes here to engage his berth.
+When the young farmer wearies of waiting for dead men's
+shoes&mdash;in no other way can he hope to occupy an English
+farm&mdash;he calls here and pays his passage-money, and his broad
+shoulders and willing hands are shipped to a land that will welcome
+him. A single shelf supports a few books, all for reference, such
+as the 'Clergy List,' for the Church is studied, and the slightest
+change that concerns the district carefully recorded.</p>
+<p>Beneath this, the ponderous volumes that contain the file of the
+paper for the last forty years are piled, their weight too great
+for a shelf resting on the floor. The series constitutes a complete
+and authentic local history. People often come from a distance to
+consult it, for it is the only register that affords more than the
+simple entry of birth and death.</p>
+<p>There is a life in the villages and hamlets around, in the
+little places that are not even hamlets, which to the folk who
+dwell in them is fully as important as that of the greatest city.
+Farmhouses are not like the villas of cities and city suburbs. The
+villa has hardly any individuality; it is but one of many, each
+resembling the other, and scarcely separated. To-day one family
+occupies it, tomorrow another, next year perhaps a third, and
+neither of these has any real connection with the place. They are
+sojourners, not inhabitants, drawn thither by business or pleasure;
+they come and go, and leave no mark behind. But the farmhouse has a
+history. The same family have lived in it for, perhaps, a hundred
+years: they have married and intermarried, and become identified
+with the locality. To them all the petty events of village life
+have a meaning and importance: the slow changes that take place and
+are chronicled in the old newspaper have a sad significance, for
+they mark that flux of time which is carrying them, too, onwards to
+their rest.</p>
+<p>These columns of the file, therefore, that to a stranger seem a
+blank, to the old folk and their descendants are like a mirror, in
+which they can see the faces of the loved ones who passed away a
+generation since. They are the archives of the hamlets round about:
+a farmer can find from them when his grandfather quitted the old
+farm, and read an account of the sale. Men who left the village in
+their youth for the distant city or the still more distant
+colonies, as they grow in years often feel an irresistible desire
+to revisit the old, old place. The home they so fondly recollect is
+in other hands, and yet in itself but little changed. A few lines
+in the plainest language found in the file here tell to such a
+greybeard a story that fills his eyes with tears. But even a
+stranger who took the trouble to turn over the folios would now and
+then find matter to interest him: such as curious notes of
+arch&aelig;ological discovery, accounts of local customs now fallen
+into disuse, and traditions of the past. Many of these are worthy
+of collection in more accessible form.</p>
+<p>There is hardly anything else in the room except the waste
+basket under the table. As the visitor enters, a lad goes out with
+a roll of manuscript in his hand, and the editor looks up from his
+monotonous task of proof-reading, for he has that duty also to
+perform. Whatever he is doing, some one is certain to call and
+break off the thread of his thought. The bailiff or farm-steward of
+a neighbouring estate comes in to insert an advertisement of timber
+for sale, or of the auction of the ash-poles annually felled. A
+gamekeeper calls with a notice not to sport or trespass on certain
+lands. The editor has to write out the advertisement for these
+people, and for many of the farmers who come, for countrymen have
+the greatest dislike to literary effort of any kind, and can hardly
+be persuaded to write a letter. Even when they have written the
+letter they get the daughter to address the envelope, lest the Post
+Office should smile at their rude penmanship. The business of
+preparing the advertisement is not quickly concluded, for just as
+it is put down to their fancy, they recollect another item which
+has to be added. Then they stand and gossip about the family at the
+mansion and the affairs of the parish generally, totally oblivious
+of the valuable time they are wasting. Farmers look in to advertise
+a cottage or a house in the village to let, and stay to explain the
+state of the crops, and the why and the wherefore of So-and-so
+leaving his tenancy.</p>
+<p>The largest advertisers invariably put off their orders till the
+morning of the paper going to press, from sheer inattention. On
+that busy morning, auctioneers' clerks rush in with columns of
+auction sales of cattle, sheep, horses, hay, or standing crops
+(according to the season of the year), and every species of farm
+produce. After them come the solicitors' clerks, with equally
+important and lengthy notices of legal matters concerning the
+effects of farmers who have fallen into difficulties, of parochial
+or turnpike affairs, or 'Pursuant to an Act intitled "An Act to
+further amend the Law and to Relieve Trustees."' These notices have
+been lying on their desks for days, but are perversely sent down at
+the last moment, and upset the entire make-up of the paper.</p>
+<p>Just as the editor has arranged for these, and is in the act to
+rush up into the press-room, a timid knock announces a poor cottage
+girl, who has walked in from a hamlet six or seven miles away to
+inquire the address of a lady who wants a servant. This
+advertisement appeared at least three weeks since, for country folk
+could in no wise make up their minds to apply under three weeks,
+and necessitates a search back through the file, and a reference to
+divers papers. He cannot in common courtesy leave the poor girl to
+wait his convenience, and meantime the steam is up and the machine
+waiting. When the address is discovered, the girl thinks she cannot
+remember it, and so he has to write it down on a piece of paper for
+her.</p>
+<p>He has no highly organised staff to carry on the routine work;
+he has to look after every department as well as the purely
+editorial part. Almost every one who has a scrap of news or gossip
+looks in at the office to chat about it with him. Farmers, who have
+driven in to the town from distant villages, call to tell him of
+the trouble they are having over the new schools, and the conflict
+in the parish as to whether they shall or shall not have a school
+board. Clergymen from outlying vicarages come to mention that a
+cottage flower show, a penny reading, a confirmation, or some such
+event, is impending, and to suggest the propriety of a full and
+special account. Occasionally a leading landed proprietor is
+closeted with him, for at least an hour, discussing local politics,
+and ascertaining from him the tone of feeling in the district.</p>
+<p>Modern agricultural society insists upon publicity. The smallest
+village event must be chronicled, or some one will feel
+dissatisfied, and inquire why it was not put in the paper. This
+continual looking towards the paper for everything causes it to
+exercise a very considerable amount of influence. Perhaps the
+clergy and gentry are in some things less powerful than the local
+newspaper, for, from a variety of causes, agricultural society has
+become extremely sensitive to public opinion. The temperate and
+thoughtful arguments put forward by a paper in which they have
+confidence directly affect the tenant-farmers. On the other hand,
+as expressing the views of the tenant-farmers, the paper materially
+influences the course taken by the landed proprietors.</p>
+<p>In country districts the mere numerical circulation of a weekly
+publication is no measure of its importance. The position of the
+subscribers is the true test. These old-established papers, in
+fact, represent property. They are the organs of all who possess
+lands, houses, stock, produce; in short, of the middle class. This
+is evident from the advertising columns. The lawyer, the
+auctioneer, the land agent, the farmer, all who have any substance,
+publish their business in this medium. Official county
+advertisements appear in it. The carter and the shepherd look down
+the column of situations vacant as they call at the village inn for
+a glass of ale, or, if they cannot read, ask some one to read for
+them. But they do not purchase this kind of newspaper. The cottager
+spells over prints advocating the disestablishment of the Church,
+the division of great estates, and the general subversion of the
+present order of things. Yet when the labourer advertises, he goes
+to the paper subscribed to by his master. The disappearance of such
+an obsolete and expensive paper is frequently announced as
+imminent; but the obsolete and expensive print, instead of
+disappearing, nourishes with renewed vitality. Solid matter,
+temperate argument, and genuine work, in the long ran, pay the
+best. An editor who thus conducts his paper is highly appreciated
+by the local chiefs of his party, and may even help to contribute
+to the success of an Administration.</p>
+<p>The personal labour involved in such editing must be great from
+the absence of trained assistance, and because the materials must
+be furnished by incompetent hands. Local news must be forwarded by
+local people, perhaps by a village tailor with literary tastes.
+Such correspondents often indulge in insinuations, or fulsome
+flattery, which must be carefully eliminated. From another village
+an account of some event comes from the schoolmaster&mdash;quite an
+important person nowadays!&mdash;who writes in a fair, round hand
+and uses the finest language and the longest words. He invariably
+puts 'hebdomadal' for 'weekly.' A lawyer's clerk writes a narrative
+of some case, on blue foolscap, and, after the manner of legal
+documents, without a single stop from beginning to end.</p>
+<p>Once a year comes the labour of preparing the sheet almanac.
+This useful publication is much valued by the tenants of the
+district, and may be found pinned against the wall for ready
+reference in most farmhouses. Besides the calendar it contains a
+list of county and other officials, dates of quarter sessions and
+assizes, fair days and markets, records of the prices obtained at
+the annual sales of rams or shorthorns on leading farms, and
+similar agricultural information.</p>
+<p>The editor has very likely been born in the district, and has
+thus grown up to understand the wants and the spirit of the farming
+class. He is acquainted with the family history of the
+neighbourhood, a knowledge which is of much advantage in enabling
+him to avoid unnecessarily irritating personal susceptibilities.
+His private library is not without interest. It mainly consists of
+old books picked up at the farmhouse sales of thirty years. At such
+disposals of household effects volumes sometimes come to light that
+have been buried for generations among lumber. Many of these books
+are valuable and all worth examination. A man of simple and
+retiring habits, his garden is perhaps his greatest solace, and
+next to that a drive or stroll through the green meadows around.
+Incessant mental labour has forced him to wear glasses before his
+time, and it is a relief and pleasure to the eyes to dwell on green
+sward and leaf. Such a man performs a worthy part in country life,
+and possesses the esteem of the country side.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap19" id="chap19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h3>
+<h3>THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK</h3>
+In the daytime the centre of a certain village may be said to be
+the shop of the agricultural machinist. The majority of the
+cottagers are away in the fields at work, and the place is
+elsewhere almost quiet. A column of smoke and a distant din guide
+the visitor to the spot where the hammers are clattering on the
+anvils.
+<p>Twisted iron, rusty from exposure, lies in confusion on the
+blackened ground before the shed. Coal-dust and the carbon
+deposited from volumes of thick smoke have darkened the earth, and
+coated everything with a black crust. The windows of the shed are
+broken, probably by the accidental contact of long rods of iron
+carelessly cast aside, and some of the slates of the roof appear
+gone just above the furnace, as if removed for ventilation and the
+escape of the intense heat. There is a creaking of stiff leather as
+the bellows rise and fall, and the roar of the blast as it is
+forced up through the glowing coals.</p>
+<p>A ceaseless hum of wheels in motion comes from the rear, and the
+peculiar crackling sound of a band in rapid revolution round the
+drum of the engine and the shaft. Then the grinding scrape of sharp
+steel on iron as the edge of the tool cuts shavings from the solid
+metal rotating swiftly in the lathe. As blow follows blow the
+red-hot 'scale,' driven from the surface of the iron on the anvil
+by the heavy sledge, flies rattling against the window in a spray
+of fire. The ring of metal, the clatter, the roaring, and hissing
+of steam, fill the air, and through it rises now and then the
+shrill quick calls of men in command.</p>
+<p>Outside, and as it seems but a stone's throw distant, stands the
+old grey church, and about it the still, silent, green-grown mounds
+over those who once followed the quiet plough.</p>
+<p>Bound the corner of the village street comes a man with a grimy
+red flag, and over the roofs of the cottages rises a cloud of
+smoke, and behind it yet another. Two steam ploughing engines are
+returning from their work to their place beside the shed to wait
+fresh orders. The broad wheels of the engines block up the entire
+width of the street, and but just escape overthrowing the feeble
+palings in front of the cottage doors. Within those palings the
+children at play scarcely turn to look; the very infants that can
+hardly toddle are so accustomed to the ponderous wonder that they
+calmly gnaw the crusts that keep them contented. It requires a full
+hour to get the unwieldy engines up the incline and round the sharp
+turns on to the open space by the workshop. The driver has to
+'back,' and go-a-head, and 'back' again, a dozen times before he
+can reach the place, for that narrow bye-way was not planned out
+for such traffic. A mere path leading to some cottages in the rear,
+it was rarely used even by carts before the machinist came, and it
+is a feat of skill to get the engines in without, like a conqueror,
+entering by a breach battered in the walls. When, at last, they
+have been piloted into position, the steam is blown off, and the
+rushing hiss sounds all over the village. The white vapour covers
+the ground like a cloud, and the noise re-echoes against the old
+grey church, but the jackdaws do not even rise from the
+battlements.</p>
+<p>These engines and their corresponding tackle are the chief
+stock-in-trade of the village machinist. He lets them out to the
+farmers of the district, which is principally arable; that is, he
+contracts to do their ploughing and scarifying at so much per acre.
+In the ploughing seasons the engines are for ever on the road, and
+with their tackle dragging behind them take up the highway like a
+train. One day you may hear the hum and noise from a distant field
+on the left; in a day or two it comes from another on the right;
+next week it has shifted again, and is heard farther off
+northwards, and so all round the compass.</p>
+<p>The visitor, driving about the neighbourhood, cannot but notice
+the huge and cumbrous-looking plough left awhile on the sward by
+the roadside. One-half of the shares stand up high in the air, the
+other half touch the ground, and it is so nicely balanced that boys
+sometimes play at see-saw on it. He will meet the iron monster
+which draws this plough by the bridge over the brook, pausing while
+its insatiable thirst is stayed from the stream. He will see it
+patiently waiting, with a slight curl of steam over the boiler, by
+the wayside inn while its attendants take their lunch.</p>
+<p>It sometimes happens in wet weather that the engines cannot be
+moved from the field where they have been ploughing. The soil
+becomes so soft from absorbing so much water that it will not bear
+up the heavy weight. Logs and poles are laid down to form a
+temporary way, but the great wheels sink too deeply, and the
+engines have to be left covered with tarpaulins. They have been
+known to remain till the fresh green leaves of spring on the hedges
+and trees almost hid them from sight.</p>
+<p>The machinist has another and lighter traction engine which does
+not plough, but travels from farm to farm with a threshing machine.
+In autumn it is in full work threshing, and in winter drives
+chaff-cutters for the larger farmers. Occasionally it draws a load
+of coal in waggons or trucks built for the purpose. Hodge's
+forefathers knew no rival at plough time; after the harvest they
+threshed the corn all the winter with the flail. Now the iron horse
+works faster and harder than he.</p>
+<p>Some of the great tenant-farmers have sets of ploughing-engines
+and tackle of their own, and these are frequently at the
+machinist's for repairs. The reaping, mowing, threshing, haymaking,
+hoeing, raking, and other machines and implements also often
+require mending. Once now and then a bicyclist calls to have his
+machine attended to, something having given way while on a tour.
+Thus the village factory is in constant work, but has to encounter
+immense competition.</p>
+<p>Country towns of any size usually possess at least one
+manufactory of agricultural implements, and some of these factories
+have acquired a reputation which reaches over sea. The visitor to
+such a foundry is shown medals that have been granted for
+excellence of work exhibited in Vienna, and may see machines in
+process of construction which will be used upon the Continent; so
+that the village machinist, though apparently isolated, with
+nothing but fields around him, has in reality competitors upon
+every side.</p>
+<p>Ploughing engines, again, travel great distances, and there are
+firms that send their tackle across a county or two. Still the
+village factory, being on the spot, has plenty of local work, and
+the clatter of hammers, the roar of the blast, and the hum of
+wheels never cease at the shed. Busy workmen pass to and fro, lithe
+men, quick of step and motion, who come from Leeds, or some similar
+manufacturing town, and whose very step distinguishes them in a
+moment from the agricultural labourer.</p>
+<p>A sturdy ploughboy comes up with a piece of iron on his
+shoulder; it does not look large, but it is as much as he can
+carry. One edge of it is polished by the friction of the earth
+through which it has been forced; it has to be straightened, or
+repaired, and the ploughboy waits while it is done. He sits down
+outside the shed on a broken and rusty iron wheel, choosing a spot
+where the sun shines and the building keeps off the wind. There,
+among the twisted iron, ruins and fragments of machines, he takes
+out his hunch of bread and cheese, and great clasp knife, and
+quietly enjoys his luncheon. He is utterly indifferent to the noise
+of the revolving wheels, the creak of the bellows, the hiss of
+steam; he makes no inquiry about this or that, and shows no desire
+to understand the wonders of mechanics. Something in his
+attitude&mdash;in the immobility, the almost animal repose of limb;
+something in the expression of his features, the self-contained
+oblivion, so to say, suggests an Oriental absence of aspiration.
+Only by negatives and side-lights, as it were, can any idea be
+conveyed of his contented indifference. He munches his crust; and,
+when he has done, carefully, and with vast deliberation, relaces
+his heavy shoe. The sunshine illumines the old grey church before
+him, and falls on the low green mounds, almost level with the
+sward, which cover his ancestors.</p>
+<p>These modern inventions, this steam, and electric telegraph, and
+even the printing-press have but just skimmed the surface of
+village life. If they were removed&mdash;if the pressure from
+without, from the world around, ceased, in how few years the
+village and the hamlet would revert to their original
+condition!</p>
+<p>On summer afternoons, towards five or six o'clock, a four-wheel
+carriage&mdash;useful, but not pretentious&mdash;comes slowly up
+the hill leading to the village. The single occupant is an elderly
+man, the somewhat wearied expression of whose features is caused by
+a continuous application to business. The horse, too well fed for
+work, takes his own time up the hill, and when at the summit the
+reins are gently shaken, makes but an idle pretence to move faster,
+for he knows that his master is too good-natured and forbearing to
+use the whip, except to fondly stroke his back. The reins are
+scarcely needed to guide the horse along the familiar road to a
+large farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where at the gate
+two or more children are waiting to welcome 'papa.'</p>
+<p>Though a farmhouse, the garden is laid out in the style so often
+seen around detached villas, with a lawn for tennis and croquet,
+parterres bright with summer flowers, and seats under the pleasant
+shade of the trees. Within it is furnished in villa fashion, and is
+in fact let to a well-to-do tradesman of the market town a few
+miles distant. He has wisely sent his family for the summer months
+to inhale the clear air of the hills, as exhilarating as that of
+the sea. There they can ride the pony and donkeys over the open
+sward, and romp and play at gipsying. Every evening he drives out
+to join them, and every morning returns to his office. The house
+belongs to some large tenant-farmer, who has a little freehold
+property, and thus makes a profit from it.</p>
+<p>This practice of hiring a village home for the summer has become
+common of recent years among the leading tradesmen of country
+towns. Such visitors are welcome to the cottage folk. They require
+the service of a labourer now and then; they want fresh eggs, and
+vegetables from the allotment gardens. The women have the family
+washing to do, and a girl is often needed to assist indoors, or a
+boy to clean the knives and shoes. Many perquisites fall to the
+cottage people&mdash;cast aside dresses, and so on; besides which
+there are little gifts and kindnesses from the lady and her
+children.</p>
+<p>Towards November, again, the congregation in the old church one
+Sunday morning find subject for speculation concerning a stranger
+who enters a certain well-appointed pew appropriated to The
+Chestnuts. He is clearly the new tenant who has taken it for the
+hunting season. The Chestnuts is a mansion built in modern style
+for a former landowner. As it is outside the great hunting centres
+it is let at a low rental compared with its accommodation. The
+labourers are glad to see that the place is let again, for although
+the half-pay officer&mdash;the new occupant&mdash;who has retired,
+wounded and decorated, from the service of a grateful country, has
+probably not a third the income of the tradesman, and five times
+the social appearance to maintain, still there will be profit to be
+got from him.</p>
+<p>What chance has such a gentleman in bargaining with the
+cottagers? How should he know the village value of a cabbage? How
+should he understand the farmyard value of a fowl? It may possibly
+strike him as odd that vegetables should be so dear when, as he
+rides about, he sees whole fields green with them. He sees plenty
+of fowls, and geese, and turkeys, gobbling and cackling about the
+farmyards, and can perhaps after awhile faintly perceive that they
+are the perquisites of the ladies of the tenants' households, who
+drive him a very hard bargain. He, too, has cast aside suits,
+shoes, hats, and so forth, really but little worn, to give away to
+the poor. If married, his family require some help from the cottage
+women; and there are odd jobs, well paid for, on the place for the
+men. Thus the cottagers are glad of the arrival of their new
+masters, the one in the summer, the other in the winter months.</p>
+<p>The 'chapel-folk' of the place have so increased in numbers and
+affluence that they have erected a large and commodious building in
+the village. Besides the cottagers, many farmers go to the chapel,
+driving in from the ends of the parish. It is a curious
+circumstance that many of the largest dealers in agricultural
+produce, such as cheese, bacon, and corn, and the owners of the
+busiest wharves where coal and timber, slate, and similar materials
+are stored, belong to the Dissenting community. There are some
+agricultural districts where this class of business is quite
+absorbed by Dissenters&mdash;almost as much as money-changing and
+banking business is said to be the exclusive property of Jews in
+some Continental countries. Such dealers are often substantial and,
+for the country, even wealthy men. Then there are the Dissenting
+tradesmen of the market town. All these together form a species of
+guild. The large chapel in the village was built by their united
+subscriptions. They support each other in a marked manner in times
+of difficulty, so that it is rare for a tenant-farmer of the
+persuasion to lose his position unless by wilful misconduct. This
+mutual support is so very marked as to be quite a characteristic
+fact.</p>
+<p>The cottagers and their families go to chapel with these
+masters. But sometimes the cottager, as he approaches the chapel
+door, finds upon it (as in the church porch) a small printed notice
+affixed there by the overseers. If the labourer is now recognised
+as a person whose opinion is to be consulted, on the other hand he
+finds that he is not without responsibilities. The rate-collector
+knocks at the cottage door as well as at the farmer's. By gradual
+degrees village rates are becoming a serious burden, and though
+their chief incidence may be upon the landlord and the tenant,
+indirectly they begin to come home to the labourer. The school rate
+is voluntary, but it is none the less a rate; the cemetery, the
+ancient churchyard being no more available, has had to be paid for,
+and, as usual, probably cost twice what was anticipated. The
+highways, the sanitary authority, not to speak of poor relief, all
+demand a share. Each in itself may be only a straw, but accumulated
+straws in time fill a waggon.</p>
+<p>One side of the stable of the village inn, which faces the road,
+presents a broad surface for the country bill-sticker. He comes out
+from the market town, and travels on foot for a whole day together,
+from hamlet to hamlet. posting up the contents of his bag in the
+most outlying and lonely districts. Every villager as he passes by
+reads the announcements on the wall: the circus coming to the
+market town, some jeweller's marvellous watches, the selling off of
+spring or summer goods by the drapers at an immense reduction, once
+now and then a proclamation headed V.R., and the sales of farm
+stock (the tenants leaving) and of large freehold properties.</p>
+<p>These latter are much discussed by the callers at the inn. A
+carter comes along perhaps with a loaded waggon from some distance,
+and as he stays to drink his quart talks of the changes that are
+proceeding or imminent in his locality. Thus the fact that changes
+are contemplated is often widely known before the actual
+advertisement is issued. The labourers who hear the carter's story
+tell it again to their own employer next time they see him, and the
+farmer meeting another farmer gossips over it again.</p>
+<p>There has grown up a general feeling in the villages and
+agricultural districts that the landed estates around them are no
+longer stable and enduring. A feeling of uncertainty is abroad, and
+no one is surprised to hear that some other place, or person, is
+going. It is rumoured that this great landlord is about to sell as
+many farms as the family settlements will let him. Another is only
+waiting for the majority of his son to accomplish the same object.
+Others, it is said, are proceeding abroad to retrench. Properties
+are coming into the market in unexpected directions, and others are
+only kept back because the price of land has fallen, and there is a
+difficulty in selling a large estate. If divided into a number of
+lots, each of small size, land still fetches its value, and can be
+readily sold; but that is not always convenient, and purchasers
+hesitate to invest in extensive estates. But though kept back,
+efforts are being made to retrench, and, it is said, old mansions
+that have never been let before can now be hired for the season.
+Not only the tenant-farmers, but the landowners are pacing through
+a period of depression, and their tenure too is uncertain. Such is
+the talk of the country side as it comes to the village inn.</p>
+<p>Once a week the discordant note of a horn or bugle, loudly blown
+by a man who does not understand his instrument, is heard at
+intervals. It is the newspaper vendor, who, like the bill-sticker,
+starts from the market town on foot, and goes through the village
+with a terrible din. He stops at the garden gate in the palings
+before the thatched cottage, delivers his print to the old woman or
+the child sent out with the copper, and starts again with a
+flourish of his trumpet. His business is chiefly with the
+cottagers, and his print is very likely full of abuse of the landed
+proprietors as a body. He is a product of modern days, almost the
+latest, and as he goes from cottage door to cottage door, the
+discordant uproar of his trumpet is a sign of the times.</p>
+<p>In some districts the osier plantations give employment to a
+considerable number of persons. The tall poles are made into posts
+and rails; the trunks of the pollard trees when thrown are cut into
+small timber that serves many minor purposes; the brushwood or tops
+that are cut every now and then make thatching sticks and faggots;
+sometimes hedges are made of a kind of willow wicker-work for
+enclosing gardens. It is, however, the plantations of withy or
+osier that are most important. The willow grows so often in or near
+to water that in common opinion the association cannot be too
+complete. But in the arrangement of an osier-bed water is utilised,
+indeed, but kept in its place&mdash;i.e. at the roots, and not over
+the stoles. The osier should not stand in water, or rise, as it
+were, out of a lake&mdash;the water should be in the soil
+underneath, and the level of the ground higher than the surface of
+the adjacent stream.</p>
+<p>Before planting, the land has to be dug or ploughed, and
+cleared; the weeds collected in the same way as on an arable field.
+The sticks are then set in rows eighteen inches apart, each stick
+(that afterwards becomes a stole) a foot from its neighbours of the
+same row. At first the weeds require keeping down, but after awhile
+the crop itself kills them a good deal. Several willows spring from
+each planted stick, and at the end of twelve months the first crop
+is ready for cutting. Next year the stick or stole will send up
+still more shoots, and give a larger yield.</p>
+<p>The sorts generally planted are called Black Spanish and Walnut
+Leaf. The first has a darker bark, and is a tough wood; the other
+has a light yellow bark, and grows smoother and without knots,
+which is better for working up into the manufactured article.
+Either will grow to nine feet high&mdash;the average height is six
+or seven feet. The usual time for cutting is about Good
+Friday&mdash;that is, just before the leaf appears. After cutting,
+the rods are stacked upright in water, in long trenches six inches
+deep prepared for the purpose, and there they remain till the leaf
+comes out. The power of growth displayed by the willow is
+wonderful&mdash;a bough has only to be stuck in the earth, or the
+end of a pole placed in the brook, for the sap to rise and shoots
+to push forth.</p>
+<p>When the leaf shows the willows are carried to the 'brakes,' and
+the work of stripping off the bark commences. A 'brake' somewhat
+resembles a pair of very blunt scissors permanently fixed open at a
+certain angle, and rigidly supported at a convenient height from
+the ground. The operator stands behind it, and selecting a long
+wand from the heap beside him places it in the 'brake,' and pulls
+it through, slightly pressing it downwards. As he draws it towards
+him, the edges of the iron tear the bark and peel it along the
+whole length of the stick. There is a knack in the operation, of
+course, but when it is acquired the wand is peeled in a moment by a
+dexterous turn of the wrist, the bark falls to the ground on the
+other side of the brake, and the now white stick is thrown to the
+right, where a pile soon accumulates. The peel is handy for tying
+up, and when dried makes a capital material for lighting fires.
+This stripping of the osiers is a most busy time in the
+neighbourhood of the large plantations&mdash;almost like
+hop-picking&mdash;for men, women, and children can all help. It
+does not require so much strength as skill and patience.</p>
+<p>After the peeling the sticks have to be dried by exposure to the
+sun; they are then sorted into lengths, and sold in bundles. If it
+is desired to keep them any time they must be thoroughly dried, or
+they will 'heat' and rot and become useless. This willow harvest is
+looked forward to by the cottagers who live along the rivers as an
+opportunity for earning extra money. The quantity of osier thus
+treated seems immense, and yet the demand is said to be steady, and
+as the year advances the price of the willow rises. It is
+manufactured into all kinds of baskets&mdash;on farms, especially
+arable farms, numbers of baskets are used. Clothes baskets, market
+baskets, chaff baskets, bassinettes or cradles, &amp;c., are some
+few of the articles manufactured from it. Large quantities of
+willow, too, are worked up unpeeled into hampers of all kinds. The
+number of hampers used in these days is beyond computation, and as
+they are constantly wearing out, fresh ones have to be made. An
+advantage of the willow is that it enables the farmer to derive a
+profit from land that would otherwise be comparatively valueless.
+Good land, indeed, is hardly fitted for osier; it would grow rank
+with much pith in the centre, and therefore liable to break. On
+common land, on the contrary, it grows just right, and not too
+coarse. Almost any scrap or corner does for willow, and if properly
+tended it speedily pays for the labour.</p>
+<p>The digging and preparation of the ground gives employment, and
+afterwards the weeding and the work required to clean the channels
+that conduct water round and through the beds. Then there is the
+cutting and the peeling, and finally the basket-making; and thus
+the willow, though so common as to be little regarded, finds work
+for many hands.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap20" id="chap20">CHAPTER XX</a></h3>
+<h3>HODGE'S FIELDS</h3>
+The labourer working all the year round in the open air cannot but
+note to some degree those changes in tree and plant which coincide
+with the variations of his daily employment. Early in March, as he
+walks along the southern side of the hedge, where the dead oak
+leaves still cumber the trailing ivy, he can scarcely avoid seeing
+that pointed tongues of green are pushing up. Some have widened
+into black-spotted leaves; some are notched like the many-barbed
+bone harpoons of savage races. The hardy docks are showing, and the
+young nettles have risen up. Slowly the dark and grey hues of
+winter are yielding to the lively tints of spring. The blackthorn
+has white buds on its lesser branches, and the warm rays of the sun
+have drawn forth the buds on one favoured hawthorn in a sheltered
+nook, so that the green of the coming leaf is visible. Bramble
+bushes still retain their forlorn, shrivelled foliage; the hardy
+all but evergreen leaves can stand cold, but when biting winds from
+the north and east blow for weeks together even these curl at the
+edge and die.
+<p>The remarkable power of wind upon leaves is sometimes seen in
+May, when a strong gale, even from the west, will so beat and
+batter the tender horse-chestnut sprays that they bruise and
+blacken. The slow plough traverses the earth, and the white dust
+rises from the road and drifts into the field. In winter the
+distant copse seemed black; now it appears of a dull reddish brown
+from the innumerable catkins and buds. The delicate sprays of the
+birch are fringed with them, the aspen has a load of brown, there
+are green catkins on the bare hazel boughs, and the willows have
+white 'pussy-cats.' The horse-chestnut buds&mdash;the hue of dark
+varnish&mdash;have enlarged, and stick to the finger if touched;
+some are so swollen as to nearly burst and let the green appear.
+Already it is becoming more difficult to look right through the
+copse. In winter the light could be seen on the other side; now
+catkin, bud, and opening leaf have thickened and check the view.
+The same effect was produced not long since by the rime on the
+branches in the frosty mornings; while each smallest twig was thus
+lined with crystal it was not possible to see through. Tangled
+weeds float down the brook, catching against projecting branches
+that dip into the stream, or slowly rotating and carried apparently
+up the current by the eddy and back-water behind the bridge. In the
+pond the frogs have congregated in great numbers; their constant
+'croo-croo' is audible at some distance.</p>
+<p>The meadows, so long bound by frost and covered with snow, are
+slowly losing their wan aspect, and assuming a warmer green as the
+young blades of grass come upwards. Where the plough or harrow has
+passed over the clods they quickly change from the rich brown of
+fresh-turned soil to a whiter colour, the dryness of the atmosphere
+immediately dissipating the moisture in the earth. So, examine what
+you will, from the clod to the tiniest branch, the hedge, the
+mound, the water&mdash;everywhere a step forward has been taken.
+The difference in a particular case may be minute; but it is there,
+and together these faint indications show how closely spring is
+approaching.</p>
+<p>As the sun rises the chaffinch utters his bold challenge on the
+tree; the notes are so rapid that they seem to come all at once.
+Welcome, indeed, is the song of the first finch. Sparrows are busy
+in the garden&mdash;the hens are by far the most numerous now, half
+a dozen together perch on the bushes. One suddenly darts forth and
+seizes a black insect as it flies in the sunshine. The bee, too, is
+abroad, and once now and then a yellow butterfly. From the copse on
+the warmer days comes occasionally the deep hollow bass of the wood
+pigeon. On the very topmost branch of an elm a magpie has perched;
+now he looks this way, and then turns that, bowing in the oddest
+manner, and jerking his long tail up and down. Then two of them
+flutter across the field&mdash;feebly, as if they had barely
+strength to reach the trees in the opposite hedge. Extending their
+wings they float slowly, and every now and then the body undulates
+along its entire length. Rooks are building&mdash;they fly and feed
+now in pairs; the rookery is alive with them. To the steeple the
+jackdaws have returned and fly round and round; now one holds his
+wings rigid and slides down at an angle of sixty degrees at a
+breakneck pace, as if about to dash himself in fragments on the
+garden beneath.</p>
+<p>Sometimes there come a few days which are like summer. There is
+an almost cloudless sky, a gentle warm breeze, and a bright sun
+filling the fields with a glow of light. The air, though soft and
+genial, is dry, and perhaps it is this quality which gives so
+peculiar a definition to hedge, tree, and hill. A firm, almost
+hard, outline brings copse and wood into clear relief; the distance
+across the broadest fields appears sensibly diminished. Such
+freedom from moisture has a deliciously exhilarating effect on
+those who breathe so pure an atmosphere. The winds of March differ,
+indeed, in a remarkable manner from, the gales of the early year,
+which, even when they blow from a mild quarter, compel one to keep
+in constant movement because of the aqueous vapour they carry. But
+the true March wind, though too boisterous to be exactly genial,
+causes a joyous sense of freshness, as if the very blood in the
+veins were refined and quickened upon inhaling it. There is a
+difference in its roar&mdash;the note is distinct from the harsh
+sound of the chilly winter blast. On the lonely highway at night,
+when other noises are silent, the March breeze rushes through the
+tall elms in a wild cadence. The white clouds hasten over,
+illuminated from behind by a moon approaching the full; every now
+and then a break shows a clear blue sky and a star shining. Now a
+loud roar resounds along the hedgerow like the deafening boom of
+the surge; it moderates, dies away, then an elm close by bends and
+sounds as the blast comes again. In another moment the note is
+caught up and repeated by a distant tree, and so one after another
+joins the song till the chorus reaches its highest pitch. Then it
+sinks again, and so continues with pauses and deep inspirations,
+for March is like a strong man drawing his breath full and long as
+he starts to run a race.</p>
+<p>The sky, too, like the earth, whose hedges, trees, and meadows
+are acquiring fresher colours, has now a more lovely aspect. At
+noon-day, if the clouds be absent, it is a rich azure; after sunset
+a ruddy glow appears almost all round the horizon, while the
+thrushes sing in the wood till the twilight declines. At night,
+when the moon does not rise till late, the heavens are brilliant
+with stars. In the east Arcturus is up; the Great Bear, the Lesser
+Bear, and Cassiopeia are ranged about the Pole. Procyon goes before
+the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches broad across
+the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries droops
+towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the
+Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike,
+nebulous Cancer. Largest of all, great Sirius is flaming in the
+south, quivering with the ebb and flow of his light, sometimes with
+an emerald scintillation like a dewdrop on which a sunbeam
+glances.</p>
+<p>The busy summer, with its haymaking, reaping, and continuous
+succession of harvest work, passes too swiftly for reflection both
+for masters and men. But in the calm of autumn there is time again
+to look round. Then white columns of smoke rise up slowly into the
+tranquil atmosphere, till they overtop the tallest elms, and the
+odour of the burning couch is carried across the meadows from the
+lately-ploughed stubble, where the weeds have been collected in
+heaps and fired. The stubble itself, short and in regular lines,
+affords less and less cover every year. As the seed is now drilled
+in, and the plants grow in mathematically straight lines, of course
+when the crop is reaped, if you stand at one side of the field you
+can see right across between the short stubbs, so that a mouse
+could hardly find shelter. Then quickly come the noisy steam
+ploughing engines, after them the couch collectors, and finally the
+heaps are burnt, and the strong scent of smoke hangs over the
+ground. Against these interruptions of their haunts and quiet ways
+what are the partridges to do? Even at night the place is scarcely
+their own, for every now and then as the breeze comes along, the
+smouldering fires are fanned into bright flame, enough to alarm the
+boldest bird.</p>
+<p>In another broad arable field, where the teams have been
+dragging the plough, but have only just opened a few furrows and
+gone home, a flock of sheep are feeding, or rather picking up a
+little, having been, turned in, that nothing might be lost. There
+is a sense of quietness&mdash;of repose; the trees of the copse
+close by are still, and the dying leaf as it drops falls straight
+to the ground. A faint haze clings to the distant woods at the foot
+of the hills; it is afternoon, the best part of an autumn day, and
+sufficiently warm to make the stile a pleasant resting-place. A
+dark cloud, whose edges rise curve upon curve, hangs in the sky,
+fringed with bright white light, for the sun is behind it, and
+long, narrow streamers of light radiate from the upper part like
+the pointed rays of an antique crown. Across an interval of blue to
+the eastward a second massive cloud, white and shining as if beaten
+out of solid silver, fronts the sun, and reflects the beams passing
+horizontally through the upper ether downwards on the earth like a
+mirror.</p>
+<p>The sparrows in the stubble rise in a flock and settle down
+again. Yonder a solitary lark is singing. Then the sun emerges, and
+the yellow autumn beams flood the pale stubble and the dark red
+earth of the furrow. On the bushes in the hedge hang the vines of
+the bryony, bearing thick masses of red berries. The hawthorn
+leaves in places have turned pale, and are touched, too, towards
+the stalk with a deep brown hue. The contrast of the two tints
+causes an accidental colour resembling that of bronze, which
+catches the eye at the first glance, but disappears on looking
+closer. Spots of yellow on the elms seem the more brilliant from
+the background of dull green. The drooping foliage of the birch
+exhibits a paler yellow; the nut-tree bushes shed brown leaves upon
+the ground. Perhaps the beech leaves are the most beautiful; two or
+three tints are blended on the topmost boughs. There is a ruddy
+orange hue, a tawny brown, and a bright green; the sunlight comes
+and mingles these together. The same leaf will sometimes show two
+at least of these colours&mdash;green shading into brown, or into a
+ruddy gold. Later on, the oaks, in a monochrome of buff, will rival
+the beeches. Now and then an acorn drops from the tree overhead,
+with a smart tap on the hard earth, and rebounds some inches high.
+Some of these that fall are already dark&mdash;almost
+black&mdash;but if opened they will be found bored by a grub. They
+are not yet ripe as a crop; the rooks are a good guide in that
+respect, and they have not yet set steadily to work upon this their
+favourite autumn food. Others that have fallen and been knocked out
+of the cup are a light yellow at the base and green towards the
+middle and the point; the yellow part is that which has been
+covered by the cup. In the sward there is a small hole from out of
+which creeps a wasp at intervals; it is a nest, and some few of
+them are still at work. But their motions are slow and lack
+vivacity; before long, numbers must die, and already many have
+succumbed after crawling miserably on the ground which they spurned
+a short while since, when with a brisk buzz they flew from apple to
+plum.</p>
+<p>In the quiet woodland lane a covey of partridges are running to
+and fro on the short sward at the side, and near them two or three
+pheasants are searching for food. The geometrical
+spiders&mdash;some of them look almost as big as a nut&mdash;hang
+their webs spun to a regular pattern on the bushes. The fungi
+flourish; there is a huge specimen on the elm there, but the
+flowers are nearly gone.</p>
+<p>A few steps down the lane, upon looking over a gate into a large
+arable field where the harrow has broken up the clods, a faint
+bluish tinge may be noticed on the dull earth in the more distant
+parts. A second glance shows that it is caused by a great flock of
+woodpigeons. Some more come down out of the elms and join their
+companions; there must be a hundred and fifty or two hundred of
+them. The woodpigeon on the ground at a distance is difficult to
+distinguish, or rather to define individually&mdash;the pale blue
+tint seems to confuse the eye with a kind of haze. Though the flock
+take little notice now&mdash;knowing themselves to be far out of
+gunshot&mdash;yet they would be quickly on the alert if an attempt
+were made to approach them.</p>
+<p>Already some of the elms are becoming bare&mdash;there are gaps
+in the foliage where the winds have carried away the leaves. On the
+bramble bushes the blackberries cluster thickly, unseen and
+ungathered in this wild spot. The happy hearts that go
+a-blackberrying think little of the past: yet there is a deep, a
+mournful significance attached to that joyous time. For how many
+centuries have the blackberries tempted men, women, and children
+out into the fields, laughing at scratched hands and nettles, and
+clinging burrs, all merrily endured for the sake of so simple a
+treasure-trove. Under the relics of the ancient pile-dwellings of
+Switzerland, disinterred from the peat and other deposits, have
+been found quantities of blackberry seeds, together with traces of
+crabs and sloes; so that by the dwellers in those primeval villages
+in the midst of the lakes the wild fruits of autumn were sought for
+much as we seek them now; the old instincts are strong in us
+still.</p>
+<p>The fieldfares will soon be here now, and the redwings, coming
+as they have done for generations about the time of the sowing of
+the corn. Without an almanack they know the dates; so the old
+sportsmen used to declare that their pointers and setters were
+perfectly aware when September was approaching, and showed it by
+unusual restlessness. By the brook the meadows are green and the
+grass long still; the flags, too, are green, though numbers of dead
+leaves float down on the current. There is green again where the
+root crops are flourishing; but the brown tints are striving hard,
+and must soon gain the mastery of colour. From the barn comes the
+clatter of the winnowing machine, and the floor is covered with
+heaps of grain.</p>
+<p>After the sun has gone down and the shadows are deepening, it is
+lighter in the open stubbles than in the enclosed meadows&mdash;the
+short white stubbs seem to reflect what little light there is. The
+partridges call to each other, and after each call run a few yards
+swiftly, till they assemble at the well-known spot where they
+roost. Then comes a hare stealing by without a sound. Suddenly he
+perceives that he is watched, and goes off at a rapid pace, lost in
+the brooding shadow across the field. Yonder a row of
+conical-roofed wheat-ricks stand out boldly against the sky, and
+above them a planet shines.</p>
+<p>Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse
+and heath, and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades,
+bowed by their own weight, are white beads of dew. Wherever the eye
+seeks an object to dwell on, there the cloud-like mist seems to
+thicken as though to hide it. The bushes and thickets are swathed
+in the vapour; yonder, in the hollow, it clusters about the oaks
+and hangs upon the hedge looming in the distance. There it no
+sky&mdash;a motionless, colourless something spreads above; it is,
+of course, the same mist, but looking upwards it apparently recedes
+and becomes indefinite. The glance finds no point to rest
+on&mdash;as on the edges of clouds&mdash;it is a mere opaque
+expanse. But the air is dry, the moisture does not deposit itself,
+it remains suspended, and waits but the wind to rise and depart.
+The stillness is utter: not a bird calls or insect buzzes by. In
+passing beneath the oaks the very leaves have forgotten to fall.
+Only those already on the sward, touched by the frost, crumble
+under the footstep. When green they would have yielded to the
+weight, but now stiffened they resist it and are crushed, breaking
+in pieces.</p>
+<p>A creaking and metallic rattle, as of chains, comes across the
+arable field&mdash;a steady gaze reveals the dim outline of a team
+of horses slowly dragging the plough, their shapes indistinctly
+seen against the hedge. A bent figure follows, and by-and-by
+another distinct creak and rattle, and yet a third in another
+direction, show that there are more teams at work, plodding to and
+fro. Watching their shadowy forms, suddenly the eye catches a
+change in the light somewhere. Over the meadow yonder the mist is
+illuminated; it is not sunshine, but a white light, only visible by
+contrast with the darker mist around. It lasts a few moments, and
+then moves, and appears a second time by the copse. Though hidden
+here, the disk of the sun must be partly visible there, and as the
+white light does not remain long in one place, it is evident that
+there is motion now in the vast mass of vapour. Looking upwards
+there is the faintest suspicion of the palest blue, dull and dimmed
+by mist, so faint that its position cannot be fixed, and the next
+instant it is gone again.</p>
+<p>But the teams at plough are growing momentarily distinct&mdash;a
+breath of air touches the cheek, then a leaf breaks away from the
+bough and starts forth as if bent on a journey, but loses the
+impetus and sinks to the ground. Soon afterwards the beams of the
+sun light up a distant oak that glows in the hedge&mdash;a rich
+deep buff&mdash;and it stands out, clear, distinct, and beautiful,
+the chosen and selected one, the first to receive the ray. Rapidly
+the mist vanishes&mdash;disappearing rather than floating away; a
+circle of blue sky opens overhead, and, finally, travelling slowly,
+comes the sunshine over the furrows. There is a perceptible sense
+of warmth&mdash;the colours that start into life add to the
+feeling. The bare birch has no leaf to reflect it, but its white
+bark shines, and beyond it two great elms, the one a pale green and
+the other a pale yellow, stand side by side. The brake fern is dead
+and withered; the tip of each frond curled over downwards by the
+frost, but it forms a brown background to the dull green furze
+which is alight here and there with scattered blossom, by contrast
+so brilliantly yellow as to seem like flame. Polished holly leaves
+glisten, and a bunch of tawny fungus rears itself above the
+grass.</p>
+<p>On the sheltered sunny bank lie the maple leaves fallen from the
+bushes, which form a bulwark against the north wind; they have
+simply dropped upon the ivy which almost covers the bank. Standing
+here with the oaks overhead and the thick bushes on the northern
+side it is quite warm and genial; so much so that if is hard to
+realise that winter is at hand. But even in the shortest days,
+could we only get rid of the clouds and wind, we should find the
+sunshine sufficiently powerful to make the noontide pleasant. It is
+not that the sun is weak or low down, nor because of the sharp
+frosts, that winter with us is dreary and chill. The real cause is
+the prevalence of cloud, through which only a dull light can
+penetrate, and of moisture-laden winds.</p>
+<p>If our winter sun had fair play we should find the climate very
+different. Even as it is, now and then comes a break in the masses
+of vapour streaming across the sky, and if you are only sheltered
+from the wind (or stand at a southern window), the temperature
+immediately rises. For this reason the temperatures registered by
+thermometers are often far from being a correct record of the real
+weather we have had. A bitter frost early in the morning sends the
+mercury below zero, but perhaps, by eleven o'clock the day is warm,
+the sky being clear and the wind still. The last register
+instituted&mdash;that of the duration of sunshine, if taken in
+connection with the state of the wind&mdash;is the best record of
+the temperature that we have actually felt. These thoughts
+naturally arise under the oaks here as the bright sunlight streams
+down from a sky the more deeply blue from contrast with the brown,
+and buff, and yellow leaves of the trees.</p>
+<p>Hark! There comes a joyous music over the fields&mdash;first one
+hound's, note, then two, then three, and then a chorus; they are
+opening up a strong scent. It rises and falls&mdash;now it is
+coming nearer, in a moment I shall see them break through the hedge
+on the ridge&mdash;surely that was a shout! Just in the very moment
+of expectation the loud tongues cease; I wait, listening
+breathlessly, but presently a straggling cry or two shows that the
+pack has turned and are spread wide trying to recover. By degrees
+the sounds die away; and I stroll onwards.</p>
+<p>A thick border of dark green firs bounds the copse&mdash;the
+brown leaves that have fallen from the oaks have lodged on the
+foliage of the firs and are there supported. In the sheltered
+corner some of the bracken has partly escaped the frost, one frond
+has two colours. On one side of the rib it is green and on the
+other yellow. The grass is strewn with the leaves of the aspen,
+which have turned quite black. Under the great elms there seems a
+sudden increase of light&mdash;it is caused by the leaves which
+still remain on the branches; they are all of the palest yellow,
+and, as you pass under, give the impression of the tree having been
+lit up&mdash;illuminated with its own colour. From the bushes hang
+the red berries of the night shade, and the fruit on the briars
+glistens in the sun. Inside the copse stand innumerable thistles
+shoulder high, dead and gaunt; and a grey border running round the
+field at the bottom of the hedge shows where the tall, strong weeds
+of summer have withered up. A bird flutters round the topmost
+boughs of the elm yonder and disappears with a flash of
+blue&mdash;it is a jay. Here the grass of the meadow has an
+undertone of grey; then an arable field succeeds, where six strong
+horses are drawing the heavy drill, and great bags of the precious
+seed are lying on the furrows.</p>
+<p>Another meadow, where note a broken bough of elder, the leaves
+on which have turned black, while still on its living branches they
+are green, and then a clump of beeches. The trunks are full of
+knot-holes, after a dead bough has fallen off and the stump has
+rotted away, the bark curls over the orifice and seemingly heals
+the wound more smoothly and completely than with other trees. But
+the mischief is proceeding all the same, despite that flattering
+appearance; outwardly the bark looks smooth and healthy, but probe
+the hole and the rottenness is working inwards. A sudden gap in the
+clump attracts the glance, and there&mdash;with one great beech
+trunk on this side and another on that&mdash;is a view opening down
+on the distant valley far below. The wood beneath looks dwarfed,
+and the uneven tops of the trees, some green, some tinted, are
+apparently so close together as to hide aught else, and the shadows
+of the clouds move over it as over a sea. A haze upon the horizon
+brings plain and sky together there; on one side, in the far
+distance a huge block, a rude vastness stands out dusky and dimly
+defined&mdash;it is a spur of the rolling hills.</p>
+<p>Out in the plain, many a mile away, the sharp, needle-like point
+of a steeple rises white above the trees, which there shade and
+mingle into a dark mass&mdash;so brilliantly white as to seem
+hardly real. Sweeping the view round, there is a strange and total
+absence of houses or signs of habitation, other than the steeple,
+and now that, too, is gone. It has utterly vanished&mdash;where,
+but a few moments before it glowed with whiteness, is absolutely
+nothing. The disappearance is almost weird in the broad daylight,
+as if solid stone could sink into the earth. Searching for it
+suddenly a village appears some way on the right&mdash;the white
+walls stand out bright and clear, one of the houses is evidently of
+large size, and placed on a slight elevation is a prominent object.
+But as we look it fades, grows blurred and indistinct, and in
+another moment is gone. The whole village has vanished&mdash;in its
+place is nothing; so swift is the change that the mind scarcely
+credits the senses.</p>
+<p>A deep shadow creeping towards us explains it. Where the
+sunlight falls, there steeple or house glows and shines; when it
+has passed, the haze that is really there, though itself invisible,
+instantly blots out the picture. The thing may be seen over and
+over again in the course of a few minutes; it would be difficult
+for an artist to catch so fleeting an effect. The shadow of the
+cloud is not black&mdash;it lacks several shades of
+that&mdash;there is in it a faint and yet decided tint of blue.
+This tone of blue is not the same everywhere&mdash;here it is
+almost distinct, there it fades; it is an aerial colour which
+rather hints itself than shows. Commencing the descent the view is
+at once lost, but we pass a beech whose beauty is not easily
+conveyed. The winds have scarcely rifled it; being in a sheltered
+spot on the slope, the leaves are nearly perfect. All those on the
+outer boughs are a rich brown&mdash;some, perhaps, almost orange.
+But there is an inner mass of branches of lesser size which droop
+downwards, something after the manner of a weeping willow; and the
+leaves on these are still green and show through. Upon the whole
+tree a flood of sunshine pours, and over it is the azure sky. The
+mingling, shading, and contrast of these colours give a lovely
+result&mdash;the tree is aglow, its foliage ripe with colour.</p>
+<p>Farther down comes the steady sound of deliberate blows, and the
+upper branches of the hedge falls beneath the steel. A sturdy
+labourer, with a bill on a pole, strikes slow and strong and cuts
+down the hedge to an even height. A dreadful weapon that simple
+tool must have been in the old days before the advent of the
+arquebus. For with the exception of the spike, which is not needed
+for hedge work, it is almost an exact copy of the brown bill of
+ancient warfare; it is brown still, except where sharpened. Wielded
+by a sinewy arm, what, gaping gashes it must have slit through helm
+and mail and severed bone! Watch the man there&mdash;he slices off
+the tough thorn as though it were straw. He notes not the beauty of
+the beech above him, nor the sun, nor the sky; but on the other
+hand, when the sky is hidden, the sun gone, and the beautiful beech
+torn by the raving winds neither does he heed that. Rain and
+tempest affect him not; the glaring heat of summer, the bitter
+frost of winter are alike to him. He is built up like an oak.
+Believe it, the man that from his boyhood has stood ankle-deep in
+the chill water of the ditch, patiently labouring with axe and
+bill; who has trudged across the furrow, hand on plough, facing
+sleet and mist; who has swung the sickle under the summer
+sun&mdash;this is the man for the trenches. This is the man whom
+neither the snows of the North nor the sun of the South can
+vanquish; who will dig and delve, and carry traverse and covered
+way forward in the face of the fortress, who will lie on the bare
+ground in the night. For they who go up to battle must fight the
+hard earth and the tempest, as well as face bayonet and ball. As of
+yore with the brown bill, so now with the rifle&mdash;the muscles
+that have been trained about the hedges and fields will not fail
+England in the hour of danger.</p>
+<p>Hark!&mdash;a distant whoop&mdash;another, a blast of a horn,
+and then a burst of chiding that makes the woods ring. Down drops
+the bill, and together, heedless of any social difference in the
+common joy, we scramble to the highest mound, and see the pack
+sweep in full cry across the furrows. Crash&mdash;it is the bushes
+breaking, as the first foam-flecked, wearied horse hardly rises to
+his leap, and yet crushes safely through, opening a way, which is
+quickly widened by the straggling troop behind. Ha! down the lane
+from the hill dashes another squadron that has eroded the chord of
+the arc and comes in fresher. Ay, and a third is entering at the
+bottom there, one by one, over the brook. Woods, field, and paths,
+but just before an empty solitude, are alive with men and horses.
+Up yonder, along the ridge, gallops another troop in single file,
+well defined against the sky, going parallel to the hounds. What a
+view they must have of the scene below! Two ladies who ride up with
+torn skirts cannot lift their panting horses at the double mound.
+Well, let us defy 'wilful damage' for once. The gate, jealously
+padlocked, is swiftly hoisted off its hinges, and away they go with
+hearty thanks. We slip the gate on again just as some one hails to
+us across the field to wait a minute, but seeing it is only a man
+we calmly replace the timber and let him take his chance. He is
+excited, but we smile stolidly. In another minute the wave of life
+is gone; it has swept over and disappeared as swiftly as it came.
+The wood, the field, and lane seem painfully&mdash;positively
+painfully&mdash;empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher goes back to
+his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the dew
+lingers.</p>
+<p>So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused
+November. And when the wind rises and the storm is near, if you get
+under the lee of a good thick copse there is a wild pleasure in the
+frenzy that passes over. With a rush the leaves stream outwards,
+thickening the air, whirling round and round; the tree-tops bend
+and sigh, the blast strikes them, and in an instant they are
+stripped and bare. A spectral rustling, as the darkness falls and
+the black cloud approaches, is the fallen leaves in the copse,
+lifted up from their repose and dashed against the underwood. Then
+a howl of wrath descends and fills the sense of hearing, so that
+for the moment it is hard to tell what is happening. A rushing hiss
+follows, and the rain hurtles through the branches, driving so
+horizontally as to pass overhead. The sheltering thorn-thicket
+stirs, and a long, deep, moaning roar rises from the fir-trees.
+Another howl that seems to stun&mdash;to so fill the ears with
+sound that they cannot hear&mdash;the aerial host charges the
+tree-ranks, and the shock makes them tremble to the root. Still
+another and another; twigs and broken boughs fly before it and
+strew the sward; larger branches that have long been dead fall
+crashing downwards; leaves are forced right through the
+thorn-thicket, and strike against the face. Fortunately, so fierce
+a fury cannot last; presently the billows of wind that strike the
+wood come at longer intervals and with less vigour; then the rain
+increases, and yet a little while and the storm has swept on. The
+very fury&mdash;the utter <i>abandon</i>&mdash;of its rage is its
+charm; the spirit rises to meet it, and revels in the roar and
+buffeting. By-and-by they who have faced it have their reward. The
+wind sinks, the rain ceases, a pale blue sky shows above, and then
+yonder appears a majesty of cloud&mdash;a Himalaya of vapour. Crag
+on crag rises the vast pile&mdash;such jagged and pointed rocks as
+never man found on earth, or, if he found, could climb&mdash;topped
+with a peak that towers to the heavens, and leans&mdash;visibly
+leans&mdash;and threatens to fall and overwhelm the weak world at
+its feet. A gleam as of snow glitters on the upper rocks, the
+passes are gloomy and dark, the faces of the precipice are lit up
+with a golden gleam from the rapidly-sinking sun. So the magic
+structure stands and sees the great round disk go down. The night
+gathers around those giant mounts and dark space receives them.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap21" id="chap21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h3>
+<h3>A WINTER'S MORNING</h3>
+The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the
+cottage, when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's
+morning. Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his
+thick 'water-tights'&mdash;which are stiff and hard, having been
+wet over night&mdash;by no other light than this. If the household
+is comparatively well managed, however, he strikes a match, and his
+'dip' shows at the window. But he generally prefers to save a
+candle, and clatters down the narrow steep stairs in the
+semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps forth
+into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered
+with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath
+is hard under foot. In the furrows is a little ice&mdash;white
+because the water has shrunk from beneath it, leaving it
+hollow&mdash;and on the stile is a crust of rime, cold to the
+touch, which he brushes off in getting over. Overhead the sky is
+clear&mdash;cloudless but pale&mdash;and the stars, though not yet
+fading, have lost the brilliant glitter of midnight. Then, in all
+their glory, the idea of their globular shape is easily accepted;
+but in the morning, just as the dawn is breaking, the absence of
+glitter comes the impression of flatness&mdash;circular rather than
+globular. But yonder, over the elms, above the cowpens, the great
+morning star has risen, shining far brighter, in proportion, than
+the moon; an intensely clear metallic light&mdash;like incandescent
+silver.
+<p>The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the
+footpath winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the
+blackbird roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies
+across the field. There is more rime on the posts and rails around
+the rickyard, and the thatch on the haystack is white with it in
+places. He draws out the broad hay-knife&mdash;a vast blade, wide
+at the handle, the edge gradually curving to a point&mdash;and then
+searches for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in the side
+of the rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the
+cattle in the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and
+there is a stir among them. Mounting the ladder he forces the knife
+with both hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends
+outwards, opening from the main mass till it appears on the point
+of parting and letting him fall with it to the ground. But long
+practice has taught him how to balance himself half on the ladder,
+half on the hay. Presently, with a truss unbound and loose on his
+head, he enters the yard, and passes from crib to crib, leaving a
+little here and a little there, for if he fills one first, there
+will be quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too
+liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot.
+The cattle that are in the sheds fattening for Christmas have cake
+as well, and this must be supplied in just proportion.</p>
+<p>The hour of milking, which used to be pretty general everywhere,
+varies now in different places, to suit the necessities of the milk
+trade. The milk has, perhaps, to travel three or four miles to the
+railway station; near great towns, where some of the farmers
+deliver milk themselves from house to house, the cows are milked
+soon after noonday. What would their grandfathers have said to
+that? But where the old customs have not much altered, the milker
+sits down in the morning to his cow with the stars still visible
+overhead, punching his hat well into her side&mdash;a hat well
+battered and thickly coated with grease, for the skin of the cow
+exudes an unctuous substance. This hat he keeps for the purpose. A
+couple of milking pails&mdash;they are of large size&mdash;form a
+heavy load when filled. The milker, as he walks back to the
+farmhouse, bends his head under the yoke&mdash;whence so many men
+are round-shouldered&mdash;and steps slowly with a peculiar swaying
+motion of the body, which slight swing prevents it from
+spilling.</p>
+<p>Another man who has to be up while the moon casts a shadow is
+the carter, who must begin to feed his team very early in order to
+get them to eat sufficient. If the manger be over-filled they spill
+and waste it, and at the same time will not eat so much. This is
+tedious work. Then the lads come and polish up the harness, and so
+soon as it is well light get out to plough. The custom with the
+horses is to begin to work as early as possible, but to strike off
+in the afternoon some time before the other men, the lads riding
+home astride. The strength of the carthorse has to be husbanded
+carefully, and the labour performed must be adjusted to it and to
+the food, i.e. fuel, consumed. To manage a large team of horses, so
+as to keep them in good condition, with glossy coats and willing
+step, and yet to get the maximum of work out of them, requires long
+experience and constant attention. The carter, therefore, is a man
+of much importance on a farm. If he is up to his duties he is a
+most valuable servant; if he neglects them he is a costly nuisance,
+not so much from his pay, but because of the hindrance and
+disorganisation of the whole farm-work which such neglect
+entails.</p>
+<p>Foggers and milkers, if their cottages are near at hand, having
+finished the first part of the day's work, can often go back home
+to breakfast, and, if they have a good woman in the cottage, find a
+fire and hot tea ready. The carter can rarely leave his horses for
+that, and, therefore, eats his breakfast in the stable; but then he
+has the advantage that up to the time of starting forth he is under
+cover. The fogger and milker, on the other hand, are often exposed
+to the most violent tempests. A gale of wind, accompanied with
+heavy rain, often readies its climax just about the dawn. They find
+the soil saturated, and the step sinks into it&mdash;the furrows
+are full of water; the cow-yard, though drained, is a pool, no
+drain being capable of carrying it off quick enough. The thatch of
+the sheds drips continually; the haystack drips; the thatch of the
+stack, which has to be pulled off before the hay-knife can be used,
+is wet; the old decaying wood of the rails and gates is wet. They
+sit on the three-legged milking-stool (whose rude workmanship has
+taken a dull polish from use) in a puddle; the hair of the cow,
+against which the head is placed, is wet; the wind blows the rain
+into the nape of the neck behind, the position being stooping.
+Staggering under the heavy yoke homewards, the boots sink deep into
+the slush and mire in the gateways, the weight carried sinking them
+well in. The teams do not usually work in very wet weather, and
+most of the out-door work waits; but the cattle must be attended
+to, Sundays and holidays included. Even in summer it often happens
+that a thunderstorm bursts about that time of the morning. But in
+winter, when the rain is driven by a furious wind, when the lantern
+is blown out, and the fogger stumbles in pitchy darkness through
+mud and water, it would be difficult to imagine a condition of
+things which concentrates more discomfort.</p>
+<p>If, as often happens, the man is far from home&mdash;perhaps he
+has walked a mile or two to work&mdash;of course he cannot change
+his clothes, or get near a fire, unless in the farmer's kitchen. In
+some places the kitchen is open to the men, and on Sundays, at all
+events, they get a breakfast free. But the kindly old habits are
+dying out before the hard-and-fast money system and the abiding
+effects of Unionism, which, even when not prominently displayed,
+causes a silent, sullen estrangement.</p>
+<p>Shepherds, too, sometimes visit the fold very early in the
+morning, and in the lambing season may be said to be about both day
+and night. They come, however, under a different category to the
+rest of the men, because they have no regular hours, but are guided
+solely by the season and the work. A shepherd often takes his ease
+when other men are busily labouring. On the other hand, he is
+frequently anxiously engaged when they are sleeping. His sheep rule
+his life, and he has little to do with the artificial divisions of
+time.</p>
+<p>Hedgers and ditchers often work by the piece, and so take their
+own time for meals; the ash woods, which are cut in the winter, are
+also usually thrown by the piece. Hedging and ditching, if done
+properly, is hard work, especially if there is any grubbing. Though
+the arms get warm from swinging the grub-axe or billhook, or
+cleaning out the ditch and plastering and smoothing the side of the
+mound with the spade, yet feet and ankles are chilled by the water
+in the ditch. This is often dammed up and so kept back partially,
+but it generally forces its way through. The ditcher has a board to
+stand on; there is a hole through it, and a projecting stick
+attached, with which to drag it into position. But the soft soil
+allows the board to sink, and he often throws it aside as more
+encumbrance than use. He has some small perquisites: he is allowed
+to carry home a bundle of wood or a log every night, and may gather
+up the remnants after the faggoting is finished. On the other hand,
+he cannot work in bad weather.</p>
+<p>Other men come to the farm buildings to commence work about the
+time the carter has got his horses fed, groomed, and harnessed, and
+after the fogger and milker have completed their early duties. If
+it is a frosty morning and the ground firm, so as to bear up a cart
+without poaching the soil too much, the manure is carried out into
+the fields. This is plain, straightforward labour, and cannot be
+looked upon as hard work. If the cattle want no further attention,
+the foggers and milkers turn their hands after breakfast to
+whatever may be going on. Some considerable time is taken up in
+slicing roots with the machine, or chaff-cutting&mdash;monotonous
+work of a simple character, and chiefly consisting in turning a
+handle.</p>
+<p>The general hands&mdash;those who come on when the carter is
+ready, and who are usually young men, not yet settled down to any
+particular branch&mdash;seem to get the best end of the stick. They
+do not begin so early in the morning by some time as the fogger,
+milker, carter, or shepherd; consequently, if the cottage
+arrangements are tolerable, they can get a comfortable breakfast
+first. They have no anxieties or trouble whatever; the work may be
+hard in itself, but there is no particular hurry (in their
+estimation) and they do not distress themselves. They receive
+nearly the same wages as the others who have the care of valuable
+flocks, herds, and horses; the difference is but a shilling or two,
+and, to make up for that, they do not work on Sundays. Now, the
+fogger must feed his cows, the carter his horse, the shepherd look
+to his sheep every day; consequently their extra wages are
+thoroughly well earned. The young labourer&mdash;who is simply a
+labourer, and professes no special branch&mdash;is, therefore, in a
+certain sense, the best off. He is rarely hired by the
+year&mdash;he prefers to be free, so that when harvest comes he may
+go where wages chance to be highest. He is an independent person,
+and full of youth, strength, and with little experience of life, is
+apt to be rough in his manners and not overcivil. His wages too
+often go in liquor, but if such a young man keeps steady (and there
+are a few that do keep steady) he does very well indeed, having no
+family to maintain.</p>
+<p>A set of men who work very hard are those who go with the
+steam-ploughing tackle. Their pay is so arranged as to depend in a
+measure on the number of acres they plough. They get the steam up
+as early as possible in the morning, and continue as late as they
+can at night. Just after the harvest, when the days are long, and,
+indeed, it is still summer, they work for extremely long hours.
+Their great difficulty lies in getting water. This must be
+continually fetched in carts, and, of course, requires a horse and
+man. These are not always forthcoming in the early morning, but
+they begin as soon as they can get water for the boiler, and do not
+stop till the field be finished or it is dark.</p>
+<p>The women do not find much work in the fields during the winter.
+Now and then comes a day's employment with the threshing-machine
+when the farmer wants a rick of corn threshed out. In pasture or
+dairy districts some of them go out into the meadows and spread the
+manure. They wear gaiters, and sometimes a kind of hood for the
+head. If done carefully, it is hard work for the
+arms&mdash;knocking the manure into small pieces by striking it
+with a fork swung to and fro smartly.</p>
+<p>In the spring, when the great heaps of roots are
+opened&mdash;having been protected all the winter by a layer of
+straw and earth&mdash;it is necessary to trim them before they are
+used. This is often done by a woman. She has a stool or log of wood
+to sit on, and arranges a couple of sacks or something of the kind,
+so as to form a screen and keep off the bitter winds which are then
+so common&mdash;colder than those of the winter proper. With a
+screen one side, the heap of roots the other, and the hedge on the
+third, she is in some sense sheltered, and, taking her food with
+her, may stay there the whole day long, quite alone in the solitude
+of the broad, open, arable fields.</p>
+<p>From a variety of causes, the number of women working in the
+fields is much less than was formerly the case; thus presenting
+precisely the reverse state of things to that complained of in
+towns, where the clerks, &amp;c., say that they are undersold by
+female labour. The contrast is rather curious. The price of women's
+labour has, too, risen; and there does not appear to be any
+repugnance on their part to field-work. Whether the conclusion is
+to be accepted that there has been a diminution in the actual
+number of women living in rural places, it is impossible to decide
+with any accuracy. But there are signs that female labour has
+drifted to the towns quite as much as male&mdash;especially the
+younger girls. In some places it seems rare to see a young girl
+working in the field (meaning in winter)&mdash;those that are to be
+found are generally women well advanced in life. Spring and summer
+work brings forth more, but not nearly so many as used to be the
+case.</p>
+<p>Although the work of the farm begins so soon in the morning, it
+is, on the other hand, in the cold months, over early. 'The night
+cometh when no man can work' was, one would think, originally meant
+in reference to agricultural labour. It grows dusk before half-past
+four on a dull winter's day, and by five is almost, if not quite,
+dark. Lanterns may be moving in the cowyards and stables; but
+elsewhere all is quiet&mdash;the hedger and ditcher cannot see to
+strike his blow, the ploughs have ceased to move for some time, the
+labourer's workshop&mdash;the field&mdash;is not lighted by gas as
+the rooms of cities.</p>
+<p>The shortness of the winter day is one of the primary reasons
+why, in accordance with ancient custom, wages are lowered at that
+time. In summer, on the contrary, the hours are long, and the pay
+high&mdash;which more than makes up for the winter reduction. A
+labourer who has any prudence can, in fact, do very well by putting
+by a portion of his extra summer wages for the winter; if he does
+not choose to exercise common sense, he cannot expect the farmer
+(or any manufacturer) to pay the same price for a little work and
+short time as for much work and long hours. Reviewing the work the
+labourer actually does in winter, it seems fair and just to state
+that the foggers, or milkers, i.e. the men who attend on cattle,
+the carters, and the shepherds, work hard, continuously, and often
+in the face of the most inclement weather. The mere labourers, who,
+as previously remarked, are usually younger and single men, do not
+work so hard, nor so long. And when they are at it&mdash;whether
+turning the handle of a winnowing machine in a barn, cutting a
+hedge, spreading manure, or digging&mdash;it must be said that they
+do not put the energy into it of which their brawny arms are
+capable.</p>
+<p>'The least work and the most money,' however, is a maxim not
+confined to the agricultural labourer. Recently I had occasion to
+pass through a busy London street in the West-end where the macadam
+of the roadway was being picked up by some score of men, and, being
+full of the subject of labour, I watched the process. Using the
+right hand as a fulcrum and keeping it stationary, each navvy
+slowly lifted his pick with the left half-way up, about on a level
+with his waistcoat, when the point of the pick was barely two feet
+above the ground. He then let it fall&mdash;simply by its own
+weight&mdash;producing a tiny indentation such as might be caused
+by the kick of one's heel It required about three such strokes, if
+they could so called strokes, to detach one single small stone.
+After that exhausting labor the man stood at ease for a few
+minutes, so that there were often three or four at once staring
+about them, while several others lounged against the wooden railing
+placed to keep vehicles back.</p>
+<p>A more irritating spectacle it would be hard to imagine. Idle as
+much agricultural labour is, it is rarely so lazy as that. How
+contractors get their work done, if that is a sample, it is a
+puzzle to understand. The complaint of the poor character of the
+work performed by the agricultural labourer seems also true of other
+departments, where labour&mdash;pure and simple labour of thews and
+sinews&mdash;is concerned. The rich city merchant, who goes to his
+office daily, positively works harder, in spite of all his money.
+So do the shopmen and assistants behind their counters; so do the
+girls in drapers' shops, standing the whole day and far into the
+evening when, as just observed, the fields have been dark for
+hours; so, indeed, do most men and women who earn their bread by
+any other means than mere bodily strength.</p>
+<p>But the cattle-men, carters, and shepherds, men with families
+and settled, often seem to take an interest in their charges, in
+the cows, horses, or sheep; some of them are really industrious,
+deserving men. The worst feature of unionism is the lumping of all
+together, for where one man is hardly worth his salt, another is a
+good workman. It is strange that such men as this should choose to
+throw in their lot with so many who are idle&mdash;whom they must
+know to be idle&mdash;thus jeopardising their own position for the
+sake of those who are not worth one-fifth the sacrifice the
+agricultural cottager must be called upon to make in a strike. The
+hard-working carter or cattle-man, according to the union theory,
+is to lose his pay, his cottage, his garden, and get into bad odour
+with his employer, who previously trusted him, and was willing to
+give him assistance, in order that the day labourer who has no
+responsibilities either of his own or his master's, and who has
+already the best end of the stick, should enjoy still further
+opportunities for idleness.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap22" id="chap22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN. COTTAGE GIRLS</h3>
+In the coldest weather one or more of the labourer's children are
+sure to be found in the farmyard somewhere. After the mother has
+dressed her boy (who may be about three or four years old) in the
+morning, he is at once turned out of doors to take care of himself,
+and if, as is often the case, the cottage is within a short
+distance of the farmyard, thither he toddles directly. He stands
+about the stable door, watching the harnessing of the great
+carthorses, which are, from the very first, the object of his
+intense admiration. But he has already learnt to keep out of the
+way, knowing that his presence would not otherwise be tolerated a
+moment, and occupies a position which enables him to dart quickly
+behind a tree, or a rick.
+<p>When the horses are gone he visits the outhouse, where the
+steam-engine is driving the chaff-cutter, or peers in at the huge
+doors of the barn, where with wide wooden shovel the grain is being
+moved. Or he may be met with round the hay-ricks, dragging a log of
+wood by a piece of tar cord, the log representing a plough. As you
+come upon him suddenly he draws up to the rick as if the hay was
+his natural protector, and looks up at you with half-frightened,
+half-curious gaze, and mouth open. His hat is an old one of his
+father's, a mile too big, coming down over his ears to his
+shoulders, well greased from ancient use&mdash;a thing not without
+its advantage, since it makes it impervious to rain. He wears what
+was a white jacket, but is now the colour of the prevailing soil of
+the place; a belt; and a pair of stumping boots, the very picture
+in miniature of his father's, heeled and tipped with iron. His
+naked legs are red with the cold, but thick and strong; his cheeks
+are plump and firm, his round blue eyes bright, his hair almost
+white, like bleached straw.</p>
+<p>An hour or two ago his skin was clean enough, for he was sent
+out well washed, but it is now pretty well grimed, for he has been
+making himself happy in the dirt, as a boy should do if he be a
+boy. For one thing it is clean dirt, nothing but pure mother earth,
+and not the nasty unctuous filth of city courts and back lanes. If
+you speak to him he answers you sturdily&mdash;if you can catch the
+meaning of his words, doubly difficult from accent and imperfect
+knowledge of construction. But he means well, and if you send him
+on an errand will run off to find 'measter' as fast as his short
+stature will allow. He will potter about the farmyard the whole
+morning, perhaps turning up at home for a lunch of a slice of bread
+well larded. His little sister, not so old as himself, is there,
+already beginning her education in the cares of maternity, looking
+after the helpless baby that crawls over the wooden threshold of
+the door with bare head, despite the bitter cold. Once during the
+day he may perhaps steal round the farmhouse, and peer wistfully
+from behind the tubs or buckets into the kitchen, when, if the
+mistress chances to be about, he is pretty certain to pick up some
+trifle in the edible line.</p>
+<p>How those prosperous parents who dwell in highly-rented suburban
+villas, and send out their children for a walk with a couple of
+nurses, and a 'bow-wow' to run beside the perambulator, would be
+eaten up with anxiety did their well-dressed boys or girls play
+where this young son of toil finds his amusement! Under the very
+hoofs of the carthorses&mdash;he will go out to them when they are
+loose in the field, three or four in a group, under a tree, when it
+looks as if the slightest movement on their part must crush him;
+down to the side of the deep broad brook to swim sticks in it for
+boats, where a slip on the treacherous mud would plunge him in, and
+where the chance of rescue&mdash;everybody being half a mile away
+at work&mdash;would be absolutely <i>nil</i>. The cows come
+trampling through the yard; the bull bellows in the meadow; great,
+grunting sows, savage when they have young, go by, thrusting their
+noses into and turning up the earth for food; steam ploughing
+engines pant and rumble about; carts are continually coming and
+going; and he is all day in the midst of it without guardian of any
+kind whatsoever. The fog, and frost, and cutting winter winds make
+him snivel and cry with the cold, and yet there he is out in
+it&mdash;in the draughts that blow round the ricks, and through the
+hedge bare of leaves. The rain rushes down pitilessly&mdash;he
+creeps inside the barn or shed, and with a stick splashes the
+puddles. The long glaring days of summer see him exposed to the
+scorching heat in the hay, or the still hotter harvest field.
+Through it all he grows stout and strong, and seems happy
+enough.</p>
+<p>He is, perhaps, more fortunate than his sister, who has to take
+part in the household work from very early age. But the village
+school claims them both after awhile; and the greater number of
+such schools are well filled, taking into consideration the long
+distances the children have to come and the frequent bad state of
+the roads and lanes. Both the employers and the children's own
+parents get them to school as much as possible; the former put on a
+mild compulsion, the latter for the most part are really anxious
+for the schooling, and have even an exaggerated idea of the value
+of education. In some cases it would seem as if the parents
+actually educated themselves in some degree from their own
+children, questioning them as to what they have been told. But, on
+the other hand, the labourer objects to paying for the teaching,
+and thinks the few coppers he is charged a terrible extortion.</p>
+<p>The lads, as they grow older and leave school, can almost always
+find immediate employment with their father on the same farm, or on
+one close by. Though they do not now go out to work so soon, yet,
+on the other hand, when they do commence they receive higher weekly
+wages. The price paid for boys' labour now is such that it becomes
+a very important addition to the aggregate income of the cottager.
+When a man has got a couple of boys out, bringing home so much per
+week, his own money, of course, goes very much farther.</p>
+<p>The girls go less and less into the field. If at home, they
+assist their parents at harvest time when work is done by the acre,
+and the more a man can cut the better he is off; but their aim is
+domestic service, and they prefer to be engaged in the towns. They
+shirk the work of a farmhouse, especially if it is a dairy, and so
+it has come to be quite a complaint among farmers' wives, in many
+places, that servants are not to be obtained. Those that are
+available are mere children, whose mothers like them to go out
+anywhere at first, just to obtain an insight into the duties of a
+servant. The farmer's wife has the trouble and annoyance of
+teaching these girls the rudiments of household work, and then, the
+moment they are beginning to be useful, they leave, and almost
+invariably go to the towns. Those that remain are the slow-witted,
+or those who are tied in a measure by family difficulties&mdash;as
+a bedridden mother to attend to; or, perhaps, an illegitimate child
+of her own may fetter the cottage girl. Then she goes out in the
+daytime to work at the farmhouse, and returns to sleep at home.</p>
+<p>Cottage girls have taken to themselves no small airs of recent
+years&mdash;they dress, so far as their means will go, as flashily
+as servants in cities, and stand upon their dignity. This
+foolishness has, perhaps, one good effect&mdash;it tends to
+diminish the illegitimate births. The girls are learning more
+self-respect&mdash;if they could only achieve that and eschew the
+other follies it would be a clear gain. It may be questioned
+whether purely agricultural marriages are as common as formerly.
+The girl who leaves her home for service in the towns sees a class
+of men&mdash;grooms, footmen, artisans, and workmen
+generally&mdash;not only receiving higher wages than the labourers
+in her native parish, but possessing a certain amount of
+comparative refinement. It is not surprising that she prefers, if
+possible, to marry among these.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, the young labourer, who knows that he can get
+good wages wherever he likes to go, has become somewhat of a
+wanderer. He roams about, not only from village to village, but
+from county to county; perhaps works for a time as a navvy on some
+distant railway, and thus associates with a different class of men,
+and picks up a sort of coarse cynicism. He does not care to marry
+and settle and tie himself down to a routine of labour&mdash;he
+despises home pleasures, preferring to spend his entire earnings
+upon himself. The roaming habits of the rising generation of
+labourers is an important consideration, and it has an effect in
+many ways. Statistics are not available; but the impression left on
+the mind is that purely rural marriages are not so frequent,
+notwithstanding that wages at large have risen. When a young man
+does marry, he and his wife not uncommonly live for a length of
+time with his parents, occupying a part of the cottage.</p>
+<p>Had any one gone into a cottage some few years back and inquired
+about the family, most probably the head of the house could have
+pointed out all his sons and daughters engaged in or near the
+parish. Most likely his own father was at work almost within hail.
+Uncles, cousins, various relations, were all near by. He could tell
+where everybody was. To-day if a similar inquiry wore made, the
+answer would often be very different. The old people might be about
+still, but the younger would be found scattered over the earth.
+One, perhaps, went to the United States or Canada in the height of
+the labourers' agitation some years ago, when agents were busy
+enlisting recruits for the Far West. Since then another has
+departed for Australia, taking with him his wife. Others have
+migrated northwards, or to some other point of the
+compass&mdash;they are still in the old country, but the exact
+whereabouts is not known. The girls are in service a hundred miles
+away&mdash;some married in the manufacturing districts. To the
+middle-aged, steady, stay-at-home labourer, the place does not seem
+a bit like it used to. Even the young boys are restless, and
+talking of going somewhere. This may not be the case with every
+single individual cottage family, but it is so with a great number.
+The stolid phalanx of agricultural labour is slowly
+disintegrating.</p>
+<p>If there yet remains anything idyllic in the surroundings of
+rural cottage life, it may be found where the unmarried but
+grown-up sons&mdash;supposing these, of course, to be
+steady&mdash;remain at home with their parents. The father and head
+of the house, having been employed upon one farm for the last
+thirty years or more, though nominally carter, is really a kind of
+bailiff. The two young men work on at the same place, and lodge at
+home, paying a small weekly sum for board and lodging. Their sister
+is probably away in service; their mother manages the cottage. She
+occasionally bears a hand in indoor work at the farmhouse, and in
+the harvest time aids a little in the field, but otherwise does not
+labour. What is the result? Plenty to eat, good beds, fairly good
+furniture, sufficient fuel, and some provision for contingencies,
+through the benefit club. As the wages are not consumed in drink,
+they have always a little ready money, and, in short, are as
+independent as it is possible for working men to be, especially if,
+as is often the case, the cottage and garden is their own, or is
+held on a small quit-rent. If either of the sons in time desires to
+marry, he does not start utterly unprovided. His father's influence
+with the farmer is pretty sure to procure him a cottage; he has
+some small savings himself, and his parents in the course of years
+have accumulated some extra furniture, which is given to him.</p>
+<p>If a cottage, where the occupants are steady like this, be
+visited in the evening, say towards seven o'clock, when dinner is
+on the table (labourers dining or supping after the conclusion of
+the day's work), the fare will often be found of a substantial
+character. There may be a piece of mutton&mdash;not, of course, the
+prime cut, but wholesome meat&mdash;cabbages, parsnips, carrots
+(labourers like a profusion of vegetables), all laid out in a
+decent manner. The food is plain, but solid and plentiful. If the
+sister out in service wishes to change her situation, she has a
+home to go to meanwhile. Should any dispute occur with the employer
+the cottage is still there, and affords a shelter till the
+difficulty is settled or other work obtained. In towns the workman
+who has been earning six or even ten shillings a day, and paying a
+high rent (carefully collected every week), no sooner gets his
+discharge than he receives notice to quit his lodgings, because the
+owner knows he will not be paid. But when the agricultural labourer
+has a quit-rent cottage, or one of his own, he has a permanent
+resource, and can look round for another engagement.</p>
+<p>The cooking in the best cottages would not commend itself to the
+student of that art: in those where the woman is shiftless it would
+be deemed simply intolerable. Evidence of this is only too apparent
+on approaching cottages, especially towards the evening. Coming
+from the fresh air of the fields, perhaps from the sweet scent of
+clover or of new-mown grass, the odour which arises from the
+cottages is peculiarly offensive. It is not that they are dirty
+inside&mdash;the floor may be scrubbed, the walls brushed, the
+chairs clean, and the beds tidy; it is from outside that all the
+noisome exhalations taint the breeze. The refuse vegetables, the
+washings, the liquid and solid rubbish generally is cast out into
+the ditch, often open to the highway road, and there festers till
+the first storm sweeps it away. The cleanest woman indoors thinks
+nothing disgusting out of doors, and hardly goes a step from her
+threshold to cast away indescribable filth. Now, a good deal of
+this refuse is the remains of imperfect cooking&mdash;masses of
+soddened cabbage, part of which only is eaten, and the rest stored
+for the pig or thrown into the ditch. The place smells of soaking,
+saturated cabbage for yards and yards round about.</p>
+<p>But it is much easier to condemn the cottage cook than to show
+her how to do better. It is even doubtful whether professed
+scientific cooks could tell her what to do. The difficulty arises
+from the rough, coarse taste of the labourer, and the fact, which
+it is useless to ignore, that he must have something solid, and
+indeed, bulky. Thin clear soups&mdash;though proved to abound with
+nourishment and of delicious flavour&mdash;are utterly beside his
+wants. Give him the finest soup; give him
+<i>p&acirc;t&eacute;s</i>, or even more meaty
+<i>entr&eacute;es</i>, and his remark will be that it is very nice,
+but he wants 'summat to eat.' His teeth are large, his jaws strong,
+his digestive powers such as would astonish a city man; he likes
+solid food, bacon, butcher's meat, cheese, or something that gives
+him a sense of fulness, like a mass of vegetables. This is the
+natural result of his training and work in the fields. The
+materials used by the cottage cook are often quite capable of being
+made into agreeable dishes, but then those dishes would not suit
+the man. All the soups and kickshaws&mdash;though excellent in
+themselves&mdash;in the world are not, for his purpose, equal to a
+round of beef or a side of bacon. Let any one go and labour daily
+in the field, and they will come quickly to the same opinion. Yet
+something might certainly be done in the way of preventing waste.
+The real secret lies in the education of the women when
+young&mdash;that is, for the future. But, taking the present day,
+looking at things as they actually exist, it is no use abusing or
+lecturing the cottage cook. She might, perhaps, be persuaded to
+adopt a systematic plan of disposing of the refuse.</p>
+<p>The Saturday half-holiday is scarcely so closely observed in
+rural labour as in urban. The work closes earlier, that is, so far
+as the day labourer is concerned, for he gets the best of this as
+of other things. But, half-holiday or not, cows have to be fed and
+milked, sheep must be looked after, and the stable attended to, so
+that the regular men do not get off much sooner. In winter, the
+days being short, they get little advantage from the short time; in
+summer they do. Compensation is, however, as much as possible
+afforded to the settled men who have gardens, by giving them a
+half-day now and then when work is slack to attend to them.</p>
+<p>On Sunday morning the labourer cleans and polishes his boots
+(after digging the potatoes for dinner), puts on a black or dark
+coat, put his hands in his pockets&mdash;a marked feature
+this&mdash;and rambles down to his garden or the allotment. There,
+if it be spring or summer, he is sure to find some acquaintances
+likewise 'looking round.' This seems to be one of the greatest
+pleasures of the labourer, noting the growth of a cabbage here, and
+the promise of potatoes yonder; he does not work, but strolls to
+and fro, discussing the vegetable prospect. Then back home in time
+for dinner&mdash;the great event of Sunday, being often the only
+day in the week that he can get a hot dinner in the middle of the
+day. It is his day at home, and though he may ramble out he never
+goes far.</p>
+<p>Ladies residing in the country are accustomed to receive
+periodical appeals from friends in town asking their assistance in
+procuring servants. So frequent are such appeals that there would
+seem to be a popular belief that the supply is inexhaustible. The
+villages are supposed to be full of girls, all ready to enter
+service, and, though a little uncouth in manner, possessed
+nevertheless of sterling good qualities. The letter is usually
+couched in something like the following terms:&mdash;'Do you happen
+to know of a really good girl that would suit us? You are aware of
+the scale on which our household is conducted, and how very modest
+our requirements are. All we want is a strong, healthy, honest
+girl, ready and willing to work and to learn, and who will take an
+interest in the place, and who will not ask too extravagant a
+price. She can have a good home with us as long as ever she likes
+to stay. My dear, you really cannot tell what a difficulty we
+experience in getting servants who are not "uppish," and who are
+trustworthy and do not mind working, and if you can find us one in
+those pretty villages round you, we shall be so much obliged,'
+&amp;c.</p>
+<p>The fact that a servant from the country is supposed, in the
+nature of things, to be honest and willing, hardworking, strong,
+and healthy, and almost everything else, speaks well for the
+general character of the girls brought up in agricultural cottages.
+It is, however, quite a mistake to suppose the supply to be
+limitless; it is just the reverse; the really good servants from
+any particular district are quickly exhausted, and then, if the
+friends in town will insist upon a girl from the country, they
+cannot complain if they do not get precisely what they want. The
+migration, indeed, of servants from the villages to the towns has,
+for the time being, rather overdone itself. The best of those who
+responded to the first demand were picked out some time since; many
+of those now to be had are not of the first class, and the young
+are not yet grown up. After awhile, as education
+progresses&mdash;bringing with it better manners&mdash;there may be
+a fresh supply; meantime, really good country girls are difficult
+to obtain. But the demand is as great as ever. From the squire's
+lady down to the wife of the small tenant-farmer, one and all
+receive the same requests from friends in town. The character of
+the true country servant stands as high as ever.</p>
+<p>Let us hope that the polish of progress may not too much overlay
+the solid if humble virtues which procured that character for her
+class. Some efforts are being made here and there to direct the
+course of young girls after leaving the village schools&mdash;to
+put them in the right way and give them the benefit of example. As
+yet such efforts are confined to individuals. The object is
+certainly worth the formation of local organisations, for, too
+often, on quitting the school, the young village girl comes in
+contact with anything but elevating influences, and, unfortunately,
+her own mother is not always the best guide. The position of a
+servant in town is well known, the antecedents of a girl before she
+reaches town perhaps not so thoroughly, while the lives of those
+who remain in the villages drop out of sight of the great
+world.</p>
+<p>As a child, the cottage girl 'roughs' it in the road and in the
+fields. In winter she learns to slide, and to endure the cold and
+rain, till she often becomes what, to any one accustomed to a more
+delicate life, seems positively impervious to weather. The servants
+in old-fashioned farmhouses really did not seem to know what it was
+to feel cold. Even nowadays, a servant fresh from an outlying
+hamlet, where her parents probably could procure but little fuel
+beyond what was necessary for cooking, at first cares not an atom
+whether there be a fire in the kitchen or not. Such girls are as
+hardy as the men of their native place. After a time, hot rooms and
+a profusion of meat and good living generally saps and undermines
+this natural strength. Then they shiver like town-bred people.</p>
+<p>The cottage child is often locked out by her parents, who go to
+work and leave her in charge of her still smaller brothers and
+sisters. They play about the hedges and ditches, and very rarely
+come to any harm. In autumn their little fingers are employed
+picking up the acorns fallen from the oaks, for which the formers
+pay so much per bushel. In spring is their happiest time. The joy
+of life&mdash;the warm sunshine and pleasant breeze of
+spring&mdash;is not wholly lost upon them, despite their hard fare,
+and the not very affectionate treatment they receive at home. Such
+a girl may then be seen sitting under a willow beside the brook,
+with her charges around her&mdash;the little brother that can just
+toddle, the baby that can but crawl and crow in the green fresh
+grass. Between them lies a whole pile of flowers&mdash;dandelion
+stems made into rings, and the rings joined together so as to form
+a chain, rushes plaited, blue-bells, cowslips tied up in balls, and
+cowslips loose, their yellow petals scattered over the sward.</p>
+<p>The brook flows murmuring by, with an occasional splash, as a
+water-rat dives from the bank or a fish rises to an insect. The
+children weave their flowers and chant some old doggrel rhymes with
+little or no meaning. Long afterwards that girl will retain an
+unconscious memory of the scene, when, wheeling her employer's
+children out on some suburban road, she seeks a green meadow and
+makes a cowslip ball for the delighted infants. In summer they go
+down to the hay-field, but dare not meddle with the hay, which the
+bailiff does not like to see disturbed; they remain under the
+shadow of the hedge. In autumn they search for the berries, like
+the birds, nibbling the hips and haws, tasting crabs and sloes, or
+feasting on the fruit of a hazel-bush.</p>
+<p>Be it spring or summer, autumn or winter, wherever the child may
+be, her eyes are ever on the watch to find a dead stick or a broken
+branch, too heavy to lift, but which may be dragged behind, in
+order to feed the cottage fire at night. That is her first duty as
+a child; if she remains in the hamlet that will be her duty through
+life, and to the last, as an aged woman. So in London, round the
+purlieus of buildings in the course of erection&mdash;even in the
+central thoroughfares, in busy Fleet Street&mdash;children hang
+about the temporary hoardings, and pick up the chips and splinters
+of deal. But the latter have not the pleasure of the blue-bells and
+cowslips, nor even of the hips and haws, nor does the fresh pure
+breeze play upon their foreheads.</p>
+<p>Rough though it be, the childhood of the cottage girl is not
+without its recompenses, the most valuable of which is sturdy
+health. Now that good schools are open to every village, so soon as
+the children are old enough to walk the distance, often
+considerable, they are sent off every morning. At all events, if it
+does nothing else, it causes the mothers to give them a daily
+tidying up, which is in itself an advantage. They travel under the
+charge of the girl; often two or three such small parties join
+company, coming from as many cottages. In the warmer months, the
+lanes and fields they cross form a long playground for them, and
+picking flowers and searching for birds'-nests pass away the time.
+In winter they have to face the mire and rain.</p>
+<p>When the girl leaves school she is hardly old enough to enter
+service, and too often in the year or so that elapses before she
+'goes out' much mischief is done. She is then at an age when the
+mind is peculiarly receptive, and the ways of the young labourers
+with whom she is thrown into contact are not very refined. Her
+first essay at 'service' is often as day-nursemaid at some adjacent
+farmhouse, taking care of the younger children in the day, and
+returning home to sleep. She then wanders with the children about
+the same fields she visited long before. This system used to be
+common enough, but latterly it has not worked well, because the
+parents expect the girl to progress so rapidly. She must be a woman
+and receive a woman's wages almost before she has ceased to be a
+girl. If she does not disdain to enter a farmhouse as kitchen-maid
+her wages will probably be about six pounds a year at first. Of
+course the exact sum varies very much in different localities and
+in different cases. It is but a small sum of money, yet it is often
+all she is worth.</p>
+<p>The cottage is a poor preparation even for the humblest
+middle-class home. Those ladies in towns who have engaged country
+servants are well aware of the amount of teaching they require
+before they can go through the simplest duties in a satisfactory
+manner. But most of these girls have already been out several times
+before reaching town. What a difficulty, then, the first farmer's
+wife must have had in drilling the rudiments of civilised life into
+them! Indeed, the vexations and annoyances connected with servants
+are no light weight upon the patience of the tenant-farmer. His
+wife is perpetually preparing servant girls for the service of
+other people.</p>
+<p>She is a kind of unpaid teacher, for ever shaping the rough
+material which, so soon as it is worth higher wages than a
+tenant-farmer can usually pay, is off, and the business has to be
+begun over again. No one who had not seen it would believe how
+clumsy and unthinking such girls are on first 'going out.' It is,
+too, the flightiest and giddiest period of their
+existence&mdash;before the girl sobers down into the woman. In the
+houses of the majority of tenant-farmers the mistress herself has
+to be a good deal in the kitchen, and therefore comes into close
+personal contact with the servants, and feels these things acutely.
+Except in the case of gentleman-farmers it may, perhaps, be said
+that almost all the wives of farmers have had experience of this
+kind.</p>
+<p>The girls are not nearly so tractable as formerly&mdash;they are
+fully aware of their own value and put it extremely high; a word is
+sufficient, and if not pleased they leave immediately. Wages rise
+yearly to about the limit of twelve pounds. In mentioning that sum
+it is not set down as an exact figure, for circumstances of course
+vary in every case. But it is seldom that servants in farmhouses of
+the middle class receive more than that. Until recently few
+obtained so much. Most of them that are worth anything never rest
+till they reach the towns, and take service in the villas of the
+wealthy suburban residents. Some few, however, remain in the
+country from preference, feeling a strong affection for their
+native place, for their parents and friends. Notwithstanding the
+general tendency to roam, this love of home is by no means extinct,
+but shows itself very decidedly in some of the village girls.</p>
+<p>The fogger, or milker, who comes to the farmhouse door in the
+morning may not present a very attractive appearance in the eyes of
+those accustomed to see well-dressed people; but it may be quite
+different with the young girl whose early associations have made
+her oblivious of dirt. She does not notice the bits of hay clinging
+to the smockfrock, the greasy hat and begrimed face, or the clumsy
+boots thickly coated with mud. A kiss may be quite as sweet,
+despite these mere outside accidents. In her way she is full of
+imagination and fancy&mdash;what her mistress would call 'giddy.'
+Within doors an eye may be on her, so she slips out to the
+wood-stack in the yard, ostensibly to fetch a log for the fire, and
+indulges in a few moments of flirtation behind the shelter of the
+faggots. In the summer she works doubly hard in the morning, and
+gets everything forward, so that she may go out to the field
+haymaking in the afternoon, when she may meet her particular
+friend, and also, perhaps, his rival.</p>
+<p>On Sundays she gladly walks two or more miles across the fields
+to church, knowing full well that some one will be lounging about a
+certain stile, or lying on the sward by a gate waiting for her. The
+practice of coquetry is as delightful in the country lane as in the
+saloons of wealth, though the ways in which it exhibits itself may
+be rude in comparison. So that love is sometimes the detaining
+force which keeps the girl in the country. Some of the young
+labourers are almost heirs to property in their eyes. One is
+perhaps the son of the carrier, who owns a couple of cottages let
+out to tenants; or the son of the blacksmith, at whom several caps
+are set, and about whom no little jealousy rages. On the whole,
+servants in the country, at least at farmhouses, have much more
+liberty than they could possibly get in town.</p>
+<p>The work is hard in the morning, but generally much less for the
+rest of the day; in the evening there is often scarcely anything to
+do. So that the farmhouse servant has much time to herself, and is
+not too strictly confined indoors when not at work. There is a good
+deal of 'company,' too; men coming to the door, men in the
+rick-yards and cattle-yards, men in the barn, labourers passing to
+their work, and so on. It is not so dull a life as might appear.
+Indeed, a farmhouse servant probably sees twice as many of her own
+class in the course of a week as a servant in town.</p>
+<p>Vanity, of course, is not to be shut out even from so simple an
+existence: the girl must have a 'fashionable' bonnet, and a pair of
+thin tight boots, let the lanes be never so dirty or the fields
+never so wet. In point of education they have much improved of
+late, and most can now read and write. But when they write home the
+letter is often read to the mother by some friend; the girl's
+parents being nearly or quite illiterate. Tenant-farmers' wives are
+often asked to act as notaries in such cases by cottage women on
+the receipt of letters from their children.</p>
+<p>When such a girl marries in the village she usually finds the
+work of the cottage harder than that of the farmhouse. It is more
+continuous, and when children arrive the trouble of nursing has to
+be added to the other duties, and to occasional work in the fields.
+The agricultural labourer's wife, indeed, has a harder lot than her
+husband. His toil is for the most part over when he leaves the
+field, but the woman's is never finished. When the man reaches home
+he does not care, or will not turn his hand to anything, except,
+perhaps, to fetch a pail of water, and he is not well pleased if
+asked to do that. The want of conveniences like an accessible water
+supply is severely felt by the women in many villages and hamlets;
+whilst in others there is a quantity running to waste. Many of the
+men obtain a more than liberal amount of beer, while the women
+scarcely get any at all. While working in the field they are
+allowed a small quantity by some farmers; at home they have
+none.</p>
+<p>Very few cottage women are inclined to drink, and they are
+seldom seen at 'public' or intoxicated. On Saturdays most of them
+walk into the nearest town, perhaps five or more miles distant, in
+order to buy household stuff. Often a whole bevy of neighbours then
+meet and return home together, and that is about the only time when
+they call at the roadside inn. Laden with heavy parcels, with a
+long walk yet before them, and after a hard week's work, it is not
+surprising that they should want some refreshment, but the quantity
+of ale then purchased is very small. When there are a number of
+young children, and the parents endeavour to keep them decent, the
+woman works very hard indeed. Many farmers' wives take much
+interest in such families, where there is an evident endeavour to
+go straight, and assist the women in various ways, as with cast-off
+clothing for the children. A basketful of apples even from the
+farmer's orchard is a treat to the children, for, though better fed
+than formerly, their diet is necessarily monotonous, and such fruit
+as may be grown in the cottage garden is, of course, sold.</p>
+<p>With the exception of vegetables the cottager now buys almost
+everything and produces nothing for home use; no home-spun
+clothing&mdash;not even a home-baked loaf. Instances have been
+observed where cottagers have gone to much expense (for them) to
+build ovens, and after baking a few batches abandoned the project.
+Besides the cheap outfitters in the towns, the pack-drapers come
+round visiting every cottage. Such drapers have no shop-window, and
+make no display, but employ several men carrying packs, who work
+through the villages on foot and range over a wide stretch of
+country.</p>
+<p>Agricultural women, other than those belonging to the families
+of tenant-farmers, may be summed up as employed in the following
+manner. Bailiff's wives and daughters: these are not supposed, on
+extensive farms, to work in the field. The wife frequently has
+charge of the small home dairy, and the daughter assists at the
+house. Sometimes they also attend to the poultry, now occasionally
+kept in large numbers. A bailiff's daughter sometimes becomes
+housekeeper to a farmer. Dairymaids of the ordinary class&mdash;not
+competent to make special cheese&mdash;are becoming rarer, on
+account of the demand for their services decreasing&mdash;the milk
+trade and cheap foreign cheese having rendered common sorts of
+cheese unprofitable. They are usually cottagers. Of the married
+labouring women and the indoor servants something has already been
+said. In most villages a seamstress or two may be found, and has
+plenty of work to do for the farmers' families. The better class of
+housekeepers, and those professional dairymaids who superintend the
+making of superior cheese, are generally more or less nearly
+related to the families of tenant-farmers.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap23" id="chap23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h3>
+<h3>THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS</h3>
+The wise old saw that good wine needs no bush does not hold true in
+the case of the labourer; it would require a very large bush indeed
+to attract him to the best of beer offered for sale under
+legitimate conditions. In fact, he cares not a rap about good
+beer&mdash;that is, intrinsically good, a genuine product of malt
+and hops. He would rather grumble at it, unless, perchance, it was
+a gift; and even then would criticise it behind the donor's back,
+holding the quart cup aslant so as to see the bottom in one place,
+and get a better view of the liquor. The great breweries whose
+names are household words in cities, and whose interest it is to
+maintain a high standard of quality for the delectation of their
+million consumers, do not exalt their garish painted advertisements
+in gilded letters as tall as Tom Thumb over the doors of village
+alehouses. You might call for Bass at Cairo, Bombay, Sydney, or San
+Francisco, and Bass would be forthcoming. But if you knocked the
+trestle-table with the bottom of a tankard (the correct way) in a
+rural public, as a signal to the cellar you might call for Bass in
+vain.
+<p>When the agricultural labourer drops in on his way home from his
+work of a winter evening&mdash;heralding his approach by casting
+down a couple of logs or bundle of wood which he has been carrying
+with a thud outside the door&mdash;he does not demand liquor of
+that character. When in harvest time, after sundown&mdash;when the
+shadows forbid farther cutting with the fagging hook at the tall
+wheat&mdash;he sits on the form without, under the elm tree, and
+feels a whole pocketful of silver, flush of money like a
+gold-digger at a fortunate rush, he does not indulge in Allsopp or
+Guinness. He hoarsely orders a 'pot' of some local brewer's
+manufacture&mdash;a man who knows exactly what he likes, and
+arranges to meet the hardy digestion of the mower and the reaper.
+He prefers a rather dark beer with a certain twang faintly
+suggestive of liquorice and tobacco, with a sense of 'body,' a
+thickness in it, and which is no sooner swallowed than a clammy
+palate demands a second gulp to wash away the relics of the first.
+Ugh! The second requires a third swig, and still a fourth, and
+appetite increasing with that it feeds on, the stream rushes down
+the brazen throat that burns for more.</p>
+<p>Like the Northern demi-god who drank unwittingly at the ocean
+from a horn and could not empty it, but nevertheless caused the ebb
+of the sea, so our toper, if he cannot contain the cask, will bring
+it down to the third hoop if time and credit will but serve. It
+would require a ganger's staff to measure his capacity&mdash;in
+fact, the limit of the labourer's liquor-power, especially in
+summer, has never yet been reached. A man will lie on his back in
+the harvest field, under a hedge sweet with the June roses that
+smile upon the hay, and never move or take his lips away till a
+gallon has entered into his being, for it can hardly be said to be
+swallowed. Two gallons a day is not an uncommon consumption with
+men who swing the scythe or reaping-hook.</p>
+<p>This of course is small beer; but the stuff called for at the
+low public in the village, or by the road just outside, though
+indescribably nauseous to a non-vitiated palate, is not 'small.' It
+is a heady liquid, which if anyone drinks, not being accustomed to
+it, will leave its effects upon him for hours afterwards. But this
+is what the labourer likes. He prefers something that he can feel;
+something that, if sufficiently indulged in, will make even his
+thick head spin and his temples ache next morning. Then he has had
+the value of his money. So that really good ale would require a
+very large bush indeed before it attracted his custom.</p>
+<p>It is a marked feature of labouring life that the respectable
+inn of the village at which the travelling farmer, or even persons
+higher in rank, occasionally call, which has a decent stable, and
+whose liquors are of a genuine character, is almost deserted by the
+men who seek the reeking tap of the ill-favoured public which forms
+the clubhouse of all the vice of the village. While the farmer or
+passing stranger, calling at the decent house really for
+refreshment, drinks but a glass or two and departs, the frequenters
+of the low place never quit their seats till the law compels them,
+so that for sixpence spent in the one by men with cheque-books in
+their pockets, five shillings are spent in the other by men who
+have not got a loaf of bread at home for their half-starving
+children and pinched wife. To an unprincipled landlord clearly this
+sort of custom is decidedly preferable, and thus it is that these
+places are a real hardship to the licensed victualler whose effort
+it is to keep an orderly house.</p>
+<p>The influence of the low public upon the agricultural labourer's
+life is incalculable&mdash;it is his club, almost his home. There
+he becomes brutalised; there he spends his all; and if he awakes to
+the wretched state of his own family at last, instead of
+remembering that it is his own act, he turns round, accuses the
+farmer of starvation wages, shouts for what is really Communism,
+and perhaps even in his sullen rage descends to crime. Let us go
+with him into such a rural den.</p>
+<p>Beware that you do not knock your head against the
+smoke-blackened beams of the low ceiling, and do not put your elbow
+carelessly on the deal table, stained with spilled ale, left
+uncleaned from last night, together with little heaps of ashes,
+tapped out from pipes, and spots of grease from the tallow candles.
+The old-fashioned settles which gave so cosy an air in the olden
+time to the inn room, and which still linger in some of the houses,
+are not here&mdash;merely forms and cheap chairs. A great pot hangs
+over the fire, for the family cooking is done in the public
+apartment; but do not ask to join in the meal, for though the food
+may be more savoury than is dreamed of in your philosophy, the
+two-grained forks have not been cleaned these many a day. Neither
+is the butcher's wooden skewer, just extracted from the meat, an
+elegant toothpick if you are fastidious.</p>
+<p>But these things are trifles when the dish is a plump pheasant,
+jugged hare, brown partridges, or trout&mdash;perhaps not exactly
+in season&mdash;as the chance may be; or a couple of boiled fowls,
+or a turkey, or some similar toothsome morsel. Perhaps it is the
+gamey taste thus induced that enables them to enjoy joints from the
+butcher which are downright tainted, for it is characteristic of
+the place and people on the one hand to dine on the very best, as
+above, and yet to higgle over a halfpenny a pound at the shop.
+Nowhere else in all the parish, from the polished mahogany at the
+squire's mansion to the ancient solid oaken table at the
+substantial old-fashioned farmer's, can there be found such a
+constant supply of food usually considered as almost the privilege
+of the rich. Bacon, it is true, they eat of the coarsest kind; but
+with it eggs new laid and delicious. In brief, it is the strangest
+hodge-podge of pheasant and bread and cheese, asparagus and
+cabbage. But somehow, whatever is good, whatever is held in
+estimation, makes its appearance in that grimy little back room on
+that ragged, dirty table-cloth.</p>
+<p>Who pays for these things? Are they paid for at all? There is no
+licensed dealer in game in the village nor within many miles, and
+it seems passing strange. But there are other things almost as
+curious. The wood pile in the back yard is ever high and bulky; let
+the fire burn never so clear in the frosty days there is always a
+regular supply of firewood. It is the same with coal. Yet there is
+no copse attached to the place, nor is the landlord ever seen
+chopping for himself, nor are the farmers in the habit of receiving
+large orders for logs and faggots. By the power of some magic spell
+all things drift hitherward. A magnet which will draw logs of
+timber and faggots half across the parish, which will pull
+pheasants off their perch, extract trout from the deep, and stay
+the swift hare in midst of her career, is a power indeed to be
+envied. Had any enchanter of medi&aelig;val days so potent a
+charm?</p>
+<p>Perhaps it is the engaging and attractive character of the
+landlord himself. He is a tall, lanky man, usually seen in
+slippers, and trousers too short for his limbs; he 'sloppets' about
+in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, hands in pockets, and shoulders
+forward almost in a hump. He hangs about the place, now bringing in
+a log, now carrying a bucket, now spinning a mop, now slouching
+down the garden to feed the numerous fowls that scratch around the
+stumps of cabbages. Anything, in short, but work. Sometimes,
+however, he takes the trap and horse, and is supposed to be gone on
+a dealing expedition. Sometimes it is only to carry a jar of beer
+up to the men in the field, and to mouch a good armful of fresh-cut
+clover for provender from the swathe. He sips gin the live-long
+day&mdash;weak gin always&mdash;every hour from morn till a cruel
+Legislature compels the closing of the shutters. He is never
+intoxicated&mdash;it is simply a habit, a sort of fuel to feed the
+low cunning in which his soul delights. So far from intoxication is
+he, that there is a fable of some hard knocks and ill usage, and
+even of a thick head being beaten against the harder stones of the
+courtyard behind, when the said thick head was helpless from much
+ale. Such matters are hushed up in the dark places of the earth. So
+far from intoxication is he, that he has the keenest eye to
+business.</p>
+<p>There is a lone rick-yard up in the fields yonder to which the
+carters come from the farm far away to fetch hay, and straw, and so
+forth. They halt at the public, and are noticed to enjoy good
+living there, nor are they asked for their score. A few trusses of
+hay, or bundles of straw, a bushel of corn, or some such trifle is
+left behind merely out of good-fellowship. Waggons come up laden
+with tons of coal for the farms miles above, far from a railway
+station; three or four teams, perhaps, one after the other. Just a
+knob or two can scarcely be missed, and a little of the small in a
+sack-bag. The bundles of wood thrown down at the door by the
+labourers as they enter are rarely picked up again; they disappear,
+and the hearth at home is cold. The foxes are blamed for the geese
+and the chickens, and the hunt execrated for not killing enough
+cubs, but Reynard is not always guilty. Eggs and poultry vanish.
+The shepherds have ample opportunities for disposing of a few spare
+lambs to a general dealer whose trap is handy. Certainly,
+continuous gin does not chill the faculties.</p>
+<p>If a can of ale is left in the outhouse at the back and happens
+to be found by a few choice spirits at the hour when the vicar is
+just commencing his sermon in church on Sunday, it is by the purest
+accident. The turnip and swede greens left at the door, picked
+wholesale from the farmers' fields; the potatoes produced from coat
+pockets by fingers which have been sorting heaps at the farmstead;
+the apples which would have been crushed under foot if the
+labourers had not considerately picked them up&mdash;all these and
+scores of other matters scarce worth naming find their way over
+that threshold. Perhaps the man is genial, his manners enticing,
+his stories amusing, his jokes witty? Not at all. He is a silent
+fellow, scarce opening his mouth except to curse the poor scrub of
+a maid servant, or to abuse a man who has not paid his score. He
+slinks in and lights his pipe, smokes it silently, and slinks out
+again. He is the octopus of the hamlet, fastening on the cottage
+homes and sucking the life-blood from them. He misses nothing, and
+nothing comes amiss to him.</p>
+<p>His wife, perhaps, then, may be the centre of attraction? She is
+a short, stout woman, whose cheeks as she walks wobble with fat,
+whose face is ever dirty, and dress (at home) slatternly. But
+mayhap her heart is in the right place, and when Hodge is missed
+from his accustomed seat by the fire of an evening, when it is
+bruited abroad that he is down with illness, hurriedly slips on her
+bonnet, and saying nothing, carries a basket of good things to
+cheer the inner man? Or, when his wife is confined, perhaps she
+brings some little delicacies, a breast of pheasant, a bottle of
+port wine, and strengthens her with motherly counsel in the hour of
+her travail. Is this so? Hodge's wife could tell you that the
+cottage door has never been darkened by her presence: that she
+indeed would not acknowledge her if passed by chance on the road.
+For the landlady sails forth to the adjacent town in all the glory
+of those fine feathers that proverbially make the fine bird.</p>
+<p>It is a goodly spectacle to see her in rustling ample silk, in
+costly sealskin, in a bonnet 'loud' but rich, shading a countenance
+that glows ruddy red as a furnace. A gold chain encircles her
+portly neck, with a gold watch thereto attached; gold rings upon
+her fingers, in one of which sparkles a brilliant diamond; gold
+earrings, gold brooch, kid gloves bursting from the fatness of the
+fingers they encase. The dingy trap and limping rawboned hack which
+carry her to the outskirts of the town scarcely harmonise with so
+much glory. But at the outskirts she alights, and enters the street
+in full dignity. By some potent alchemy the sweat of Hodge's brow
+has become condensed into that sparkling diamond, which is
+disclosed when the glove is drawn off in the shops, to the
+admiration of all beholders.</p>
+<p>Or, if not the wife, perhaps it may be the daughter who is the
+magnet that draws the very timber across the parish? She is not
+ill-looking, and might pass muster in her best dress were it not
+for a squareness of build, like the set of a man rather than the
+full curves associated with woman. She is rarely seen in the house
+at all, and neither talks to the men nor the women who enter. She
+sallies forth at night, and her friends are the scampish among the
+sons of the lower class of tenant-farmers.</p>
+<p>This is the family. How strange and yet how undeniable is it
+that such a house should attract the men whose self-interest, one
+would imagine, would lead them to shun it, and if they must spend
+their hard-won earnings, at least to get a good article for their
+money! It proves that an appeal to reason is not always the way to
+manage the working man. Such a low house is always a nest of
+agitation: there the idle, drunken, and ill-conditioned have their
+rendezvous, there evil is hatched, and from there men take their
+first step on the road that leads to the gaol. The place is often
+crowded at night&mdash;there is scarcely room to sit or stand, the
+atmosphere is thick with smoke, and a hoarse roar of jarring voices
+fills it, above which rises the stave of a song shouted in one
+unvarying key from some corner. Money pours in apace&mdash;the
+draughts are deep, and long, and frequent, the mugs are large, the
+thirst insatiate. The takings, compared with the size and situation
+of the house, must be high, and yet, with all this custom and
+profit, the landlord and his family still grovel. And grovel they
+will in dirt, vice, low cunning, and iniquity&mdash;as the serpent
+went on his belly in the dust&mdash;to the end of their days.</p>
+<p>Why do these places exist? Because in England justice is ever
+tempered with mercy; sometimes with too much mercy. The resident
+squire and magistrate knows the extent of the evil only too well.
+He sees it with his own eyes in the village; he sees it brought
+before him on the bench; the clergyman tells him of it, so do the
+gamekeeper and the policeman. His tenants complain of it. He is
+perpetually reminded of it, and of what it may ultimately mean as
+these places become the centres of communistic propagandas. But
+though perfectly aware of the evil, to suppress it is quite another
+matter.</p>
+<p>First, you must find the power, and then, having the power, the
+question arises, is it wise to exercise it? Though the men who
+frequent such dens are often of the lowest type, or on their way to
+that condition, they are not all of that character. Men of a
+hard-working and honest stamp go there as well. All have their
+rights alike&mdash;rights and liberties which must be held sacred
+even at some disadvantage. In short, the reprobate nature of the
+place may be established, but while it is the chosen resort of the
+people, or of a section of them, unless some great and manifest
+harm arises it cannot be touched. The magistrate will willingly
+control it as far as lies in his province, but unless directly
+instructed by the Legislature he cannot go farther. The truth is,
+it lies with the labourer himself. He is not obliged to visit
+there. A respectable inn may be found in every village if he
+desires that wholesome conviviality which, when it does not
+overstep certain bounds, forms a bond between man and man. Were
+such low houses suddenly put down, what an outcry would be raised
+of favouritism, tyranny, and so on! When the labourer turns against
+them himself, he will speedily find powerful friends to assist in
+attaining the object.</p>
+<p>If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the
+agricultural labourer upon the conclusion of his day's work,
+exposed as he is to the wear and tear of the elements. After
+following the slow plough along the furrows through the mist; after
+tending the sheep on the hills where the rain beats with furious
+energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of trees, and splitting
+them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may naturally ask for
+refreshment. And it is equally natural that he should desire to
+take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can associate
+freely and speak his mind unchecked. The glass of ale would not
+hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain
+quarters to do evil for an extra quart. Nothing forms so strong a
+temptation as the knowledge that a safe receiver is near at
+hand.</p>
+<p>He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he
+can take, for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass
+of wine to the 'City' gentleman who lives delicately. He is to be
+pitied rather than condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather
+than chastised. Punishment, indeed, waits upon him only too
+doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in the shape of sorrows and
+privations at home. The evil lies not in the ale, but in the
+character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the same
+time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper. No
+one, indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, 'Save
+me from my friends!' To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice
+it must be stated that there is a certain bluff honesty and
+frankness among them, a rude candour, which entitles them to
+considerable respect as a body. There are also men here and there
+whose strength of character would certainty have obtained
+favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher rank
+of life. But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so
+innocent and free from guile&mdash;so lamblike as it suits the
+purpose of some to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may
+secure sympathy. There are very queer black sheep in the flock, and
+it rather unfortunately happens that these, in more ways than one,
+force themselves, sometimes most unpleasantly, upon the notice of
+the tenant-farmer and the landlord.</p>
+<p>A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of
+choice manhood whose head-quarters are at the low 'public.' A tall,
+well-built man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger
+might take him for a favourable example. He holds himself more
+upright than most of his class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked
+air of deference towards those who address him conveys rather a
+pleasing impression. He can read fairly well and sign his name.
+This man, who is still young, began life as carter's lad, in which
+occupation he had not been long engaged before the horse-hair
+carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared. Whipcord and
+similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new
+whip. This last, not being so easily disposed of, was traced to his
+possession and procured him a sound thrashing. Some short time
+afterwards a carthorse was found in the fields stabbed in several
+places, though, fortunately, not severely. Having already the bad
+name that hangs the dog, he was strongly suspected of this
+dastardly act in revenge for the thrashing from the carter, and
+threat of dismissal from the employer. No evidence, however, could
+be procured, and though he was sent about his business he escaped
+punishment. As he grew older he fell in with a tribe of
+semi-gipsies, and wandered in their company for a year or two,
+learning their petty pilfering tricks. He then returned to
+agriculture labour, and, notwithstanding the ill-flavour that clung
+about his doings, found no difficulty in obtaining employment.</p>
+<p>It is rare in agriculture for a man to be asked much about his
+character, unless he is to be put into a position of some trust. In
+trades and factories&mdash;on railways, too&mdash;an applicant for
+employment is not only questioned, but has to produce evidence as
+to his immediate antecedents at least. But the custom in farming
+prescribes no such checks; if the farmer requires a man, the
+applicant is put on to work at once, if he looks at all likely.
+This is especially the case in times of pressure, as when there is
+a great deal of hoeing to be done, in harvest, and when extra hands
+are wanted to assist in feeding the threshing machine. Then the
+first that comes along the road is received, and scarcely a
+question asked. The custom operates well enough in one way, since a
+man is nearly sure of procuring employment, and encounters no
+obstacles; on the other hand, there is less encouragement to
+preserve a good character. So the fellow mentioned quickly got work
+when he applied for it, and went on pretty steadily for a period.
+He then married, and speedily discovered the true use of
+women&mdash;i.e. to work for idle men. The moment he learnt that he
+could subsist upon her labour he ceased to make any effort, and
+passed his time lounging about.</p>
+<p>The wife, though neither handsome nor clever, was a hard-working
+person, and supported herself and idle husband by taking in
+washing. Indignation has often been expressed at the moral code of
+savages, which permits the man to lie in his hammock while the
+woman cultivates the maize; but, excepting the difference in the
+colour of the skin, the substitution of dirty white for coppery
+redness, there is really no distinction. Probably washing is of the
+two harder work than hoeing maize. The fellow 'hung about,' and
+doubtless occasionally put in practice the tricks he had acquired
+from his nomad friends.</p>
+<p>The only time he worked was in the height of the harvest, when
+high wages are paid. But then his money went in drink, and drink
+often caused him to neglect the labour he had undertaken, at an
+important juncture when time was of consequence. On one such
+occasion the employer lost his temper and gave him a piece of his
+mind, ending by a threat of proceedings for breach of contract. A
+night or two afterwards the farmer's rick-yard was ablaze, and a
+few months later the incendiary found himself commencing a term of
+penal servitude. There he was obliged to work, began to walk
+upright, and acquired that peculiarly marked air of deference which
+at first contrasts rather pleasantly with the somewhat gruff
+address of most labourers. During his absence the wife almost
+prospered, having plenty of employment and many kind friends. He
+signalised his return by administering a thrashing&mdash;just to
+re-assert his authority&mdash;which, however, the poor woman
+received with equanimity, remarking that it was only his way. He
+recommenced his lounging life, working occasionally when money was
+to be easily earned&mdash;for the convict stain does not prevent a
+man getting agricultural employment&mdash;and spending the money in
+liquor. When tolerably sober he is, in a sense, harmless; if
+intoxicated, his companions give him the road to himself.</p>
+<p>Now there is nothing exceptionally characteristic of the
+agricultural labourer in the career of such a man. Members of other
+classes of the working community are often sent to penal servitude,
+and sometimes men of education and social position. But it is
+characteristic of agricultural life that a man with the stigma of
+penal servitude can return and encounter no overpowering prejudice
+against him. There are work and wages, for him if he likes to take
+them. No one throws his former guilt in his face. He may not be
+offered a place of confidence, nor be trusted with money, as the
+upper labourers&mdash;carters for instance&mdash;sometimes are. But
+the means of subsistence are open to him, and he will not be driven
+by the memory of one crime to commit another.</p>
+<p>There is no school of crime in the country. Children are not
+brought up from the earliest age to beg and steal, to utter
+loquacious falsehood, or entrap the benevolent with sham suffering.
+Hoary thieves do not keep academies for the instruction of little
+fingers in the art of theft. The science of burglary is unstudied.
+Though farmhouses are often situate in the most lonely places a
+case of burglary rarely occurs, and if it does, is still more
+rarely traced to a local resident. In such houses there is
+sometimes a good deal of old silver plate, accumulated in the
+course of generations&mdash;a fact that must be perfectly well
+known to the labouring class, through the women indoor-servants.
+Yet such attempts are quite exceptional. So, too, are robberies
+from the person with violence. Serious crime is, indeed,
+comparatively scarce. The cases that come before the Petty Sessions
+are, for the most part, drunkenness, quarreling, neglect or
+absenteeism from work, affiliation, petty theft, and so on.</p>
+<p>The fact speaks well for the rural population; it speaks very
+badly for such characters as the one that has been described. If he
+will not turn into the path of honest labour, that is his own
+fault. The injury he does is this, that he encourages others to be
+idle. Labouring men quit the field under the influence of temporary
+thirst, or that desire for a few minutes' change which is not in
+itself blameworthy. They enter the low 'public,' call for their
+quart, and intend to leave again immediately. But the lazy fellow
+in the corner opens conversation, is asked to drink, more is called
+for, there is a toss-up to decide who shall pay, in which the idle
+adept, of course, escapes, and so the thing goes on. Such a man
+becomes a cause of idleness, and a nuisance to the farmers.</p>
+<p>Another individual is a huge, raw-boned, double-jointed giant of
+a man, whose muscular strength must be enormous, but whose weakness
+is beer. He is a good workman, and of a civil, obliging
+disposition. He will commence, for instance, making drains for a
+farmer with the greatest energy, and in the best of tempers. A
+drain requires some little skill. The farmer visits the work day by
+day, and notes with approval that it is being done well. But about
+the third or fourth day the clever workman, whose immense strength
+makes the employment mere child's play to him, civilly asks for a
+small advance of money. Now the farmer has no objection to that,
+but hands it to him with some misgiving. Next morning no labourer
+is to be seen. The day passes, and the next. Then a lad brings the
+intelligence that his parent is just recovering from a heavy
+drinking bout and will be back soon. There is the history of forty
+years!</p>
+<p>The same incident is repeated once or twice a month all the year
+round. Now it is a drain, now hedge-cutting, now hoeing, now
+haymaking, and now reaping. Three or four days' work excellently
+performed; then a bed in a ditch and empty pockets. The man's
+really vast strength carries him through the prostration, and the
+knocks and bangs and tumbles received in a helpless state. But what
+a life! The worst of it is the man is not a reprobate&mdash;not a
+hang-dog, lounging rascal, but perfectly honest, willing to oblige,
+harmless and inoffensive even when intoxicated, and skilful at his
+labour. What is to be done with him? What is the farmer to do who
+has only such men to rely on&mdash;perhaps in many
+cases&mdash;without this fellow's honesty and good
+temper&mdash;qualities which constantly give him a lift? It is
+simply an epitome of the difficulties too commonly met with in the
+field&mdash;bright sunshine, good weather, ripe crops, and men half
+unconscious, or quite, snoring under a hedge! There is no
+encouragement to the tenant to pay high wages in experiences like
+this.</p>
+<p>A third example is a rakish-looking lad just rising into
+manhood. Such young men are very much in demand and he would not
+have the slightest difficulty in obtaining employment, yet he is
+constantly out of work. When a boy he began by summoning the carter
+where he was engaged for cuffing him, charging the man with an
+assault. It turned out to be a trumpery case, and the Bench advised
+his parents to make him return and fulfil his contract. His parents
+thought differently of it. They had become imbued with an
+inordinate sense of their own importance. They had a high idea of
+the rights of labour; Jack, in short, was a good deal better than
+his master, and must be treated with distinguished respect. The
+doctrines of the Union countenanced the deduction; so the boy did
+not return. Another place was found for him.</p>
+<p>In the course of a few months he came again before the Bench.
+The complaint was now one of wrongful dismissal, and a claim for a
+one pound bonus, which by the agreement was to have been paid at
+the end of the year if his conduct proved satisfactory. It was
+shown that his conduct had been the reverse of satisfactory; that
+he refused to obey orders, that he 'cheeked' the carters, that he
+ran away home for a day or two, and was encouraged in these goings
+on by the father. The magistrates, always on the side of peace,
+endeavoured to procure a reconciliation, the farmer even paid down
+the bonus, but it was of no use. The lad did not return.</p>
+<p>With little variations the same game has continued ever since.
+Now it is he that complains, now it is his new master; but any way
+there is always a summons, and his face is as familiar in the court
+as that of the chairman. His case is typical. What is a farmer to
+do who has to deal with a rising generation full of this
+spirit?</p>
+<p>Then there are the regular workhouse families, who are
+perpetually applying for parochial relief. From the eldest down to
+the youngest member they seem to have no stamina; they fall ill
+when all others are well, as if afflicted with a species of
+paralysis that affects body, mind, and moral sense at once. If the
+phrase may be used without irreverence, there is no health in them.
+The slightest difficulty is sufficient to send an apparently
+strong, hale man whining to the workhouse. He localises his
+complaint in his foot, or his arm, or his shoulder; but, in truth,
+he does not know himself what is the matter with him. The real
+illness is weakness of calibre&mdash;a looseness of fibre. Many a
+labourer has an aching limb from rheumatism, and goes to plough all
+the same; many a poor cottage woman suffers from that prevalent
+agony, and bravely gets through her task, and keeps her cottage
+tidy. But these people cannot do it&mdash;they positively cannot.
+The summer brings them pain, the winter brings pain, their whole
+life is one long appeal <i>ad misericordiam</i>.</p>
+<p>The disease seems to spread with the multiplication of the
+family: the sons have it, and the sons' sons after them, so much so
+that even to bear the name is sufficient to stamp the owner as a
+miserable helpless being. All human wretchedness is, of course, to
+be deeply commiserated, and yet it is exasperating to see one man
+still doing his best under real trouble, and another eating
+contentedly the bread of idleness when there seems nothing wrong
+except a total lack of energy. The old men go to the workhouse, the
+young men go, the women and the children; if they are out one month
+the next sees their return. These again are but broken reeds to
+rely upon. The golden harvest might rot upon the ground for all
+their gathering, the grass wither and die as it stands, without the
+touch of the scythe, the very waggons and carts fall to pieces in
+the sheds. There is no work to be got out of them.</p>
+<p>The village, too, has its rookery, though not quite in the same
+sense as the city. Traced to its beginning, it is generally found
+to have originated upon a waste piece of ground, where some
+squatters settled and built their cabins. These, by the growth of
+better houses around, and the rise of property, have now become of
+some value, not so much for the materials as the site. To the
+original hovels additions have been made by degrees, and fresh huts
+squeezed in till every inch of space is as closely occupied as in a
+back court of the metropolis. Within the cottages are low pitched,
+dirty, narrow, and contracted, without proper conveniences, or even
+a yard or court.</p>
+<p>The social condition of the inhabitants is unpleasant to
+contemplate. The young men, as they grow up, arrive at an
+exaggerated idea of the value of their parents' property&mdash;the
+cottage of three rooms&mdash;and bitter animosities arise between
+them. One is accused of having had his share out in money; another
+has got into trouble and had his fine paid for him; the eldest was
+probably born before wedlock; so there are plenty of materials for
+recrimination. Then one, or even two of them bring home a wife, or
+at least a woman, and three families live beneath a single
+roof&mdash;with results it is easy to imagine, both as regards
+bickering and immorality. They have no wish to quit the place and
+enter cottages with better accommodation: they might rent others of
+the farmers, but they prefer to be independent, and, besides, will
+not move lest they should lose their rights. Very likely a few
+lodgers are taken in to add to the confusion. As regularly as
+clockwork cross summonses are taken out before the Bench, and then
+the women on either side reveal an unequalled power of abuse and
+loquacity, leaving a decided impression that it is six to one and
+half a dozen to the other.</p>
+<p>These rookeries do not furnish forth burglars and accomplished
+pickpockets, like those of cities, but they do send out a gang of
+lazy, scamping fellows and coarse women, who are almost useless. If
+their employer does not please them&mdash;if he points out that a
+waste of time has taken place, or that something has been
+neglected&mdash;off they go, for, having a hole to creep into, they
+do not care an atom whether they lose a job or not. The available
+hands, therefore, upon whom the farmers can count are always very
+much below the sum total of the able-bodied population. There must
+be deducted the idle men and women, the drunkards, the never
+satisfied, as the lad who sued every master; the workhouse
+families, the rookery families, and those who every harvest leave
+the place, and wander a great distance in search of exceptionally
+high wages. When all these are subtracted, the residue remaining is
+often insufficient to do the work of the farms in a proper manner.
+It is got through somehow by scratch-packs, so to say&mdash;men
+picked up from the roads, aged men who cannot do much, but whose
+energy puts the younger fellows to shame, lads paid far beyond the
+value of the work they actually accomplish.</p>
+<p>Work done in this way is, of course, incomplete and
+unsatisfactory, and the fact supplies one of the reasons why
+farmers seem disinclined to pay high wages. It is not because they
+object to pay well for hard work, but because they cannot get the
+hard work. There is consequently a growing reliance upon floating
+labour&mdash;upon the men and women who tramp round every
+season&mdash;rather than on the resident population. Even in the
+absence of any outward agitation&mdash;of a strike or open movement
+in that direction&mdash;the farmer has considerable difficulties to
+contend with in procuring labour. He has still further difficulties
+in managing it when he has got it. Most labourers have their own
+peculiar way of finishing a job; and however much that style of
+doing it may run counter to the farmer's idea of the matter in
+hand, he has to let the man proceed after his own fashion. If he
+corrected, or showed the man what he wanted, he would run the risk
+of not getting it done at all. There is no one so thoroughly
+obstinate as an ignorant labourer full of his own consequence.
+Giving, then, full credit to those men whose honest endeavours to
+fulfil their duty have already been acknowledged, it is a complete
+delusion to suppose that all are equally manly.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap24" id="chap24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h3>
+<h3>THE COTTAGE CHARTER. FOUR-ACRE FARMERS</h3>
+The songs sung by the labourer at the alehouse or the harvest home
+are not of his own composing. The tunes whistled by the ploughboy
+as he goes down the road to his work in the dawn were not written
+for him. Green meads and rolling lands of wheat&mdash;true fields
+of the cloth of gold&mdash;have never yet inspired those who dwell
+upon them with songs uprising from the soil. The solitude of the
+hills over whose tops the summer sun seems to linger so long has
+not filled the shepherd's heart with a wistful yearning that must
+be expressed in verse or music. Neither he nor the ploughman in the
+vale have heard or seen aught that stirs them in Nature. The
+shepherd has never surprised an Immortal reclining on the thyme
+under the shade of a hawthorn bush at sunny noontide; nor has the
+ploughman seen the shadowy outline of a divine huntress through the
+mist that clings to the wood across the field.
+<p>These people have no myths; no heroes. They look back on no
+Heroic Age, no Achilles, no Agamemnon, and no Homer. The past is
+vacant. The have not even a 'Wacht am Rhein' or 'Marseillaise' to
+chaunt in chorus with quickened step and flashing eye. No; nor even
+a ballad of the hearth, handed down from father to son, to be sung
+at home festivals, as a treasured silver tankard is brought out to
+drink the health of a honoured guest. Ballads there are in old
+books&mdash;ballads of days when the yew bow was in every man's
+hands, and war and the chase gave life a colour; but they are dead.
+A cart comes slowly down the road, and the labourer with it sings
+as he jogs along; but, if you listen, it tells you nothing of
+wheat, or hay, or flocks and herds, nothing of the old gods and
+heroes. It is a street ditty such as you may hear the gutter arabs
+yelling in London, and coming from a music hall.</p>
+<p>So, too, in material things&mdash;in the affairs of life, in
+politics, and social hopes&mdash;the labourer has no well-defined
+creed of race. He has no genuine programme of the future; that
+which is put forward in his name is not from him. Some years ago,
+talking with an aged labourer in a district where at that time no
+'agitation' had taken place, I endeavoured to get from him
+something like a definition of the wants of his class. He had lived
+many years, and worked all the while in the field; what was his
+experience of their secret wishes? what was the Cottage Charter? It
+took some time to get him to understand what was required; he had
+been ready enough previously to grumble about this or that detail,
+but when it came to principles he was vague. The grumbles, the
+complaints, and so forth, had never been codified. However, by
+degrees I got at it, and very simple it was:&mdash;Point 1, Better
+wages; (2) more cottages; (3) good-sized gardens; (4) 'larning' for
+the children. That was the sum of the cottager's creed&mdash;his
+own genuine aspirations.</p>
+<p>Since then every one of these points has been obtained, or
+substantial progress made towards it. Though wages are perhaps
+slightly lower or rather stationary at the present moment, yet they
+are much higher than used to be the case. At the same time vast
+importations of foreign food keep the necessaries of life at a
+lower figure. The number of cottages available has been greatly
+increased&mdash;hardly a landlord but could produce accounts of
+sums of money spent in this direction. To almost all of these large
+gardens are now attached. Learning for the children is provided by
+the schools erected in every single parish, for the most part by
+the exertions of the owners and occupiers of land.</p>
+<p>Practically, therefore, the four points of the real Cottage
+Charter have been attained, or as nearly as is possible. Why, then,
+is it that dissatisfaction is still expressed? The reply is,
+because a new programme has been introduced to the labourer from
+without. It originated in no labourer's mind, it is not the outcome
+of a genuine feeling widespread among the masses, nor is it the
+heartbroken call for deliverance issuing from the lips of the
+poet-leader of a downtrodden people. It is totally foreign to the
+cottage proper&mdash;something new, strange, and as yet scarcely
+understood in its full meaning by those who nominally support
+it.</p>
+<p>The points of the new Cottage Charter are&mdash;(1) The
+confiscation of large estates; (2) the subdivision of land; (3) the
+abolition of the laws of settlement of land; (4) the administration
+of the land by the authorities of State; (5) the confiscation of
+glebe lands for division and distribution; (6) the abolition of
+Church tithes; (7) extension of the county franchise; (8) education
+gratis, free of fees, or payment of any kind; (9) high wages,
+winter and summer alike, irrespective of season, prosperity, or
+adversity. No. 6 is thrown in chiefly for the purpose of an
+appearance of identity of interest between the labourer and the
+tenant against the Church. Of late it has rather been the cue of
+the leaders of the agitation to promote, or seem to promote, a
+coalition between the labourer and the dissatisfied tenant, thereby
+giving the movement a more colourable pretence in the eyes of the
+public. Few tenants, however dissatisfied, have been deceived by
+the shallow device.</p>
+<p>This programme emanated from no carter or shepherd, ploughman or
+fogger. It was not thought out under the hedge when the June roses
+decked the bushes; nor painfully written down on the deal table in
+the cottage while the winter rain pattered against the window, and,
+coming down the wide chimney, hissed upon the embers. It was
+brought to the cottage door from a distance; it has been iterated
+and reiterated till at last some begin to think they really do want
+all these things. But with the majority even now the propaganda
+falls flat. They do not enter into the spirit of it. No. 9 they do
+understand; that appeals direct, and men may be excused if, with a
+view which as yet extends so short a space around, they have not
+grasped the fact that wages cannot by any artificial combination
+whatever be kept at a high level. The idea of high wages brings a
+mass of labourers together; they vote for what they are instructed
+to vote, and are thus nominally pledged to the other eight points
+of the new charter Such a conception as the confiscation and
+subdivision of estates never occurred to the genuine labourers.</p>
+<p>An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new
+state of things would be like. There would be no squire, no parson,
+no woods or preserves&mdash;all grubbed for cabbage
+gardens&mdash;no parks, no farmers. 'No farmers,' said the old
+fellow, 'then who's to pay I my wages?' There he hit the blot, no
+doubt. If the first four points of the new charter were carried
+into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist. But if such
+a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a
+long time coming. The idea did not originate with him&mdash;he
+cares nothing for it&mdash;and can only be got to support it under
+the guise of an agitation for wages. Except by persistent stirring
+from without he cannot be got to move even then. The labourer, in
+fact, is not by any means such a fool as his own leaders endeavour
+to make him out. He is perfectly well aware that the farmer, or any
+person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay the
+same money in winter as in summer.</p>
+<p>Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in
+the corner of an arable field, abutting on the highway. As left by
+the builders a more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined. The
+cottages themselves were well designed and well built, but the
+surroundings were like a wilderness. Heaps of rubbish here, broken
+bricks there, the ground trampled hard as the road itself. No
+partition from the ploughed field behind beyond a mere shallow
+trench enclosing what was supposed to be the garden. Everything
+bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant. Two families went into
+these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm. The aspect
+of the place immediately began to change. The rubbish was removed,
+the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a
+quick-set hedge was planted round the enclosure. Evening after
+evening, be the weather what it might, these two men were in that
+garden at work&mdash;after a long day in the fields. In the dinner
+hour even they sometimes snatched a few minutes to trim something.
+Their spades turned over the whole of the soil, and planting
+commenced. Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for potatoes,
+onions, parsnips.</p>
+<p>Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they
+set about preparing for extras. Fruit trees&mdash;apple, plum, and
+damson&mdash;were planted; also some roses. Next beehives appeared
+and were elevated on stands and duly protected from the rain. The
+last work was the building of pigsties&mdash;rude indeed and made
+of a few slabs&mdash;but sufficient to answer the purpose. Flowers
+in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared beside the garden
+paths. The change was so complete and so quickly effected I could
+hardly realise that so short a time since there had been nothing
+there but a blank open space. Persons travelling along the road
+could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.</p>
+<p>I had often been struck with the flourishing appearance of
+cottage gardens, but then those gardens were of old date and had
+reached that perfection in course of years. But here the thing
+seemed to grow up under one's eyes. All was effected by sheer
+energy. Instead of spending their evenings wastefully at 'public,'
+these men went out into their gardens and made what was a desert
+literally bloom. Nor did they seem conscious of doing anything
+extraordinary, but worked away in the most matter-of-fact manner,
+calling no one's attention to their progress. It would be hard to
+say which garden of the two showed the better result. Their wives
+are tidy, their children clean, their cottages grow more cosy and
+homelike day by day; yet they work in the fields that come up to
+their very doors, and receive nothing but the ordinary agricultural
+wages of the district.</p>
+<p>This proves what can be done when the agricultural labourer
+really wants to do it. And in a very large number of cases it must
+further be admitted that he does want to do it, and succeeds. If
+any one when passing through a rural district will look closely at
+the cottages and gardens he will frequently find evidence of
+similar energy, and not unfrequently of something approaching very
+nearly to taste. For why does the labourer train honeysuckle up his
+porch, and the out-of-door grape up the southern end of his house?
+Why does he let the houseleek remain on the roof; why trim and
+encourage the thick growth of ivy that clothes the chimney?
+Certainly not for utility, nor pecuniary profit. It is because he
+has some amount of appreciation of the beauty of flowers, of vine
+leaf, and green ivy. Men like these are the real backbone of our
+peasantry. They are not the agitators; it is the idle hang-dogs who
+form the disturbing element in the village.</p>
+<p>The settled agricultural labourer, of all others, has the least
+inducement to strike or leave his work. The longer he can stay in
+one place the better for him in many ways. His fruit-trees, which
+he planted years ago, are coming to perfection, and bear sufficient
+fruit in favourable years not only to give him some variety of
+diet, but to bring in a sum in hard cash with which to purchase
+extras. The soil of the garden, long manured and dug, is twice as
+fertile as when he first disturbed the earth. The hedges have grown
+high, and keep off the bitter winds. In short, the place is home,
+and he sits under his own vine and fig-tree. It is not to his
+advantage to leave this and go miles away. It is different with the
+mechanic who lives in a back court devoid of sunshine, hardly
+visited by the fresh breeze, without a tree, without a yard of
+earth to which to become attached. The factory closes, the bell is
+silent, the hands are discharged; provided he can get fresh
+employment it matters little. He leaves the back court without
+regret, and enters another in a distant town. But an agricultural
+labourer who has planted his own place feels an affection for it.
+The young men wander and are restless; the middle-aged men who have
+once anchored do not like to quit. They have got the four points of
+their own genuine charter; those who would infuse further vague
+hopes are not doing them any other service than to divert them from
+the substance to the shadow.</p>
+<p>Past those two new cottages which have been mentioned there runs
+a road which is a main thoroughfare. Along this road during the
+year this change was worked there walked a mournful
+procession&mdash;men and women on tramp. Some of these were
+doubtless rogues and vagabonds by nature and choice; but many, very
+many, were poor fellows who had really lost employment, and were
+gradually becoming degraded to the company of the professional
+beggar. The closing of collieries, mines, workshops, iron furnaces,
+&amp;c., had thrown hundreds on the mercy of chance charity, and
+compelled them to wander to and fro. How men like these on tramp
+must have envied the comfortable cottages, the well-stocked
+gardens, the pigsties, the beehives, and the roses of the
+labourers!</p>
+<p>If the labourer has never gone up on the floodtide of prosperity
+to the champagne wages of the miner, neither has he descended to
+the woe which fell on South Wales when children searched the
+dust-heaps for food, nor to that suffering which forces those whose
+instinct is independence to the soup-kitchen. He has had, and still
+has, steady employment at a rate of wages sufficient, as is shown
+by the appearance of his cottage itself, to maintain him in
+comparative comfort. The furnace may be blown out, and strong men
+may ask themselves, What shall we do next? But still the plough
+turns up the earth morning after morning. The colliery may close,
+but still the corn ripens, and extra wages are paid to the harvest
+men.</p>
+<p>This continuous employment without even a fear of cessation is
+an advantage, the value of which it is difficult to estimate. His
+wages are not only sufficient to maintain him, he can even save a
+little. The benefit clubs in so many villages are a proof of
+it&mdash;each member subscribes so much. Whether conducted on a
+'sound financial basis' or not, the fact of the subscriptions
+cannot be denied, nor that assistance is derived from them. The
+Union itself is supported in the same way; proving that the wages,
+however complained of, are sufficient, at any rate, to permit of
+subscriptions.</p>
+<p>It is held out to the labourer, as an inducement to agitate
+briskly, that, in time, a state of things will be brought about
+when every man will have a small farm of four or five acres upon
+which to live comfortably, independent of a master. Occasional
+instances, however, of labourers endeavouring to exist upon a few
+acres have already been observed, and illustrate the practical
+working of the scheme. In one case a labourer occupied a piece of
+ground, about three acres in extent, at a low rental paid to the
+lord of the manor, the spot having originally been waste, though
+the soil was fairly good. He started under favourable conditions,
+because he possessed a cottage and garden and a pair of horses with
+which he did a considerable amount of hauling.</p>
+<p>He now set up as a farmer, ploughed and sowed, dug and weeded,
+kept his own hours, and went into the market and walked about as
+independent as any one. After a while the three acres began to
+absorb nearly all his time, so that the hauling, which was the
+really profitable part of the business, had to be neglected. Then,
+the ready money not coming in so fast, the horses had to go without
+corn, and pick up what they could along the roadside, on the sward,
+and out of the hedges. They had, of course, to be looked after
+while thus feeding, which occupied two of the children, so that
+these could neither go to school nor earn anything by working on
+the adjacent farms. The horses meantime grew poor in condition; the
+winter tried them greatly from want of proper fodder; and when
+called upon to do hauling they were not equal to the task. In the
+country, at a distance from towns, there is not always a good
+market for vegetables, even when grown. The residents mostly supply
+themselves, and what is raised for export has to be sold at
+wholesale prices.</p>
+<p>The produce of the three acres consequently did not come up to
+the tenant's expectation, particularly as potatoes, on account of
+the disease, could not be relied on. Meantime he had no weekly
+money coming in regularly, and his wife and family had often to
+assist him, diminishing their own earnings at the same time; while
+he was in the dilemma that if he did hauling he must employ and pay
+a man to work on the 'farm,' and if he worked himself he could not
+go out with his team. In harvest time, when the smaller farmers
+would have hired his horses, waggon, and himself and family to
+assist them, he had to get in his own harvest, and so lost the hard
+cash.</p>
+<p>He now discovered that there was one thing he had omitted, and
+which was doubtless the cause why he did not flourish as he should
+have done according to his calculations. All the agriculturists
+around kept live stock&mdash;he had none. Here was the grand
+secret&mdash;it was stock that paid: he must have a cow. So he set
+to work industriously enough, and put up a shed. Then, partly by
+his own small savings, partly by the assistance of the members of
+the sect to which he belonged, he purchased the desired animal and
+sold her milk. In summer this really answered fairly well while
+there was green food for nothing in plenty by the side of
+little-frequented roads, whither the cow was daily led. But so soon
+as the winter approached the same difficulty as with the horses
+arose, i.e., scarcity of fodder. The cow soon got miserably poor,
+while the horses fell off yet further, if that were possible. The
+calf that arrived died; next, one of the horses. The 'hat' was sent
+round again, and a fresh horse bought; the spring came on, and
+there seemed another chance. What with milking and attending to the
+cow, and working on the 'farm,' scarcely an hour remained in which
+to earn money with the horses. No provision could be laid by for
+the winter. The live stock&mdash;the cow and horses&mdash;devoured
+part of the produce of the three acres, so that there was less to
+sell.</p>
+<p>Another winter finished it. The cow had to be sold, but a third
+time the 'hat' was sent round and saved the horses. Grown wiser
+now, the 'farmer' stuck to his hauling, and only worked his plot at
+odd times. In this way, by hauling and letting out his team in
+harvest, and working himself and family at the same time for wages,
+he earned a good deal of money, and kept afloat very comfortably.
+He made no further attempt to live out of the 'farm,' which was now
+sown with one or two crops only in the same rotation as a field,
+and no longer cultivated on the garden system. Had it not been for
+the subscriptions he must have given it up entirely long before.
+Bitter experience demonstrated how false the calculations had been
+which seemed to show&mdash;on the basis of the produce of a small
+allotment&mdash;that a man might live on three or four acres.</p>
+<p>He is not the only example of an extravagant estimate being put
+upon the possible product of land: it is a fallacy that has been
+fondly believed in by more logical minds than the poor cottager.
+That more may be got out of the soil than is the case at present is
+perfectly true; the mistake lies in the proposed method of doing
+it.</p>
+<p>There was a piece of land between thirty and forty acres in
+extent, chiefly arable, which chanced to come into the possession
+of a gentleman, who made no pretence to a knowledge of agriculture,
+but was naturally desirous of receiving the highest rental. Up to
+that time it had been occupied by a farmer at thirty shillings per
+acre, which was thought the full value. He did not particularly
+want it, as it lay separated from the farm proper, and gave it up
+with the greatest alacrity when asked to do so in favour of a new
+tenant. This man turned out to be a villager&mdash;a blustering,
+ignorant fellow&mdash;who had, however, saved a small sum by
+hauling, which had been increased by the receipt of a little
+legacy. He was confident that he could show the farmers how to do
+it&mdash;he had worked at plough, had reaped, and tended cattle,
+and had horses of his own, and was quite sure that farming was a
+profitable business, and that the tenants had their land dirt
+cheap. He 'knowed' all about it.</p>
+<p>He offered three pounds an acre for the piece at once, which was
+accepted, notwithstanding a warning conveyed to the owner that his
+new tenant had scarcely sufficient money to pay a year's rent at
+that rate. But so rapid a rise in the value of his land quite
+dazzled the proprietor, and the labourer&mdash;for he was really
+nothing better, though fortunate enough to have a little
+money&mdash;entered on his farm. When this was known, it was
+triumphantly remarked that if a man could actually pay double the
+former rent, what an enormous profit the tenant-farmers must have
+been making! Yet they wanted to reduce the poor man's wages. On the
+other hand, there were not wanting hints that the man's secret idea
+was to exhaust the land and then leave it. But this was not the
+case&mdash;he was honestly in earnest, only he had got an
+exaggerated notion of the profits of farming. It is scarcely
+necessary to say that the rent for the third half year was not
+forthcoming, and the poor fellow lost his all. The land then went
+begging at the old price, for it had become so dirty&mdash;full of
+weeds from want of proper cleaning&mdash;that it was some time
+before any one would take it.</p>
+<p>In a third case the attempt of a labouring man to live upon a
+small plot of land was successful&mdash;at least for some time. But
+it happened in this way. The land he occupied, about six acres, was
+situated on the outskirts of a populous town. It was moderately
+rented and of fairly good quality. His method of procedure was to
+cultivate a small portion&mdash;as much as he could conveniently
+manage without having to pay too much for assistance&mdash;as a
+market garden. Being close to his customers, and with a steady
+demand at good prices all the season, this paid very well indeed.
+The remainder was ploughed and cropped precisely the same as the
+fields of larger farms. For these crops he could always get a
+decent price. The wealthy owners of the villas scattered about,
+some keeping as many horses as a gentleman with a country seat,
+were glad to obtain fresh fodder for their stables, and often
+bought the crops standing, which to him was especially profitable,
+because he could not well afford the cost of the labour he must
+employ to harvest them.</p>
+<p>In addition, he kept several pigs, which were also profitable,
+because the larger part of their food cost him nothing but the
+trouble of fetching it. The occupants of the houses in the town
+were glad to get rid of the refuse vegetables, &amp;c.; of these he
+had a constant supply. The pigs, too, helped him with manure. Next
+he emptied ash-pits in the town, and sifted the cinders; the better
+part went on his own fire, the other on his land. As he understood
+gardening, he undertook the care of several small gardens, which
+brought in a little money. All the rubbish, leaves, trimmings,
+&amp;c., which he swept from the gardens he burnt, and spread the
+ashes abroad to fertilise his miniature farm.</p>
+<p>In spring he beat carpets, and so made more shillings; he had
+also a small shed, or workshop, and did rough carpentering. His
+horse did his own work, and occasionally that of others; so that in
+half a dozen different ways he made money independent of the
+produce of his land. That produce, too, paid well, because of the
+adjacent town, and he was able to engage assistance now and then.
+Yet, even with all these things, it was hard work, and required
+economical management to eke it out. Still it was done, and under
+the same conditions doubtless might be done by others. But then
+everything lies in those conditions. The town at hand, the
+knowledge of gardening, carpentering, and so on, made just all the
+difference.</p>
+<p>If the land were subdivided in the manner the labourer is
+instructed would be so advantageous, comparatively few of the plots
+would be near towns. Some of the new 'farmers' would find
+themselves in the centre of Salisbury Plain, with the stern
+trilithons of Stonehenge looking down upon their efforts. The
+occupier of a plot of four acres in such a position&mdash;many
+miles from the nearest town&mdash;would experience a hard lot
+indeed if he attempted to live by it. If he grew vegetables for
+sale, the cost of carriage would diminish their value; if for food,
+he could scarcely subsist upon cabbage and onions all the year
+round. To thoroughly work four acres would occupy his whole time,
+nor would the farmers care for the assistance of a man who could
+only come now and then in an irregular manner. There would be no
+villa gardens to attend to, no ash-pits to empty, no tubs of refuse
+for the pig, no carpets to beat, no one who wanted rough
+carpentering done. He could not pay any one to assist him in the
+cultivation of the plot.</p>
+<p>And then, how about his clothes, boots and shoes, and so forth?
+Suppose him with a family, where would their boots and shoes come
+from? Without any wages&mdash;that is, hard cash received
+weekly&mdash;it would be next to impossible to purchase these
+things. A man could hardly be condemned to a more miserable
+existence. In the case of the tenant of a few acres who made a fair
+living near a large town, it must be remembered that he understood
+two trades, gardening and carpentering, and found constant
+employment at these, which in all probability would indeed have
+maintained him without any land at all. But it is not every man who
+possesses technical knowledge of this kind, or who can turn his
+hand to several things. Imagine a town surrounded by two or three
+thousand such small occupiers, let them be never so clever; where
+would the extra employment come from; where would be the ashpits to
+empty? Where one could do well, a dozen could do nothing. If the
+argument be carried still further, and we imagine the whole country
+so cut up and settled, the difficulty only increases, because every
+man living (or starving) on his own plot would be totally unable to
+pay another to help him, or to get employment himself. No better
+method could be contrived to cause a fall in the value of
+labour.</p>
+<p>The examples of France and China are continually quoted in
+support of subdivision. In the case of France, let us ask whether
+any of our stalwart labourers would for a single week consent to
+live as the French peasant does? Would they forego their white,
+wheaten bread, and eat rye bread in its place? Would they take
+kindly to bread which contained a large proportion of meal ground
+from the edible chestnut? Would they feel merry over vegetable
+soups? Verily the nature of the man must change first; and we have
+read something about the leopard and his spots. You cannot raise
+beef and mutton upon four acres and feed yourself at the same time;
+if you raise bacon you must sell it in order to buy clothes.</p>
+<p>The French peasant saves by stinting, and puts aside a franc by
+pinching both belly and back. He works extremely hard, and for long
+hours. Our labourers can work as hard as he, but it must be in a
+different way; they must have plenty to eat and drink, and they do
+not understand little economies.</p>
+<p>China, we are told, however, supports the largest population in
+the world in this manner. Not a particle is wasted, not a square
+foot of land but bears something edible. The sewage of towns is
+utilised, and causes crops to spring forth; every scrap of refuse
+manures a garden. The Chinese have attained that ideal agriculture
+which puts the greatest amount into the soil, takes the greatest
+amount out of it, and absolutely wastes nothing. The picture is
+certainly charming.</p>
+<p>There are, however, a few considerations on the other side. The
+question arises whether our labourers would enjoy a plump rat for
+supper? The question also arises why the Six Companies are engaged
+in transhipping Chinese labour from China to America? In California
+the Chinese work at a rate of wages absolutely impossible to the
+white man&mdash;hence the Chinese difficulty there. In Queensland a
+similar thing is going on. Crowds of Chinese enter, or have
+entered, the country eager for work. If the agriculture of China is
+so perfect; if the sewage is utilised; if every man has his plot;
+if the population cannot possibly become too great, why on earth
+are the Chinese labourers so anxious to get to America or
+Australia, and to take the white man's wages? And is that system of
+agriculture so perfect? It is not long since the Chinese Ambassador
+formally conveyed the thanks of his countrymen for the generous
+assistance forwarded from England during the late fearful famine in
+China. The starvation of multitudes of wretched human beings is a
+ghastly comment upon this ideal agriculture. The Chinese yellow
+spectre has even threatened England; hints have been heard of
+importing Chinese into this country to take that silver and gold
+which our own men disdained. Those who desire to destroy our land
+system should look round them for a more palatable illustration
+than is afforded by the great Chinese problem.</p>
+<p>The truth in the matter seems to be this. A labourer does very
+well with a garden; he can do very well, too, if he has an
+allotment in addition, provided it be not too far from home. Up to
+a quarter of an acre&mdash;in some cases half an acre&mdash;it
+answers, because he can cultivate it at odd times, and so receive
+his weekly wages without interruption. But when the plot exceeds
+what he can cultivate in this way&mdash;when he has to give whole
+weeks to it&mdash;then, of course, he forfeits the cash every
+Saturday night, and soon begins to lose ground. The original garden
+of moderate size yielded very highly in proportion to its extent,
+because of the amount of labour expended on it, and because it was
+well manured. But three or four acres, to yield in like degree,
+require an amount of manure which it is quite out of a labourer's
+power to purchase; and he cannot keep live stock to produce it.
+Neither can he pay men to work for him consequently, instead of
+being more highly cultivated than the large farms, such plots would
+not be kept so clean and free from weeds, or be so well manured and
+deeply ploughed as the fields of the regular agriculturist.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap25" id="chap25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h3>
+<h3>LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES. THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN
+CLERGY</h3>
+The altered tone of the labouring population has caused the
+position of the landlord, especially if resident, to be one of
+considerable difficulty. Something like diplomatic tact is
+necessary in dealing with the social and political problems which
+now press themselves upon the country gentleman. Forces are at work
+which are constantly endeavouring to upset the village equilibrium,
+and it is quite in vain to ignore their existence. However honestly
+he may desire peace and goodwill to reign, it is impossible for a
+man to escape the influence of his own wealth and property. These
+compel him to be a sort of centre around which everything revolves.
+His duties extend far beyond the set, formal lines&mdash;the easy
+groove of old times&mdash;and are concerned with matters which were
+once thought the exclusive domain of the statesman or the
+philosopher.
+<p>The growth of a public opinion among the rural population is a
+great fact which cannot be overlooked. Some analogy may be traced
+between the awaking of a large class, hitherto almost silent, and
+the strange new developments which occur in the freshly-settled
+territories of the United States. There, all kinds of social
+experiments are pushed to the extreme characteristic of American
+energy. A Salt Lake City and civilised polygamy, and a variety of
+small communities endeavouring to work out new theories of property
+and government, attest a frame of mind escaped from the control of
+tradition, and groping its way to the future. Nothing so
+extravagant, of course, distinguishes the movement among the
+agricultural labourers of this country. There have been strikes;
+indignation meetings held expressly for the purpose of exciting
+public opinion; an attempt to experimentalise by a kind of
+joint-stock farming, labourers holding shares; and a preaching of
+doctrines which savour much of Communism. There have been marches
+to London, and annual gatherings on hill tops. These are all within
+the pale of law, and outrage no social customs. But they proclaim a
+state of mind restless and unsatisfied, striving for something new,
+and not exactly knowing what.</p>
+<p>Without a vote for the most part, without an all-embracing
+organisation&mdash;for the Union is somewhat limited in
+extent&mdash;with few newspapers expressing their views, with still
+fewer champions in the upper ranks, the agricultural labourers have
+become in a sense a power in the land. It is a power that is felt
+rather individually than collectively&mdash;it affects isolated
+places, but these in the aggregate reach importance. This power
+presses on the landlord&mdash;the resident country
+gentleman&mdash;upon one side; upon the other, the dissatisfied
+tenant-farmers present a rugged front.</p>
+<p>As a body the tenant-farmers are loyal to their
+landlords&mdash;in some cases enthusiastically loyal. It cannot,
+however, be denied that this is not universal. There are men who,
+though unable to put forth a substantial grievance, are ceaselessly
+agitating. The landlord, in view of unfavourable seasons, remits a
+percentage of rent. He relaxes certain clauses in leases, he
+reduces the ground game, he shows a disposition to meet reasonable,
+and even unreasonable, demands. It is useless. There exists a class
+of tenant-farmers who are not to be satisfied with the removal of
+grievances in detail. They are animated by a
+principle&mdash;something far beyond such trifles. Unconsciously,
+no doubt, in many cases that principle approximates very nearly to
+the doctrine proclaimed in so many words by the communistic circles
+of cities. It amounts to a total abolition of the present system of
+land tenure. The dissatisfied tenant does not go so far as minute
+subdivisions of land into plots of a few acres. He pauses at the
+moderate and middle way which would make the tenant of three or
+four hundred acres the owner of the soil. In short, he would step
+into the landlord's place.</p>
+<p>Of course, many do not go so far as this; still there is a class
+of farmers who are for ever writing to the papers, making speeches,
+protesting, and so on, till the landlord feels that, do what he
+may, he will be severely criticised. Even if personally insulted he
+must betray no irritation, or desire to part with the tenant, lest
+he be accused of stifling opinion. Probably no man in England is so
+systematically browbeaten all round as the country gentleman. Here
+are two main divisions&mdash;one on each side&mdash;ever pressing
+upon him, and, besides these, there are other forces at work. A
+village, in fact, at the present day, is often a perfect
+battle-ground of struggling parties.</p>
+<p>When the smouldering labour difficulty comes to a point in any
+particular district the representatives of the labourers lose no
+time in illustrating the cottager's case by contrast with the
+landlord's position. He owns so many thousand acres, producing an
+income of so many thousand pounds. Hodge, who has just received
+notice of a reduction of a shilling per week, survives on bacon and
+cabbage. Most mansions have a small home farm attached, where, of
+course, some few men are employed in the direct service of the
+landlord. This home farm becomes the bone of contention. Here, they
+say, is a man with many thousands a year, who, in the midst of
+bitter wintry weather, has struck a shilling a week off the wages
+of his poor labourers. But the fact is that the landlord's
+representative&mdash;his steward&mdash;has been forced to this step
+by the action and opinion of the tenant-farmers.</p>
+<p>The argument is very cogent and clear. They say, 'We pay a rent
+which is almost as much as the land will bear; we suffer by foreign
+competition, bad seasons and so on, the market is falling, and we
+are compelled to reduce our labour expenditure. But then our
+workmen say that at the home farm the wages paid are a shilling or
+two higher, and therefore they will not accept a reduction. Now you
+must reduce your wages or your tenants must suffer.' It is like a
+tradesman with a large independent income giving his workmen high
+wages out of that independent income, whilst other tradesmen, who
+have only their business to rely on, are compelled by this example
+to pay more than they can afford. This is obviously an unjust and
+even cruel thing. Consequently though a landlord may possess an
+income of many thousands, he cannot, without downright injustice to
+his tenants, pay his immediate <i>employ&eacute;s</i> more than
+those tenants find it possible to pay.</p>
+<p>Such is the simple explanation of what has been described as a
+piece of terrible tyranny. The very reduction of rent made by the
+landlord to the tenant is seized as a proof by the labourer that
+the farmer, having less now to pay, can afford to give him more
+money. Thus the last move of the labour party has been to urge the
+tenant-farmer to endeavour to become his own landlord. On the one
+hand, certain dissatisfied tenants have made use of the labour
+agitation to bring pressure upon the landlord to reduce rent, and
+grant this and that privilege. They have done their best, and in
+great part succeeded, in getting up a cry that rent must come down,
+that the landlord's position must be altered, and so forth. On the
+other hand, the labour party try to use the dissatisfied tenant as
+a fulcrum by means of which to bring their lever to bear upon the
+landlord. Both together, by every possible method, endeavour to
+enlist popular sympathy against him.</p>
+<p>There exists a party in cities who are animated by the most
+extraordinary rancour against landlords without
+exception&mdash;good, bad, and indifferent&mdash;just because they
+are landlords. This party welcomes the agitating labourer and the
+discontented tenant with open arms, and the chorus swells still
+louder. Now the landlords, as a body, are quite aware of the
+difficulties under which farming has been conducted of late, and
+exhibit a decided inclination to meet and assist the tenant. But it
+by no means suits the agitator to admit this; he would of the two
+rather the landlord showed an impracticable disposition, in order
+that there might be grounds for violent declamation.</p>
+<p>Fortunately there is a solid substratum of tenants whose sound
+common sense prevents them from listening to the rather enchanting
+cry, 'Every man his own landlord.' They may desire and obtain a
+reduction of rent, but they treat it as a purely business
+transaction, and there lies all the difference. They do not make
+the shilling an acre less the groundwork of a revolution; because
+ten per cent, is remitted at the audit they do not cry for
+confiscation. But it is characteristic of common sense to remain
+silent, as it is of extravagance to make a noise. Thus the opinion
+of the majority of tenants is not heard; but the restless minority
+write and speak; the agitating labourer, through his agent, writes
+and speaks, and the anti-landlord party in cities write and speak.
+A pleasant position for the landlord this! Anxious to meet
+reasonable wishes he is confronted with unreasonable demands, and
+abused all round.</p>
+<p>Besides the labour difficulty, which has been so blazed abroad
+as to obscure the rest, there are really many other questions
+agitating the village. The school erected under the Education Act,
+whilst it is doing good work, is at the same time in many cases a
+scene of conflict. The landlord can hardly remain aloof, try how he
+will, because his larger tenants are so closely interested. He has
+probably given the land and subscribed heavily&mdash;a school board
+has been avoided; but, of course, there is a committee of
+management, which is composed of members of every party and
+religious denomination. That is fair enough, and the actual work
+accomplished is really very good. But, if outwardly peace, it is
+inwardly contention. First, the agitating labourer is strongly of
+opinion that, besides giving the land and subscribing, and paying a
+large voluntary rate, the landlord ought to defray the annual
+expenses and save him the weekly pence. The sectarian bodies,
+though neutralised by their own divisions, are ill-affected behind
+their mask, and would throw it off if they got the opportunity. The
+one thing, and the one thing only, that keeps them quiet is the
+question of expense. Suppose by a united effort&mdash;and probably
+on a poll of the parish the chapel-goers in mere numbers would
+exceed the church people&mdash;they shake off the landlord and his
+party, and proceed to a school board as provided by the Act? Well,
+then they must find the annual expenses, and these must be raised
+by a rate.</p>
+<p>Now at present the cottager loudly grumbles because he is asked
+to contribute a few coppers; but suppose he were called upon to pay
+a heavy rate? Possibly he might in such a case turn round against
+his present leaders, and throw them overboard in disgust. Seeing
+this possibility all too clearly, the sectarian bodies remain
+quiescent. They have no real grievance, because their prejudices
+are carefully respected; but it is not the nature of men to prefer
+being governed, even to their good, to governing. Consequently,
+though no battle royal takes place, it is a mistake to suppose that
+because 'education' is now tolerably quiet there is universal
+satisfaction. Just the reverse is true, and under the surface there
+is a constant undermining process proceeding. Without any downright
+collision there is a distinct division into opposing ranks.</p>
+<p>Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of
+the gradual&mdash;in some cases the rapid&mdash;filling up of the
+village churchyards. It is melancholy to think that so solemn a
+subject should threaten to become a ground for bitter controversy;
+but that much animosity of feeling has already appeared is well
+known. Already many village graveyards are overcrowded, and it is
+becoming difficult to arrange for the future. From a practical
+point of view there is really but little difficulty, because the
+landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the
+necessary ground. The contention arises in another form, which it
+would be out of place to enter upon here. It will be sufficient to
+recall the fact that such a question is approaching.</p>
+<p>Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day. The
+prevention of overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the
+supply of water&mdash;these and similar matters press upon the
+attention of the authorities. Out of consideration for the pockets
+of the ratepayers&mdash;many of whom are of the poorest
+class&mdash;these things are perhaps rather shelved than pushed
+forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether. Every now
+and then something has to be done. Whatever takes place, of course
+the landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share
+of the burden. If the rates increase, on the one hand, the
+labourers complain that their wages are not sufficient to pay them;
+and, on the other, the tenants state that the pressure on the
+agriculturist is already as much as he can sustain. The labourer
+expects the landlord to relieve him; the tenant grumbles if he also
+is not relieved. Outside and beyond the landlord's power as the
+owner of the soil, as magistrate and <i>ex-officio</i> guardian,
+and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal&mdash;a
+family&mdash;influence, which at once gives him a leading position,
+and causes everything to be expected of him. He must arbitrate
+here, persuade there, compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and
+subscribe all round.</p>
+<p>This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very
+different matter. No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance
+parties, and preserve at least an outward peace in the parish. He
+has to note the variations of public opinion, and avoid giving
+offence. In his official capacity as magistrate the same difficulty
+arises. One of the most delicate tasks that the magistracy have had
+set them of recent years has been arbitrating between tenant and
+man&mdash;between, in effect, capital and labour. That is not, of
+course, the legal, but it is the true, definition. It is a most
+invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous justice
+with which the law has been administered that a watchful and
+jealous&mdash;a bitterly inimical party&mdash;ever ready, above all
+things, to attempt a sensation&mdash;have not been able to detect a
+magistrate giving a partial decision.</p>
+<p>In cases which involve a question of wages or non-fulfilment of
+contract it has often happened that a purely personal element has
+been introduced. The labourer asserts that he has been unfairly
+treated, that implied promises have been broken, perquisites
+withheld, and abuse lavished upon him. On the opposite side, the
+master alleges that he has been made a convenience&mdash;the man
+staying with him in winter, when his services were of little use,
+and leaving in summer; that his neglect has caused injury to accrue
+to cattle; that he has used bad language. Here is a conflict of
+class against class&mdash;feeling against feeling. The point in
+dispute has, of course, to be decided by evidence, but whichever
+way evidence leads the magistrates to pronounce their verdict, it
+is distasteful. If the labourer is victorious, he and his friends
+'crow' over the farmers; and the farmer himself grumbles that the
+landlords are afraid of the men, and will never pronounce against
+them. If the reverse, the labourers cry out upon the partiality of
+the magistrates, who favour each other's tenants. In both cases the
+decision has been given according to law. But the knowledge that
+this kind of feeling exists&mdash;that he is in reality arbitrating
+between capital and labour&mdash;renders the resident landlord
+doubly careful what steps he takes at home in his private capacity.
+He hardly knows which way to turn when a question crops up,
+desiring, above all things, to preserve peace.</p>
+<p>It has been said that of late there has come into existence in
+the political world 'a power behind Parliament.' Somewhat in the
+same sense it may be said that the labourer has become a power
+behind the apparent authorities of the rural community. Whether
+directly, or through the discontented tenant, or by aid of the
+circles in cities who hold advanced views, the labourer brings a
+pressure to bear upon almost every aspect of country life. That
+pressure is not sufficient to break in pieces the existing order of
+things; but it is sufficient to cause an unpleasant tension. Should
+it increase, much of the peculiar attraction of country life will
+be destroyed. Even hunting, which it would have been thought every
+individual son of the soil would stand up for, is not allowed to
+continue unchallenged. Displays of a most disagreeable spirit must
+be fresh in the memories of all; and such instances have shown a
+disposition to multiply. Besides the more public difficulties,
+there are also social ones which beset the landowner. It is true
+that all of these do not originate with the labourer, or even
+concern him, but he it dragged into them to suit the convenience of
+others. 'Coquetting with a vote' is an art tolerably well
+understood in these days; the labourer has not got a nominal vote,
+yet he is the 'power behind,' and may be utilised.</p>
+<p>There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be
+ignored, and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy.
+This energy is exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon
+ecclesiastical questions, and concerns an inquiry into the
+position, of the labourer, because for the most part it is directed
+towards practical objects. It shows itself in matters that have no
+direct bearing upon the Church, but are connected with the everyday
+life of the people. It finds work to do outside the precincts of
+the Church&mdash;beyond the walls of the building. This work is of
+a nature that continually increases, and as it extends becomes more
+laborious.</p>
+<p>The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and
+repose. Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant
+shade, and in winter the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the
+noisy winds. Upon the one side the green meadows go down to the
+brook, upon the other the cornfields stretch away to the hills.
+Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside the hedge, where the
+wild flowers bloom&mdash;flowers to be lovingly studied, food for
+many a day-dream. The village is out of sight in the
+hollow&mdash;all is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark
+that drops from the sky. The house is old, very old; the tiles dull
+coloured, the walls grey, the calm dignity of age clings to it.</p>
+<p>A place surely this for reverie&mdash;the abode of thought. But
+the man within is busy&mdash;full of action. The edge of the great
+questions of the day has reached the village, and he must be up and
+doing. He does not, indeed, lift the latch of the cottage or the
+farmhouse door indiscreetly&mdash;not unless aware that his
+presence will not be resented. He is anxious to avoid irritating
+individual susceptibilities. But wherever people are gathered
+together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may
+go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand
+makes it felt that he is there. He does not remain a passive
+spectator in the background, but comes as prominently to the front
+as is compatible with due courtesy.</p>
+<p>When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town,
+and the farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber,
+he appears in the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from
+the chair. If the discussion be purely technical he says nothing;
+if it touch, as it frequently does, upon social topics, such as
+those that arise out of education, of the labour question, of the
+position of the farmer apart from the mere ploughing and sowing,
+then he delivers his opinion. When the local agricultural
+exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held he sits at
+the social board, and presently makes his speech. The village
+benefit club holds its f&ecirc;te&mdash;he is there too, perhaps
+presiding at the dinner, and addresses the assembled men. He takes
+part in the organisation of the cottage flower show; exerts himself
+earnestly about the allotments and the winter coal club, and
+endeavours to provide the younger people with amusements that do
+not lead to evil&mdash;supporting cricket and such games as may be
+played apart from gambling and liquor.</p>
+<p>This is but the barest catalogue of his work; there is nothing
+that arises, no part of the life of the village and the country
+side, to which he does not set his hand. All this is apart from
+abstract theology. Religion, of course, is in his heart; but he
+does not carry a list of dogmas in his hand, rather keeping his own
+peculiar office in the background, knowing that many of those with
+whom he mingles are members of various sects. He is simply
+preaching the practical Christianity of brotherhood and goodwill.
+It is a work that can never be finished, and that is ever
+extending. His leading idea is not to check the inevitable motion
+of the age, but to lone it.</p>
+<p>He is not permitted to pursue this course unmolested; there are
+parties in the village that silently oppose his every footstep. If
+the battle were open it would be easier to win it, but it is
+concealed. The Church is not often denounced from the housetop, but
+it is certainly denounced under the roof. The poor and ignorant are
+instructed that the Church is their greatest enemy, the upholder of
+tyranny, the instrument of their subjection, synonymous with
+lowered wages and privation, more iniquitous than the landowner.
+The clergyman is a Protestant Jesuit&mdash;a man of deepest guile.
+The coal club, the cricket, the flower show, the allotments, the
+village <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, everything in which he has a hand is
+simply an effort to win the good will of the populace, to keep them
+quiet, lest they arise and overthrow the property of the Church.
+The poor man has but a few shillings a week, and the clergyman is
+the friend of the farmer, who reduces his wages&mdash;the Church
+owns millions and millions sterling. How self-evident, therefore,
+that the Church is the cottager's enemy!</p>
+<p>See, too, how he is beautifying that church, restoring it,
+making it light and pleasant to those who resort to it; see how he
+causes sweeter music and singing, and puts new life into the
+service. This a lesson learnt from the City of the Seven
+Hills&mdash;this is the mark of the Beast. But the ultimate aim may
+be traced to the same base motive&mdash;the preservation of that
+enormous property.</p>
+<p>Another party is for pure secularism. This is not so numerously
+represented, but has increased of recent years. From political
+motives both of these silently oppose him. Nor are the poor and
+ignorant alone among the ranks of his foes. There are some
+tenant-farmers among them, but their attitude is not so coarsely
+antagonistic. They take no action against, but they do not assist,
+him. So that, although, as he goes about the parish, he is not
+greeted with hisses, the clergyman is full well aware that his
+activity is a thorn in the side of many. They once reproached him
+with a too prolonged reverie in the seclusion of the parsonage; now
+they would gladly thrust him back again.</p>
+<p>It may be urged, too, that all his efforts have not produced
+much visible effect. The pews are no more crowded than formerly; in
+some cases the absence of visible effect is said to be extremely
+disheartening. But the fact is that it is yet early to expect much;
+neither must it be expected in that direction. It is almost the
+first principle of science that reaction is equal to action; it may
+be safely assumed, then, that after awhile these labours will bear
+fruit. The tone of the rising generation must perforce be softened
+and modified by them.</p>
+<p>There exists at the present day a class that is morally
+apathetic. In every village, in every hamlet, every detached group
+of cottages, there are numbers of labouring men who are simply
+indifferent to church and to chapel alike. They neither deny nor
+affirm the primary truths taught in all places of worship; they are
+simply indifferent. Sunday comes and sees them lounging about the
+cottage door. They do not drink to excess, they are not more given
+to swearing than others, they are equally honest, and are not of
+ill-repute. But the moral sense seems extinct&mdash;the very idea
+of anything beyond gross earthly advantages never occurs to them.
+The days go past, the wages are paid, the food is eaten, and there
+is all.</p>
+<p>Looking at it from the purely philosophic point of view there is
+something sad in this dull apathy. The most pronounced materialist
+has a faith in some form of beauty&mdash;matter itself is capable
+of ideal shapes in his conception. These people know no ideal. It
+seems impossible to reach them, because there is no chord that will
+respond to the most skilful touch. This class is very numerous
+now&mdash;a disheartening fact. Yet perhaps the activity and energy
+of the clergyman may be ultimately destined to find its reaction,
+to produce its effect among these very people. They may slowly
+learn to appreciate tangible, practical work, though utterly
+insensible to direct moral teaching and the finest eloquence of the
+pulpit. Finding by degrees that he is really endeavouring to
+improve their material existence, they may in time awake to a sense
+of something higher.</p>
+<p>What is wanted is a perception of the truth that progress and
+civilisation ought not to end with mere
+material&mdash;mechanical&mdash;comfort or wealth. A cottager ought
+to learn that when the highest wages of the best paid artisan are
+readied it is <i>not</i> the greatest privilege of the man to throw
+mutton chops to dogs and make piles of empty champagne bottles. It
+might almost be said that one cause of the former extravagance and
+the recent distress and turbulence of the working classes is the
+absence of an ideal from their minds.</p>
+<p>Besides this moral apathy, the cottager too often assumes an
+attitude distinctly antagonistic to every species of authority, and
+particularly to that <i>prestige</i> hitherto attached to property.
+Each man is a law to himself, and does that which seems good in his
+own eyes. He does not pause to ask himself, What will my neighbour
+think of this? He simply thinks of no one but himself, takes
+counsel of no one, and cares not what the result may be. It is the
+same in little things as great. Respect for authority is extinct.
+The modern progressive cottager is perfectly certain that he knows
+as much as his immediate employer, the squire, and the parson put
+together with the experience of the world at their back. He is now
+the judge&mdash;the infallible authority himself. He is wiser far
+than all the learned and the thoughtful, wiser than the prophets
+themselves. Priest, politician, and philosopher must bow their
+heads and listen to the dictum of the ploughman.</p>
+<p>This feeling shows itself most strikingly in the disregard of
+property. There used to be a certain tacit agreement among all men
+that those who possessed capital, rank, or reputation should be
+treated with courtesy. That courtesy did not imply that the
+landowner, the capitalist, or the minister of religion, was
+necessarily in himself superior. But it did imply that those who
+administered property really represented the general order in which
+all were interested. So in a court of justice, all who enter remove
+their hats, not out of servile adulation of the person in
+authority, but from respect for the majesty of the law, which it is
+every individual's interest to uphold. But now, metaphorically
+speaking, the labourer removes his hat for no man. Whether in the
+case of a manufacturer or of a tenant of a thousand-acre farm the
+thing is the same. The cottager can scarcely nod his employer a
+common greeting in the morning. Courtesy is no longer practised.
+The idea in the man's mind appears to be to express contempt for
+big employer's property. It is an unpleasant symptom.</p>
+<p>At present it is not, however, an active, but a passive force; a
+moral <i>vis inerti&aelig;</i>. Here again the clergyman meets with
+a cold rebuff. No eloquence, persuasion, personal influence even,
+can produce more than a passing impression. But here again,
+perhaps, his practical activity may bring about its reaction. In
+time the cottager will be compelled to admit that, at least, coal
+club, benefit society, cricket, allotment, &amp;c., have done him
+no harm. In time he may even see that property and authority are
+not always entirely selfish&mdash;that they may do good, and be
+worthy, at all events, of courteous acknowledgment.</p>
+<p>These two characteristics, moral apathy and contempt of
+property&mdash;i.e., of social order&mdash;are probably exercising
+considerable influence in shaping the labourer's future. Free of
+mental restraint, his own will must work its way for good or evil.
+It is true that the rise or fall of wages may check or hasten the
+development of that future. In either case it is not, however,
+probable that he will return to the old grooves; indeed, the
+grooves themselves are gone, and the logic of events must force him
+to move onwards. That motion, in its turn, must affect the rest of
+the community. Let the mind's eye glance for a moment over the
+country at large. The villages among the hills, the villages on the
+plains, in the valleys, and beside the streams represent in the
+aggregate an enormous power. Separately such hamlets seem small and
+feeble&mdash;unable to impress their will upon the world. But
+together they contain a vast crowd, which, united, may shoulder
+itself an irresistible course, pushing aside all obstacles by mere
+physical weight.</p>
+<p>The effect of education has been, and seems likely to be, to
+supply a certain unity of thought, if not of action, among these
+people. The solid common sense&mdash;the law-abiding character of
+the majority&mdash;is sufficient security against any violent
+movement. But how important it becomes that that common sense
+should be strengthened against the assaults of an insidious
+Socialism! A man's education does not come to an end when he leaves
+school. He then just begins to form his opinions, and in nine cases
+out of ten thinks what he hears and what he reads. Here, in the
+agricultural labourer class, are many hundred thousand young men
+exactly in this stage, educating themselves in moral, social, and
+political opinion.</p>
+<p>In short, the future literature of the labourer becomes a
+serious question. He will think what he reads; and what he reads at
+the present moment is of anything but an elevating character. He
+will think, too, what he hears; and he hears much of an enticing
+but subversive political creed, and little of any other. There are
+busy tongues earnestly teaching him to despise property and social
+order, to suggest the overthrow of existing institutions; there is
+scarcely any one to instruct him in the true lesson of history. Who
+calls together an audience of agricultural labourers to explain to
+and interest them in the story of their own country? There are many
+who are only too anxious to use the agricultural labourer as the
+means to effect ends which he scarcely understands. But there are
+few, indeed, who are anxious to instruct him in science or
+literature for his own sake.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap26" id="chap26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h3>
+<h3>A WHEAT COUNTRY</h3>
+The aspect of a corn-growing district in the colder months is
+perhaps more dreary than that of any other country scene. It is
+winter made visible. The very houses at the edge of the village
+stand out harsh and angular, especially if modern and slated, for
+the old thatched cottages are not without a curve in the line of
+the eaves. No trees or bushes shelter them from the bitter wind
+that rushes across the plain, and, because of the absence of trees
+round the outskirts, the village may be seen from a great distance.
+<p>The wayfarer, as he approaches along the interminable road, that
+now rises over a hill and now descends into a valley, observes it
+from afar, his view uninterrupted by wood, but the vastness of the
+plain seems to shorten his step, so that he barely gains on the
+receding roofs. The hedges by the road are cropped&mdash;cut down
+mercilessly&mdash;and do not afford the slightest protection
+against wind, or rain, or sleet. If he would pause awhile to rest
+his weary limbs no friendly bush keeps off the chilling blast.
+Yonder, half a mile in front, a waggon creeps up the hill, always
+just so much ahead, never overtaken, or seeming to alter its
+position, whether he walks slow or fast. The only apparent
+inhabitants of the solitude are the larks that every now and then
+cross the road in small flocks. Above, the sky is dull and gloomy;
+beneath, the earth, except, where some snow lingers, is of a still
+darker tint. On the northern side the low mounds are white with
+snow here and there. Mile after mile the open level fields extend
+on either hand; now brown from the late passage of the plough, now
+a pale yellow where the short stubble yet remains, divided by black
+lines; the low-cropped hedges bare of leaves. A few small fir
+copses are scattered about, the only relief to the eye; all else is
+level, dull, monotonous.</p>
+<p>When the village is reached at last, it is found to be of
+considerable size. The population is much greater than might have
+been anticipated from the desert-like solitude surrounding the
+place. In actual numbers, of course, it will not bear comparison
+with manufacturing districts, but for its situation, it is quite a
+little town. Compared with the villages situate in the midst of
+great pastures&mdash;where grass is the all-important crop&mdash;it
+is really populous. Almost all the inhabitants find employment in
+the fields around, helping to produce wheat and barley, oats and
+roots. It is a little city of the staff of life&mdash;a metropolis
+of the plough.</p>
+<p>Every single house, from that of the landowner, through the
+rent; that of the clergyman, through the tithe&mdash;down to the
+humblest cottage, is directly interested in the crop of corn. The
+very children playing about the gaps in the hedges are interested
+in it, for can they not go gleaning? If the heralds had given the
+place a coat of arms it should bear a sheaf of wheat. And the
+reason of its comparative populousness is to be found in the wheat
+also. For the stubborn earth will not yield its riches without
+severe and sustained labour. Instead of tickling it with a hoe, and
+watching the golden harvest leap forth, scarifier and plough,
+harrow and drill in almost ceaseless succession, compel the clods
+by sheer force of iron to deliver up their treasure. In another
+form it is almost like the quartz-crushing at the gold
+mines&mdash;the ore ground out from the solid rock. And here, in
+addition, the ore has to be put into the rock first in the shape of
+manure.</p>
+<p>All this labour requires hands to do it, and so&mdash;the supply
+for some time, at all events, answering the demand&mdash;the
+village teemed with men. In the autumn comes the ploughing, the
+couch-picking and burning, often second ploughing, the sowing by
+drill or hand, the threshing, &amp;c. In the spring will come more
+ploughing, sowing, harrowing, hoeing. Modern agriculture has
+increased the labour done in the fields. Crops are arranged to
+succeed crops, and each of these necessitates labour, and labour a
+second and a third time. The work on arable land is never finished.
+A slackness there is in the dead of winter; but even then there is
+still something doing&mdash;some draining, some trimming of hedges,
+carting manure for open field work. But beyond this there are the
+sheep in the pens to be attended to as the important time of
+lambing approaches, and there are the horned cattle in the stalls
+still fattening, and leaving, as they reach maturity, for the
+butcher.</p>
+<p>The arable agriculturist, indeed, has a double weight upon his
+mind. He has money invested in the soil itself, seed lying awaiting
+the genial warm rain that shall cause it to germinate, capital in
+every furrow traced by the plough. He has money, on the other hand,
+in his stock, sheep, and cattle. A double anxiety is his; first
+that his crops may prosper, next that his stock may flourish. He
+requires men to labour in the field, men to attend to the sheep,
+men to feed the bullocks; a crowd of labourers are supported by
+him, with their wives and families. In addition to these he needs
+other labour&mdash;the inanimate assistance of the steam-engine,
+and the semi-intelligent co-operation of the horse. These, again,
+must be directed by men. Thus it is that the corn village has
+become populous.</p>
+<p>The original idea was that the introduction of machinery would
+reduce all this labour. In point of fact, it has, if anything,
+increased it. The steam-plough will not work itself; each of the
+two engines requires two men to attend to it; one, and often two,
+ride on the plough itself; another goes with the water-cart to feed
+the boiler: others with the waggon for coal. The drill must have
+men&mdash;and experienced men&mdash;with it, besides horses to draw
+it, and these again want men The threshing-machine employs quite a
+little troop to feed it; and, turning to the stock in the stalls,
+roots will not pulp or slice themselves, nor will water pump itself
+up into the troughs, nor chaff cut itself. The chaff-cutter and
+pump, and so on, all depend on human hands to keep them going. Such
+is but a very brief outline of the innumerable ways in which arable
+agriculture gives employment. So the labourer and the labourer's
+family flourish exceedingly in the corn tillage. Wages rise; he
+waxes fat and strong and masterful, thinking that he holds the
+farmer and the golden grain in the hollow of his hand.</p>
+<p>But now a cloud arises and casts its shadow over the cottage. If
+the farmer depends upon his men, so do the men in equal degree
+depend upon the farmer. This they overlooked, but are now learning
+again. The farmer, too, is not independent and self-sustained, but
+is at the mercy of many masters. The weather and the seasons are
+one master; the foreign producer is another; the markets, which are
+further influenced by the condition of trade at large, form a third
+master. He is, indeed, very much more in the position of a servant
+than his labourer. Of late almost all these masters have combined
+against the corn-growing farmer. Wheat is not only low but seems
+likely to remain so. Foreign meat also competes with the
+dearly-made meat of the stalls. The markets are dull and trade
+depressed everywhere. Finally a fresh master starts up in the shape
+of the labourer himself, and demands higher wages.</p>
+<p>For some length of time the corn-grower puts a courageous face
+on the difficulties which beset him, and struggles on, hoping for
+better days. After awhile, however, seeing that his capital is
+diminishing, because he has been, as it were, eating it, seeing
+that there is no prospect of immediate relief, whatever may happen
+in the future, he is driven to one of two courses. He must quit the
+occupation or he must reduce his expenditure. He must not only ask
+the labourer to accept a reduction, but he must, wherever
+practicable, avoid employing labour at all.</p>
+<p>Now comes the pressure on the corn village. Much but not all of
+that pressure the inhabitants have brought upon themselves through
+endeavouring to squeeze the farmer too closely. If there had been
+no labour organisation whatever when the arable agriculturist began
+to suffer, as he undoubtedly has been suffering, the labourer must
+have felt it in his turn. He has himself to blame if he has made
+the pain more acute. He finds it in this way. Throughout the
+corn-producing district there has been proceeding a gradual
+shrinkage, as it were, of speculative investment. Where an
+agriculturist would have ploughed deeper, and placed extra
+quantities of manure in the soil, with a view to an extra crop, he
+has, instead, only just ploughed and cleaned and manured enough to
+keep things going. Where he would have enlarged his flock of sheep,
+or added to the cattle in the stalls, and carried as much stock as
+he possibly could, he has barely filled the stalls, and bought but
+just enough cake and foods. Just enough, indeed, of late has been
+his watchword all through&mdash;just enough labour and no more.</p>
+<p>This cutting down, stinting, and economy everywhere has told
+upon the population of the village. The difference in the
+expenditure upon a solitary farm may be but a trifle&mdash;a few
+pounds; but when some score or more farms are taken, in the
+aggregate the decrease in the cash transferred from the pocket of
+the agriculturist to that of the labourer becomes something
+considerable. The same percentage on a hundred farms would amount
+to a large sum. In this manner the fact of the corn-producing
+farmer being out of spirits with his profession reacts upon the
+corn village. There is no positive distress, but there is just a
+sense that there are more hands about than necessary. Yet at the
+same moment there are not hands enough; a paradox which may be
+explained in a measure by the introduction of machinery.</p>
+<p>As already stated, machinery in the field does not reduce the
+number of men employed. But they are employed in a different way.
+The work all comes now in rushes. By the aid of the reaping machine
+acres are levelled in a day, and the cut corn demands the services
+of a crowd of men and women all at once, to tie it up in sheaves.
+Should the self-binders come into general use, and tie the wheat
+with wire or string at the moment of cutting it, the matter of
+labour will be left much in the same stage. A crowd of workpeople
+will be required all at once to pick up the sheaves, or to cart
+them to the rick; and the difference will lie in this, that while
+now the crowd are employed, say twelve hours, then they will be
+employed only nine. Just the same number&mdash;perhaps
+more&mdash;but for less time. Under the old system, a dozen men
+worked all the winter through, hammering away with their flails in
+the barns. Now the threshing-machine arrives, and the ricks are
+threshed in a few days. As many men are wanted (and at double the
+wages) to feed the machine, to tend the 'elevator' carrying up the
+straw to make the straw rick, to fetch water and coal for the
+engine, to drive it, &amp;c. But instead of working for so many
+months, this rush lasts as many days.</p>
+<p>Much the same thing happens all throughout arable
+agriculture&mdash;from the hoeing to the threshing&mdash;a troop
+are wanted one day, scarcely anybody the next. There is, of course,
+a steady undercurrent of continuous work for a certain fixed number
+of hands; but over and above this are the periodical calls for
+extra labour, which of recent years, from the high wages paid, have
+been so profitable to the labourers. But when the agriculturist
+draws in his investments, when he retrenches his expenditure, and
+endeavours, as far as practicable, to confine it to his regular
+men, then the intermittent character of the extra work puts a
+strain upon the rest. They do not find so much to do, the pay is
+insensibly decreasing, and they obtain, less casual employment
+meantime.</p>
+<p>In the olden times a succession of bad harvests caused
+sufferings throughout the whole of England. Somewhat in like
+manner, though in a greatly modified degree, the difficulties of
+the arable agriculturist at the present day press upon the corn
+villages. In a time when the inhabitants saw the farmers, as they
+believed, flourishing and even treading on the heels of the squire,
+the corn villagers, thinking that the farmer was absolutely
+dependent upon them, led the van of the agitation for high wages.
+Now, when the force of circumstances has compressed wages again,
+they are both to submit. But discovering by slow degrees that no
+organisation can compel, or create a demand for labour at any
+price, there are now signs on the one hand of acquiescence, and on
+the other of partial emigration.</p>
+<p>Thus the comparative density of the population in arable
+districts is at once a blessing and a trouble. It is not the
+'pranks' of the farmers that have caused emigration, or threats of
+it. The farmer is unable to pay high wages, the men will not accept
+a moderate reduction, and the idle crowd, in effect, tread on each
+other's heels. Pressure of that kind, and to that extent, is
+limited to a few localities only. The majority have sufficient
+common sense to see their error. But it is in arable districts that
+agitation takes its extreme form. The very number of the population
+gives any movement a vigour and emphasis that is wanting where
+there may be as much discontent but fewer to exhibit it. That
+populousness has been in the past of the greatest assistance to the
+agriculturist, and there is no reason why it should not be so in
+the future, for it does not by any means follow that because
+agriculture is at present depressed it will always be so.</p>
+<p>Let the months roll by and then approach the same village along
+the same road under the summer sun. The hedges, though low, are
+green, and bear the beautiful flowers of the wild convolvulus.
+Trees that were scarcely observed before, because bare of leaves,
+now appear, and crowds of birds, finches and sparrows, fly up from
+the corn. The black swifts wheel overhead, and the white-breasted
+swallows float in the azure. Over the broad plain extends a still
+broader roof of the purest blue&mdash;the landscape is so open that
+the sky seems as broad again as in the enclosed
+countries&mdash;wide, limitless, very much as it does at sea. On
+the rising ground pause a moment and look round. Wheat and barley
+and oats stretch mile after mile on either hand. Here the red wheat
+tinges the view, there the whiter barley; but the prevailing hue is
+a light gold. Yonder green is the swede, or turnip, or mangold; but
+frequent as are the fields of roots, the golden tint overpowers the
+green. A golden sun looks down upon the golden wheat&mdash;the
+winds are still and the heat broods over the corn. It is pleasant
+to get under the scanty shadow of the stunted ash. Think what
+wealth all that glorious beauty represents. Wealth to the rich man,
+wealth to the poor.</p>
+<p>Come again in a few weeks' time and look down upon it. The
+swarthy reapers are at work. They bend to their labour till the
+tall corn overtops their heads. Every now and then they rise up,
+and stand breast high among the wheat. Every field is full of them,
+men and women, young lads and girls, busy as they may be. Yonder
+the reaping-machine, with its strange-looking arms revolving like
+the vast claws of an unearthly monster beating down the grain, goes
+rapidly round and round in an ever-narrowing circle till the last
+ears fall. A crowd has pounced upon the cut corn. Behind
+them&mdash;behind the reapers&mdash;everywhere abroad on the great
+plain rises an army, regiment behind regiment, the sheaves stacked
+in regular ranks down the fields. Yet a little while, and over that
+immense expanse not one single, solitary straw will be left
+standing. Then the green roots show more strongly, and tint the
+landscape. Next come the waggons, and after that the children
+searching for stray ears of wheat, for not one must be left behind.
+After that, in the ploughing time, while yet the sun shines warm,
+it is a sight to watch the teams from under the same ash tree,
+returning from their labour in the afternoon. Six horses here,
+eight horses there, twelve yonder, four far away; all in single
+file, slowly walking home, and needing no order or touch of whip to
+direct their steps to the well-known stables.</p>
+<p>If any wish to see the work of farming in its full flush and
+vigour, let them visit a corn district at the harvest time. Down in
+the village there scarcely any one is left at home; every man,
+woman, and child is out in the field. It is the day of prosperity,
+of continuous work for all, of high wages. It is, then, easy to
+understand why corn villages are populous. One cannot but feel the
+strongest sympathy with these men. The scene altogether seems so
+thoroughly, so intensely English. The spirit of it enters into the
+spectator, and he feels that he, too, must try his hand at the
+reaping, and then slake his thirst from the same cup with these
+bronzed sons of toil. Yet what a difficult problem lies underneath
+all this! While the reaper yonder slashes at the straw, huge ships
+are on the ocean rushing through the foam to bring grain to the
+great cities to whom&mdash;and to all&mdash;cheap bread is so
+inestimable a blessing. Very likely, when he pauses in his work,
+and takes his luncheon, the crust he eats is made of flour ground
+out of grain that grew in far distant Minnesota, or some vast
+Western State. Perhaps at the same moment the farmer himself sits
+at his desk and adds up figure after figure, calculating the cost
+of production, the expenditure on labour, the price of manure put
+into the soil, the capital invested in the steam-plough, and the
+cost of feeding the bullocks that are already intended for the next
+Christmas. Against these he places the market price of that wheat
+he can see being reaped from his window, and the price he receives
+for his fattened bullock. Then a vision rises before him of green
+meads and broad pastures slowly supplanting the corn; the plough
+put away, and the scythe brought out and sharpened. If so, where
+then will be the crowd of men and women yonder working in the
+wheat? Is not this a great problem, one to be pondered over and not
+hastily dismissed?</p>
+<p>Logical conclusions do not always come to pass in practice; even
+yet there is plenty of time for a change which shall retain these
+stalwart reapers amongst us, the strength and pride of the land.
+But if so, it is certain that it must be preceded by some earnest
+on their part of a desire to remove that last straw from the
+farmer's back&mdash;the last straw of extravagant labour
+demands&mdash;which have slowly been dragging him down. They have
+been doing their very best to bring about the substitution of grass
+for corn. And the farmer, too, perhaps, must look at home, and be
+content to live in simpler fashion. To do so will certainly require
+no little moral courage, for a prevalent social custom, like that
+of living fully up to the income (not solely characteristic of
+farmers), is with difficulty faced and overcome.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap27" id="chap27">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h3>
+<h3>GRASS COUNTRIES</h3>
+On the ground beside the bramble bushes that project into the field
+the grass is white with hoar frost at noon-day, when the rest of
+the meadow has resumed its dull green winter tint. Behind the
+copse, too, there is a broad belt of white&mdash;every place,
+indeed, that would be in the shadow were the sun to shine forth is
+of that colour.
+<p>The eager hunter frowns with impatience, knowing that though the
+eaves of the house may drip in the middle of the day, yet, while
+those white patches show in the shelter of the bramble bushes the
+earth will be hard and unyielding. His horse may clear the hedge,
+but how about the landing on that iron-like surface? Every old
+hoof-mark in the sward, cut out sharp and clear as if with a steel
+die, is so firm that the heaviest roller would not produce the
+smallest effect upon it. At the gateways where the passage of
+cattle has trodden away the turf, the mud, once almost impassable,
+is now hardened, and every cloven hoof that pressed it has left its
+mark as if cast in metal. Along the furrows the ice has fallen in,
+and lies on the slope white and broken, the shallow water having
+dried away beneath it. Dark hedges, dark trees&mdash;in the
+distance they look almost black&mdash;nearer at hand the smallest
+branches devoid of leaves are clearly defined against the sky.</p>
+<p>As the northerly wind drifts the clouds before it the sun shines
+down, and the dead, dry grass and the innumerable tufts of the
+'leaze' which the cattle have not eaten, take a dull grey hue.
+Sheltered from the blast behind the thick, high hawthorn hedge and
+double mound, which is like a rampart reared against Boreas, it is
+pleasant even now to stroll to and fro in the sunshine. The
+longtailed titmice come along in parties of six or eight, calling
+to each other as in turn they visit every tree. Turning from
+watching these&mdash;see, a redbreast has perched on a branch
+barely two yards distant, for, wherever you may be, there the robin
+comes and watches you. Whether looking in summer at the roses in
+the garden, or waiting in winter for the pheasant to break cover or
+the fox to steal forth, go where you will, in a minute or two, a
+redbreast appears intent on your proceedings.</p>
+<p>Now comes a discordant squeaking of iron axles that have not
+been greased, and the jolting sound of wheels passing over ruts
+whose edges are hard and frost-bound. From the lane two manure
+carts enter the meadow in slow procession, and, stopping at regular
+intervals, the men in charge take long poles with hooks at the end
+and drag down a certain quantity of the fertilising material. The
+sharp frost is so far an advantage to the tenant of meadow land
+that he can cart manure without cutting and poaching the turf, and
+even without changing the ordinary for the extra set of
+broad-wheels on the cart. In the next meadow the hedge-cutters are
+busy, their hands fenced with thick gloves to turn aside the
+thorns.</p>
+<p>Near by are the hay-ricks and cow-pen where a metallic rattling
+sound rises every now and then&mdash;the bull in the shed moving
+his neck and dragging his chain through the ring. More than one of
+the hay-ricks have been already half cut away, for the severe
+winter makes the cows hungry, and if their yield of milk is to be
+kept up they must be well fed, so that the foggers have plenty to
+do. If the dairy, as is most probably the case, sends the milk to
+London, they have still more, because then a regular supply has to
+be maintained, and for that a certain proportion of other food has
+to be prepared in addition to the old-fashioned hay. The new
+system, indeed, has led to the employment of more labour
+out-of-doors, if less within. An extra fogger has to be put on, not
+only because of the food, but because the milking has to be done in
+less time&mdash;with a despatch, indeed, that would have seemed
+unnatural to the old folk. Besides which the milk carts to and fro
+the railway station require drivers, whose time&mdash;as they have
+to go some miles twice a day&mdash;is pretty nearly occupied with
+their horses and milk tins. So much is this the case that even in
+summer they can scarcely be spared to do a few hours haymaking.</p>
+<p>The new system, therefore, of selling the milk instead of making
+butter and cheese is advantageous to the labourer by affording more
+employment in grass districts. It is steady work, too, lasting the
+entire year round, and well paid. The stock of cows in such cases
+is kept up to the very highest that the land will carry, which,
+again, gives more work. Although the closing of the cheese lofts
+and the superannuation of the churn has reduced the number of
+female servants in the house, yet that is more than balanced by the
+extra work without. The cottage families, it is true, lose the
+buttermilk which some farmers used to allow them; but wages are
+certainly better.</p>
+<p>There has been, in fact, a general stir and movement in dairy
+districts since the milk selling commenced, which has been
+favourable to labour. A renewed life and energy has been visible on
+farms where for generations things had gone on in the same sleepy
+manner. Efforts have been made to extend the area available for
+feeding by grubbing hedges and cultivating pieces of ground
+hitherto given over to thistles, rushes, and rough grasses. Drains
+have been put in so that the stagnant water in the soil might not
+cause the growth of those grasses which cattle will not touch.
+Fresh seed has been sown, and 'rattles' and similar plants
+destructive to the hay crop have been carefully eradicated. New
+gales, new carts, and traps, all exhibit the same movement.</p>
+<p>The cowyards in many districts were formerly in a very
+dilapidated condition. The thatch of the sheds was all worn away,
+mossgrown, and bored by the sparrows. Those in which the cows were
+placed at calving time were mere dark holes. The floor of the yard
+was often soft, so that the hoofs of the cattle trod deep into
+it&mdash;a perfect slough in wet weather. The cows themselves were
+of a poor character, and in truth as poorly treated, for the hay
+was made badly&mdash;carelessly harvested, and the grass itself not
+of good quality&mdash;nor were the men always very humane, thinking
+little of knocking the animals about.</p>
+<p>Quite a change has come over all this. The cows now kept are
+much too valuable to be treated roughly, being selected from
+shorthorn strains that yield large quantities of milk. No farmer
+now would allow any such knocking about. The hay itself is better,
+because the grass has been improved, and it is also harvested
+carefully. Rickcloths prevent rain from spoiling the rising rick,
+mowing machines, haymaking machines, and horse rakes enable a spell
+of good weather to be taken advantage of, and the hay got in
+quickly, instead of lying about till the rain returns. As for the
+manure, it is recognised to be gold in another shape, and instead
+of being trodden under foot by the cattle and washed away by the
+rain, it is utilised. The yard is drained and stoned so as to be
+dry&mdash;a change that effects a saving in litter, the value of
+which has greatly risen. Sheds have been new thatched, and
+generally renovated, and even new roads laid down across the farms,
+and properly macadamised, in order that the milk carts might reach
+the highway without the straining and difficulty consequent upon
+wheels sinking half up to the axles in winter.</p>
+<p>In short, dairy farms have been swept and garnished, and even
+something like science introduced upon them. The thermometer in
+summer is in constant use to determine if the milk is sufficiently
+cooled to proceed upon its journey. That cooling of the milk alone
+is a process that requires more labour to carry it out. Artificial
+manures are spread abroad on the pastures. The dairy farmer has to
+a considerable extent awakened to the times, and, like the arable
+agriculturist, is endeavouring to bring modern appliances to bear
+upon his business. To those who recollect the old style of dairy
+farmer the change seems marvellous indeed. Nowhere was the farmer
+more backward, more rude and primitive, than on the small dairy
+farms. He was barely to be distinguished from the labourers,
+amongst whom he worked shoulder to shoulder; he spoke with their
+broad accent, and his ideas and theirs were nearly identical.</p>
+<p>In ten years' time&mdash;just a short ten years only&mdash;what
+an alteration has taken place! It is needless to say that this
+could not go on without the spending of money, and the spending of
+money means the benefit of the labouring class. New cottages have
+been erected, of course on modern plans, so that many of the men
+are much better lodged than they were, and live nearer to their
+work&mdash;a great consideration where cows are the main object of
+attention. The men have to be on the farm very early in the
+morning, and if they have a long walk it is a heavy drag upon them.
+Perhaps the constant intercourse with the towns and stations
+resulting from the double daily visit of the milk carts has
+quickened the minds of the labourers thus employed. Whatever may be
+the cause, it is certain that they do exhibit an improvement, and
+are much 'smarter' than they used to be. It would be untrue to say
+that no troubles with the labourers have arisen in meadow
+districts. There has been some friction about wages, but not nearly
+approaching the agitation elsewhere. And when a recent reduction of
+wages commenced, many of the men themselves admitted that it was
+inevitable. But the average earnings throughout the year still
+continue, and are likely to continue far above the old rate of
+payment. Where special kinds of cheese are made the position of the
+labourer has also improved.</p>
+<p>Coming to the same district in summer time, the meadows have a
+beauty all their own. The hedges are populous with birds, the trees
+lovely, the brook green with flags, the luxuriantly-growing grass
+decked with flowers. Nor has haymaking lost all its ancient charm.
+Though the old-fashioned sound of the mower sharpening his scythe
+is less often heard, being superseded by the continuous rattle of
+the mowing machine, yet the hay smells as sweetly as ever. While
+the mowing machine, the haymaking machine, and horse rake give the
+farmer the power of using the sunshine, when it comes, to the best
+purpose, they are not without an effect upon the labouring
+population.</p>
+<p>Just as in corn districts, machinery has not reduced the actual
+number of hands employed, but has made the work come in spells or
+rushes; so in the meadows the haymaking is shortened. The farmer
+waits till good weather is assured for a few days. Then on goes his
+mowing machine and levels the crop of an entire field in no time.
+Immediately a whole crowd of labourers are required for making the
+hay and getting it when ready on the waggons. Under the old system
+the mowers usually got drunk about the third day of sunshine, and
+the work came to a standstill. When it began to rain they recovered
+themselves, and slashed away vigorously&mdash;when it was not
+wanted. The effect of machinery has been much the same as on corn
+lands, with the addition that fewer women are now employed in
+haymaking. Those that are employed are much better paid.</p>
+<p>The hamlets of grass districts are not, as a rule, at all
+populous. There really are fewer people, and at the same time the
+impression is increased by the scattered position of the dwellings.
+Instead of a great central village there are three or four small
+hamlets a mile or two apart, and solitary groups of cottages near
+farmhouses. One result of this is, that allotment gardens are not
+so common, for the sufficient reason that, if a field were set
+apart for the purpose, the tenants of the plots would have to walk
+so far to the place that it would scarcely pay them. Gardens are
+consequently attached to most cottages, and answer the same
+purpose; some have small orchards as well.</p>
+<p>The cottagers have also more firewood than is the case in some
+arable districts on account of the immense quantity of wood
+annually cut in copses and double-mound hedges. The rougher part
+becomes the labourers' perquisite, and they can also purchase wood
+at a nominal rate from their employers. This more than compensates
+for the absence of gleaning. In addition, quantities of wood are
+collected from hedges and ditches and under the trees&mdash;dead
+boughs that have fallen or been broken off by a gale.</p>
+<p>The aspect of a grazing district presents a general resemblance
+to that of a dairy one, with the difference that in the grazing
+everything seems on a larger scale. Instead of small meadows shut
+in with hedges and trees, the grazing farms often comprise fields
+of immense extent; sometimes a single pasture is as large as a
+small dairy farm. The herds of cattle are also more numerous; of
+course they are of a different class, but, in mere numbers, a
+grazier often has three times as many bullocks as a dairy farmer
+has cows. The mounds are quite as thickly timbered as in dairy
+districts, but as they are much farther apart, the landscape
+appears more open.</p>
+<p>To a spectator looking down upon mile after mile of such pasture
+land in summer from an elevation it resembles a park of illimitable
+extent. Great fields after great fields roll away to the
+horizon&mdash;groups of trees and small copses dot the
+slopes&mdash;roan and black cattle stand in the sheltering shadows.
+A dreamy haze hangs over the distant woods&mdash;all is large,
+open, noble. It suggests a life of freedom&mdash;the gun and the
+saddle&mdash;and, indeed, it is here that hunting is enjoyed in its
+full perfection. The labourer falls almost out of sight in these
+vast pastures. The population is sparse and scattered, the hamlets
+are few and far apart; even many of the farmhouses being only
+occupied by bailiffs. In comparison with a dairy farm there is
+little work to do. Cows have to be milked as well as foddered, and
+the milk when obtained gives employment to many hands in the
+various processes it goes through. Here the bullocks have simply to
+be fed and watched, the sheep in like manner have to be tended.
+Except in the haymaking season, therefore, there is scarcely ever a
+press for labour. Those who are employed have steady, continuous
+work the year through, and are for the most part men of experience
+in attending upon cattle, as indeed they need be, seeing the value
+of the herds under their charge.</p>
+<p>Although little direct agitation has taken place in pasture
+countries, yet wages have equally risen. Pasture districts almost
+drop out of the labour dispute. On the one hand the men are few, on
+the other the rise of a shilling or so scarcely affects the farmer
+(so far as his grass land is concerned, if he has much corn as well
+it is different), because of the small number of labourers he
+wants.</p>
+<p>The great utility of pasture is, of course, the comparatively
+cheap production of meat, which goes to feed the population in
+cities. Numbers of bullocks are fattened on corn land in stalls,
+but of late it has been stated that the cost of feeding under such
+conditions is so high that scarcely any profit can be obtained. The
+pasture farmer has by no means escaped without encountering
+difficulties; but still, with tolerably favourable seasons, he can
+produce meat much more cheaply than the arable agriculturist. Yet
+it is one of the avowed objects of the labour organisation to
+prevent the increase of pasture land, to stop the laying down of
+grass, and even to plough up some of the old pastures. The reason
+given is that corn land supports so many more agricultural
+labourers, which is so far true; but if corn farming cannot be
+carried on profitably without great reduction of the labour
+expenses the argument is not worth much, while the narrowness of
+the view is at once evident. The proportion of pasture to arable
+land must settle itself, and be governed entirely by the same
+conditions that affect other trades&mdash;i.e.. profit and
+loss.</p>
+<p>It has already been pointed out that the labourer finds it
+possible to support the Union with small payments, and also to
+subscribe to benefit-clubs. The fact suggests the idea that, if
+facilities were afforded, the labourer would become a considerable
+depositor of pennies. The Post-office Savings Banks have done much
+good, the drawback is that the offices are often too distant from
+the labourer. There is an office in the village, but not half the
+population live in the village. There are far-away hamlets and
+things, besides lonely groups of three or four farmhouses, to which
+a collective name can hardly be given, but which employ a number of
+men. A rural parish is 'all abroad'&mdash;the people are scattered.
+To go into the Post-office in the village may involve a walk of
+several miles, and it is closed, too, on Saturday night when the
+men are flush of money.</p>
+<p>The great difficulty with penny banks on the other hand is the
+receiver&mdash;who is to be responsible for the money? The
+clergyman would be only too glad, but many will have nothing to do
+with anything under his influence simply because he is the
+clergyman. The estrangement that has been promoted between the
+labourer and the tenant farmer effectually shuts the latter out.
+The landlord's agent cannot reside in fifty places at once. The
+sums are too small to pay for a bank agent to reside in the village
+and go round. There remain the men themselves; and why should not
+they be trusted with the money? Men of their own class collect the
+Union subscriptions, and faithfully pay them in.</p>
+<p>Take the case of a little hamlet two, three, perhaps more miles
+from a Post-office Savings Bank, where some thirty labourers work
+on the farms. Why should not these thirty elect one of their own
+number to receive their savings over Saturday&mdash;to be paid in
+by him at the Post-office? There are men among them who might be
+safely trusted with ten times the money, and if the Post-office
+cannot be opened on Saturday evenings for him to deposit it, it is
+quite certain that his employer would permit of his absence, on one
+day, sufficiently long to go to the office and back. If the men
+wish to be absolutely independent in the matter, all they have to
+do is to work an extra hour for their agent's employer, and so
+compensate for his temporary absence. If the men had it in their
+own hands like this they would enter into it with far greater
+interest, and it would take root among them. All that is required
+is the consent of the Post-office to receive moneys so deposited,
+and some one to broach the idea to the men in the various
+localities. The great recommendation of the Post-office is that the
+labouring classes everywhere have come to feel implicit faith in
+the safety of deposits made in it. They have a confidence in it
+that can never be attained by a private enterprise, however
+benevolent, and it should therefore be utilised to the utmost.</p>
+<p>To gentlemen accustomed to receive a regular income, a small
+lump sum like ten or twenty pounds appears a totally inadequate
+provision against old age. They institute elaborate calculations by
+professed accountants, to discover whether by any mode of
+investment a small subscription proportionate to the labourer's
+wages can be made to provide him with an annuity. The result is
+scarcely satisfactory. But, in fact, though an annuity would be, of
+course, preferable, even so small a sum as ten or twenty pounds is
+of the very highest value to an aged agricultural labourer,
+especially when he has a cottage, if not his own property, yet in
+which he has a right to reside. The neighbouring farmers, who have
+known him from their own boyhood, are always ready to give him
+light jobs whenever practicable. So that in tolerable weather he
+still earns something. His own children do a little for him. In the
+dead of the winter come a few weeks when he can do nothing, and
+feels the lack of small comforts. It is just then that a couple of
+sovereigns out of a hoard of twenty pounds will tide him over the
+interval.</p>
+<p>It is difficult to convey an idea of the value of these two
+extra sovereigns to a man of such frugal habits and in that
+position. None but those who have mixed with the agricultural poor
+can understand it. Now the wages that will hardly, by the most
+careful management, allow of the gradual purchase of an annuity,
+will readily permit such savings as these. It is simply a question
+of the money-box. When the child's money-box is at hand the penny
+is dropped in, and the amount accumulates; if there is no box handy
+it is spent in sweets. The same holds true of young and old alike.
+If, then, the annuity cannot be arranged, let the money-box, at all
+events, be brought nearer. And the money-box in which the poor man
+all over the country has the most faith is the Post-office.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a name="chap28" id="chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>HODGE'S LAST MASTERS. CONCLUSION</h3>
+After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest,
+comes the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set
+and capable of immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength
+must wear away. The limbs totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed
+sight can no longer guide the plough in a straight furrow, nor the
+weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge, who, Atlas-like,
+supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world, comes in his
+old age under the dominion of his last masters at the workhouse.
+There, indeed, he finds almost the whole array of his rulers
+assembled. Tenant farmers sit as the guardians of the poor for
+their respective parishes; the clergyman and the squire by virtue
+of their office as magistrates; and the tradesman as guardian for
+the market town. Here are representatives of almost all his
+masters, and it may seem to him a little strange that it should
+require so many to govern such feeble folk.
+<p>The board-room at the workhouse is a large and apparently
+comfortable apartment. The fire is piled with glowing coals, the
+red light from which gleams on the polished fender. A vast table
+occupies the centre, and around it are arranged seats, for each of
+the guardians. The chairman is, perhaps, a clergyman (and
+magistrate), who for years has maintained something like peace
+between discordant elements. For the board-room is often a
+battle-field where political or sectarian animosities exhibit
+themselves in a rugged way. The clergyman, by force of character,
+has at all events succeeded in moderating the personal asperity of
+the contending parties. Many of the stout, elderly farmers who sit
+round the table have been elected year after year, no one disputing
+with them that tedious and thankless office. The clerk, always a
+solicitor, is also present, and his opinion is continually
+required. Knotty points of law are for ever arising over what seems
+so simple a matter as the grant of a dole of bread.</p>
+<p>The business, indeed, of relieving the agricultural poor is no
+light one&mdash;a dozen or fifteen gentlemen often sit here the
+whole day. The routine of examining the relieving officers' books
+and receiving their reports takes up at least two hours.
+Agricultural unions often include a wide space of country, and
+getting from one village to another consumes as much time as would
+be needed for the actual relief of a much denser population. As a
+consequence, more relieving officers are employed than would seem
+at first glance necessary. Each of these has his records to
+present, and his accounts to be practically audited, a process
+naturally interspersed with inquiries respecting cottagers known to
+the guardians present.</p>
+<p>Personal applications for out-door relief are then heard. A
+group of intending applicants has been waiting in the porch for
+admission for some time. Women come for their daughters; daughters
+for their mothers; some want assistance during an approaching
+confinement, others ask for a small loan, to be repaid by
+instalments, with which to tide over their difficulties. One
+cottage woman is occasionally deputed by several of her neighbours
+as their representative. The labourer or his wife stands before the
+Board and makes a statement, supplemented by explanation from the
+relieving officer of the district. Another hour thus passes.
+Incidentally there arise cases of 'settlement' in distant parishes,
+when persons have become chargeable whose place of residence was
+recently, perhaps, half across the country. They have no parochial
+rights here and must be returned thither, after due inquiries made
+by the clerk and the exchange of considerable correspondence.</p>
+<p>The master of the workhouse is now called in and delivers his
+weekly report of the conduct of the inmates, and any events that
+have happened. One inmate, an ancient labourer, died that morning
+in the infirmary, not many hours before the meeting of the Board.
+The announcement is received with regretful exclamations, and there
+is a cessation of business for a few minutes. Some of the old
+farmers who knew the deceased recount their connection with him,
+how he worked for them, and how his family has lived in the parish
+as cottagers from time immemorial. A reminiscence of a grim joke
+that fell out forty years before, and of which the deceased was the
+butt, causes a grave smile, and then to business again. The master
+possibly asks permission to punish a refractory inmate; punishment
+is now very sparingly given in the house. A good many cases,
+however, come up from the Board to the magisterial
+Bench&mdash;charges of tearing up clothing, fighting, damaging
+property, or of neglecting to maintain, or to repay relief advanced
+on loan. These cases are, of course, conducted by the clerk.</p>
+<p>There is sometimes a report, to be read by one of the doctors
+who receive salaries from the Board and attend to the various
+districts, and occasionally some nuisance to be considered and
+order taken for its compulsory removal on sanitary grounds. The
+question of sanitation is becoming rather a difficult one in
+agricultural unions.</p>
+<p>After this the various committees of the Board have to give in
+the result of their deliberations, and the representative of tho
+ladies' boarding-out committee presents a record of the work
+accomplished. These various committees at times are burdened with
+the most onerous labours, for upon them falls the duty of verifying
+all the petty details of management. Every pound of soap, or
+candles, scrubbing-brushes, and similar domestic items, pass under
+their inspection, not only the payments for them, but the actual
+articles, or samples of them, being examined. Tenders for grocery,
+bread, wines and spirits for cases of illness, meat, coals, and so
+forth are opened and compared, vouchers, bills, receipts, invoices,
+and so forth checked and audited.</p>
+<p>The amount of detail thus attended to is something immense, and
+the accuracy required occupies hour after hour. There are whole
+libraries of account-books, ledgers, red-bound relief-books, stowed
+away, pile upon pile, in the house; archives going back to the
+opening of the establishment, and from which any trifling relief
+given or expenditure inclined years ago can be extracted. Such
+another carefully-administered institution it would be hard to
+find; nor is any proposed innovation or change adopted without the
+fullest discussion&mdash;it may be the suggested erection of
+additional premises, or the introduction of some fresh feature of
+the system, or some novel instructions sent down by the Local
+Government Board.</p>
+<p>When such matters or principles are to be discussed there is
+certain to be a full gathering of the guardians and a trial of
+strength between the parties. Those who habitually neglect to
+attend, leaving the hard labour of administration to be borne by
+their colleagues, now appear in numbers, and the board-room is
+crowded, many squires otherwise seldom seen coming in to give their
+votes. It is as much as the chairman can do to assuage the storm
+and to maintain an approach to personal politeness. Quiet as the
+country appears to the casual observer, there are, nevertheless,
+strong feelings under the surface, and at such gatherings the
+long-cherished animosities burst forth.</p>
+<p>Nothing at all events is done in a corner; everything is openly
+discussed and investigated. Every week the visiting committee go
+round the house, and enter every ward and store-room. They taste
+and test the provisions, and the least shortcoming is certain to be
+severely brought home to those who are fulfilling the contracts.
+They pass through the dormitories, and see that everything is
+clean; woe betide those responsible if a spot of dirt be visible!
+There is the further check of casual and unexpected visits from the
+guardians or magistrates. It is probable that not one crumb of
+bread consumed is otherwise than good, and that not one single
+crumb is wasted. The waste is in the system&mdash;and a gigantic
+waste it is, whether inevitable as some contend, or capable of
+being superseded by a different plan.</p>
+<p>Of every hundred pounds paid by the ratepayers how much is
+absorbed in the maintenance of the institution and its
+ramifications, and how very little reaches poor deserving Hodge!
+The undeserving and mean-spirited, of whom there are plenty in
+every village, who endeavour to live upon the parish, receive
+relief thrice as long and to thrice the amount as the hard-working,
+honest labourer, who keeps out to the very last moment. It is not
+the fault of the guardians, but of the rigidity of the law. Surely
+a larger amount of discretionary power might be vested in them with
+advantage! Some exceptional consideration is the just due of men
+who have worked from the morn to the very eve of life.</p>
+<p>The labourer whose decease was reported to the Board upon their
+assembling was born some seventy-eight or seventy-nine years ago.
+The exact date is uncertain; many of the old men can only fix their
+age by events that happened when they were growing from boys into
+manhood. That it must have been nearer eighty than seventy years
+since is known, however, to the elderly farmers, who recollect him
+as a man with a family when they were young. The thatched cottage
+stood beside the road at one end of a long, narrow garden, enclosed
+from the highway by a hedge of elder. At the back there was a ditch
+and mound with elm-trees, and green meadows beyond. A few poles
+used to lean against the thatch, their tops rising above the ridge,
+and close by was a stack of thorn faggots. In the garden three or
+four aged and mossgrown apple-trees stood among the little plots of
+potatoes, and as many plum-trees in the elder hedge. One tall
+pear-tree with scored bark grew near the end of the cottage; it
+bore a large crop of pears, which were often admired by the people
+who came along the road, but were really hard and woody. As a child
+he played in the ditch and hedge, or crept through into the meadow
+and searched in the spring for violets to offer to the passers-by;
+or he swung on the gate in the lane and held it open for the
+farmers in their gigs, in hope of a halfpenny.</p>
+<p>As a lad he went forth with his father to work in the fields,
+and came home to the cabbage boiled for the evening meal. It was
+not a very roomy or commodious home to return to after so many
+hours in the field, exposed to rain and wind, to snow, or summer
+sun. The stones of the floor were uneven, and did not fit at the
+edges. There was a beam across the low ceiling, to avoid which, as
+he grew older, he had to bow his head when crossing the apartment.
+A wooden ladder, or steps, not a staircase proper, behind the
+whitewashed partition, led to the bedroom. The steps were
+worm-eaten and worn. In the sitting-room the narrow panes of the
+small window were so overgrown with woodbine as to admit but little
+light. But in summer the door was wide open, and the light and the
+soft air came in. The thick walls and thatch kept it warm and cosy
+in winter, when they gathered round the fire. Every day in his
+manhood he went out to the field; every item, as it were, of life
+centred in that little cottage. In time he came to occupy it with
+his own wife, and his children in their turn crept through the
+hedge, or swung upon the gate. They grew up, and one by one went
+away, till at last he was left alone.</p>
+<p>He had not taken much conscious note of the changing aspect of
+the scene around him. The violets flowered year after year; still
+he went to plough. The May bloomed and scented the hedges; still he
+went to his work. The green summer foliage became brown and the
+acorns fell from the oaks; still he laboured on, and saw the ice
+and snow, and heard the wind roar in the old familiar trees without
+much thought of it. But those old familiar trees, the particular
+hedges he had worked among so many years, the very turf of the
+meadows over which he had walked so many times, the view down the
+road from the garden gate, the distant sign-post and the
+red-bricked farmhouse&mdash;all these things had become part of his
+life. There was no hope nor joy left to him, but he wanted to stay
+on among them to the end. He liked to ridge up his little plot of
+potatoes; he liked to creep up his ladder and mend the thatch of
+his cottage; he liked to cut himself a cabbage, and to gather the
+one small basketful of apples. There was a kind of dull pleasure in
+cropping the elder hedge, and even in collecting the dead branches
+scattered under the trees. To be about the hedges, in the meadows,
+and along the brooks was necessary to him, and he liked to be at
+work.</p>
+<p>Three score and ten did not seem the limit of his working days;
+he still could and would hoe&mdash;a bowed back is no impediment,
+but perhaps rather an advantage, at that occupation. He could use a
+prong in the haymaking; he could reap a little, and do good service
+tying up the cut corn. There were many little jobs on the farm that
+required experience, combined with the plodding patience of age,
+and these he could do better than a stronger man. The years went
+round again, and yet he worked. Indeed, the farther back a man's
+birth dates in the beginning of the present century the more he
+seems determined to labour. He worked on till every member of his
+family had gone, most to their last home, and still went out at
+times when the weather was not too severe. He worked on, and
+pottered round the garden, and watched the young green plums
+swelling on his trees, and did a bit of gleaning, and thought the
+wheat would weigh bad when it was threshed out.</p>
+<p>Presently people began to bestir themselves, and to ask whether
+there was no one to take care of the old man, who might die from
+age and none near. Where were his own friends and relations? One
+strong son had enlisted and gone to India, and though his time had
+expired long ago, nothing had ever been heard of him. Another son
+had emigrated to Australia, and once sent back a present of money,
+and a message, written for him by a friend, that he was doing well.
+But of late, he, too, had dropped out of sight. Of three daughters
+who grew up, two were known to be dead, and the third was believed
+to be in New Zealand. The old man was quite alone. He had no hope
+and no joy, yet he was almost happy in a slow unfeeling way
+wandering about the garden and the cottage. But in the winter his
+half-frozen blood refused to circulate, his sinews would not move
+his willing limbs, and he could not work.</p>
+<p>His case came before the Board of Guardians. Those who knew all
+about him wished to give him substantial relief in his own cottage,
+and to appoint some aged woman as nurse&mdash;a thing that is
+occasionally done, and most humanely. But there were technical
+difficulties in the way; the cottage was either his own or partly
+his own, and relief could not be given to any one possessed of
+'property' Just then, too, there was a great movement against,
+out-door relief; official circulars came round warning Boards to
+curtail it, and much fuss was made. In the result the old man was
+driven into the workhouse; muttering and grumbling, he had to be
+bodily carried to the trap, and thus by physical force was dragged
+from his home. In the workhouse there is of necessity a dead level
+of monotony&mdash;there are many persons but no individuals. The
+dining-hall is crossed with forms and narrow tables, somewhat
+resembling those formerly used in schools. On these at dinner-time
+are placed a tin mug and a tin soup-plate for each person; every
+mug and every plate exactly alike. When the unfortunates have taken
+their places, the master pronounces grace from an elevated desk at
+the end of the hall.</p>
+<p>Plain as is the fare, it was better than the old man had existed
+on for years; but though better it was not his dinner. He was not
+sitting in his old chair, at his own old table, round which his
+children had once gathered. He had not planted the cabbage, and
+tended it while it grew, and cut it himself. So it was, all through
+the workhouse life. The dormitories were clean, but the ward was
+not his old bedroom up the worm-eaten steps, with the slanting
+ceiling, where as he woke in the morning he could hear the sparrows
+chirping, the chaffinch calling, and the lark singing aloft. There
+was a garden attached to the workhouse, where he could do a little
+if he liked, but it was not his garden. He missed his plum-trees
+and apples, and the tall pear, and the lowly elder hedge. He looked
+round raising his head with difficulty, and he could not see the
+sign-post, nor the familiar red-bricked farmhouse. He knew all the
+rain that had fallen must have come through the thatch of the old
+cottage in at least one place, and he would have liked to have gone
+and rethatched it with trembling hand. At home he could lift the
+latch of the garden gate and go down the road when he wished. Here
+he could not go outside the boundary&mdash;it was against the
+regulations. Everything to appearance had been monotonous in the
+cottage&mdash;but there he did not feel it monotonous.</p>
+<p>At the workhouse the monotony weighed upon him. He used to think
+as he lay awake in bed that when the spring came nothing should
+keep him in this place. He would take his discharge and go out, and
+borrow a hoe from somebody, and go and do a bit of work again, and
+be about in the fields. That was his one hope all through his first
+winter. Nothing else enlivened it, except an occasional little
+present of tobacco from the guardians who knew him. The spring
+came, but the rain was ceaseless. No work of the kind he could do
+was possible in such weather. Still there was the summer, but the
+summer was no improvement; in the autumn he felt weak, and was not
+able to walk far. The chance for which he had waited had gone.
+Again the winter came, and he now rapidly grew more feeble.</p>
+<p>When once an aged man gives up, it seems strange at first that
+he should be so utterly helpless. In the infirmary the real benefit
+of the workhouse reached him. The food, the little luxuries, the
+attention were far superior to anything he could possibly have had
+at home. But still it was not home. The windows did not permit him
+from his bed to see the leafless trees or the dark woods and
+distant hills. Left to himself, it is certain that of choice he
+would have crawled under a rick, or into a hedge, if he could not
+have reached his cottage.</p>
+<p>The end came very slowly; he ceased to exist by imperceptible
+degrees, like an oak-tree. He remained for days in a
+semi-unconscious state, neither moving nor speaking. It happened at
+last. In the grey of the winter dawn, as the stars paled and the
+whitened grass was stiff with hoar frost, and the rime coated every
+branch of the tall elms, as the milker came from the pen and the
+young ploughboy whistled down the road to his work, the spirit of
+the aged man departed.</p>
+<p>What amount of production did that old man's life of labour
+represent? What value must be put upon the service of the son that
+fought in India; of the son that worked in Australia; of the
+daughter in New Zealand, whose children will help to build up a new
+nation? These things surely have their value. Hodge died, and the
+very grave-digger grumbled as he delved through the earth
+hard-bound in the iron frost, for it jarred his hand and might
+break his spade. The low mound will soon be level, and the place of
+his burial shall not be known.</p>
+<br>
+<hr size="5" noshade>
+<pre>
+
+
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+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hodge and His Masters, by Richard Jefferies
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Hodge and His Masters
+
+Author: Richard Jefferies
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2004  [eBook #11874]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HODGE AND HIS MASTERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer and Project Gutenberg Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+HODGE AND HIS MASTERS
+
+BY
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES
+
+Author of 'The Gamekeeper at Home,' 'Wild Life in a Southern County,'
+'The Amateur Poacher,' 'Round About A Great Estate,' Etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The papers of which this volume is composed originally appeared in the
+_Standard_, and are now republished by permission of the Editor.
+
+In manners, mode of thought, and way of life, there is perhaps no class of
+the community less uniform than the agricultural. The diversities are so
+great as to amount to contradictions. Individuality of character is most
+marked, and, varying an old saw, it might be said, so many farmers so many
+minds.
+
+Next to the tenants the landowners have felt the depression, to such a
+degree, in fact, that they should perhaps take the first place, having no
+one to allow them in turn a 20 per cent, reduction of their liabilities.
+It must be remembered that the landowner will not receive the fruits of
+returning prosperity when it comes for some time after they have reached
+the farmer. Two good seasons will be needed before the landowner begins to
+recoup.
+
+Country towns are now so closely connected with agriculture that a
+description of the one would be incomplete without some mention of the
+other. The aggregate capital employed by the business men of these small
+towns must amount to an immense sum, and the depreciation of their
+investments is of more than local concern.
+
+Although the labourer at the present moment is a little in the background,
+and has the best of the bargain, since wages have not much fallen, if at
+all; yet he will doubtless come to the front again. For as agriculture
+revives, and the sun shines, the organisations by which he is represented
+will naturally display fresh vigour.
+
+But the rapid progress of education in the villages and outlying districts
+is the element which is most worthy of thoughtful consideration. On the
+one hand, it may perhaps cause a powerful demand for corresponding
+privileges; and on the other, counteract the tendency to unreasonable
+expectations. In any case, it is a fact that cannot be ignored. Meantime,
+all I claim for the following sketches is that they are written in a fair
+and impartial spirit.
+
+RICHARD JEFFERIES.
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I. THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+    II. LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+   III. A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+    IV. GOING DOWNHILL
+
+     V. THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+    VI. AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS--OLD STYLE
+
+   VII. THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+  VIII. HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+    IX. THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+     X. MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+    XI. FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+   XII. THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN'
+
+  XIII. AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+   XIV. THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+    XV. A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+   XVI. THE SOLICITOR
+
+  XVII. 'COUNTY COURT DAY'
+
+ XVIII. THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+   XIX. THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+    XX. HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+   XXI. A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+  XXII. THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN, COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+ XXIII. THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+  XXIV. THE COTTAGE CHARTER, FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+   XXV. LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES, THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+  XXVI. A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+ XXVII. GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+XXVIII. HODGE'S LAST MASTERS, CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+
+THE FARMERS' PARLIAMENT
+
+
+The doorway of the Jason Inn at Woolbury had nothing particular to
+distinguish it from the other doorways of the same extremely narrow
+street. There was no porch, nor could there possibly be one, for an
+ordinary porch would reach half across the roadway. There were no steps to
+go up, there was no entrance hall, no space specially provided for crowds
+of visitors; simply nothing but an ordinary street-door opening directly
+on the street, and very little, if any, broader or higher than those of
+the private houses adjacent. There was not even the usual covered way or
+archway leading into the courtyard behind, so often found at old country
+inns; the approach to the stables and coach-houses was through a separate
+and even more narrow and winding street, necessitating a detour of some
+quarter of a mile. The dead, dull wall was worn smooth in places by the
+involuntary rubbings it had received from the shoulders of foot-passengers
+thrust rudely against it as the market-people came pouring in or out, or
+both together.
+
+Had the spot been in the most crowded district of the busiest part of the
+metropolis, where every inch of ground is worth an enormous sum, the
+buildings could not have been more jammed together, nor the inconvenience
+greater. Yet the little town was in the very midst of one of the most
+purely agricultural counties, where land, to all appearance, was
+plentiful, and where there was ample room and 'verge enough' to build
+fifty such places. The pavement in front of the inn was barely eighteen
+inches wide; two persons could not pass each other on it, nor walk
+abreast. If a cart came along the roadway, and a trap had to go by it, the
+foot-passengers had to squeeze up against the wall, lest the box of the
+wheel projecting over the kerb should push them down. If a great waggon
+came loaded with wool, the chances were whether a carriage could pass it
+or not; as for a waggon-load of straw that projected from the sides,
+nothing could get by, but all must wait--coroneted panel or plain
+four-wheel--till the huge mass had rumbled and jolted into the more open
+market-place.
+
+But hard, indeed, must have been the flag-stones to withstand the wear and
+tear of the endless iron-shod shoes that tramped to and fro these mere
+ribbons of pavements. For, besides the through traffic out from the
+market-place to the broad macadamised road that had taken the place and
+the route of an ancient Roman road, there were the customers to the shops
+that lined each side of the street. Into some of these you stepped from
+the pavement down, as it were, into a cave, the level of the shop being
+eight or ten inches below the street, while the first floor projected over
+the pavement quite to the edge of the kerb. To enter these shops it was
+necessary to stoop, and when you were inside there was barely room to turn
+round. Other shops were, indeed, level with the street; but you had to be
+careful, because the threshold was not flush with the pavement, but rose a
+couple of inches and then fell again, a very trap to the toe of the
+unwary. Many had no glass at all, but were open, like a butcher's or
+fishmonger's. Those that had glass were so restricted for space that, rich
+as they might be within in the good things of the earth, they could make
+no 'display.' All the genius of a West-end shopman could not have made an
+artistic arrangement in that narrow space and in that bad light; for,
+though so small below, the houses rose high, and the street being so
+narrow the sunshine rarely penetrated into it.
+
+But mean as a metropolitan shopman might have thought the spot, the
+business done there was large, and, more than that, it was genuine. The
+trade of a country market-town, especially when that market-town, like
+Woolbury, dates from the earliest days of English history, is hereditary.
+It flows to the same store and to the same shop year after year,
+generation after generation, century after century. The farmer who walks
+into the saddler's here goes in because his father went there before him.
+His father went in because his father dealt there, and so on farther back
+than memory can trace. It might almost be said that whole villages go to
+particular shops. You may see the agricultural labourers' wives, for
+instance, on a Saturday leave the village in a bevy of ten or a dozen, and
+all march in to the same tradesman. Of course in these latter days
+speculative men and 'co-operative' prices, industriously placarded, have
+sapped and undermined this old-fashioned system. Yet even now it retains
+sufficient hold to be a marked feature of country life. To the through
+traffic, therefore, had to be added the steady flow of customers to the
+shops.
+
+On a market-day like this there is, of course, the incessant entry and
+exit of carts, waggons, traps, gigs, four-wheels, and a large number of
+private carriages. The number of private carriages is, indeed, very
+remarkable, as also the succession of gentlemen on thoroughbred horses--a
+proof of the number of resident gentry in the neighbourhood, and of its
+general prosperity. Cart-horses furbished up for sale, with straw-bound
+tails and glistening skins; 'baaing' flocks of sheep; squeaking pigs;
+bullocks with their heads held ominously low, some going, some returning,
+from the auction yard; shouting drovers; lads rushing hither and thither;
+dogs barking; everything and everybody crushing, jostling, pushing through
+the narrow street. An old shepherd, who has done his master's business,
+comes along the pavement, trudging thoughtful and slow, with ashen staff.
+One hand is in his pocket, the elbow of the arm projecting; he is feeling
+a fourpenny-piece, and deliberating at which 'tap' he shall spend it. He
+fills up the entire pavement, and stolidly plods on, turning ladies and
+all into the roadway; not from intentional rudeness, but from sheer
+inability to perceive that he is causing inconvenience.
+
+Unless you know the exact spot it is difficult in all this crowd and
+pushing, with a nervous dread of being gored from behind by a bull, or
+thrown off your feet by a sudden charge of sheep, to discover the door of
+the Jason Inn. That door has been open every legitimate and lawful hour
+this hundred years; but you will very likely be carried past it and have
+to struggle back. Then it is not easy to enter, for half a dozen stalwart
+farmers and farmers' sons are coming out; while two young fellows stand
+just inside, close to the sliding bar-window, blocking up the passage, to
+exchange occasional nods and smiles with the barmaid.
+
+However, by degrees you shuffle along the sanded passage, and past the
+door of the bar, which is full of farmers as thick as they can stand, or
+sit. The rattle of glasses, the chink of spoons, the hum of voices, the
+stamping of feet, the calls and orders, and sounds of laughter, mingle in
+confusion. Cigar-smoke and the steam from the glasses fill the room--all
+too small--with a thick white mist, through which rubicund faces dimly
+shine like the red sun through a fog.
+
+Some at the tables are struggling to write cheques, with continual jogs at
+the elbow, with ink that will not flow, pens that scratch and splutter,
+blotting-paper that smudges and blots. Some are examining cards of an
+auction, and discussing the prices which they have marked in the margin in
+pencil. The good-humoured uproar is beyond description, and is increased
+by more farmers forcing their way in from the rear, where are their horses
+or traps--by farmers eagerly inquiring for dealers or friends, and by
+messengers from the shops loaded with parcels to place in the customer's
+vehicle.
+
+At last you get beyond the bar-room door and reach the end of the passage,
+where is a wide staircase, and at the foot a tall eight-day clock. A
+maid-servant comes tripping down, and in answer to inquiry replies that
+that is the way up, and the room is ready, but she adds with a smile that
+there is no one there yet. It is three-quarters of an hour after the time
+fixed for the reading of a most important paper before a meeting specially
+convened, before the assembled Parliament of Hodge's masters, and you
+thought you would be too late. A glance at the staircase proves the truth
+of the maid's story. It has no carpet, but it is white as well-scrubbed
+wood could well be. There is no stain, no dust, no foot-mark on it; no
+heavy shoe that has been tramping about in the mud has been up there. But
+it is necessary to go on or go back, and of the two the first is the
+lesser evil.
+
+The staircase is guarded by carved banisters, and after going up two
+flights you enter a large and vacant apartment prepared for the meeting of
+the farmers' club. At the farther end is a small mahogany table, with an
+armchair for the president, paper, pens, ink, blotting-paper, and a wax
+candle and matches, in case he should want a light. Two less dignified
+chairs are for the secretary (whose box, containing the club records,
+books of reference, &c., is on the table), and for the secretary's clerk.
+Rows of plain chairs stretch across the room, rank after rank; these are
+for the audience. And last of all are two long forms, as if for Hodge, if
+Hodge chooses to come.
+
+A gleam of the afternoon sun--as the clouds part awhile--attracts one
+naturally to the window. The thickness of the wall in which it is placed
+must be some two or three feet, so that there is a recess on which to put
+your arms, if you do not mind the dust, and look out. The window is half
+open, and the sounds of the street come up, 'baaing' and bellowing and
+squeaking, the roll of wheels, the tramp of feet, and, more distant, the
+shouting of an auctioneer in the market-place, whose stentorian tones come
+round the corner as he puts up rickcloths for sale. Noise of man and
+animal below; above, here in the chamber of science, vacancy and silence.
+Looking upwards, a narrow streak of blue sky can be seen above the ancient
+house across the way.
+
+After awhile there comes the mellow sound of bells from the church which
+is near by, though out of sight; bells with a soft, old-world tone; bells
+that chime slowly and succeed each other without haste, ringing forth a
+holy melody composed centuries ago. It is as well to pause a minute and
+listen to their voice, even in this railroad age of hurry. Over the busy
+market-place the notes go forth, and presently the hum comes back and
+dwells in the recess of the window. It is a full hour after the time
+fixed, and now at last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of
+heavy boots upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the
+landing; they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk comes,
+and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have company, boldly
+enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary arrives; finally
+the president appears, and with him the lecturer. There is a hum of
+greeting; the minutes are read; the president introduces the professor,
+and the latter stands forth to read his paper--'Science, the Remedy for
+Agricultural Depression.'
+
+Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the present
+period of distress. For many years past science had been like the voice
+crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only, had listened. Men had,
+indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone away home again, and, as the
+swine of the proverb, returned to their wallowing in the mire. One blade
+of grass still grew where two or even three might be grown; he questioned
+whether farmers had any real desire to grow the extra blades. If they did,
+they had merely to employ the means provided for them. Everything had been
+literally put into their hands; but what was the result? Why, nothing--in
+point of fact, nothing. The country at large was still undrained. The very
+A B C of progress had been neglected. He should be afraid to say what
+proportion of the land was yet undrained, for he should be contradicted,
+called ill names, and cried down. But if they would look around them they
+could see for themselves. They would see meadows full of rank, coarse
+grass in the furrows, which neither horse nor cattle would touch. They
+would see in the wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble,
+and altogether poor; that was where the water had stood and destroyed the
+natural power of the seed. The same cause gave origin to that mass of
+weeds which was the standing disgrace of arable districts.
+
+But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried out that
+the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain--it was their own intense
+dislike of making any improvement. The _vis inertiae_ of the agricultural
+class was beyond the limit of language to describe. Why, if the land had
+been drained the rain would have done comparatively little damage, and
+thus they would have been independent of the seasons. Look, again, at the
+hay crop; how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted because men would
+not believe that anything would answer which had not been done by their
+forefathers! The hay might have been saved by three distinct methods. The
+grass might have been piled against hurdles or light frame-work and so
+dried by the wind; it might have been pitted in the earth and preserved
+still green; or it might have been dried by machinery and the hot blast. A
+gentleman had invented a machine, the utility of which had been
+demonstrated beyond all doubt. But no; farmers folded their hands and
+watched their hay rotting.
+
+As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They had not
+cleaned the soil--there were horse-hoes, and every species of contrivances
+for the purpose; but they would not use them. They had not ploughed
+deeply: they had merely scratched the surface as if with a pin. How could
+the thin upper crust of the earth--the mere rind three inches thick--be
+expected to yield crop after crop for a hundred years? Deep ploughing
+could only be done by steam: now how many farmers possessed or used
+steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts where such a thing was
+unknown. They had neglected to manure the soil; to restore to it the
+chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak upon artificial manure
+was enough to drive any man who had the power of thought into temporary
+insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to see men positively turning away
+from the means of obtaining good crops, and then crying out that they were
+ruined. With drains, steam-ploughs, and artificial manure, a farmer might
+defy the weather.
+
+Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the farmer had
+good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The first he could get
+if he chose; and without the second, without capital, he had no business
+to be farming at all. He was simply stopping the road of a better man, and
+the sooner he was driven out of the way the better. The neglect of
+machinery was most disheartening. A farmer bought one machine, perhaps a
+reaping-machine, and then because that solitary article did not
+immediately make his fortune he declared that machinery was useless. Could
+the force of folly farther go? With machinery they could do just as they
+liked. They could compel the earth to yield, and smile at the most
+tropical rain, or the most continuous drought. If only the voice of
+science had been listened to, there would have been no depression at all.
+Even now it was not too late.
+
+Those who were wise would at once set to work to drain, to purchase
+artificial manure, and set up steam power, and thereby to provide
+themselves with the means of stemming the tide of depression. By these
+means they could maintain a head of stock that would be more than double
+what was now kept upon equal acreage. He knew full well one of the
+objections that would be made against these statements. It would be said
+that certain individuals had done all this, had deep ploughed, had
+manured, had kept a great head of valuable stock, had used every resource,
+and yet had suffered. This was true. He deeply regretted to say it was
+true.
+
+But why had they suffered? Not because of the steam, the machinery, the
+artificial manure, the improvements they had set on foot; but because of
+the folly of their neighbours, of the agricultural class generally. The
+great mass of farmers had made no improvements; and, when the time of
+distress came, they were beaten down at every point. It was through these
+men and their failures that the price of stock and of produce fell, and
+that so much stress was put upon the said individuals through no fault of
+their own. He would go further, and he would say that had it not been for
+the noble efforts of such individuals--the pioneers of agriculture and its
+main props and stays--the condition of farming would have been simply
+fifty times worse than it was. They, and they alone, had enabled it to
+bear up so long against calamity. They had resources; the agricultural
+class, as a rule, had none. Those resources were the manure they had put
+into the soil, the deep ploughing they had accomplished, the great head of
+stock they had got together, and so on. These enabled them to weather the
+storm.
+
+The cry for a reduction of rent was an irresistible proof of what he had
+put forth--that it was the farmers themselves who were to blame. This cry
+was a confession of their own incompetency. If you analysed it--if you
+traced the general cry home to particular people--you always found that
+those people were incapables. The fact was, farming, as a rule, was
+conducted on the hand-to-mouth principle, and the least stress or strain
+caused an outcry. He must be forgiven if he seemed to speak with unusual
+acerbity. He intended no offence. But it was his duty. In such a condition
+of things it would be folly to mince matters, to speak softly while
+everything was going to pieces. He repeated, once for all, it was their
+own fault. Science could supply the remedy, and science alone; if they
+would not call in the aid of science they must suffer, and their
+privations must be upon their own heads. Science said, Drain, use
+artificial manure, plough deeply, keep the best breed of stock, put
+capital into the soil. Call science to their aid, and they might defy the
+seasons.
+
+The professor sat down and thrust his hand through his hair. The president
+invited discussion. For some few minutes no one rose; presently, after a
+whispered conversation with his friend, an elderly farmer stood up from
+the forms at the very back of the room. He made no pretence to rounded
+periods, but spoke much better than might have been expected; he had a
+small piece of paper in his hand, on which he had made notes as the
+lecture proceeded.
+
+He said that the lecturer had made out a very good case. He had proved to
+demonstration, in the most logical manner, that farmers were fools. Well,
+no doubt, all the world agreed with him, for everybody thought he could
+teach the farmer. The chemist, the grocer, the baker, the banker, the wine
+merchant, the lawyer, the doctor, the clerk, the mechanic, the merchant,
+the editor, the printer, the stockbroker, the colliery owner, the
+ironmaster, the clergyman, and the Methodist preacher, the very cabmen and
+railway porters, policemen, and no doubt the crossing-sweepers--to use an
+expressive Americanism, all the whole "jing-bang"--could teach the
+ignorant jackass of a farmer.
+
+Some few years ago he went into a draper's shop to bring home a parcel for
+his wife, and happened to enter into conversation with the draper himself.
+The draper said he was just going to sell off the business and go into
+dairy farming, which was the most paying thing out. That was just when
+there came over from America a patent machine for milking cows. The
+draper's idea was to milk all his cows by one of these articles, and so
+dispense with labour. He saw no more of him for a long time, but had heard
+that morning that he went into a dairy farm, got rid of all his money, and
+was now tramping the country as a pedlar with a pack at his back.
+Everybody thought he could teach the farmer till he tried farming himself,
+and then he found his mistake.
+
+One remark of the lecturer, if he might venture to say so, seemed to him,
+a poor ignorant farmer of sixty years' standing, not only uncalled-for and
+priggish, but downright brutal. It was that the man with little capital
+ought to be driven out of farming, and the sooner he went to the wall the
+better. Now, how would all the grocers and other tradesmen whom he had
+just enumerated like to be told that if they had not got 10,000_l_. each
+they ought to go at once to the workhouse! That would be a fine remedy for
+the depression of trade.
+
+He always thought it was considered rather meritorious if a man with small
+capital, by hard work, honest dealing, and self-denial, managed to raise
+himself and get up in the world. But, oh no; nothing of the kind; the
+small man was the greatest sinner, and must be eradicated. Well, he did
+not hesitate to say that he had been a small man himself, and began in a
+very small way. Perhaps the lecturer would think him a small man still, as
+he was not a millionaire; but he could pay his way, which went for
+something in the eyes of old-fashioned people, and perhaps he had a pound
+or two over. He should say but one word more, for he was aware that there
+was a thunderstorm rapidly coming up, and he supposed science would not
+prevent him from getting a wet jacket. He should like to ask the lecturer
+if he could give the name of one single scientific farmer who had
+prospered?
+
+Having said this much, the old gentleman put on his overcoat and busted
+out of the room, and several others followed him, for the rain was already
+splashing against the window-panes. Others looked at their watches, and,
+seeing it was late, rose one by one and slipped off. The president asked
+if any one would continue the discussion, and, as no one rose, invited the
+professor to reply.
+
+The professor gathered his papers and stood up. Then there came a heavy
+rolling sound--the unmistakable boom of distant thunder. He said that the
+gentleman who had left so abruptly had quite misconstrued the tenour of
+his paper. So far from intending to describe farmers as lacking in
+intelligence, all he wished to show was that they did not use their
+natural abilities, from a certain traditionary bowing to custom. They did
+not like their neighbours to think that they were doing anything novel. No
+one respected the feelings that had grown up and strengthened from
+childhood, no one respected the habits of our ancestors, more than he did;
+no one knew better the solid virtues that adorned the homes of
+agriculturists. Far, indeed, be it from him to say aught--[Boom! and the
+rattling of rain against the window]--aught that could--but he saw that
+gentlemen were anxious to get home, and would conclude.
+
+A vote of thanks was hurriedly got over, and the assembly broke up and
+hastened down the staircase. They found the passage below so blocked with
+farmers who had crowded in out of the storm that movement was impossible.
+The place was darkened by the overhanging clouds, the atmosphere thick and
+close with the smoke and the crush. Flashes of brilliant lightning seemed
+to sweep down the narrow street, which ran like a brook with the
+storm-water; the thunder seemed to descend and shake the solid walls.
+'It's rather hard on the professor,' said one farmer to another. 'What
+would science do in a thunderstorm?' He had hardly spoken when the hail
+suddenly came down, and the round white globules, rebounding from the
+pavement, rolled in at the open door. Each paused as he lifted his glass
+and thought of the harvest. As for Hodge, who was reaping, he had to take
+shelter how he might in the open fields. Boom! flash! boom!--splash and
+hiss, as the hail rushed along the narrow street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+LEAVING HIS FARM
+
+
+A large white poster, fresh and glaring, is pasted on the wall of a barn
+that stands beside a narrow country lane. So plain an advertisement,
+without any colour or attempt at 'display,' would be passed unnoticed
+among the endless devices on a town hoarding. There nothing can be hoped
+to be looked at unless novel and strange, or even incomprehensible. But
+here the oblong piece of black and white contrasts sufficiently in itself
+with red brick and dull brown wooden framing, with tall shadowy elms, and
+the glint of sunshine on the streamlet that flows with a ceaseless murmur
+across the hollow of the lane. Every man that comes along stays to read
+it.
+
+The dealer in his trap--his name painted in white letters on the
+shaft--pulls up his quick pony, and sits askew on his seat to read. He has
+probably seen it before in the bar of the wayside inn, roughly hung on a
+nail, and swaying to and fro with the draught along the passage. He may
+have seen it, too, on the handing-post at the lonely cross-roads, stuck on
+in such a manner that, in order to peruse it, it is necessary to walk
+round the post. The same formal announcement appears also in the local
+weekly papers--there are at least two now in the smallest place--and he
+has read it there. Yet he pauses to glance at it again, for the country
+mind requires reiteration before it can thoroughly grasp and realise the
+simplest fact. The poster must be read and re-read, and the printer's name
+observed and commented on, or, if handled, the thickness of the paper felt
+between thumb and finger. After a month or two of this process people at
+last begin to accept it as a reality, like cattle or trees--something
+substantial, and not mere words.
+
+The carter, with his waggon, if he be an elderly man, cries 'Whoa!' and,
+standing close to the wall, points to each letter with the top of his
+whip--where it bends--and so spells out 'Sale by Auction.' If he be a
+young man he looks up at it as the heavy waggon rumbles by, turns his
+back, and goes on with utter indifference.
+
+The old men, working so many years on a single farm, and whose minds were
+formed in days when a change of tenancy happened once in half a century,
+have so identified themselves with the order of things in the parish that
+it seems to personally affect them when a farmer leaves his place. But
+young Hodge cares nothing about his master, or his fellow's master.
+Whether they go or stay, prosperous or decaying, it matters nothing to
+him. He takes good wages, and can jingle some small silver in his pocket
+when he comes to the tavern a mile or so ahead; so 'gee-up' and let us get
+there as rapidly as possible.
+
+An hour later a farmer passes on horseback; his horse all too broad for
+his short legs that stick out at the side and show some inches of stocking
+between the bottom of his trousers and his boots. A sturdy, thick-set man,
+with a wide face, brickdust colour, fringed with close-cut red whiskers,
+and a chest so broad he seems compelled to wear his coat unbuttoned. He
+pulls off his hat and wipes his partly bald head with a coloured
+handkerchief, stares at the poster a few minutes, and walks his horse
+away, evidently in deep thought. Two boys--cottagers' children--come home
+from school; they look round to see that no one observes, and then throw
+flints at the paper till the sound of footsteps alarms them.
+
+
+Towards the evening a gentleman and lady, the first middle-aged, the
+latter very young--father and daughter--approach, their horses seeming to
+linger as they walk through the shallow stream, and the cool water
+splashes above their fetlocks. The shooting season is near at hand,
+Parliament has risen, and the landlords have returned home. Instead of the
+Row, papa must take his darling a ride through the lanes, a little dusty
+as the autumn comes on, and pauses to read the notice on the wall. It is
+his neighbour's tenant, not his, but it comes home to him here. It is the
+real thing--the fact--not the mere seeing it in the papers, or the warning
+hints in the letters of his own steward. 'Papa,' is rather quiet for the
+rest of the ride. Ever since he was a lad--how many years ago is that?--he
+has shot with his neighbour's party over this farm, and recollects the
+tenant well, and with that friendly feeling that grows up towards what we
+see year after year. In a day or two the clergyman drives by with his low
+four-wheel and fat pony, notes the poster as the pony slackens at the
+descent to the water, and tells himself to remember and get the tithe.
+Some few Sundays, and Farmer Smith will appear in church no more.
+
+Farmer Smith this beautiful morning is looking at the wheat, which is, and
+is not, his. It would have been cut in an ordinary season, but the rains
+have delayed the ripening. He wonders how the crop ever came up at all
+through the mass of weeds that choked it, the spurrey that filled the
+spaces between the stalks below, the bindweed that climbed up them, the
+wild camomile flowering and flourishing at the edge, the tall thistles
+lifting their heads above it in bunches, and the great docks whose red
+seeds showed at a distance. He sent in some men, as much to give them
+something to do as for any real good, one day, who in a few hours pulled
+up enough docks to fill a cart. They came across a number of snakes, and
+decapitated the reptiles with their hoes, and afterwards hung them all
+up--tied together by the tail--to a bough. The bunch of headless snakes
+hangs there still, swinging to and fro as the wind plays through the oak.
+Vermin, too, revel in weeds, which encourage the mice and rats, and are,
+perhaps, quite as much a cause of their increase as any acts of the
+gamekeeper.
+
+Farmer Smith a few years since was very anxious for the renewal of his
+lease, just as those about to enter on tenancies desired leases above
+everything. All the agricultural world agreed that a lease was the best
+thing possible--the clubs discussed it, the papers preached it. It was a
+safeguard; it allowed the tenant to develop his energies, and to put his
+capital into the soil without fear. He had no dread of being turned out
+before he could get it back. Nothing like a lease--the certain
+preventative of all agricultural ills. There was, to appearance, a great
+deal of truth in these arguments, which in their day made much impression,
+and caused a movement in that direction. Who could foresee that in a few
+short years men would be eager to get rid of their leases on any terms?
+Yet such was the fact. The very men who had longed so eagerly for the
+blessing of security of tenure found it the worst thing possible for their
+interest.
+
+Mr. Smith got his lease, and paid for it tolerably stiffly, for at that
+period all agricultural prices were inflated--from the price of a lease to
+that of a calf. He covenanted to pay a certain fixed rental for so many
+acres of arable and a small proportion of grass for a fixed time. He
+covenanted to cultivate the soil by a fixed rotation; not to sow this nor
+that, nor to be guided by the change of the markets, or the character of
+the seasons, or the appearance of powerful foreign competitors. There was
+the parchment prepared with all the niceties of wording that so many
+generations of lawyers had polished to the highest pitch; not a loophole,
+not so much as a _t_ left uncrossed, or a doubtful interlineation. But
+although the parchment did not alter a jot, the times and seasons did.
+Wheat fell in price, vast shipments came even from India, cattle and sheep
+from America, wool from Australia, horses from France; tinned provisions
+and meats poured in by the ton, and cheese, and butter, and bacon by the
+thousand tons. Labour at the same time rose. His expenditure increased,
+his income decreased; his rent remained the same, and rent audit came
+round with the utmost regularity.
+
+Mr. Smith began to think about his lease, and question whether it was such
+an unmixed blessing. There was no getting out of it, that was certain. The
+seasons grew worse and worse. Smith asked for a reduction of rent. He got,
+like others, ten per cent, returned, which, he said looked very liberal to
+those who knew nothing of farming, and was in reality about as useful as a
+dry biscuit flung at a man who has eaten nothing for a week. Besides
+which, it was only a gracious condescension, and might not be repeated
+next year, unless he kept on his good behaviour, and paid court to the
+clergyman and the steward. Unable to get at what he wanted in a direct
+way, Smith tried an indirect one. He went at game, and insisted on its
+being reduced in number. This he could do according to the usual terms of
+agreement; but when it came to the point he found that the person called
+in to assess the damage put it at a much lower figure than he had himself;
+and who was to decide what was or was not a reasonable head of game? This
+attack of his on the game did him no good whatever, and was not
+unnaturally borne in mind--let us not say resented.
+
+He next tried to get permission to sell straw--a permission that he saw
+granted to others in moderation. But he was then reminded of a speech he
+had made at a club, when, in a moment of temper (and sherry), he had let
+out a piece of his mind, which piece of his mind was duly published in the
+local papers, and caused a sensation. Somebody called the landlord's
+attention to it, and he did not like it. Nor can he be blamed; we none of
+us like to be abused in public, the more especially when, looking at
+precedents, we do not deserve it. Smith next went to the assessment
+committee to get his taxes reduced, on the ground of a loss of revenue.
+The committee sympathised with him, but found that they must assess him
+according to his rent. At least so they were then advised, and only did
+their duty.
+
+By this time the local bankers had scented a time of trouble approaching
+in the commercial and agricultural world; they began to draw in their more
+doubtful advances, or to refuse to renew them. As a matter of fact, Smith
+was a perfectly sound man, but he had so persistently complained that
+people began to suspect there really was something wrong with his
+finances. He endeavoured to explain, but was met with the tale that he had
+himself started. He then honestly produced his books, and laid his
+position bare to the last penny.
+
+The banker believed him, and renewed part of the advance for a short
+period; but he began, to cogitate in this wise: 'Here is a farmer of long
+experience, born of a farming family, and a hardworking fellow, and, more
+than that, honest. If this man, who has hitherto had the command of a fair
+amount of capital, cannot make his books balance better than this, what
+must be the case with some of our customers? There are many who ride about
+on hunters, and have a bin of decent wine. How much of all this is
+genuine? We must be careful; these are hard times.' In short, Smith,
+without meaning it, did his neighbours an immense deal of harm. His very
+honesty injured them. By slow degrees the bank got 'tighter' with its
+customers. It leaked out--all things leak out--that Smith had said too
+much, and he became unpopular, which did not increase his contentment.
+
+Finally he gave notice that unless the rent was reduced he should not
+apply to renew the lease, which would soon expire. He had not the least
+intention in his secret mind of leaving the farm; he never dreamed that
+his notice would be accepted. He and his had dwelt there for a hundred
+years, and were as much part and parcel of the place as the elm-trees in
+the hedges. So many farms were in the market going a-begging for tenants,
+it was not probable a landlord would let a good man go for the sake of a
+few shillings an acre. But the months went by and the landlord's agents
+gave no sign, and at last Smith realised that he was really going to
+leave.
+
+Though he had so long talked of going, it came upon him like a
+thunderbolt. It was like an attack of some violent fever that shakes a
+strong man and leaves him as weak as a child. The farmer, whose meals had
+been so hearty, could not relish his food. His breakfast dwindled to a
+pretence; his lunch fell off; his dinner grew less; his supper faded; his
+spirits and water, the old familiar 'nightcap,' did him no good. His jolly
+ringing laugh was heard no more; from a thorough gossip he became
+taciturn, and barely opened his lips. His clothes began to hang about him,
+instead of fitting him all too tight; his complexion lost the red colour
+and became sallow; his eyes had a furtive look in them, so different to
+the old straightforward glance.
+
+Some said he would take to his bed and die; some said he would jump into
+the pond one night, to be known no more in this world. But he neither
+jumped into the pond nor took to his bed. He went round his fields just
+the same as before--perhaps a little more mechanically; but still the old
+routine of daily work was gone through. Leases, though for a short period,
+do not expire in a day; after awhile time began to produce its usual
+effect. The sharpness of the pain wore off, and he set to work to make the
+best of matters. He understood the capacity of each field as well as
+others understand the yielding power of a little garden. His former study
+had been to preserve something like a balance between what he put in and
+what he took out of the soil. Now it became the subject of consideration
+how to get the most out without putting anything in. Artificial manures
+were reduced to the lowest quantity and of the cheapest quality, such as
+was used being, in fact, nothing but to throw dust, literally, in the eyes
+of other people. Times were so bad that he could not be expected, under
+the most favourable circumstances, to consume much cake in the stalls or
+make much manure in that way.
+
+One by one extra expenditures were cut off. Gates, instead of being
+repaired, were propped up by running a pole across. Labour was eschewed in
+every possible way. Hedges were left uncut; ditches were left uncleaned.
+The team of horses was reduced, and the ploughing done next to nothing.
+Cleaning and weeding were gradually abandoned. Several fields were allowed
+to become overrun with grass, not the least attention being paid to them;
+the weeds sprang up, and the grass ran over from the hedges. The wheat
+crop was kept to the smallest area. Wheat requires more previous labour
+and care as to soil than any other crop. Labour and preparation cost
+money, and he was determined not to spend a shilling more than he was
+absolutely compelled. He contrived to escape the sowing, of wheat
+altogether on some part of the farm, leaving it out of the rotation. That
+was a direct infringement of the letter of the agreement; but who was to
+prove that he had evaded it? The steward could not recollect the crops on
+several hundred acres; the neighbouring tenants, of course, knew very
+well; but although Smith had become unpopular, they were not going to tell
+tales of him. He sold everything he dared off the farm, and many things
+that he did not dare. He took everything out of the soil that it was
+possible to take out. The last Michaelmas was approaching, and he walked
+round in the warm August sunshine to look at the wheat.
+
+He sat down on an old roller that lay in the corner of the field, and
+thought over the position of things. He calculated that it would cost the
+incoming tenant an expenditure of from one thousand two hundred pounds to
+one thousand five hundred pounds to put the farm, which was a large one,
+into proper condition. It could not be got into such condition under three
+years of labour. The new tenant must therefore be prepared to lay out a
+heavy sum of money, to wait while the improvement went on, must live how
+he could meanwhile, and look forward some three years for the commencement
+of his profit. To such a state had the farm been brought in a brief time.
+And how would the landlord come off? The new tenant would certainly make
+his bargain in accordance with the state of the land. For the first year
+the rent paid would be nominal; for the second, perhaps a third or half
+the usual sum; not till the third year could the landlord hope to get his
+full rental. That full rental, too, would be lower than previously,
+because the general depression had sent down arable rents everywhere, and
+no one would pay on the old scale.
+
+Smith thought very hard things of the landlord, and felt that he should
+have his revenge. On the other hand, the landlord thought very hard things
+of Smith, and not without reason. That an old tenant, the descendant of
+one of the oldest tenant-farmer families, should exhaust the soil in this
+way seemed the blackest return for the good feeling that had existed for
+several generations. There was great irritation on both sides.
+
+Smith had, however, to face one difficulty. He must either take another
+farm at once, or live on his capital. The interest of his capital--if
+invested temporarily in Government securities--would hardly suffice to
+maintain the comfortable style of living he and his rather large family of
+grown-up sons and daughters had been accustomed to. He sometimes heard a
+faint, far off 'still small voice,' that seemed to say it would have been
+wiser to stay on, and wait till the reaction took place and farming
+recovered. The loss he would have sustained by staying on would, perhaps,
+not have been larger than the loss he must now sustain by living on
+capital till such time as he saw something to suit him. And had he been
+altogether wise in omitting all endeavours to gain his end by conciliatory
+means? Might not gentle persuasion and courteous language have ultimately
+produced an impression? Might not terms have been arranged had he not been
+so vehement? The new tenant, notwithstanding that he would have to contend
+with the shocking state of the farm, had such favourable terms that if he
+only stayed long enough to let the soil recover, Smith knew he must make a
+good thing of it.
+
+But as he sat on the wooden roller under the shade of a tree and thought
+these things, listening to the rustle of the golden wheat as it moved in
+the breeze, he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket, and glanced down a
+long, long list of farms to let. Then he remembered that his pass-book at
+the bank showed a very respectable row of figures, buttoned up his coat,
+and strolled homeward with a smile on his features. The date fixed for the
+sale, as announced by the poster on the barn, came round, and a crowd
+gathered to see the last of the old tenant. Old Hodge viewed the scene
+from a distance, resting against a gate, with his chin on his hand. He was
+thinking of the days when he first went to plough, years ago, under
+Smith's father. If Smith had been about to enter on another farm old Hodge
+would have girded up his loins, packed his worldly goods in a waggon, and
+followed his master's fortunes thither. But Smith was going to live on his
+capital awhile; and old Hodge had already had notice to quit his cottage.
+In his latter days he must work for a new master. Down at the sale young
+Hodge was lounging round, hands in pocket, whistling--for there was some
+beer going about. The excitement of the day was a pleasurable sensation,
+and as for his master he might go to Kansas or Hong-Kong.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+A MAN OF PROGRESS
+
+
+The sweet sound of rustling leaves, as soothing as the rush of falling
+water, made a gentle music over a group of three persons sitting at the
+extremity of a lawn. Upon their right was a plantation or belt of trees,
+which sheltered them from the noonday sun; on the left the green sward
+reached to the house; from the open window came the rippling notes of a
+piano, and now and again the soft accents of the Italian tongue. The walls
+of the garden shut out the world and the wind--the blue sky stretched
+above from one tree-top to another, and in those tree-tops the cool
+breeze, grateful to the reapers in the fields, played with bough and leaf.
+In the centre of the group was a small table, and on it some tall glasses
+of antique make, and a flask of wine. By the lady lay a Japanese parasol,
+carelessly dropped on the grass. She was handsome, and elegantly dressed;
+her long drooping eyelashes fringed eyes that were almost closed in
+luxurious enjoyment; her slender hand beat time to the distant song. Of
+the two gentlemen one was her brother--the other, a farmer, her husband.
+The brother wore a pith helmet, and his bronzed cheek told of service
+under tropical suns. The husband was scarcely less brown; still young, and
+very active-looking, you might guess his age at forty; but his bare
+forehead (he had thrown his hat on the ground) was marked with the line
+caused by involuntary contraction of the muscles when thinking. There was
+an air of anxiety, of restless feverish energy, about him. But just for
+the moment he was calm and happy, turning over the pages of a book.
+Suddenly he looked up, and began to declaim, in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+                       'He's speaking now,
+      Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"
+      For so he calls me. Now I feed myself
+      With most delicious poison!'
+
+Just then there came the sharp rattle of machinery borne on the wind; he
+recollected himself, shut the volume, and rose from his seat. 'The men
+have finished luncheon,' he said; 'I must go and see how things are
+getting on.' The Indian officer, after one glance back at the house, went
+with him. There was a private footpath through the plantation of trees,
+and down this the two disappeared. Soon afterwards the piano ceased, and a
+lady came slowly across the lawn, still humming the air she had been
+playing. She was the farmer's sister, and was engaged to the officer. The
+wife looked up from the book which she had taken from the table, with a
+smile of welcome. But the smile faded as she said--'They have gone out to
+the reapers. Oh, this farm will worry him out of his life! How I wish he
+had never bought it! Don't let Alick have anything to do with farms or
+land, dear, when you are married.'
+
+The girl laughed, sat down, took her hand, and asked if matters were
+really so serious.
+
+'It is not so much the money I trouble about,' said the wife. 'It is Cecil
+himself. His nature is too fine for these dull clods. You know him, dear;
+his mind is full of art--look at these glasses--of music and pictures.
+Why, he has just been reading "Antony and Cleopatra," and now he's gone to
+look after reapers. Then, he is so fiery and quick, and wants everything
+done in a minute, like the men of business in the "City." He keeps his
+watch timed to a second, and expects the men to be there. They are so
+slow. Everything agricultural is so slow. They say we shall have fine
+seasons in two or three years; only think, _years_. This is what weighs on
+Cecil.'
+
+By this time the two men had walked through the plantation, and paused at
+a small gate that opened on the fields. The ground fell rapidly away,
+sloping down for half a mile, so that every portion of the fields below
+was visible at once. The house and gardens were situate on the hill; the
+farmer had only to stand on the edge to overlook half his place.
+
+'What a splendid view!' said the officer. The entire slope was yellow with
+wheat--on either hand, and in front the surface of the crop extended
+unbroken by hedge, tree, or apparent division. Two reaping-machines were
+being driven rapidly round and round, cutting as they went; one was a
+self-binder and threw the sheaves off already bound; the other only laid
+the corn low, and it had afterwards to be gathered up and bound by
+hand-labour. There was really a small army of labourers in the field; but
+it was so large they made but little show.
+
+'You have a first-rate crop,' said the visitor; 'I see no weeds, or not
+more than usual; it is a capital crop.'
+
+'Yes,' replied the farmer, 'it is a fine crop; but just think what it cost
+me to produce it, and bear in mind, too, the price I shall get for it.' He
+took out his pocket-book, and began to explain.
+
+While thus occupied he looked anything but a farmer. His dress was indeed
+light and careless, but it was the carelessness of breeding, not
+slovenliness. His hands were brown, but there were clean white cuffs on
+his wrist and gold studs; his neck was brown, but his linen spotless. The
+face was too delicate, too refined with all its bronze; the frame was well
+developed, but too active; it lacked the heavy thickness and the lumbering
+gait of the farmer bred to the plough. He might have conducted a great
+financial operation; he might have been the head of a great mercantile
+house; he might have been on 'Change; but that stiff clay there, stubborn
+and unimpressionable, was not in his style.
+
+Cecil had gone into farming, in fact, as a 'commercial speculation,' with
+the view of realising cent. per cent. He began at the time when it was
+daily announced that old-fashioned farming was a thing of the past.
+Business maxims and business practice were to be the rule of the future.
+Farming was not to be farming; it was to be emphatically 'business,' the
+same as iron, coal, or cotton. Thus managed, with steam as the motive
+power, a fortune might be made out of the land, in the same way as out of
+a colliery or a mine. But it must be done in a commercial manner; there
+must be no restrictions upon the employment of capital, no fixed rotation
+of crops, no clauses forbidding the sale of any products. Cecil found,
+however, that the possessors of large estates would not let him a farm on
+these conditions. These ignorant people (as he thought them) insisted upon
+keeping up the traditionary customs; they would not contract themselves
+out of the ancient form of lease.
+
+But Cecil was a man of capital. He really had a large sum of money, and
+this short-sighted policy (as he termed it) of the landlords only made him
+the more eager to convince them how mistaken they were to refuse anything
+to a man who could put capital into the soil. He resolved to be his own
+landlord, and ordered his agents to find him a small estate and to
+purchase it outright. There was not much difficulty in finding an estate,
+and Cecil bought it. But he was even then annoyed and disgusted with the
+formalities, the investigation of title, the completion of deeds, and
+astounded at the length of a lawyer's bill.
+
+Being at last established in possession Cecil set to work, and at the same
+time set every agricultural tongue wagging within a radius of twenty
+miles. He grubbed up all the hedges, and threw the whole of his arable
+land into one vast field, and had it levelled with the theodolite. He
+drained it six feet deep at an enormous cost. He built an engine-shed with
+a centrifugal pump, which forced water from the stream that ran through
+the lower ground over the entire property, and even to the topmost storey
+of his house. He laid a light tramway across the widest part of his
+estate, and sent the labourers to and fro their work in trucks. The
+chaff-cutters, root-pulpers, the winnowing-machine--everything was driven
+by steam. Teams of horses and waggons seemed to be always going to the
+canal wharf for coal, which he ordered from the pit wholesale.
+
+A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and, having once
+commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to cease. They were for
+ever at work tearing up the subsoil and bringing it to the surface. If he
+could have done it, he would have ploughed ten feet deep. Tons of
+artificial manure came by canal boat--positively boat loads--and were
+stored in the warehouse. For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage
+of materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter above,
+hoisted up by a small crane. There was, too, an office, where the
+'engineer' attended every morning to take his orders, as the bailiff might
+at the back-door of an old farmhouse. Substantial buildings were erected
+for the shorthorn cattle.
+
+The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all thrown
+together, such divisions as were necessary being made by iron railings.
+Machines of every class and character were provided--reaping-machines,
+mowing-machines, horse-hoes, horse-rakes, elevators--everything was to be
+done by machinery. That nothing might be incomplete, some new and
+well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled artisans--they could
+scarcely be called labourers--who were engaged to work these engines. The
+estate had previously consisted of several small farms: these were now
+thrown all into one, otherwise there would not have been room for this
+great enterprise.
+
+A complete system of booking was organised. From the sale of a bullock to
+the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper. All these entries,
+made in books specially prepared and conveniently ruled for the purpose,
+came under Cecil's eye weekly, and were by him re-entered in his ledgers.
+This writing took up a large part of his time, and the labour was
+sometimes so severe that he could barely get through it; yet he would not
+allow himself a clerk, being economical in that one thing only. It was a
+saying in the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the
+estate by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in
+the master's books.
+
+Cecil's idea was to excel in all things. Some had been famous for
+shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for wheat. He
+would be celebrated for all. His shorthorns should fetch fabulous prices;
+his sheep should be known all over the world; his wheat should be the crop
+of the season. In this way he invested his capital in the soil with a
+thoroughness unsurpassed. As if to prove that he was right, the success of
+his enterprise seemed from the first assured. His crops of wheat, in which
+he especially put faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same
+land, totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the
+neighbourhood. Men came from far and near to see them. Such was the effect
+of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing, and the
+consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and of liberal
+manure, that here stood such crops of wheat as had never previously been
+seen. These he sold, as they stood, by auction; and no sooner had the
+purchasers cleared the ground than the engines went to work again, tearing
+up the earth. His meadow lands were irrigated by the centrifugal pump, and
+yielded three crops instead of one. His shorthorns began to get known--for
+he spared no expense upon them--and already one or two profitable sales
+had been held. His sheep prospered; there was not so much noise made about
+them, but, perhaps, they really paid better than anything.
+
+Meantime, Cecil kept open house, with wine and refreshments, and even beds
+for everybody who chose to come and inspect his place. Nothing gave him
+such delight as to conduct visitors over the estate and to enter into
+minute details of his system. As for the neighbouring farmers they were
+only too welcome. These things became noised abroad, and people arrived
+from strange and far-off places, and were shown over this Pioneer's Farm,
+as Cecil loved to call it. His example was triumphantly quoted by every
+one who spoke on agricultural progress. Cecil himself was the life and
+soul of the farmers' club in the adjacent market town. It was not so much
+the speeches he made as his manner. His enthusiasm was contagious. If a
+scheme was started, if an experiment was suggested, Cecil's cheque-book
+came out directly, and the thing was set on foot without delay. His easy,
+elastic step, his bright eye, his warm, hearty handshake, seemed to
+electrify people--to put some of his own spirit into them. The circle of
+his influence was ever increasing--the very oldest fogeys, who had
+prophesied every kind of failure, were being gradually won over.
+
+Cecil himself was transcendently happy in his work; his mind was in it; no
+exertion, no care or trouble, was too much. He worked harder than any
+navvy, and never felt fatigue. People said of him--'What a wonderful man!'
+He was so genuine, so earnest, so thorough, men could not choose but
+believe in him. The sun shone brightly, the crops ripened, the hum of the
+threshing-machine droned on the wind--all was life and happiness. In the
+summer evenings pleasant groups met upon the lawn; the song, the jest went
+round; now and then an informal dance, arranged with much laughter, whiled
+away the merry hours till the stars appeared above the trees and the dew
+descended.
+
+Yet to-day, as the two leaned over the little gate in the plantation and
+looked down upon the reapers, the deep groove which continual thought
+causes was all too visible on Cecil's forehead. He explained to the
+officer how his difficulties had come about. His first years upon the farm
+or estate--it was really rather an estate than a farm--had been fairly
+prosperous, notwithstanding the immense outlay of capital. A good
+percentage, in some cases a high-rate of percentage, had been returned
+upon the money put into the soil. The seasons were good, the crops large
+and superabundant. Men's minds were full of confidence, they bought
+freely, and were launching out in all directions.
+
+They wanted good shorthorn cattle--he sold them cattle; they wanted
+sheep--he sold them sheep. They wanted wheat, and he sold them the
+standing crops, took the money, and so cleared his profit and saved
+himself trouble. It was, in fact, a period of inflation. Like stocks and
+shares, everything was going up; everybody hastening to get rich.
+Shorthorns with a strain of blue blood fetched fancy prices; corn crops
+ruled high; every single thing sold well. The dry seasons suited the soil
+of the estate, and the machinery he had purchased was rapidly repaying its
+first cost in the saving of labour. His whole system was succeeding, and
+he saw his way to realise his cent. per cent.
+
+But by degrees the dream faded. He attributed it in the first place to the
+stagnation, the almost extinction, of the iron trade, the blowing out of
+furnaces, and the consequent cessation of the demand for the best class of
+food on the part of thousands of operatives and mechanics, who had
+hitherto been the farmers' best customers. They would have the best of
+everything when their wages were high; as their wages declined their
+purchases declined. In a brief period, far briefer than would be imagined,
+this shrinking of demand reacted upon agriculture. The English farmer made
+his profit upon superior articles--the cheaper class came from abroad so
+copiously that he could not compete against so vast a supply.
+
+When the demand for high-class products fell, the English farmer felt it
+directly. Cecil considered that it was the dire distress in the
+manufacturing districts, the stagnation of trade and commerce and the
+great failures in business centres, that were the chief causes of low
+prices and falling agricultural markets. The rise of labour was but a
+trifling item. He had always paid good wages to good men, and always meant
+to. The succession of wet seasons was more serious, of course; it lowered
+the actual yield, and increased the cost of procuring the yield; but as
+his lands were well drained, and had been kept clean he believed he could
+have withstood the seasons for awhile.
+
+The one heavy cloud that overhung agriculture, in his opinion was the
+extraordinary and almost world-spread depression of trade, and his
+argument was very simple. When men prospered they bought freely, indulged
+in luxurious living, kept horses, servants, gave parties, and consumed
+indirectly large quantities of food. As they made fortunes they bought
+estates and lived half the year like country gentlemen--that competition
+sent up the price of land. The converse was equally true. In times of
+pressure households were reduced, servants dismissed, horses sold,
+carriages suppressed. Rich and poor acted alike in different degrees but
+as the working population was so much more numerous it was through the low
+wages of the working population in cities and manufacturing districts that
+the farmers suffered most.
+
+It was a period of depression--there was no confidence, no speculation.
+For instance a year or two since the crop of standing wheat then growing
+on the very field before their eyes was sold by auction, and several lots
+brought from 16_l_. to 18_l_. per acre. This year the same wheat would not
+fetch 8_l_. per acre; and, not satisfied with that price, he had
+determined to reap and thresh it himself. It was the same with the
+shorthorns, with the hay, and indeed with everything except sheep, which
+had been a mainstay and support to him.
+
+'Yet even now,' concluded Cecil, shutting his pocket-book, 'I feel
+convinced that my plan and my system will be a success. I can see that I
+committed one great mistake--I made all my improvements at once, laid out
+all my capital, and crippled my self. I should have done one thing at a
+time. I should, as it were, have grown my improvements--one this year, one
+next. As it was, I denuded myself of capital. Had the times continued
+favourable it would not have mattered, as my income would have been large.
+But the times became adverse before I was firmly settled, and, to be
+plain, I can but just keep things going without a loan--dear Bella will
+not be able to go to the sea this year; but we are both determined not to
+borrow.'
+
+'In a year or two I am convinced we shall flourish again; but the waiting,
+Alick, the waiting, is the trial. You know I am impatient. Of course, the
+old-fashioned people, the farmers, all expect me to go through the
+Bankruptcy Court. They always said these new-fangled plans would not
+answer, and now they are sure they were right. Well, I forgive them their
+croaking, though most of them have dined at my table and drank my wine. I
+forgive them their croaking, for so they were bred up from childhood. Were
+I ill-natured, I might even smile at them, for they are failing and
+leaving their farms by the dozen, which seems a pretty good proof that
+their antiquated system is at best no better than mine. But I can see what
+they cannot see--signs of improvement. The steel industry is giving men
+work; the iron industry is reviving; the mines are slowly coming into work
+again; America is purchasing of us largely; and when other nations
+purchase of us, part, at least, of the money always finds its way to the
+farmer. Next season, too, the weather may be more propitious.
+
+'I shall hold on, Alick--a depression is certain to be followed by a rise.
+That has been the history of trade and agriculture for generations.
+Nothing will ever convince me that it was intended for English
+agriculturists to go on using wooden ploughs, to wear smock-frocks, and
+plod round and round in the same old track for ever. In no other way but
+by science, by steam, by machinery, by artificial manure, and, in one
+word, by the exercise of intelligence, can we compete with the world. It
+is ridiculous to suppose we can do so by returning to the ignorance and
+prejudice of our ancestors. No; we must beat the world by superior
+intelligence and superior energy. But intelligence, mind, has ever had
+every obstacle to contend against. Look at M. Lesseps and his wonderful
+Suez Canal. I tell you that to introduce scientific farming into England,
+in the face of tradition, custom, and prejudice, is a far harder task than
+overcoming the desert sand.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+GOING DOWNHILL
+
+
+An aged man, coming out of an arable field into the lane, pauses to look
+back. He is shabbily clad, and there is more than one rent in his coat;
+yet it is a coat that has once been a good one, and of a superior cut to
+what a labourer would purchase. In the field the ploughman to whom he has
+been speaking has started his team again. A lad walks beside the horses,
+the iron creaks, and the ploughman holding the handles seems now to press
+upon them with his weight, and now to be himself bodily pulled along. A
+dull November cloud overspreads the sky, and misty skits of small rain
+sweep across the landscape. As the old man looks back from the gate, the
+chill breeze whistles through the boughs of the oak above him, tearing off
+the brown dry leaves, and shaking out the acorns to fall at his feet. It
+lifts his grey hair, and penetrates the threadbare coat. As he turns to
+go, something catches his eye on the ground, and from the mud in the
+gateway he picks up a cast horse-shoe. With the rusty iron in his hand he
+passes slowly down the lane, and, as he goes, the bitter wind drives the
+fallen leaves that have been lying beside the way rustling and dancing
+after him.
+
+From a farmer occupying a good-sized farm he had descended to be a
+farmer's bailiff in the same locality. But a few months since he was
+himself a tenant, and now he is a bailiff at 15_s_. a week and a cottage.
+There is nothing dramatic, nothing sensational, in the history of his
+descent; but it is, perhaps, all the more full of bitter human
+experiences. As a man going down a steep hill, after a long while finds
+himself on the edge of a precipitous chalk pit, and topples in one fall to
+the bottom, so, though the process of going downhill occupied so long, the
+actual finish came almost suddenly. Thus it was that from being a master
+he found himself a servant. He does not complain, nor appeal for pity. His
+back is a little more bowed, he feels the cold a little more, his step is
+yet more spiritless. But all he says about it is that 'Hard work never
+made any money yet.'
+
+He has worked exceedingly hard all his lifetime. In his youth, though the
+family were then well-to-do, he was not permitted to lounge about in
+idleness, but had to work with the rest in the fields. He dragged his
+heavy nailed shoes over the furrows with the plough; he reaped and loaded
+in harvest time; in winter he trimmed the hedgerows, split logs, and
+looked after the cattle. He enjoyed no luxurious education--luxurious in
+the sense of scientifically arranged dormitories, ample meals, and
+vacations to be spent on horseback, or with the breechloader. Trudging to
+and fro the neighbouring country town, in wind, and wet, and snow, to
+school, his letters were thrashed into him. In holiday time he went to
+work--his holidays, in fact, were so arranged as to fall at the time when
+the lad could be of most use in the field. If an occasion arose when a lad
+was wanted, his lessons had to wait while he lent a hand. He had his play,
+of course, as boys in all ages have had; but it was play of a rude
+character with the plough lads, and the almost equally rough sons of
+farmers, who worked like ploughmen.
+
+In those days the strong made no pretence to protect the weak, or to
+abnegate their natural power. The biggest lad used his thews and sinews to
+knock over the lesser without mercy, till the lesser by degrees grew
+strong enough to retaliate. To be thrashed, beaten, and kicked was so
+universal an experience that no one ever imagined it was not correct, or
+thought of complaining. They accepted it as a matter of course. As he grew
+older his work simply grew harder, and in no respect differed from that of
+the labourers, except that he directed what should be done next, but none
+the less assisted to do it.
+
+Thus the days went on, the weeks, and months, and years. He was close upon
+forty years old before he had his own will for a single day. Up to almost
+that age he worked on his father's farm as a labourer among the labourers,
+as much under parental authority as when he was a boy of ten. When the old
+man died it was not surprising that the son, so long held down in
+bondage--bondage from which he had not the spirit to escape--gave way for
+a short period to riotous living. There was hard drinking, horse-racing,
+and card-playing, and waste of substance generally.
+
+But it was not for long, for several reasons. In the first place, the lad
+of forty years, suddenly broken forth as it were from school, had gone
+past the age when youth plunges beyond recall. He was a grown man, neither
+wise nor clever; but with a man's sedateness of spirit and a man's hopes.
+There was no innate evil in his nature to lead him into unrighteous
+courses. Perhaps his fault rather lay in his inoffensive disposition--he
+submitted too easily. Then, in the second place, there was not much money,
+and what there was had to meet many calls.
+
+The son found that the father, though reputed a substantial man, and a man
+among farmers of high esteem and good family, had been anything but rich.
+First there were secret debts that had run on for fully thirty years--sums
+of from fifty to one hundred pounds--borrowed in the days of his youth,
+when he, too, had at last been released in a similar manner from similar
+bondage, to meet the riotous living in which he also had indulged. In
+those earlier days there had been more substance in cattle and corn, and
+he had had no difficulty in borrowing ready money from adjoining farmers,
+who afterwards helped him to drink it away. These boon companions had now
+grown old. They had never pressed their ancient comrade for the principal,
+the interest being paid regularly. But now their ancient comrade was dead
+they wanted their money, especially when they saw the son indulging
+himself, and did not know how far he might go. Their money was paid, and
+reduced the balance in hand materially.
+
+Now came a still more serious matter. The old man, years ago, when corn
+farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the prospect of profit to
+take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all arable. To do this he was
+obliged, in farming phrase, to 'take up'--_i.e._ to borrow--a thousand
+pounds, which was advanced to him by the bank. Being a man of substance,
+well reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds was
+forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms. The enterprise, however, did
+not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so profitable. In the end he
+had the wisdom to accept his losses and relinquish the second farm before
+it ate him up. Had he only carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid
+the whole of the bank's advance, all might yet have been well. But he only
+repaid five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing. The
+bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old
+gentleman upright--as he was--was not at all anxious to have the money
+back, as it was earning fair interest. So the five hundred remained on
+loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite purpose.
+
+Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much money at
+command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or whether he thought
+he could increase the produce of his farm by putting it in the soil, it is
+not possible to say. He certainly put the five hundred out of sight
+somewhere, for when his son succeeded him it was nowhere to be found.
+After repaying the small loans to his father's old friends, upon looking
+round the son saw cattle, corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred
+pounds in ready money. The ready money had been muddled away--simply
+muddled away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all
+extravagant.
+
+The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing manner, for the
+belief still existed that there was money in the family. That belief was
+still further fostered because the old friends whose loans had been repaid
+talked about that repayment, and so gave a colour to the idea. The heir,
+in his slow way, thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan.
+He could only repay it by instalments--a mode which, to a farmer brought
+up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he might meet one he
+would be sure to put off the next--or by selling stock (equivalent to
+giving up his place), or by borrowing afresh. So he asked and obtained a
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred, and was accommodated, on
+condition that some one 'backed' him. Some one in the family did back him,
+and the fatal mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden. A loan
+never remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced. In
+itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm to
+carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens piled
+themselves up. By a species of gravitation such a burden attracts others,
+till the last straw breaks the camel's back. This, however, was not all.
+
+The heir discovered another secret which likewise contributed to sober
+him. It appeared that the farm, or rather the stock and so on, was really
+not all his father's. His father's brother had a share in it--a share of
+which even the most inquisitive gossips of the place were ignorant. The
+brother being the eldest (himself in business as a farmer at some
+distance) had the most money, and had advanced a certain sum to the
+younger to enable him to start his farm, more than a generation since.
+From that day to this not one shilling of the principal had been repaid,
+and the interest only partially and at long intervals. If the interest
+were all claimed it would now amount to nearly as much as the principal.
+The brother--or, rather, the uncle--did not make himself at all unpleasant
+in the matter. He only asked for about half the interest due to him, and
+at the same time gave the heir a severe caution not to continue the
+aforesaid riotous living. The heir, now quite brought down to earth after
+his momentary exaltation, saw the absolute necessity of acquiescence. With
+a little management he paid the interest--leaving himself with barely
+enough to work the farm. The uncle, on his part, did not act unkindly; it
+was he who 'backed' the heir up at the bank in the matter of the
+continuation of the loan of the five hundred pounds. This five hundred
+pounds the heir had never seen and never would see: so far as he was
+concerned it did not exist; it was a mere figure, but a figure for which
+he must pay. In all these circumstances there was nothing at all
+exceptional.
+
+At this hour throughout the width and breadth of the country there are
+doubtless many farmers' heirs stepping into their fathers' shoes, and at
+this very moment looking into their affairs. It may be safely said that
+few indeed are those fortunate individuals who find themselves clear of
+similar embarrassments. In this particular case detailed above, if the
+heir's circumstances had been rigidly reduced to figures--if a
+professional accountant had examined them--it would have been found that,
+although in possession of a large farm, he had not got one scrap of
+capital.
+
+But he was in possession of the farm, and upon that simple fact of
+possession he henceforth lived, like so many, many more of his class. He
+returned to the routine of labour, which was a part of his life. After
+awhile he married, as a man of forty might naturally wish to, and without
+any imputation of imprudence so far as his own age was concerned. The wife
+he chose was one from his own class, a good woman, but, as is said to be
+often the case, she reflected the weakness of her husband's character. He
+now worked harder than ever--a labourer with the labourers. He thus saved
+himself the weekly expense of the wages of a labourer--perhaps, as
+labourers do not greatly exert themselves, of a man and a boy. But while
+thus slaving with his hands and saving this small sum in wages, he could
+not walk round and have an eye upon the other men. They could therefore
+waste a large amount of time, and thus he lost twice what he saved. Still,
+his intention was commendable, and his persistent, unvarying labour really
+wonderful. Had he but been sharper with his men he might still have got a
+fair day's work out of them while working himself. From the habit of
+associating with them from boyhood he had fallen somewhat into their own
+loose, indefinite manner, and had lost the prestige which attaches to a
+master. To them he seemed like one of themselves, and they were as much
+inclined to argue with him as to obey. When he met them in the morning he
+would say, 'Perhaps we had better do so and so,' or 'Suppose we go and do
+this or that.' They often thought otherwise; and it usually ended in a
+compromise, the master having his way in part, and the men in part. This
+lack of decision ran through all, and undid all that his hard work
+achieved. Everything was muddled from morn till night, from year's end to
+year's end. As children came the living indoors became harder, and the
+work out of doors still more laborious.
+
+If a farmer can put away fifty pounds a year, after paying his rent and
+expenses, if he can lay by a clear fifty pounds of profit, he thinks
+himself a prosperous man. If this farmer, after forty years of saving,
+should chance to be succeeded by a son as thrifty, when, he too has
+carried on the same process for another twenty years, then the family may
+be, for village society, wealthy, with three or even four thousand pounds,
+besides goods and gear. This is supposing all things favourable, and men
+of some ability, making the most of their opportunities. Now reverse the
+process. When children came, as said before, our hard-working farmer found
+the living indoors harder, and the labour without heavier. Instead of
+saving fifty pounds a year, at first the two sides of the account (not
+that he ever kept any books) about balanced. Then, by degrees, the balance
+dropped the wrong way. There was a loss, of twenty or thirty pounds on the
+year, and presently of forty or fifty pounds, which could only be made
+good by borrowing, and so increasing the payment of interest.
+
+Although it takes sixty years--two generations--to accumulate a village
+fortune by saving fifty pounds a year, it does not occupy so long to
+reduce a farmer to poverty when half that sum is annually lost. There was
+no strongly marked and radical defect in his system of farming to amount
+for it; it was the muddling, and the muddling only, that did it. His work
+was blind. He would never miss giving the pigs their dinner, he rose at
+half-past three in the morning, and foddered the cattle in the grey dawn,
+or milked a certain number of cows, with unvarying regularity. But he had
+no foresight, and no observation whatever. If you saw him crossing a
+field, and went after him, you might walk close behind, placing your foot
+in the mark just left by his shoe, and he would never know it. With his
+hands behind his back, and his eyes upon the ground, he would plod across
+the field, perfectly unconscious that any one was following him. He
+carried on the old rotation of cropping in the piece of arable land
+belonging to the farm, but in total oblivion of any advantage to be
+obtained by local change of treatment. He could plan nothing out for next
+year. He spent nothing, or next to nothing, on improved implements; but,
+on the other hand, he saved nothing, from a lack of resource and
+contrivance.
+
+As the years went by he fell out of the social life of the times; that is,
+out of the social life of his own circle. He regularly fed the pigs; but
+when he heard that the neighbours, were all going in to the town to attend
+some important agricultural meeting, or to start some useful movement, he
+put his hands behind his back and said that he should not go; he did not
+understand anything about it. There never used to be anything of that
+sort. So he went in to luncheon on bread and cheese and small ale. Such a
+course could only bring him into the contempt of his fellow-men. He became
+a nonentity. No one had any respect for or confidence in him. Otherwise,
+possibly, he might have obtained powerful help, for the memory of what his
+family had been had not yet died out.
+
+Men saw that he lived and worked as a labourer; they gave him no credit
+for the work, but they despised him for the meanness and churlishness of
+his life. There was neither a piano nor a decanter of sherry in his house.
+He was utterly out of accord with the times. By degrees, after many years,
+it became apparent to all that he was going downhill. The stock upon the
+farm was not so large nor of so good a character as had been the case. The
+manner of men visibly changed towards him. The small dealers, even the
+very carriers along the road, the higglers, and other persons who call at
+a farm on petty business, gave him clearly to know in their own coarse way
+that they despised him. They flatly contradicted him, and bore him down
+with loud tongues. He stood it all meekly, without showing any spirit;
+but, on the other hand, without resentment, for he never said ill of any
+man behind his back.
+
+It was put about now that he drank, because some busybody had seen a jar
+of spirits carried into the house from the wine merchant's cart. A jar of
+spirits had been delivered at the house at intervals for years and years,
+far back into his father's time, and every one of those who now expressed
+their disgust at his supposed drinking habits had sipped their tumblers in
+that house without stint. He did not drink--he did not take one-half at
+home what his neighbours imbibed without injury at markets and auctions
+every week of their lives. But he was growing poor, and they called to
+mind that brief spell of extravagance years ago, and pointed out to their
+acquaintances how the sin of the Prodigal was coming home to him.
+
+No man drinks the bitter cup of poverty to the dregs like the declining
+farmer. The descent is so slow; there is time to drain every drop, and to
+linger over the flavour. It may be eight, or ten, or fifteen years about.
+He cannot, like the bankrupt tradesman, even when the fatal notice comes,
+put up his shutters at once and retire from view. Even at the end, after
+the notice, six months at least elapse before all is over--before the farm
+is surrendered, and the sale of household furniture and effects takes
+place. He is full in public view all that time. So far as his neighbours
+are concerned he is in public view for years previously. He has to rise in
+the morning and meet them in the fields. He sees them in the road; he
+passes through groups of them in the market-place. As he goes by they look
+after him, and perhaps audibly wonder how long he will last. These people
+all knew him from a lad, and can trace every inch of his descent. The
+labourers in the field know it, and by their manner show that they know
+it.
+
+His wife--his wife who worked so hard for so many, many years--is made to
+know it too. She is conspicuously omitted from the social gatherings that
+occur from time to time. The neighbours' wives do not call; their
+well-dressed daughters, as they rattle by to the town in basket-carriage
+or dog-cart, look askance at the shabby figure walking slowly on the path
+beside the road. They criticise the shabby shawl; they sneer at the slow
+step which is the inevitable result of hard work, the cares of maternity,
+and of age. So they flaunt past with an odour of perfume, and leave the
+'old lady' to plod unrecognised.
+
+The end came at last. All this blind work of his was of no avail against
+the ocean steamer and her cargo of wheat and meat from the teeming regions
+of the West. Nor was it of avail against the fall of prices, and the
+decreased yield consequent upon a succession of bad seasons. The general
+lack of confidence pressed heavily upon a man who did not even attempt to
+take his natural place among his fellow-men. The loan from the bank had
+gradually grown from five to seven or eight hundred by thirties, and
+forties, and fifties added to it by degrees; and the bank--informed,
+perhaps, by the same busybodies who had discovered that he drank--declined
+further assistance, and notified that part, at least, of the principal
+must be repaid. The landlord had long been well aware of the state of
+affairs, but refrained from action out of a feeling for the old family.
+But the land, from the farmer's utter lack of capital, was now going from
+bad to worse. The bank having declined to advance further, the rent began
+to fall into arrear. The landlord caused it to be conveyed to his tenant
+that if he would quit the farm, which was a large one, he could go into a
+smaller, and his affairs might perhaps be arranged.
+
+The old man--for he was now growing old--put his hands behind his back and
+said nothing, but went on with his usual routine of work. Whether he had
+become dulled and deadened and cared nothing, whether hope was extinct, or
+he could not wrench himself from the old place, he said nothing. Even then
+some further time elapsed--so slow is the farmer's fall that he might
+almost be excused for thinking that it would never come. But now came the
+news that the old uncle who had 'backed' him at the bank had been found
+dead in bed of sheer old age. Then the long-kept secret came out at last.
+The dead man's executors claimed the money advanced so many, many years
+ago.
+
+This discovery finished it. The neighbours soon had food for gossip in the
+fact that a load of hay which he had sold was met in the road by the
+landlord's agent and turned back. By the strict letter of his agreement he
+could not sell hay off the farm; but it had been permitted for years. When
+they heard this they knew it was all over. The landlord, of course, put in
+his claim; the bank theirs. In a few months the household furniture and
+effects were sold, and the farmer and his aged wife stepped into the
+highway in their shabby clothes.
+
+He did not, however, starve; he passed to a cottage on the outskirts of
+the village, and became bailiff for the tenant of that very arable farm to
+work which years ago his father had borrowed the thousand pounds that
+ultimately proved their ruin. He made a better bailiff than a farmer,
+being at home with every detail of practice, but incapable of general
+treatment. His wife does a little washing and charing; not much, for she
+is old and feeble. No charity is offered to them--they have outlived old
+friends--nor do they appeal for any. The people of the village do not heed
+them, nor reflect upon the spectacle in their midst. They are merged and
+lost in the vast multitude of the agricultural poor. Only two of their
+children survive; but these, having early left the farm and gone into a
+city, are fairly well-to-do. That, at least, is a comfort to the old folk.
+
+It is, however, doubtful whether the old man, as he walks down the lane
+with his hands behind his back and the dead leaves driven by the November
+breeze rustling after, has much feeling of any kind left. Hard work and
+adversity have probably deadened his finer senses. Else one would think he
+could never endure to work as a servant upon that farm of all others, nor
+to daily pass the scenes of his youth. For yonder, well in sight as he
+turns a corner of the lane, stands the house where he dwelt so many, many
+years; where the events of his life came slowly to pass; where he was
+born; where his bride came home; where his children were born, and from
+whose door he went forth penniless.
+
+Seeing this every day, surely that old man, if he have but one spark of
+feeling left, must drink the lees of poverty to the last final doubly
+bitter dregs.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+THE BORROWER AND THE GAMBLER
+
+
+'Where do he get the money from, you?' 'It be curious, bean't it; I minds
+when his father drove folks' pigs to market.' These remarks passed between
+two old farmers, one standing on the sward by the roadside, and the other
+talking to him over the low ledge, as a gentleman drove by in a
+Whitechapel dog-cart, groom behind. The gentleman glanced at the two
+farmers, and just acknowledged their existence with a careless nod,
+looking at the moment over their heads and far away.
+
+There is no class so jealous of a rapid rise as old-fashioned farming
+people. They seem to think that if a man once drove pigs to market he
+should always continue to do so, and all his descendants likewise. Their
+ideas in a measure approximate to those of caste among the Hindoos. It is
+a crime to move out of the original groove; if a man be lowly he must
+remain lowly, or never be forgiven. The lapse of time makes not the least
+difference. If it takes the man thirty years to get into a fair position
+he is none the less guilty. A period equal to the existence of a
+generation is not sufficient excuse for him. He is not one whit better
+than if he had made his money by a lucky bet on a racehorse. Nor can he
+ever hope to live down this terrible social misdemeanour, especially if it
+is accompanied by the least ostentation.
+
+Now, in the present day a man who gets money shows off more than ever was
+the case. In the olden time the means of luxury were limited, and the
+fortunate could do little more than drink, and tempt others to drink. But
+to-day the fortunate farmer in the dog-cart, dressed like a gentleman,
+drove his thorough-bred, and carried his groom behind. Frank D----, Esq.,
+in the slang of the time, 'did the thing grand!' The dog-cart was a
+first-rate article. The horse was a high-stepper, such as are not to be
+bought for a song; the turn-out was at the first glance perfect. But if
+you looked keenly at the groom, there was a suspicion of the plough in his
+face and attitude. He did not sit like a man to the manner born. He was
+lumpy; he lacked the light, active style characteristic of the
+thoroughbred groom, who is as distinct a breed as the thoroughbred horse.
+The man looked as if he had been taken from the plough and was conscious
+of it. His feet were in top-boots, but he could not forget the heavy
+action induced by a long course of walking in wet furrows. The critics by
+the hedge were not capable of detecting these niceties. The broad facts
+were enough for them. There was the gentleman in his ulster, there was the
+resplendent turn-out, there was the groom, and there was the thoroughbred
+horse. The man's father drove their pigs to market, and they wanted to
+know where he got the money from.
+
+Meantime Mr. D----, having carelessly nodded, had gone on. Half a mile
+farther some of his own fields were contiguous to the road, yet he did
+not, after the fashion of the farmer generally, pause to gaze at them
+searchingly; he went on with the same careless glance. This fact, which
+the old-fashioned folk had often observed, troubled them greatly. It
+seemed so unnatural, so opposite to the old ideas and ways, that a man
+should take no apparent interest in his own farm. They said that Frank was
+nothing of a farmer; he knew nothing of farming. They looked at his ricks;
+they were badly built, and still worse thatched. They examined his
+meadows, and saw wisps of hay lying about, evidence of neglect; the fields
+had not been properly raked. His ploughed fields were full of weeds, and
+not half worked enough. His labourers had acquired a happy-go-lucky style,
+and did their work anyhow or not at all, having no one to look after them.
+So, clearly, it was not Frank's good farming that made him so rich, and
+enabled him to take so high and leading a position.
+
+Nor was it his education or his 'company' manners. The old folk noted his
+boorishness and lack of the little refinements which mark the gentleman.
+His very voice was rude and hoarse, and seemed either to grumble or to
+roar forth his meaning. They had frequently heard him speak in public--he
+was generally on the platform when any local movement was in progress--and
+could not understand why he was put up there to address the audience,
+unless it was for his infinite brass. The language he employed was rude,
+his sentences disjointed, his meaning incoherent; but he had a knack of an
+_apropos_ jest, not always altogether savoury, but which made a mixed
+assembly laugh. As his public speeches did not seem very brilliant, they
+supposed he must have the gift of persuasion, in private. He did not even
+ride well to hounds--an accomplishment that has proved a passport to a
+great landlord's favour before now--for he had an awkward, and, to the
+eye, not too secure a seat in the saddle.
+
+Nor was it his personal appearance. He was very tall and ungainly, with a
+long neck and a small round head on the top of it. His features were flat,
+and the skin much wrinkled; there seemed nothing in his countenance to
+recommend him to the notice of the other sex. Yet he had been twice
+married; the last time to a comparatively young lady with some money, who
+dressed in the height of fashion.
+
+Frank had two families--one, grown up, by his first wife, the second in
+the nursery--but it made no difference to him. All were well dressed and
+well educated; the nursery maids and the infants went out for their
+airings in a carriage and pair. Mrs. D----, gay as a Parisian belle, and
+not without pretensions to beauty, was seen at balls, parties, and every
+other social amusement. She seemed to have the _entree_ everywhere in the
+county. All this greatly upset and troubled the old folk, whose heads
+Frank looked over as he carelessly nodded them good-morning driving by.
+The cottage people from whose ranks his family had so lately risen,
+however, had a very decided opinion upon the subject, and expressed it
+forcibly. "'Pend upon it," they said, "'pend upon it, he have zucked
+zumbody in zumhow."
+
+This unkind conclusion was perhaps not quite true. The fact was, that
+Frank, aided by circumstances, had discovered the ease with which a man
+can borrow. That was his secret--his philosopher's stone. To a certain
+extent, and in certain ways, he really was a clever man, and he had the
+luck to begin many years ago when farming was on the ascending side of the
+cycle. The single solid basis of his success was his thorough knowledge of
+cattle--his proficiency in dealership. Perhaps this was learnt while
+assisting his father to drive other folks' pigs to market. At all events,
+there was no man in the county who so completely understood cattle and
+sheep, for buying and selling purposes, as Frank. At first he gained his
+reputation by advising others what and when to buy; by degrees, as people
+began to see that he was always right, they felt confidence in him, and
+assisted him to make small investments on his own account. There were then
+few auctioneers, and cattle were sold in open market. If a man really was
+a judge, it was as good to him as a reputation for good ale is to an
+innkeeper. Men flock to a barrel of good ale no matter whether the inn be
+low class or high class. Men gather about a good judge of cattle, and will
+back him up. By degrees D---- managed to rent a small farm, more for the
+purpose of having a place to turn his cattle into than for farming
+proper--he was, in fact, a small dealer.
+
+Soon afterwards there was an election. During the election, Frank gained
+the good-will of a local solicitor and political agent. He proved himself
+an active and perhaps a discreetly unscrupulous assistant. The solicitor
+thought he saw in Frank talent of a certain order--a talent through which
+he (the solicitor) might draw unto himself a share of other people's
+money. The lawyer's judgment of men was as keen as Frank's judgment of
+cattle. He helped Frank to get into a large farm, advancing the money with
+which to work it. He ran no risk; for, of course, he had Frank tight in
+the grasp of his legal fist, and he was the agent for the landlord. The
+secret was this--the lawyer paid his clients four per cent, for the safe
+investment of their money. Frank had the money, worked a large farm with
+it, and speculated in the cattle markets, and realised some fifteen or
+perhaps twenty per cent., of which the lawyer took the larger share.
+Something of this sort has been done in other businesses besides farming.
+Frank, however, was not the man to remain in a state of tutelage, working
+for another. His forte was not saving--simple accumulation was not for
+him; but he looked round the district to discover those who had saved.
+
+Now, it is a fact that no man is so foolish with his money as the working
+farmer in a small way, who has put by a little coin. He is extremely
+careful about a fourpenny piece, and will wrap a sovereign up in several
+scraps of paper lest he should lose it; but with his hundred or two
+hundred pounds he is quite helpless. It has very likely occupied him the
+best part of his lifetime to add one five-pound note to another, money
+most literally earned in the sweat of his brow; and at last he lends it to
+a man like Frank, who has the wit to drive a carriage and ride a
+thoroughbred. With the strange inconsistency so characteristic of human
+nature, a half-educated, working farmer of this sort will sneer in his
+rude way at the pretensions of such a man, and at the same time bow down
+before him.
+
+Frank knew this instinctively, and, as soon as ever he began to get on,
+set up a blood-horse and a turn-out. By dint of such vulgar show and his
+own plausible tongue he persuaded more than one such old fellow to advance
+him money. Mayhap these confiding persons, like a certain Shallow, J.P.,
+have since earnestly besought him in vain to return them five hundred of
+their thousand. In like manner one or two elderly ladies--cunning as
+magpies in their own conceit--let him have a few spare hundreds. They
+thought they could lay out this money to better advantage than the safe
+family adviser 'uncle John,' with his talk of the Indian railways and a
+guaranteed five per cent. They thought (for awhile) that they had done a
+very clever thing on the sly in lending their spare hundreds to the great
+Mr. Frank D---- at a high rate of interest, and by this time would perhaps
+be glad to get the money back again in the tea-caddy.
+
+But Frank was not the man to be satisfied with such small game. After a
+time he succeeded in getting at the 'squire.' The squire had nothing but
+the rents of his farms to live upon, and was naturally anxious for an
+improving tenant who would lay out money and put capital into the soil. He
+was not so foolish as to think that Frank was a safe man, and of course he
+had legal advice upon the matter. The squire thought, in fact, that
+although Frank himself had no money, Frank could get it out of others, and
+spend it upon his place. It did not concern the squire where or how Frank
+got his money, provided he had it--he as landlord was secure in case of a
+crash, because the law gave him precedence over all other creditors. So
+Frank ultimately stepped into one of the squire's largest farms and cut a
+finer dash than ever.
+
+There are distinct social degrees in agriculture. The man who occupies a
+great farm under a squire is a person of much more importance than he who
+holds a little tenancy of a small proprietor. Frank began to take the lead
+among the farmers of the neighbourhood, to make his appearance at public
+meetings, and to become a recognised politician--of course upon the side
+most powerful in that locality, and most likely to serve his own interest.
+His assurance, and, it must be owned, his ready wit, helped him in coming
+to the front. When at the front, he was invited to the houses of really
+well-to-do country people. They condoned his bluff manners--they were the
+mark of the true, solid British agriculturist. Some perhaps in their
+hearts thought that another day they might want a tenant, and this man
+would serve their turn. As a matter of fact, Frank took every unoccupied
+farm which he could get at a tolerably reasonable rent. He never seemed
+satisfied with the acreage he held, but was ever desirous of extending it.
+He took farm after farm, till at last he held an area equal to a fine
+estate. For some years there has been a disposition on the part of
+landlords to throw farms together, making many small ones into one large
+one. For the time, at all events, Frank seemed to do very well with all
+these farms to look after. Of course the same old-fashioned folk made
+ill-natured remarks, and insisted upon it that he merely got what he could
+out of the soil, and did not care in the least how the farming was done.
+Nevertheless, he flourished--the high prices and general inflation of the
+period playing into his hand.
+
+Frank was now a very big man, the biggest man thereabout. And it was now
+that he began to tap another source of supply--to, as it were, open a
+fresh cask--_i.e._ the local bank. At first he only asked for a hundred or
+so, a mere bagatelle, for a few days--only temporary convenience. The bank
+was glad to get hold of what really looked like legitimate business, and
+he obtained the bagatelle in the easiest manner--so easily that it
+surprised him. He did not himself yet quite know how completely his showy
+style of life, his large acreage, his speeches, and politics, and
+familiarity with great people, had imposed upon the world in which he
+lived. He now began to realise that he was somebody. He repaid the loan to
+the day, waited awhile and took a larger one, and from that time the
+frequency and the amount of his loans went on increasing.
+
+We have seen in these latter days bank directors bitterly complaining that
+they could not lend money at more than 7/8 or even 1/2 per cent., so
+little demand was there for accommodation. They positively could not lend
+their money; they had millions in their tills unemployed, and practically
+going a-begging. But here was Frank paying seven per cent, for short
+loans, and upon a continually enlarging amount. His system, so far as the
+seasons were concerned, was something like this. He took a loan (or
+renewed an old one) at the bank on the security of the first draught of
+lambs for sale, say, in June. This paid the labourers and the working
+expenses of the hay harvest, and of preparing for the corn. He took the
+next upon the second draught of lambs in August, which paid the reapers.
+He took a third on the security of the crops, partly cut, or in process of
+cutting, for his Michaelmas rent. Then for the fall of the year he kept on
+threshing out and selling as he required money, and had enough left to pay
+for the winter's work. This was Frank's system--the system of too many
+farmers, far more than would be believed. Details of course vary, and not
+all, like Frank, need three loans at least in the season to keep them
+going. It is not every man who mortgages his lambs, his ewes (the draught
+from a flock for sale), and the standing crops in succession.
+
+But of late years farming has been carried on in such an atmosphere of
+loans, and credit, and percentage, and so forth, that no one knows what is
+or what is not mortgaged. You see a flock of sheep on a farm, but you do
+not know to whom they belong. You see the cattle in the meadow, but you do
+not know who has a lien upon them. You see the farmer upon his
+thoroughbred, but you do not know to whom in reality the horse belongs. It
+is all loans and debt. The vendors of artificial manure are said not to be
+averse sometimes to make an advance on reasonable terms to those
+enterprising and deserving farmers who grow so many tons of roots, and win
+the silver cups, and so on, for the hugest mangold grown with their
+particular manure. The proprietors of the milk-walks in London are said to
+advance money to the struggling dairymen who send them their milk. And
+latterly the worst of usurers have found out the farmers--_i.e._ the men
+who advance on bills of sale of furniture, and sell up the wretched client
+who does not pay to the hour. Upon such bills of sale English farmers have
+been borrowing money, and with the usual disastrous results. In fact, till
+the disastrous results became so conspicuous, no one guessed that the
+farmer had descended so far. Yet, it is a fact, and a sad one.
+
+All the while the tradespeople of the market-towns--the very people who
+have made the loudest outcry about the depression and the losses they have
+sustained--these very people have been pressing their goods upon the
+farmers, whom they must have known were many of them hardly able to pay
+their rents. Those who have not seen it cannot imagine what a struggle and
+competition has been going on in little places where one would think the
+very word was unknown, just to persuade the farmer and the farmer's family
+to accept credit. But there is another side to it. The same tradesman who
+to-day begs--positively begs--the farmer to take his goods on any terms,
+in six months' time sends his bill, and, if it be not paid immediately,
+puts the County Court machinery in motion.
+
+Now this to the old-fashioned farmer is a very bitter thing. He has never
+had the least experience of the County Court; his family never were sued
+for debt since they can remember. They have always been used to a year's
+credit at least--often two, and even three. To be threatened with public
+exposure in the County Court because a little matter of five pounds ten is
+not settled instantly is bitter indeed. And to be sued so arbitrarily by
+the very tradesman who almost stuffed his goods down their throats is more
+bitter still.
+
+Frank D----, Esq.'s coarse grandeur answered very well indeed so long as
+prices were high. While the harvests were large and the markets inflated;
+while cattle fetched good money; while men's hearts were full of
+mirth--all went well. It is whispered now that the grand Frank has
+secretly borrowed 25_l_. of a little cottage shopkeeper in the adjacent
+village--a man who sells farthing candles and ounces of tea--to pay his
+reapers. It is also currently whispered that Frank is the only man really
+safe, for the following reason--they are all 'in' so deep they find it
+necessary to keep him going. The squire is 'in,' the bank is 'in,' the
+lawyer is 'in,' the small farmers with two hundred pounds capital are
+'in,' and the elderly ladies who took their bank-notes out of their
+tea-caddies are 'in.' That is to say, Mr. Frank owes them so much money
+that, rather than he should come to grief (when, they must lose pretty
+well all), they prefer to keep him afloat. It is a noticeable fact that
+Frank is the only man who has not raised his voice and shouted
+'Depression.' Perhaps the squire thinks that so repellent a note, if
+struck by a leading man like Frank, might not be to his interest, and has
+conveyed that thought to the gentleman in the dog-cart with the groom
+behind. There are, however, various species of the facade farmer.
+
+'What kind of agriculture is practised here?' the visitor from town
+naturally asks his host, as they stroll towards the turnips (in another
+district), with shouldered guns. 'Oh, you had better see Mr. X----,' is
+the reply, 'He is our leading agriculturist; he'll tell you all about it.'
+Everybody repeats the same story, and once Mr. X----'s name is started
+everybody talks of him. The squire, the clergyman--even in casually
+calling at a shop in the market town, or at the hotel (there are few inns
+now)--wherever he goes the visitor hears from all of Mr. X----. A
+successful man--most successful, progressive, scientific, intellectual.
+'Like to see him? Nothing easier. Introduction? Nonsense. Why, he'd be
+delighted to see you. Come with me.'
+
+Protesting feebly against intruding on privacy, the visitor is hurried
+away, and expecting to meet a solid, sturdy, and somewhat gruff old
+gentleman of the John Hull type, endeavors to hunt up some ideas about
+shorthorns and bacon pigs. He is a little astonished upon entering the
+pleasure grounds to see one or more gardeners busy among the parterres and
+shrubberies, the rhododendrons, the cedar deodaras, the laurels, the
+pampas grass, the 'carpet gardening' beds, and the glass of distant
+hothouses glittering in the sun. A carriage and pair, being slowly driven
+by a man in livery from the door down to the extensive stabling,
+passes--clearly some of the family have just returned. On ringing, the
+callers are shown through a spacious hall with a bronze or two on the
+marble table, into a drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a short
+iron grand open with a score carelessly left by the last player, a harp in
+the corner, half hidden by the curtains, some pieces of Nankin china on
+the side tables.
+
+Where are the cow-sheds? Looking out of window a level lawn extends, and
+on it two young gentlemen are playing tennis, in appropriate costume. The
+laboured platitudes that had been prepared about shorthorns and bacon pigs
+are quite forgotten, and the visitor is just about to ask the question if
+his guide has not missed the farm-house and called at the squire's, when
+Mr. X---- comes briskly in, and laughs all apology about intrusion to the
+winds in his genial manner. He insists on his friends taking some
+refreshment, will not take refusal; and such is the power of his vivacity,
+that they find themselves sipping Madeira and are pressed to come and dine
+in the evening, before one at least knows exactly where he is. 'Just a
+homely spread, you know; pot-luck; a bit of fish and a glass of Moet; now
+_do_ come.' This curious mixture of bluff cordiality, with unexpected
+snatches of refinement, is Mr. X----'s great charm. 'Style of farming;
+tell you with pleasure.' [Rings the bell.] 'John' (to the manservant),
+'take this key and bring me account book No. 6 B, Copse Farm; that will be
+the best way to begin.'
+
+If the visitor knows anything of country life, he cannot help recollecting
+that, if the old type of farmer was close and mysterious about anything,
+it was his accounts. Not a word could be got out of him of profit or loss,
+or revenue: he would barely tell you his rent per acre, and it was
+doubtful if his very wife ever saw his pass-book. Opening account book No.
+6 B, the explanation proceeds.
+
+'My system of agriculture is simplicity itself, sir. It is all founded on
+one beautiful commercial precept. Our friends round about here [with a
+wave of the hand, indicating the country side]--our old folks--whenever
+they got a guinea put it out of sight, made a hoard, hid it in a stocking,
+or behind a brick in the chimney. Ha! ha! Consequently their operations
+were always restricted to the same identical locality--no scope, sir, no
+expansion. Now my plan is--invest every penny. Make every shilling pay for
+the use of half a crown, and turn the half-crown into seven and sixpence.
+Credit is the soul of business. There you have it. Simplicity itself. Here
+are the books; see for yourself. I publish my balance half-yearly--like a
+company. Then the public see what you are doing. The earth, sir, as I said
+at the dinner the other day (the idea was much applauded), the earth is
+like the Bank of England--you may draw on it to any extent; there's always
+a reserve to meet you. You positively can't overdraw the account. You see
+there's such a solid security behind you. The fact is, I bring commercial
+principles into agriculture; the result is, grand success. However, here's
+the book; just glance over the figures.'
+
+The said figures utterly bewilder the visitor, who in courtesy runs his
+eye from top to bottom of the long columns--farming accounts are really
+the most complicated that can be imagined--so he, meantime, while turning
+over the pages, mentally absorbs the personality of the commercial
+agriculturist. He sees a tall, thin farmer, a brown face and neck, long
+restless sinewy hands, perpetually twiddling with a cigar or a gold
+pencil-case--generally the cigar, or rather the extinct stump of it, which
+he every now and then sucks abstractedly, in total oblivion as to its
+condition. His dress would pass muster in towns--well cut, and probably
+from Bond Street. He affects a frock and high hat one day, and
+knickerbockers and sun helmet the next. His pockets are full of papers,
+letters, etc., and as he searches amid the mass for some memorandum to
+show, glimpses may be seen of certain oblong strips of blue paper with an
+impressed stamp.
+
+'Very satisfactory,' says the visitor, handing back No 6 B; 'may I inquire
+how many acres you occupy?'
+
+Out comes a note-book. 'Hum! There's a thousand down in the vale, and
+fifteen hundred upland, and the new place is about nine hundred, and the
+meadows--I've mislaid the meadows--but it's near about four thousand.
+Different holdings, of course. Great nuisance that, sir; transit, you see,
+costs money. City gentlemen know that. Absurd system in this country--the
+land parcelled out in little allotment gardens of two or three hundred
+acres. Why, there's a little paltry hundred and twenty acre freehold dairy
+farm lies between my vale and upland, and the fellow won't let my waggons
+or ploughing-tackle take the short cut, ridiculous. Time it was altered,
+sir. Shooting? Why, yes; I have the shooting. Glad if you'd come over.'
+
+Then more Madeira, and after it a stroll through the gardens and
+shrubberies and down to the sheds, a mile, or nearly, distant. There, a
+somewhat confused vision of 'grand shorthorns,' and an inexplicable jumble
+of pedigrees, grand-dams, and 'g-g-g-g-g-g-dams,' as the catalogues have
+it; handsome hunters paraded, steam-engines pumping water, steam-engines
+slicing up roots, distant columns of smoke where steam-engines are tearing
+up the soil. All the while a scientific disquisition on ammonia and the
+constituent parts and probable value of town sewage as compared with
+guano. And at intervals, and at parting, a pressing invitation to dinner
+[when pineapples or hot-house grapes are certain to make their appearance
+at dessert]--such a flow of genial eloquence surely was never heard
+before!
+
+It requires a week at least of calm reflection, and many questions to his
+host, before the visitor--quite carried away--can begin to arrange his
+ideas, and to come slowly to the opinion that though Mr. X---- is as open
+as the day and frank to a fault, it will take him a precious long time to
+get to the bottom of Mr. X----'s system; that is to say, if there is any
+bottom at all to it.
+
+Mr. X---- is, in brief, a gambler. Not in a dishonest, or even suspicious
+sense, but a pure gambler. He is a gigantic agricultural speculator; his
+system is, as he candidly told you, credit. Credit not only with the bank,
+but with everybody. He has actually been making use of you, his casual and
+unexpected visitor, as an instrument. You are certain to talk about him;
+the more he is talked of the better, it gives him a reputation, which is
+beginning to mean a great deal in agriculture as it has so long in other
+pursuits. You are sure to tell everybody who ever chooses to converse with
+you about the country of Mr. X----, and Mr. X----'s engines, cattle,
+horses, profuse hospitality, and progressive science.
+
+To be socially popular is a part of his system; he sows corn among society
+as freely as over his land, and looks to some grains to take root, and
+bring him increase a hundred fold, as indeed they do. Whatever movement is
+originated in the neighbourhood finds him occupying a prominent position.
+He goes to London as the representative of the local agricultural chamber;
+perhaps waits upon a Cabinet Minister as one of the deputation. He speaks
+regularly at the local chamber meetings; his name is ever in the papers.
+The press are invited to inspect his farms, and are furnished with minute
+details. Every now and then a sketch of his life and doings, perhaps
+illustrated with a portrait, appears in some agricultural periodical. At
+certain seasons of the year parties of gentlemen are conducted over his
+place. In parochial or district matters he is a leading man.
+
+Is it a cottage flower-show, a penny reading, a cricket club, a benefit
+society--it does not matter what, his subscriptions, his name, and his
+voice are heard in it. He is the life and soul of it; the energy comes
+from him, though others higher in the scale may be the nominal heads. And
+the nominal heads, knowing that he can be relied upon politically, are
+grateful, and give him their good word freely. He hunts, and is a welcome
+companion--the meet frequently takes place at his house, or some of the
+huntsmen call for lunch; in fact, the latter is an invariable thing.
+Everybody calls for lunch who happens to pass near any day; the house has
+a reputation for hospitality. He is the clergyman's right hand--as in
+managing the school committee. When the bishop comes to the confirmation,
+he is introduced as 'my chief lay supporter.' At the Rural Diaconal
+Conference, 'my chief supporter' is one of the lay speakers. Thus he
+obtains every man's good word whose good word is worth anything. Social
+credit means commercial credit. Yet he is not altogether acting a part--he
+really likes taking the lead and pushing forward, and means a good deal of
+what he says.
+
+He is especially quite honest in his hospitality. All the same, so far as
+business is concerned, it is pure gambling, which may answer very well in
+favourable times, but is not unlikely to end in failure should the strain
+of depression become too severe. Personal popularity, however, will tide
+him over a great deal. When a man is spoken highly of by gentry, clergy,
+literally everybody, the bank is remarkably accommodating. Such a man may
+get for his bare signature--almost pressed on him, as if his acceptance of
+it were a favour--what another would have to deposit solid security for.
+
+In plain language, he borrows money and invests it in every possible way.
+His farms are simply the basis of his credit. He buys blood shorthorns, he
+buys blood horses, and he sells them again. He buys wheat, hay, &c., to
+dispose of them at a profit. If he chose, he could explain to you the
+meaning of contango, and even of that mysterious term to the uninitiated,
+'backwardation.' His speculations for the 'account' are sometimes heavy.
+So much so, that occasionally, with thousands invested, he has hardly any
+ready money. But, then, there are the crops; he can get money on the
+coming crops. There is, too, the live stock money can be borrowed on the
+stock.
+
+Here lies the secret reason of the dread of foreign cattle disease. The
+increase of our flocks and herds is, of course, a patriotic cry (and
+founded on fact); but the secret pinch is this--if foot-and-mouth,
+pleuro-pneumonia, or rinderpest threaten the stock, the tenant-farmer
+cannot borrow on that security. The local bankers shake their heads--three
+cases of rinderpest are equivalent to a reduction of 25 per cent. in the
+borrowing power of the agriculturist. The auctioneers and our friends have
+large transactions--'paper' here again. With certain members of the hunt
+he books bets to a high amount; his face is not unknown at Tattersall's or
+at the race meetings. But he does not flourish the betting-book in the
+face of society. He bets--and holds his tongue. Some folks have an ancient
+and foolish prejudice against betting; he respects sincere convictions.
+
+Far and away he is the best fellow, the most pleasant company in the
+shire, always welcome everywhere. He has read widely, is well educated;
+but, above all, he is ever jolly, and his jollity is contagious. Despite
+his investments and speculations, his brow never wears that sombre aspect
+of gloomy care, that knitted concentration of wrinkles seen on the face of
+the City man, who goes daily to his 'office.' The out-of-door bluffness,
+the cheery ringing voice, and the upright form only to be gained in the
+saddle over the breezy uplands, cling to him still. He wakes everybody up,
+and, risky as perhaps some of his speculations are, is socially
+enlivening.
+
+The two young gentlemen, by-the-by, observed playing lawn-tennis from the
+drawing-room window, are two of his pupils, whose high premiums and
+payments assist to keep up the free and generous table, and who find
+farming a very pleasant profession. The most striking characteristic of
+their tutor is his Yankee-like fertility of resource and bold
+innovations--the very antipodes of the old style of 'clod-compeller.'
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS-OLD STYLE
+
+
+Towards the hour of noon Harry Hodson, of Upcourt Farm, was slowly
+ascending the long slope that led to his dwelling. In his left hand he
+carried a hare, which swung slightly to and fro as he stepped out, and the
+black-tipped ears rubbed now and then against a bunch of grass. His
+double-barrel was under his right arm. Every day at the same hour Harry
+turned towards home, for he adhered to the ways of his fathers and dined
+at half-past twelve, except when the stress of harvest, or some important
+agricultural operation, disturbed the usual household arrangements. It was
+a beautiful October day, sunny and almost still, and, as he got on the
+high ground, he paused and looked round. The stubbles stretched far away
+on one side, where the country rose and fell in undulations. On the
+distant horizon a column of smoke, broadening at the top, lifted itself
+into the sky; he knew it was from the funnel of a steam-plough, whose
+furnace had just been replenished with coal. The appearance of the smoke
+somewhat resembled that left by a steamer at sea when the vessel is just
+below the horizon. On the other hand were wooded meadows, where the rooks
+were cawing--some in the oaks, some as they wheeled round in the air. Just
+beneath him stood a row of wheat ricks--his own. His gaze finally rested
+upon their conical roofs with satisfaction, and he then resumed his walk.
+
+Even as he moved he seemed to bask in the sunshine; the sunshine pouring
+down from the sky above, the material sunshine of the goodly wheat ricks,
+and the physical sunshine of personal health and vigour. His walk was the
+walk of a strong, prosperous man--each step long, steady, and firm, but
+quite devoid of haste. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, in the very
+prime of life, and though stooping a little, like so many countrymen, very
+tall, and built proportionately broad across the shoulders and chest. His
+features were handsome--perhaps there was a trace of indolence in their
+good-humoured expression--and he had a thick black beard just marked with
+one thin wavy line of grey. That trace of snow, if anything, rather added
+to the manliness of his aspect, and conveyed the impression that he was at
+the fulness of life when youth and experience meet. If anything, indeed,
+he looked too comfortable, too placid. A little ambition, a little
+restlessness, would perhaps have been good for him.
+
+By degrees he got nearer to the house; but it was by degrees only, for he
+stayed to look over every gate, and up into almost every tree. He stopped
+to listen as his ear caught the sound of hoofs on the distant road, and
+again at the faint noise of a gun fired a mile away. At the corner of a
+field a team of horses--his own--were resting awhile as the carter and his
+lad ate their luncheon. Harry stayed to talk to the man, and yet again at
+the barn door to speak to his men at work within with the winnowing
+machine. The homestead stood on an eminence, but was hidden by elms and
+sycamores, so that it was possible to pass at a distance without observing
+it.
+
+On entering the sitting-room Harry leaned his gun against the wall in the
+angle between it and the bureau, from which action alone it might have
+been known that he was a bachelor, and that there were no children about
+the house to get into danger with fire-arms. His elderly aunt, who acted
+as housekeeper, was already at table waiting for him. It was spread with a
+snow-white cloth, and almost equally snow-white platter for bread--so much
+and so well was it cleaned. They ate home-baked bread; they were so many
+miles from a town or baker that it was difficult to get served regularly,
+a circumstance which preserved that wholesome institution. There was a
+chine of bacon, small ale, and a plentiful supply of good potatoes. The
+farmer did full justice to the sweet picking off the chine, and then
+lingered over an old cheese. Very few words were spoken.
+
+Then, after his dinner, he sat in his arm-chair--the same that he had used
+for many years--and took a book. For Harry rather enjoyed a book, provided
+it was not too new. He read works of science, thirty years old, solid and
+correct, but somewhat behind the age; he read histories, such as were
+current in the early part of the present century, but none of a later date
+than the end of the wars of the First Napoleon. The only thing modern he
+cared for in literature was a 'society' journal, sent weekly from London.
+These publications are widely read in the better class of farmsteads now.
+Harry knew something of most things, even of geology. He could show you
+the huge vertebrae of some extinct saurian, found while draining was being
+done. He knew enough of archaeology to be able to tell any enthusiastic
+student who chanced to come along where to find the tumuli and the
+earthworks on the Downs. He had several Roman coins, and a fine bronze
+spearhead, which had been found upon the farm. These were kept with care,
+and produced to visitors with pride. Harry really did possess a wide fund
+of solid, if quiet, knowledge. Presently, after reading a chapter or two,
+he would drop off into a siesta, till some message came from the men or
+the bailiff, asking for instructions.
+
+The farmstead was, in fact, a mansion of large size, an old manor-house,
+and had it been situate near a fashionable suburb and been placed in
+repair would have been worth to let as much per annum as the rent of a
+small farm. But it stood in a singularly lonely and outlying position, far
+from any village of size, much less a town, and the very highway even was
+so distant that you could only hear the horse's hoofs when the current of
+air came from that direction. This was his aunt's--the housekeeper's--great
+complaint, the distance to the highway. She grumbled because she could not
+see the carriers' carts and the teams go by; she wanted to know what was
+going on.
+
+Harry, however, seemed contented with the placid calm of the vast house
+that was practically empty, and rarely left it, except for his regular
+weekly visit to market. After the fashion of a thoroughbred farmer he was
+often rather late home on market nights. There were three brothers, all in
+farms, and all well to do; the other two were married, and Harry was
+finely plagued about being a bachelor. But the placid life at the old
+place--he had succeeded to his father--somehow seemed to content him. He
+had visitors at Christmas, he read his books of winter evenings and after
+dinner; in autumn he strolled round with his double-barrel and knocked
+over a hare or so, and so slumbered away the days. But he never neglected
+the farming-everything was done almost exactly as it had been done by his
+father.
+
+Old Harry Hodson was in his time one of the characters of that country
+side. He was the true founder of the Hodson family. They had been yeomen
+in a small way for generations, farming little holdings, and working like
+labourers, plodding on, and never heard of outside their fifty-acre farms.
+So they might have continued till this day had not old Harry Hodson arose
+to be the genius--the very Napoleon--of farming in that district. When the
+present Harry, the younger, had a visitor to his taste--_i.e._ one who was
+not in a hurry--he would, in the evening, pull out the books and papers
+and letters of his late father from the bureau (beside which stood the
+gun), and explain how the money was made. The logs crackled and sparkled
+on the hearth, the lamp burnt clear and bright; there was a low singing
+sound in the chimney; the elderly aunt nodded and worked in her arm-chair,
+and woke up and mixed fresh spirits and water, and went off to sleep
+again; and still Harry would sit and smoke and sip and talk. By-and-by the
+aunt would wish the visitor good-night, draw up the clock, and depart,
+after mixing fresh tumblers and casting more logs upon the fire, for well
+she knew her nephew's ways. Harry was no tippler, he never got
+intoxicated; but he would sit and smoke and sip and talk with a friend,
+and tell him all about it till the white daylight came peeping through the
+chinks in the shutters.
+
+Old Harry Hodson, then, made the money, and put two of his sons in large
+farms, and paid all their expenses, so that they started fair, besides
+leaving his own farm to the third. Old Harry Hodson made the money, yet he
+could not have done it had he not married the exact woman. Women have made
+the fortunes of Emperors by their advice and assistance, and the greatest
+men the world has seen have owned that their success was owing to feminine
+counsel. In like manner a woman made the policy of an obscure farmer a
+success. When the old gentleman began to get well to do, and when he found
+his teeth not so strong as of yore, and his palate less able to face the
+coarse, fat, yellowy bacon that then formed the staple of the household
+fare, he actually ventured so far as to have one joint of butcher's meat,
+generally a leg of mutton, once a week. It was cooked for Sunday, and, so
+far as that kind of meat was concerned, lasted till the next Sunday. But
+his wife met this extravagant innovation with furious opposition. It was
+sheer waste; it was something almost unpardonably prodigal. They had eaten
+bacon all their lives, often bacon with the bristles thick upon it, and to
+throw away money like this was positively wicked. However, the-old
+gentleman, being stubborn as a horse-nail, persisted; the wife, still
+grumbling, calmed down; and the one joint of meat became an institution.
+Harry, the younger, still kept it up; but it had lost its significance in
+his day, for he had a fowl or two in the week, and a hare or a partridge,
+and, besides, had the choicest hams.
+
+Now, this dispute between the old gentleman and his wife--this dispute as
+to which should be most parsimonious--was typical of their whole course of
+life. If one saved cheese-parings, the other would go without cheese at
+all, and be content with dry bread. They lived--indeed, harder than their
+own labourers, and it sometimes happened that the food they thought good
+enough was refused by a cottager. When a strange carter, or shepherd, or
+other labourer came to the house from a distance, perhaps with a waggon
+for a load of produce or with some sheep, it was the custom to give them
+some lunch. These men, unaccustomed even in their own cottages to such
+coarse food, often declined to eat it, and went away empty, but not before
+delivering their opinion of the fare, expressed in language of the rudest
+kind.
+
+No economy was too small for old Hodson; in the house his wife did almost
+all the work. Nowadays a farmer's house alone keeps the women of one, or
+even two, cottages fully employed. The washing is sent out, and occupies
+one cottage woman the best part of her spare time. Other women come in to
+do the extra work, the cleaning up and scouring, and so on. The expense of
+employing these women is not great; but still it is an expense. Old Mrs.
+Hodson did everything herself, and the children roughed it how they could,
+playing in the mire with the pigs and geese. Afterwards, when old Hodson
+began to get a little money, they were sent to a school in a market town.
+There they certainly did pick up the rudiments, but lived almost as hard
+as at home. Old Hodson, to give an instance of his method, would not even
+fatten a pig, because it cost a trifle of ready money for 'toppings,' or
+meal, and nothing on earth could induce him to part with a coin that he
+had once grasped. He never fattened a pig (meaning for sale), but sold the
+young porkers directly they were large enough to fetch a sovereign
+a-piece, and kept the money.
+
+The same system was carried on throughout the farm. The one he then
+occupied was of small extent, and he did a very large proportion of the
+work himself. He did not purchase stock at all in the modern sense; he
+grew them. If he went to a sale he bought one or two despicable-looking
+cattle at the lowest price, drove them home, and let them gradually gather
+condition. The grass they ate grew almost as they ate it--in his own
+words, 'They cut their own victuals'--_i.e._ with their teeth. He did not
+miss the grass blades, but had he paid a high price then he would have
+missed the money.
+
+Here he was in direct conflict with modern farming. The theory of the
+farming of the present day is that time is money, and, according to this,
+Hodson made a great mistake. He should have given a high price for his
+stock, have paid for cake, &c., and fattened them up as fast as possible,
+and then realised. The logic is correct, and in any business or
+manufacture could not be gainsaid. But Hodson did just the reverse. He did
+not mind his cattle taking a little time to get into condition, provided
+they cost him no ready money. Theoretically, the grass they ate
+represented money, and might have been converted to a better use. But in
+practice the reverse came true. He succeeded, and other men failed. His
+cattle and his sheep, which he bought cheap and out of condition, quietly
+improved (time being no object), and he sold them at a profit, from which
+there were no long bills to deduct for cake.
+
+He purchased no machinery whilst in this small place--which was chiefly
+grass land--with the exception of a second-hand haymaking machine. The
+money he made he put out at interest on mortgage of real property, and it
+brought in about 4 per cent. It was said that in some few cases where the
+security was good he lent it at a much higher rate to other farmers of
+twenty times his outward show. After awhile he went into the great farm
+now occupied by his son Harry, and commenced operations without borrowing
+a single shilling. The reason was because he was in no hurry. He slowly
+grew his money in the little farm, and then, and not till then, essayed
+the greater. Even then he would not have ventured had not the
+circumstances been peculiarly favourable. Like the present, it was a time
+of depression generally, and in this particular case the former tenant had
+lived high and farmed bad. The land was in the worst possible state, the
+landlord could not let it, and Hodson was given to understand that he
+could have it for next to nothing at first.
+
+Now it was at this crisis of his life that he showed that in his own
+sphere he possessed the true attribute of genius. Most men who had
+practised rigid economy for twenty years, whose hours, and days, and weeks
+had been occupied with little petty details, how to save a penny here and
+a fourpenny bit yonder, would have become fossilised in the process. Their
+minds would have become as narrow as their ways. They would have shrunk
+from any venture, and continued in the old course to the end of their
+time.
+
+Old Hodson, mean to the last degree in his way of living, narrow to the
+narrowest point where sixpence could be got, nevertheless had a mind. He
+saw that his opportunity had come, and he struck. He took the great corn
+farm, and left his little place. The whole country side at once pronounced
+him mad, and naturally anticipated his failure. The country side did not
+yet understand two things. They did not know how much money he had saved,
+and they did not know the capacity of his mind. He had not only saved
+money, and judiciously invested it, but he had kept it a profound secret,
+because he feared if his landlord learnt that he was saving money so fast
+the rent of the little farm would have been speedily raised. Here, again,
+he was in direct conflict with the modern farmer. The modern man, if he
+has a good harvest or makes a profit, at once buys a 'turn-out,' and grand
+furniture, and in every way 'exalts his gate,' When landlords saw their
+tenants living in a style but little inferior to that they themselves kept
+up, it was not really very surprising that the rents a few years back
+began to rise so rapidly. In a measure tenants had themselves to blame for
+that upward movement.
+
+Old Hodson carried his money to a long distance from home to invest, so
+anxious was he that neither his landlord nor any one else should know how
+quickly he was getting rich. So he entered upon his new venture--the great
+upland farm, with its broad cornfields, its expanse of sheep walk and
+down, its meadows in the hollow, its copses (the copses alone almost as
+big as his original holding), with plenty of money in his pocket, and
+without being beholden to bank or lawyer for a single groat. Men thought
+that the size of the place, the big manor-house, and so on, would turn his
+head. Nothing of the kind; he proceeded as cautiously and prudently as
+previously. He began by degrees. Instead of investing some thousand pounds
+in implements and machinery at a single swoop, instead of purchasing three
+hundred sheep right off with a single cheque, he commenced with one thing
+at a time. In this course he was favoured by the condition of the land,
+and by the conditions of the agreement. He got it, as it were, gradually
+into cultivation, not all at once; he got his stock together, a score or
+two at a time, as he felt they would answer. By the year the landlord was
+to have the full rent: the new tenant was quite able to pay it, and did
+pay it without hesitation at the very hour it was due. He bought very
+little machinery, nothing but what was absolutely necessary--no expensive
+steam-plough. His one great idea was still the same, _i.e._ spend no
+money.
+
+Yet he was not bigoted or prejudiced to the customs of his
+ancestors--another proof that he was a man of mind. Hodson foresaw, before
+he had been long at Upcourt Farm, that corn was not going in future to be
+so all in all important as it had been. As he said himself, 'We must go to
+our flocks now for our rent, and not to our barn doors.' His aim,
+therefore, became to farm into and through his flock, and it paid him
+well. Here was a man at once economical to the verge of meanness, prudent
+to the edge of timidity, yet capable of venturing when he saw his chance;
+and above all, when that venture succeeded, capable of still living on
+bacon and bread and cheese, and putting the money by.
+
+In his earlier days Hodson was as close of speech as of expenditure, and
+kept his proceedings a profound secret. As he grew older and took less
+active exercise--the son resident at home carrying out his
+instructions--he became more garrulous and liked to talk about his system.
+The chief topic of his discourse was that a farmer in his day paid but one
+rent, to the landlord, whereas now, on the modern plan, he paid eight
+rents, and sometimes nine. First, of course, the modern farmer paid his
+landlord (1); next he paid the seedsman (2); then the manure manufacturer
+(3); the implement manufacturer (4); the auctioneer (5); the railroad, for
+transit (6); the banker, for short loans (7); the lawyer or whoever
+advanced half his original capital (8); the schoolmaster (9).
+
+To begin at the end, the rent paid by the modern farmer to the
+schoolmaster included the payment for the parish school; and, secondly,
+and far more important, the sum paid for the education of his own
+children. Hodson maintained that many farmers paid as much hard cash for
+the education of their children, and for the necessary social surroundings
+incident to that education, as men used to pay for the entire sustenance
+of their households. Then there was the borrowed capital, and the short
+loans from the banker; the interest on these two made two more rents.
+Farmers paid rent to the railroad for the transit of their goods. The
+auctioneer, whether he sold cattle and sheep, or whether he had a depot
+for horses, was a new man whose profits were derived from the farmers.
+There were few or no auctioneers or horse depositories when he began
+business; now the auctioneer was everywhere, and every country town of any
+consequence had its establishment for the reception and sale of horses.
+Farmers sunk enough capital in steam-ploughs and machinery to stock a
+small farm on the old system, and the interest on this sunk capital
+represented another rent. It was the same with the artificial manure
+merchant and with the seedsman. Farmers used to grow their own seed, or,
+at most, bought from the corn dealers or a neighbour if by chance they
+were out. Now the seedsman was an important person, and a grand shop might
+be found, often several shops, in every market town, the owners of which
+shops must likewise live upon the farmer. Here were eight or nine people
+to pay rent to instead of one.
+
+No wonder farming nowadays was not profitable. No wonder farmers could not
+put their sons into farms. Let any one look round their own neighbourhood
+and count up how many farmers had managed to do that. Why, they were
+hardly to be found. Farmers' sons had to go into the towns to get a
+livelihood now. Farming was too expensive a business on the modern
+system--it was a luxury for a rich man, who could afford to pay eight or
+nine landlords at once. The way he had got on was by paying one landlord
+only. Old Hodson always finished his lecture by thrusting both hands into
+his breeches pockets, and whispering to you confidentially that it was not
+the least use for a man to go into farming now unless he had got ten
+thousand pounds.
+
+It was through the genius of this man that his three sons were doing so
+well. At the present day, Harry, the younger, took his ease in his
+arm-chair after his substantial but plain dinner, with little care about
+the markets or the general depression. For much of the land was on high
+ground and dry, and the soil there benefited by the wet. At the same time
+sheep sold well, and Harry's flocks were large and noted. So he sauntered
+round with his gun, and knocked over a hare, and came comfortably home to
+dinner, easy in his mind, body, and pocket.
+
+Harry was not a man of energy and intense concentrated purpose like his
+father. He could never have built up a fortune, but, the money being
+there, Harry was just the man to keep it. He was sufficiently prudent to
+run no risk and to avoid speculation. He was sufficiently frugal not to
+waste his substance on riotous living, and he was naturally of a placid
+temperament, so that he was satisfied to silently and gradually accumulate
+little by little. His knowledge of farming, imbibed from his father,
+extended into every detail. If he seldom touched an implement now, he had
+in his youth worked like the labourers, and literally followed the plough.
+He was constantly about on the place, and his eye, by keeping the men
+employed, earned far more money than his single arm could have done. Thus
+he dwelt in the lonely manor-house, a living proof of the wisdom of his
+father's system.
+
+Harry is now looking, in his slow complacent way, for a wife. Being forty
+years of age, he is not in a great hurry, and is not at all inclined to
+make a present of himself to the first pretty face he meets. He does not
+like the girl of the period; he fears she would spend too much money. Nor,
+on the other hand, does he care for the country hoyden, whose mind and
+person have never risen above the cheese-tub, with red hands, awkward
+gait, loud voice, and limited conversation. He has read too much, in his
+quiet way, and observed too much, in his quiet way, also, for that. He
+wants a girl well educated, but not above her station, unaffected and yet
+comely, fond of home and home duties, and yet not homely. And it would be
+well if she had a few hundreds--a very small sum would do--for her dower.
+It is not that he wants the money, which can be settled on herself; but
+there is a vein of the old, prudent common sense running through Harry's
+character. He is in no hurry; in time he will meet with her somewhere.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+THE GIG AND THE FOUR-IN-HAND. A BICYCLE FARMER
+
+
+Two vehicles were gradually approaching each other from opposite
+directions on a long, straight stretch of country road, which, at the
+first glance, appeared level. The glare of the August sunshine reflected
+from the white dust, the intense heat that caused a flickering motion of
+the air like that which may be seen over a flue, the monotonous low
+cropped hedges, the scarcity of trees, and boundless plain of cornfields,
+all tended to deceive the eye. The road was not really level, but rose and
+fell in narrow, steep valleys, that crossed it at right angles--the glance
+saw across these valleys without recognising their existence. It was
+curious to observe how first one and then the other vehicle suddenly
+disappeared, as if they had sunk into the ground, and remained hidden for
+some time. During the disappearance the vehicle was occupied in cautiously
+going down one steep slope and slowly ascending the other. It then seemed
+to rapidly come nearer till another hollow intervened, and it was abruptly
+checked. The people who were driving could observe each other from a long
+distance, and might naturally think that they should pass directly,
+instead of which they did not seem to get much nearer. Some miles away,
+where the same road crossed the Downs, it looked from afar like a white
+line drawn perpendicularly up the hill.
+
+The road itself was narrow, hardly wider than a lane, but on either side
+was a broad strip of turf, each strip quite twice the width of the
+metalled portion. On the verge of the dust the red pimpernel opened its
+flowers to the bright blue cloudless sky, and the lowly convolvulus grew
+thickly among the tall dusty bennets. Sweet short clover flowers stood but
+a little way back; still nearer the hedges the grass was coarser, long,
+and wire-like. Tall thistles stood beside the water furrows and beside the
+ditch, and round the hawthorn bushes that grew at intervals on the sward
+isolated from the hedge. Loose flints of great size lay here and there
+among the grass, perhaps rolled aside surreptitiously by the
+stone-breakers to save themselves trouble. Everything hot and dusty. The
+clover dusty, the convolvulus dusty, the brambles and hawthorn, the small
+scattered elms all dusty, all longing for a shower or for a cool breeze.
+
+The reapers were at work in the wheat, but the plain was so level that it
+was not possible to see them without mounting upon a flint heap. Then
+their heads were just visible as they stood upright, but when they stooped
+to use the hook they disappeared. Yonder, however, a solitary man in his
+shirt-sleeves perched up above the corn went round and round the field,
+and beside him strange awkward arms seemed to beat down the wheat. He was
+driving a reaping machine, to which the windmill-like arms belonged.
+Beside the road a shepherd lingered, leaning on a gate, while his flock,
+which he was driving just as fast and no faster than they cared to eat
+their way along the sward, fed part on one side and part on the other. Now
+and then two or three sheep crossed over with the tinkling of a bell. In
+the silence and stillness and brooding heat, the larks came and dusted
+themselves in the white impalpable powder of the road. Farther away the
+partridges stole quietly to an anthill at the edge of some barley. By the
+white road, a white milestone, chipped and defaced, stood almost hidden
+among thistles and brambles. Some white railings guarded the sides of a
+bridge, or rather a low arch over a dry watercourse. Heat, dust, a glaring
+whiteness, and a boundless expanse of golden wheat on either hand.
+
+After awhile a towering four-in-hand coach rose out of the hollow where it
+had been hidden, and came bowling along the level. The rapid hoofs beat
+the dust, which sprang up and followed behind in a cloud, stretching far
+in the rear, for in so still an atmosphere the particles were long before
+they settled again. White parasols and light dust coats--everything that
+could be contrived for coolness--gay feathers and fluttering fringes,
+whose wearers sat in easy attitudes enjoying the breeze created by the
+swift motion. Upon such a day the roof of a coach is more pleasant than
+the thickest shade, because of that current of air, for the same leaves
+that keep off the sun also prevent a passing zephyr from refreshing the
+forehead. But the swifter the horses the sweeter the fresh wind to fan the
+delicate cheek and drooping eyelid of indolent beauty. So idle were they
+all that they barely spoke, and could only smile instead of laugh if one
+exerted himself to utter a good jest. The gentleman who handled the
+ribbons was the only one thoroughly awake.
+
+His eyes were downcast, indeed, because they never left his horses, but
+his ears were sharply alive to the rhythmic beat of the hoofs and the
+faint creak and occasional jingle of the harness. Had a single shoe failed
+to send forth the proper sound as it struck the hard dry road, had there
+been a creak or a jingle too many, or too few, those ears would instantly
+have detected it. The downcast eyes that looked neither to the right nor
+left--at the golden wheat or the broad fields of barley--were keenly
+watching the ears of the team, and noting how one of the leaders lathered
+and flung white froth upon the dust. From that height the bowed backs of
+the reapers were visible in the corn. The reapers caught sight of the
+coach, and stood up to look, and wiped their brows, and a distant hurrah
+came from the boys among them. In all the pomp and glory of paint and
+varnish the tall coach rolled on, gently swaying from side to side as the
+springs yielded to the irregularities of the road. It came with a heavy
+rumble like far-away thunder over the low arch that spanned the dry
+water-course.
+
+Meantime the vehicle approaching from the opposite direction had also
+appeared out of a hollow. It was a high, narrow gig of ancient make, drawn
+by a horse too low for the shafts and too fat for work. In the gig sat two
+people closely pressed together by reason of its narrow dimensions. The
+lady wore a black silk dress, of good and indeed costly material, but
+white with the dust that had settled upon it. Her hands were covered with
+black cotton gloves, and she held a black umbrella. Her face was hidden by
+a black veil; thin corkscrew curls fringed the back of her head. She was
+stout, and sat heavily in the gig. The man wore a grey suit, too short in
+the trousers--at least they appeared so as he sat with his knees wide
+apart, and the toe of one heavy boot partly projecting at the side of the
+dash-board. A much-worn straw hat was drawn over his eyes, and he held a
+short whip in his red hand. He did not press his horse, but allowed the
+lazy animal to go jog-trot at his own pace. The panels of the gig had lost
+their original shining polish; the varnish had cracked and worn, till the
+surface was rough and grey. The harness was equally bare and worn, the
+reins mended more than once. The whole ramshackle concern looked as if it
+would presently fall to pieces, but the horse was in much too good a
+condition.
+
+When the four-in-hand had come within about a hundred yards, the farmer
+pulled his left rein hard, and drew his gig right out of the road on to
+the sward, and then stopped dead, to give the coach the full use of the
+way. As it passed he took off his straw hat, and his wife stooped low as a
+makeshift for bowing. An outsider might have thought that the aristocratic
+coach would have gone by this extremely humble couple without so much as
+noticing it. But the gentleman who was driving lifted his hat to the dowdy
+lady, with a gesture of marked politeness, and a young and
+elegantly-dressed lady, his sister, nodded and smiled, and waved her hand
+to her. After the coach had rolled some fifty yards away, the farmer
+pulled into the road, and went on through the cloud of dust it had left
+behind it, with a complacent smile upon his hard and weather-worn
+features. 'A' be a nice young gentleman, the Honourable be,' said he
+presently. 'So be Lady Blanche,' replied his wife, lifting her veil and
+looking back after the four-in-hand. 'I'm sure her smile's that sweet it
+be a pleasure for to see her.'
+
+Half a mile farther the farmer drew out of the road again, drove close to
+the hedge, stopped, and stood up to look over. A strongly-built young man,
+who had been driving the reaping machine in his shirt-sleeves, alighted
+from his seat and came across to the hedge.
+
+'Goes very well to-day,' he said, meaning that the machine answered.
+
+'You be got into a good upstanding piece, John,' replied the old man
+sharply in his thin jerky voice, which curiously contrasted with his still
+powerful frame. 'You take un in there and try un'--pointing to a piece
+where the crop had been beaten down by a storm, and where the reapers were
+at work. 'You had better put the rattletrap thing away, John, and go in
+and help they. Never wasted money in all my life over such a thing as that
+before. What be he going to do all the winter? Bide and rust, I 'spose.
+Can you put un to cut off they nettles along the ditch among they stones?'
+
+'It would break the knives,' said the son.
+
+'But you could cut um with a hook, couldn't you?' asked the old man, in a
+tone that was meant to convey withering contempt of a machine that could
+only do one thing, and must perforce lie idle ten months of the year.
+
+'That's hardly a fair way of looking at it,' the son ventured.
+
+'John,' said his mother, severely, 'I can't think how you young men can
+contradict your father. I'm sure young men never spoke so in my time; and
+I'm sure your father has been prospered in his farming' (she felt her silk
+dress), 'and has done very well without any machines, which cost a deal of
+money--and Heaven knows there's a vast amount going out every day.'
+
+A gruff voice interrupted her--one of the reapers had advanced along the
+hedge, with a large earthenware jar in his hand.
+
+'Measter,' he shouted to the farmer in the gig, 'can't you send us out
+some better tackle than this yer stuff?'
+
+He poured some ale out of the jar on the stubble with an expression of
+utter disgust.
+
+'It be the same as I drink myself,' said the farmer, sharply, and
+immediately sat down, struck the horse, and drove off.
+
+His son and the labourer--who could hardly have been distinguished apart
+so far as their dress went--stood gazing after him for a few minutes. They
+then turned, and each went back to his work without a word.
+
+The farmer drove on steadily homewards at the same jog-trot pace that had
+been his wont these forty years. The house stood a considerable distance
+back from the road: it was a gabled building of large size, and not
+without interest. It was approached by a drive that crossed a green, where
+some ducks were waddling about, and entered the front garden, which was
+surrounded by a low wall. Within was a lawn and an ancient yew tree. The
+porch was overgrown with ivy, and the trees that rose behind the grey
+tiles of the roof set the old house in a frame of foliage. A fine old
+English homestead, where any man might be proud to dwell. But the farmer
+did not turn up the drive. He followed the road till he came to a gate
+leading into the rickyard, and, there getting out of the gig, held the
+gate open while the horse walked through. He never used the drive or the
+front door, but always came in and went out at the back, through the
+rickyard.
+
+The front garden and lawn were kept in good order, but no one belonging to
+the house ever frequented it. Had any stranger driven up to the front
+door, he might have hammered away with the narrow knocker--there was no
+bell--for half an hour before making any one hear, and then probably it
+would have been by the accident of the servant going by the passage, and
+not by dint of noise. The household lived in the back part of the house.
+There was a parlour well furnished, sweet with flowers placed there fresh
+daily, and with the odour of those in the garden, whose scent came in at
+the ever open window; but no one sat in it from week's end to week's end.
+The whole life of the inmates passed in two back rooms--a sitting-room and
+kitchen.
+
+With some slight concessions to the times only, Farmer M---- led the life
+his fathers led before him, and farmed his tenancy upon the same
+principles. He did not, indeed, dine with the labourers, but he ate very
+much the same food as they did. Some said he would eat what no labourer or
+servant would touch; and, as he had stated, drank the same smallest of
+small beer. His wife made a large quantity of home-made wine every year,
+of which she partook in a moderate degree, and which was the liquor
+usually set before visitors. They rose early, and at once went about their
+work. He saw his men, and then got on his horse and rode round the farm.
+He returned to luncheon, saw the men again, and again went out and took a
+turn of work with them. He rode a horse because of the distance--the farm
+being large--not for pleasure. Without it he could not have visited his
+fields often enough to satisfy himself that the labourers were going on
+with their work. He did not hunt, nor shoot--he had the right, but never
+exercised it; though occasionally he was seen about the newly-sown fields
+with a single-barrel gun, firing at the birds that congregated in crowds.
+Neither would he allow his sons to shoot or hunt.
+
+One worked with the labourers, acting as working bailiff--it was he who
+drove the reaping machine, which, after long argument and much persuasion
+the farmer bought, only to grumble at and abuse every day afterwards. The
+other was apprenticed as a lad to a builder and carpenter of the market
+town, and learned the trade exactly as the rest of the men did there. He
+lodged in the town in the cheapest of houses, ate hard bread and cheese
+with the carpenters and masons and bricklayers, and was glad when the
+pittance he received was raised a shilling a week. Once now and then he
+walked over to the farm on Sundays or holidays--he was not allowed to come
+too often. They did not even send him in a basket of apples from the great
+orchard; all the apples were carefully gathered and sold.
+
+These two sons were now grown men, strong and robust, and better educated
+than would have been imagined--thanks to their own industry and good
+sense, and not to any schooling they received. Two finer specimens of
+physical manhood it would have been difficult to find, yet their wages
+were no more than those of ordinary labourers and workmen. The bailiff,
+the eldest, had a pound a week, out of which he had to purchase every
+necessary, and from which five shillings were deducted for lodgings. It
+may be that he helped himself to various little perquisites, but his
+income from every source was not equal to that of a junior clerk. The
+other nominally received more, being now a skilled workman; but as he had
+to pay for his lodgings and food in town, he was really hardly so well
+off. Neither of these young men had the least chance of marrying till
+their father should die; nothing on earth would induce him to part with
+the money required to set the one in business up or the other in a
+separate farm. He had worked all his time under his father, and it seemed
+to him perfectly natural that his sons should work all their time under
+him.
+
+There was one daughter, and she, too, was out at work. She was housekeeper
+to an infirm old farmer; that is to say, she superintended the dairy and
+the kitchen, and received hardly as much as a cook in a London
+establishment. Like the sons, she was finely developed physically, and had
+more of the manners of a lady than seemed possible under the
+circumstances.
+
+Her father's principles of farming were much the same as his plan of
+housekeeping and family government. It consisted of never spending any
+money. He bought no machines. The reaping machine was the one exception,
+and a bitter point with the old man. He entered on no extensive draining
+works, nor worried his landlord to begin them. He was content with the
+tumble-down sheds till it was possible to shelter cattle in them no
+longer. Sometimes he was compelled to purchase a small quantity of
+artificial manure, but it was with extreme reluctance. He calculated to
+produce sufficient manure in the stalls, for he kept a large head of
+fattening cattle, and sheep to the greatest extent possible. He would
+rather let a field lie fallow, and go without the crop from it, till
+nature had restored the exhausted fertility, than supply that fertility at
+the cost of spending money. The one guiding motto of his life was 'Save,
+not invest.' When once he got hold of a sovereign he parted with it no
+more; not though all the scientific professors in the world came to him
+with their analyses, and statistics, and discoveries. He put it in the
+bank, just as his father would have put it into a strong box under his
+bed. There it remained, and the interest that accrued, small as it was,
+was added to it.
+
+Yet it was his pride to do his land well. He manured it well, because he
+kept cattle and sheep, especially the latter, to the fullest capacity of
+his acreage; and because, as said before, he could and did afford to let
+land lie fallow when necessary. He was in no hurry. He was not anxious for
+so much immediate percentage upon an investment in artificial manure or
+steam-plough. He might have said, with a greater man, 'Time and I are
+two.' It was Time, the slow passage of the years, that gave him his
+profit. He was always providing for the future; he was never out of
+anything, because he was never obliged to force a sale of produce in order
+to get the ready cash to pay the bank its interest upon borrowed money. He
+never borrowed; neither did he ever make a speech, or even so much as
+attend a farmers' club, to listen to a scientific lecture. But his teams of
+horses were the admiration of the country side--no such horses came into
+the market town. His rent was paid punctually, and always with country
+bank-notes--none of your clean, newfangled cheques, or Bank of England
+crisp paper, but soiled, greasy country notes of small denomination.
+
+Farmer M---- never asked for a return or reduction of his rent. The
+neighbours said that he was cheaply rented: that was not true in regard to
+the land itself. But he certainly was cheaply rented if the condition of
+the farm was looked at. In the course of so many long years of careful
+farming he had got his place into such a state of cultivation that it
+could stand two or three bad seasons without much deterioration. The same
+bad seasons quite spoiled the land of such of his neighbours as had relied
+upon a constant application of stimulants to the soil. The stimulating
+substances being no longer applied, as they could not afford to buy them,
+the land fell back and appeared poor.
+
+Farmer M---, of course, grumbled at the weather, but the crops belied his
+lips. He was, in fact, wealthy--not the wealth that is seen in cities, but
+rich for a countryman. He could have started both his sons in business
+with solid capital. Yet he drank small beer which the reapers despised,
+and drove about in a rusty old gig, with thousands to his credit at that
+old country bank. When he got home that afternoon, he carefully put away
+some bags of coin for the wages of the men, which he had been to fetch,
+and at once started out for the rickyard, to see how things were
+progressing. So the Honourable on the tall four-in-hand saluted with
+marked emphasis the humble gig that pulled right out of the road to give
+him the way, and the Lady Blanche waved her hand to the dowdy in the dusty
+black silk with her sweetest smile. The Honourable, when he went over the
+farm with his breechloader, invariably came in and drank a glass of the
+small beer. The Lady Blanche, at least once in the autumn, rode up,
+alighted, and drank one glass of the home-made wine with the dowdy. Her
+papa, the landlord, was an invalid, but he as invariably sent a splendid
+basket of hot-house grapes. But Farmer M---- was behind the age.
+
+Had he looked over the hedge in the evening, he might have seen a row of
+reapers walking down the road at the sudden sound of a jingling bell
+behind them, open their line, and wheel like a squad, part to the right
+and part to the left, to let the bicycle pass. After it had gone by they
+closed their rank, and trudged on toward the village. They had been at
+work all day in the uplands among the corn, cutting away with their hooks
+low down the yellow straw. They began in the early morning, and had first
+to walk two miles or more up to the harvest field. Stooping, as they
+worked, to strike low enough, the hot sun poured his fierce rays upon
+their shoulders and the backs of their necks. The sinews of the right arm
+had continually to drive the steel through straw and tough weeds entangled
+in the wheat. There was no shadow to sit under for luncheon, save that at
+the side of the shocks, where the sheaves radiated heat and interrupted
+the light air, so that the shadow was warmer than the sunshine. Coarse
+cold bacon and bread, cheese, and a jar of small beer, or a tin can of
+weak cold tea, were all they had to supply them with fresh strength for
+further labour.
+
+At last the evening came, the jackets so long thrown aside were resumed,
+and the walk home began. After so many hours of wearisome labour it was
+hardly strange that their natural senses were dulled--that they did not
+look about them, nor converse gaily. By mutual, if unexpressed consent,
+they intended to call at the wayside inn when they reached it, to rest on
+the hard bench outside, and take a quart of stronger ale. Thus trudging
+homewards after that exhausting day, they did not hear the almost silent
+approach of the bicycle behind till the rider rang his bell. When he had
+passed, the rider worked his feet faster, and swiftly sped away along the
+dry and dusty road. He was a tall young gentleman, whose form was well set
+off and shown by the tight-fitting bicycle costume. He rode well and with
+perfect command--the track left in the dust was straight, there was no
+wobbling or uncertainty.
+
+'That be a better job than ourn, you,' said one of the men, as they
+watched the bicycle rapidly proceeding ahead.
+
+'Ay,' replied his mate, 'he be a vine varmer, he be.'
+
+Master Phillip, having a clear stretch of road, put on his utmost speed,
+and neither heard the comments made upon him, nor would ha e cared if he
+had. He was in haste, for he was late, and feared every minute to hear the
+distant dinner bell. It was his vacation, and Master Phillip, having
+temporarily left his studies, was visiting a gentleman who had taken a
+country mansion and shooting for the season. His host had accumulated
+wealth in the 'City,' and naturally considered himself an authority on
+country matters. Master Phillip's 'governor' was likewise in a large way
+of business, and possessed of wealth, and thought it the correct thing for
+one of his sons to 'go in' for agriculture--a highly genteel occupation,
+if rightly followed, with capital and intelligence. Phillip liked to ride
+his bicycle in the cool of the evening, and was supposed in these
+excursions to be taking a survey of the soil and the crops, and to be
+comparing the style of agriculture in the district to that to which he had
+been trained while pursuing his studies. He slipped past the wayside inn;
+he glided by the cottages and gardens at the outskirts of the village; and
+then, leaving the more thickly inhabited part on one side, went by a
+rickyard. Men were busy in the yard putting up the last load of the
+evening, and the farmer in his shirt-sleeves was working among and
+directing the rest. The bicyclist without a glance rode on, and shortly
+after reached the lodge gates. They were open, in anticipation of his
+arrival.
+
+He rode up the long drive, across the park, under the old elms, and
+alighted at the mansion before the dinner bell rang, much to his relief;
+for his host had more than one daughter, and Phillip liked to arrange his
+toilet to perfection before he joined their society. His twenty-five-guinea
+dressing-case, elaborately fitted up--too completely indeed, for he had no
+use for the razor--soon enabled him to trim and prepare for the
+dining-room. His five-guinea coat, elegant studs, spotless shirt and
+wristbands, valuable seal ring on one finger, patent leather boots,
+keyless watch, eyeglass, gold toothpick in one pocket, were all carefully
+selected, and in the best possible style. Mr. Phillip--he would have
+scorned the boyish 'master'--was a gentleman, from the perfumed locks
+above to the polished patent leather below. There was _ton_ in his very
+air, in the 'ah, ah,' of his treble London tone of voice, the antithesis
+of the broad country bass. He had a firm belief in the fitness of
+things--in the unities, so to speak, of suit, action, and time.
+
+When his team were struggling to force the ball by kick, or other
+permitted means, across the tented field, Phillip was arrayed in accurate
+football costume. When he stood on the close-mown lawn within the
+white-marked square of tennis and faced the net, his jacket was barred or
+striped with scarlet. Then there was the bicycle dress, the morning coat,
+the shooting jacket, and the dinner coat, not to mention the Ulster or
+Connaught overcoat, the dust coat, and minor items innumerable. Whether
+Phillip rolled in the mire at football, or bestrode a bicycle, or sat down
+to snow-white tablecloth and napkin, he conscientiously dressed the part.
+The very completeness of his prescribed studies--the exhaustive character
+of the curriculum-naturally induced a frame of mind not to be satisfied
+with anything short of absolute precision, and perhaps even apt to extend
+itself into dilettanteism.
+
+Like geology, the science of agriculture is so vast, it embraces so wide a
+range, that one really hardly knows where it begins or ends. Phillip's
+knowledge was universal. He understood all about astronomy, and had
+prepared an abstract of figures proving the connection of sun-spots,
+rainfall, and the price of wheat. Algebra was the easiest and at the same
+time the most accurate mode of conducting the intricate calculations
+arising out of the complicated question of food--of flesh formers and heat
+generators--that is to say, how much a sheep increased in weight by
+gnawing a turnip. Nothing could be more useful than botany-those who could
+not distinguish between a dicotyledon and a monocotyledon could certainly
+never rightly grasp the nature of a hedgerow. _Bellis perennis_ and
+_Sinapis arvensis_ were not to be confounded, and _Triticum repens_ was a
+sure sign of a bad farmer. Chemistry proved that too small a quantity of
+silicate made John Barleycorn weak in the knee; ammonia, animal
+phosphates, nitrogen, and so on, were mere names to many ignorant folk.
+The various stages and the different developments of insect life were next
+to be considered.
+
+As to the soil and strata--the very groundwork of a farm--geology was the
+true guide to the proper selection of suitable seed. Crops had been
+garnered by the aid of the electric light, the plough had been driven by
+the Gramme machine; electricity, then, would play a foremost part in
+future farming, and should be studied with enthusiasm. Without mathematics
+nothing could be done; without ornithological study, how know which bird
+revelled on grain and which destroyed injurious insects? Spectrum analysis
+detected the adulteration of valuable compounds; the photographer recorded
+the exact action of the trotting horse; the telephone might convey orders
+from one end of an estate to the other; and thus you might go through the
+whole alphabet, the whole cyclopaedia of science, and apply every single
+branch to agriculture.
+
+It is to be hoped that Phillip's conversational account of his studies has
+been correctly reproduced here. The chemical terms look rather weak, but
+the memory of an ordinary listener can hardly be expected to retain such a
+mass of technicalities. He had piles of strongly-bound books, the reward
+of successful examinations, besides diplomas and certificates of
+proficiency. These subjects could be pursued under cover, but there was
+besides the field work, which had a more practical sound; model farms to
+be visited; steam-engines to be seen at work; lectures to be listened to
+on the spot; deep-drainage operations, a new drill, or a new sheaf-binder
+to be looked at. Then there were the experimental plots--something like
+the little _parterres_ seen at the edge of lawns.
+
+One plot was sown without manure, another was sown with manure, a third
+had a different kind of manure. The dozen mangolds grown in one patch were
+pulled up and carefully weighed. The grains of wheat in an ear standing in
+an adjacent patch were counted and recorded. As these plots were about a
+yard wide, and could be kept clean, no matter what the weather; and as a
+wheelbarrow load of clay, or chalk, or sand thrown down would alter the
+geological formation, the results obtained from them were certainly
+instructive, and would be very useful as a guide to the cultivation of a
+thousand acres. There was also a large, heavy iron roller, which the
+scholars could if they chose drag round and round the gravel path.
+
+Architecture, again, touches the agriculturist nearly. He requires
+buildings for the pigs, cattle, horses, labourers, engine and machinery,
+lastly, for himself. Out of doors almost any farmhouse that could be
+visited might be made by a lecturer an illustrative example of what ought
+to be avoided. Scarcely one could be found that was not full of
+mistakes--utterly wrong, and erected regardless of design and utility.
+Within doors, with ink, tracing paper, compasses, straight-edge and ruler,
+really valuable ground plans, front elevations, and so on, could be laid
+down. Altogether, with this circle of science to study, the future farmer
+had very hard work to face. Such exhaustive mental labour induced a
+certain nervousness that could only be allayed by relaxation. The bicycle
+afforded a grateful change. Mounted upon the slender, swift-revolving
+wheel, Mr. Phillip in the cool of the evening, after the long day of
+study, sometimes proceeded to stretch his limbs. The light cigar soothed
+his weary and overstrained mind.
+
+The bicycle by-and-by, as if drawn by the power of gravitation, approached
+more and more nearly to the distant town. It threaded the streets, and
+finally stopped in the archway of an inn. There, leaned against the wall,
+under the eye of the respectful ostler, the bicycle reposed. The owner
+strolled upstairs, and in the company of choice spirits studied the laws
+of right angles, of motion, and retarding friction, upon the level surface
+of the billiard table. Somewhere in a not much frequented street there
+could be seen a small window in which a coloured plate of fashions was
+always displayed. There were also some bonnets, trimming, and tasteful
+feathers. Nothing could be more attractive than this window. The milliner
+was young and pretty, and seemed to have a cousin equally young and
+pretty. Poor, lonely, friendless creatures, it was not surprising they
+should welcome a little flirtation. The bicycle which so swiftly carries
+the young man of the present day beyond the penetrating vision of his aunt
+or tutor has much to answer for.
+
+But, as pointed out previously, such exhaustive scientific training
+naturally tends to make the mind mathematical. It cannot be satisfied
+unless its surroundings--the substantial realisation of the concrete-are
+perfect. So Mr. Phillip had a suit for every purpose--for football,
+cricket, tennis, bicycle, shooting, dining, and strolling about. In the
+same way he possessed a perfect armoury of athletic and other useful
+implements. There were fine bats by the best makers for cricket, rods for
+trout fishing, splendid modified choke-bores, saddles, jockey caps, and so
+on. A gentleman like this could hardly long remain in the solitary halls
+of learning--society must claim him for parties, balls, dinners, and the
+usual round. It was understood that his 'governor' was a man of
+substantial wealth; that Phillip would certainly be placed in an extensive
+farm, to play the pleasant part of a gentleman farmer. People with
+marriageable daughters looked upon the clever scholar as a desirable
+addition to their drawing-rooms. Phillip, in short, found himself by
+degrees involved in a whirl of festivities, and was never at a loss where
+to go for amusement when he could obtain leave to seek relaxation. If such
+social adulation made him a little vain, if it led to the purchase of a
+twenty-five-guinea dressing-case, and to frequent consultations with the
+tailor, it really was not Phillip's fault. He felt himself popular, and
+accepted the position.
+
+When the vacation came, gathering up a fresh pile of grandly-bound prize
+books, broad sheets of diplomas, and certificates, Phillip departed to his
+friend's mansion for the partridge shooting. Coming down the road on the
+bicycle he overtook the reapers, and sprang his bell to warn them. The
+reapers thought Phillip's job better than theirs.
+
+At dinner, while sipping his claret, Phillip delivered his opinion upon
+the agriculture of the district, which he had surveyed from his bicycle.
+It was incomplete, stationary, or retrograde. The form of the fields alone
+was an index to the character of the farmers who cultivated them. Not one
+had a regular shape. The fields were neither circles, squares,
+parallelograms, nor triangles. One side, perhaps, might be straight; the
+hedgerow on the other had a dozen curves, and came up to a point. With
+such irregular enclosures it was impossible that the farmer could plan out
+his course with the necessary accuracy. The same incompleteness ran
+through everything--one field was well tilled, the next indifferently, the
+third full of weeds. Here was a good modern cattle-shed, well-designed for
+the purpose; yonder was a tumble-down building, with holes in the roof and
+walls.
+
+So, too, with the implements--a farmer never seemed to have a complete
+set. One farmer had, perhaps, a reaping machine, but he had not got an
+elevator; another had an elevator, but no steam-plough. No one had a full
+set of machinery. If they drained, they only drained one field; the entire
+farm was never by any possibility finished straight off. If the farmer had
+two new light carts of approved construction, he was sure to have three
+old rumbling waggons, in drawing which there was a great waste of power.
+Why not have all light carts? There was no uniformity. The farming mind
+lacked breadth of view, and dwelt too much on detail. It was not, of
+course, the fault of the tenants of the present day, but the very houses
+they inhabited were always put in the wrong place. Where the ground was
+low, flat, and liable to be flooded, the farmhouse was always built by a
+brook. When the storms of winter came the brook overflowed, and the place
+was almost inaccessible. In hilly districts, where there was not much
+water, the farmhouse was situate on the slope, or perhaps on the plateau
+above, and in summer very likely every drop of water used had to be drawn
+up there from a distance in tanks.
+
+The whole of rural England, in short, wanted rearranging upon mathematical
+principles. To begin at the smallest divisions, the fields should be
+mapped out like the squares of a chessboard; next, the parishes; and,
+lastly, the counties. You ought to be able to work steam-ploughing tackle
+across a whole parish, if the rope could be made strong enough. If you
+talked with a farmer, you found him somehow or other quite incapable of
+following a logical sequence of argument. He got on very well for a few
+sentences, but, just as one was going to come to the conclusion, his mind
+seized on some little paltry detail, and refused to move any farther. He
+positively could not follow you to a logical conclusion. If you, for
+instance, tried to show him that a certain course of cropping was the
+correct one for certain fields, he would listen for awhile, and then
+suddenly declare that the turnips in one of the said fields last year were
+a failure. That particular crop of turnips had nothing at all to do with
+the system at large, but the farmer could see nothing else.
+
+What had struck him most, however, in that particular district, as he
+traversed it on the bicycle, was the great loss of time that must result
+from the absence of rapid means of communication on large farms. The
+distance across a large farm might, perhaps, be a mile. Some farms were
+not very broad, but extended in a narrow strip for a great way. Hours were
+occupied in riding round such farms, hours which might be saved by simple
+means. Suppose, for example, that a gang of labourers were at work in the
+harvest-field, three-quarters of a mile from the farmhouse. Now, why not
+have a field telegraph, like that employed in military operations? The
+cable or wire was rolled on a drum like those used for watering a lawn.
+All that was needed was to harness a pony, and the drum would unroll and
+lay the wire as it revolved. The farmer could then sit in his office and
+telegraph his instructions without a moment's delay. He could tap the
+barometer, and wire to the bailiff in the field to be expeditious, for the
+mercury was falling. Practically, there was no more necessity for the
+farmer to go outside his office than for a merchant in Mincing Lane. The
+merchant did not sail in every ship whose cargo was consigned to him: why
+should the farmer watch every waggon loaded? Steam could drive the
+farmer's plough, cut the chaff, pump the water, and, in short, do
+everything. The field telegraph could be laid down to any required spot
+with the greatest ease, and thus, sitting in his office chair, the farmer
+could control the operations of the farm without once soiling his hands.
+Mr. Phillip, as he concluded his remarks, reached his glass of claret, and
+thus incidentally exhibited his own hand, which was as white as a lady's.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+HAYMAKING. 'THE JUKE'S COUNTRY'
+
+
+A rattling, thumping, booming noise, like the beating of their war drums
+by savages, comes over the hedge where the bees are busy at the bramble
+flowers. The bees take no heed, they pass from flower to flower, seeking
+the sweet honey to store at home in the hive, as their bee ancestors did
+before the Roman legions marched to Cowey Stakes. Their habits have not
+changed; their 'social' relations are the same; they have not called in
+the aid of machinery to enlarge their liquid, wealth, or to increase the
+facility of collecting it. There is a low murmur rather than a buzz along
+the hedgerow; but over it the hot summer breeze brings the thumping,
+rattling, booming sound of hollow metal striking against the ground or in
+contact with other metal. These ringing noises, which so little accord
+with the sweet-scented hay and green hedgerows, are caused by the careless
+handling of milk tins dragged hither and thither by the men who are
+getting the afternoon milk ready for transit to the railway station miles
+away. Each tin bears a brazen badge engraved with the name of the milkman
+who will retail its contents in distant London. It may be delivered to the
+countess in Belgravia, and reach her dainty lip in the morning chocolate,
+or it may be eagerly swallowed up by the half-starved children of some
+back court in the purlieus of the Seven Dials.
+
+Sturdy milkmaids may still be seen in London, sweeping the crowded
+pavement clear before them as they walk with swinging tread, a yoke on
+their shoulders, from door to door. Some remnant of the traditional dairy
+thus survives in the stony streets that are separated so widely from the
+country. But here, beside the hay, the hedgerows, the bees, the flowers
+that precede the blackberries--here in the heart of the meadows the
+romance has departed. Everything is mechanical or scientific. From the
+refrigerator that cools the milk, the thermometer that tests its
+temperature, the lactometer that proves its quality, all is mechanical
+precision. The tins themselves are metal--wood, the old country material
+for almost every purpose, is eschewed--and they are swung up into a waggon
+specially built for the purpose. It is the very antithesis of the jolting
+and cumbrous waggon used for generations in the hay-fields and among the
+corn. It is light, elegantly proportioned, painted, varnished--the work
+rather of a coachbuilder than a cartwright. The horse harnessed in it is
+equally unlike the cart-horse. A quick, wiry horse, that may be driven in
+a trap or gig, is the style--one that will rattle along and catch the
+train.
+
+The driver takes his seat and handles the reins with the air of a man
+driving a tradesman's van, instead of walking, like the true old carter,
+or sitting on the shaft. The vehicle rattles off to the station, where
+ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty such converge at the same hour, and then
+ensues a scene of bustle, chaff, and rough language. The tins are placed
+in the van specially reserved for them, the whistle sounds, the
+passengers--who have been wondering why on earth there was all this noise
+and delay at a little roadside station without so much as a visible
+steeple--withdraw their heads from the windows; the wheels revolve, and,
+gathering speed, the train disappears round the curve, hastening to the
+metropolis. Then the empty tins returned from town have to be conveyed
+home with more rattling, thumping and booming of hollow tin--there to be
+carefully cleansed, for which purpose vast quantities of hot water must be
+ready, and coal, of course, must be consumed in proportion.
+
+This beautiful afternoon the booming seems to sound more than usual; it
+may perhaps be the wind that carries the noise along. But Mr. George, the
+farmer, who has been working among the haymakers, steps out from the rank,
+and going some way aside pauses awhile to consider. You should not address
+him as Farmer George. Farmer as an affix is not the thing now; farmers are
+'Mr. So-and-so.' Not that there is any false pride about the present
+individual; his memory goes back too far, and he has had too much
+experience of the world. He leans on his prong--the sharp forks worn
+bright as silver from use--stuck in the sward, and his chest pressing on
+the top of the handle, or rather on both hands, with which he holds it.
+The handle makes an angle of forty-five degrees with his body, and thus
+gives considerable support and relief while he reflects.
+
+He leans on his prong, facing to windward, and gazing straight into the
+teeth of the light breeze, as he has done these forty and odd summers
+past. Like the captain of a sailing ship, the eye of the master haymaker
+must be always watching the horizon to windward. He depends on the sky,
+like the mariner, and spreads his canvas and shapes his course by the
+clouds. He must note their varying form and drift; the height and
+thickness and hue; whether there is a dew in the evenings; whether the
+distant hills are clearly defined or misty; and what the sunset portends.
+From the signs of the sunset he learns, like the antique Roman
+husbandman--
+
+     'When the south projects a stormy day,
+      And when the clearing north will puff the clouds away.'
+
+According as the interpretation of the signs be favourable, adverse, or
+doubtful, so he gives his orders.
+
+This afternoon, as he stands leaning on the prong, he marks the soft air
+which seems itself to be heated, and renders the shade, if you seek it for
+coolness, as sultry as the open field. The flies are numerous and
+busy--the horses can barely stand still, and nod their heads to shake them
+off. The hills seem near, and the trees on the summit are distinctly
+visible. Such noises as are heard seem exaggerated and hollow. There is
+but little cloud, mere thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and
+the blue of the sky is hard and opaque. Farmer George recollects that the
+barometer he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does
+not like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze. There is a
+large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for carting,
+indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can, and the rest,
+if left spread about through next day--Sunday--would be fit on Monday.
+
+On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the sun, if it
+shines, works as hard and effectually as ever. It is always a temptation
+to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay spread about for Sunday, so
+that on Monday morning he may find it made. Another reason why he
+hesitates is because he knows he will have trouble with the labourers, who
+will want to be off early as it is Saturday. They are not so ready to work
+an hour or two overtime as when he was a boy. On the other hand, he
+recollects that the weather cablegrams from America foretell the arrival
+of a depression. What would his grandfather have thought of adjusting the
+work in an English meadow to the tenour of news from the other side of the
+Atlantic?
+
+Suddenly, while he ponders, there arises a shout from the labourers. The
+hay in one spot, as if seized by an invisible force, lifts itself up and
+revolves round and round, rising higher every turn. A miniature cyclone is
+whirling it up--a column of hay twisting in a circle and rising above the
+trees. Then the force of the whirlwind spends itself; some of the hay
+falls on the oaks, and some drifts with the breeze across the field before
+it sinks.
+
+This decides him at once. He resolves to have all the hay carted that he
+can, and the remainder put up into haycocks. The men grumble when they
+hear it; perhaps a year ago they would have openly mutinied, and refused
+to work beyond the usual hour. But, though wages are still high, the
+labourers feel that they are not so much the masters as they were--they
+grumble, but obey. The haycocks are put up, and the rick-cloth unfolded
+over the partly made rick. Farmer George himself sees to it that the cloth
+does not touch the rick at the edges, or the rain, if it comes, will go
+through instead of shooting off, and that the ropes are taut and firmly
+belayed. His caution is justified in the night by a violent thunderstorm,
+and in the morning it is raining steadily.
+
+It rains again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Thursday it does not
+rain, but the hedges are wet, the ground is soaked, the grass hung with
+raindrops, the sky heavy with masses of drifting cloud. The hay cannot be
+touched; it must lie a day till sufficiently dry. Friday is more hopeful.
+He walks out into the fields, and kicks a haycock half over. The hay is
+still wet, but he congratulates himself that not much damage is done.
+Saturday Is warm and fine--work goes on again. But Sunday is near. Sunday
+is fiery hot. Monday, the rain pours down with tropical vehemence.
+
+Thus the monotonous, heart-breaking days go by and lengthen into weeks,
+and the weeks extend into months. The wheat is turning colour, and still
+the hay lies about, and the farmer has ceased even to tap the barometer.
+Those fields that are not cut are brown as brown can be--the grass has
+seeded and is over ripe. The labourers come every day, and some trifling
+job is found for them--the garden path is weeded, the nettles cut, and
+such little matters done. Their wages are paid every week in silver and
+gold--harvest wages, for which no stroke of harvest work has been done. He
+must keep them on, because any day the weather may brighten, and then they
+will be wanted. But the weather does not brighten, and the drain of ready
+cash continues. Besides the men, the mowing machine is idle in the shed.
+Even if the rain ceases, the crops are so laid that it is doubtful if it
+can be employed. The horse-rake is idle, the elevator is idle, the
+haymaking machine is idle, and these represent capital, if not to a large
+amount. He notes the price of hay at the market. For months past it has
+been low--so low that it has hardly paid him to sell that portion of old
+hay which he felt he could spare. From October of last year to June of
+this [1879] the price remained about the same. It is now rising, but he
+has no more old hay to part with, and the new is not yet made. He has to
+bear in mind that his herd of cows has to be kept in high feed all the
+winter, to supply an unvarying quantity of milk to the London purchaser.
+
+These wet days, forcing him unwillingly to stay within doors, send him to
+his books and accounts, and they tell a story somewhat at variance with
+the prevalent belief that dairy-farming is the only branch of farming that
+is still profitable. First, as to the milk-selling. Cows naturally yield a
+larger supply in the summer than in winter, but by the provisions of the
+contract between the farmer and the milkman the quantity sent in summer is
+not to exceed, and the quantity in winter not to fall short of, a
+stipulated amount.[Footnote: An improvement upon this system has been
+introduced by the leading metropolitan dairy company. The farmer is asked
+to fix a minimum quantity which he will engage to supply daily, but he can
+send as much more as he likes. This permits of economical and natural
+management in a dairy, which was very difficult under the rigid rule
+mentioned above.] The price received in summer is about fivepence or
+fivepence-halfpenny per imperial gallon, afterwards retailed in London at
+about one shilling and eightpence. When the cost of conveyance to the
+station, of the horses, of the wear and tear, of the men who have to be
+paid for doing nothing else but look after the milk, is deducted, the
+profit to the farmer is but small. He thinks, too, that he notices a
+decided falling-off in the demand for milk even at this price.
+
+Some dairies find a difficulty in disposing of the milk--they cannot find
+a purchaser. He has himself a considerable surplus over and above what the
+contract allows him to send. This must either be wasted entirely or made
+into butter and cheese. In order to make cheese, the plant, the tubs,
+vats, presses, and so on, must be kept in readiness, and there must be an
+experienced person to superintend the work. This person must be paid a
+salary, and lodge and board in the house, representing therefore a
+considerable outlay. The cheese, when made and sent to market, fluctuates
+of course in price: it may be as low as fourpence a pound wholesale; it
+may go as high as sixpence. Fourpence a pound wholesale will not pay for
+the making; sixpence will leave a profit; but of late the price has gone
+rather to the lower than the higher figure. A few years since, when the
+iron industries flourished, this kind of cheese had a good and ready sale,
+and there was a profit belonging to it; but since the iron trade has been
+in so depressed a condition this cheese has sold badly. The surplus milk
+consequently brings no profit, and is only made into cheese because it
+shall not be wasted, and in the hope that possibly a favourable turn of
+the cheese market may happen. Neither the summer cheese nor the summer
+milk is bringing him in a fortune.
+
+Meantime the hay is spoiling in the fields. But a few years ago, when
+agricultural prices were inflated, and men's minds were full of
+confidence, he recollects seeing standing grass crops sold by auction for
+5_l_. the acre, and in some cases even higher prices were realised. This
+year similar auctions of standing grass crops hardly realised 30_s_. an
+acre, and in some instances a purchaser could not be found even at that
+price. The difference in the value of grass represented by these prices is
+very great.
+
+He has no pigs to sell, because, for a long while past, he has had nothing
+upon which to feed them, the milk being sold. The pigsties are full of
+weeds; he can hardly fatten one for his own use, and has scarcely better
+facilities for keeping pigs than an agricultural labourer. The carriage of
+the milk to the station requires at least two quick horses, and perhaps
+more; one cannot do it twice a day, even with a very moderate load. The
+hard highway and the incessant work would soon knock a single horse up.
+The mowing machine and the horse-rake must be drawn by a similar horse, so
+that the dairy farm may be said to require a style of horse like that
+employed by omnibus proprietors. The acreage being limited, he can only
+keep a certain number of horses, and, therefore, has no room for a brood
+mare.
+
+Farmer George is aware that nothing now pays like a brood cart mare with
+fair good luck. The colt born in April is often sold six months
+afterwards, in September, for 20_l_. or 25_l_., and even up to 30_l_.,
+according to excellence. The value of cart-horse colts has risen greatly,
+and those who are fortunately able to maintain a brood mare have reaped
+the profit. But Mr. George, selling the milk, and keeping a whole stud of
+nags for the milk cart, the mowing machine, the horse-rake, and so forth,
+cannot maintain a brood mare as well. In the winter, it is true, the milk
+may sell for as high a price as tenpence per gallon of four quarts, but
+then he has a difficulty in procuring the quantity contracted for, and may
+perhaps have to buy of neighbours to keep up the precise supply.
+
+His herd must also be managed for the purpose, and must be well fed, and
+he will probably have to buy food for them in addition to his hay. The nag
+horses, too, that draw the milk waggon, have to be fed during the winter,
+and are no slight expense. As for fattening a beast in a stall, with a
+view to take the prize at Christmas at the local show, he has abandoned
+that, finding that it costs more to bring the animal up to the condition
+required than he can afterwards sell it for. There is no profit in that.
+America presses upon him hard, too--as hard, or harder, than on the
+wheat-grower. Cases have been known of American cheese being sold in
+manufacturing towns as low as twopence per pound retail--given away by
+despairing competition.
+
+How, then, is the dairyman to succeed when he cannot, positively cannot,
+make cheese to sell at less than fourpence per pound wholesale? Of course
+such instances are exceptional, but American cheese is usually sold a
+penny or more a pound below the English ordinary, and this cuts the ground
+from under the dairyman's feet; and the American cheese too is acquiring a
+reputation for richness, and, price for price, surpasses the English in
+quality. Some people who have long cherished a prejudice against the
+American have found, upon at last being induced to try the two, that the
+Canadian cheddar is actually superior to the English cheddar, the English
+selling at tenpence per pound and the Canadian at sevenpence.
+
+Mr. George finds he pays a very high rent for his grass land--some 50_s_.
+per acre--and upon reckoning up the figures in his account-books heaves a
+sigh. His neighbours perchance may be making fortunes, though they tell
+quite a different tale, but he feels that he is not growing rich. The work
+is hard, or rather it is continuous. No one has to attend to his duties so
+regularly all the year round as the man who looks after cows. They cannot
+be left a single day from the 1st of January to the 31st of December. Nor
+is the social state of things altogether pleasant to reflect on. His sons
+and daughters have all left home; not one would stay and take to the dairy
+work. They have gone into the towns, and found more congenial employment
+there. He is himself growing in years. His wife, having once left off
+making cheese when the milk selling commenced, and having tasted the
+sweets of rest, is unwilling to return to that hard labour. When it is
+done he must pay some one to do it.
+
+In every way ready money is going out of the house. Cash to pay the
+haymakers idling about in the sheds out of the rain; cash to pay the men
+who manage the milk; cash to pay the woman who makes the cheese out of the
+surplus milk; cash to pay the blacksmith for continually re-shoeing the
+milk cart nags and for mending machines; cash to pay the brewer and the
+butcher and the baker, neither of whom took a sovereign here when he was a
+lad, for his father ate his own bacon, brewed his own beer, and baked his
+own bread; cash to pay for the education of the cottagers' children; cash,
+a great deal of cash, to pay the landlord.
+
+Mr. George, having had enough of his accounts, rises and goes to the
+window. A rain cloud sweeping along the distant hills has hidden them from
+sight, and the rack hurries overhead driven before the stormy wind. There
+comes a knock at the door. It is the collector calling the second time for
+the poor rates, which have grown heavier of late.
+
+But, however delayed, the haymaking is finished at last, and by-and-by,
+when the leaves have fallen and the hunting commences, a good run drives
+away for the time at least the memory of so unpropitious a season. Then
+Mr. George some mild morning forms one of a little group of well-mounted
+farmers waiting at a quiet corner while the hounds draw a great wood. Two
+of them are men long past middle age, whose once tawny beards are
+grizzled, but who are still game, perhaps more so than the rising
+generation. The rest have followed them here, aware that these old hands
+know every inch of the country, and are certain to be in the right place.
+The spot is not far from the park wall, where the wood runs up into a
+wedge-shaped point, and ends in a low mound and hedge. Most of the company
+at the meet in the park have naturally cantered across the level sward,
+scattering the sheep as they go, and are now assembled along the side of
+the wood, near where a green 'drive' goes through it, and apparently gives
+direct access to the fields beyond. From thence they can see the huntsman
+in the wood occasionally, and trace the exact course the hounds are taking
+in their search.
+
+A gallant show it is by the wood! Horsemen and horsewomen, late comers
+hastening up, restless horses, a throng for ever in motion, and every now
+and then the blast of a horn rising up from the trees beneath. A gallant
+show indeed, but two old cunning ones and their followers have slipped
+away down to this obscure corner where they can see nothing of it, and are
+themselves hidden. They know that the wood is triangular in shape, and
+that from this, the apex, they have merely to pass the low hedge in front,
+and, turning to the left, ride along the lower side, and so bisect the
+course the fox will probably take. They know that the 'drive,' which
+offers so straight and easy a descent through the wood from the park, is
+pleasant enough till the lower ground is reached. There the soft, oozy
+earth, which can never dry under the trees, is poached into a slough
+through which even timber carriages cannot be drawn. Nor can a horseman
+slip aside, because of the ash poles and thorn thickets. Those who are
+trapped there must return to the park and gallop all round the wood
+outside, unless they like to venture a roll in that liquid mud. Any one
+can go to a meet, but to know all the peculiarities of the covers is only
+given to those who have ridden over the country these forty years. In this
+corner a detached copse of spruce fir keeps off the wind--the direction of
+which they have noted--and in this shelter it is almost warm.
+
+The distant crack of a whip, the solitary cry of a hound, a hollow shout,
+and similar sounds, come frequently, and now and then there is an
+irrepressible stir in the little group as they hear one of the many false
+alarms that always occur in drawing a great wood. To these noises they are
+keenly sensitive, but utterly ignore the signs of other life around them.
+A pheasant, alarmed by the hounds, comes running quietly, thinking to
+escape into the line of isolated copses that commences here; but, suddenly
+confronted by the horsemen just outside, rises with an uproar, and goes
+sailing down over the fields. Two squirrels, happy in the mild weather,
+frisk out of the copse into the dank grass, till a curvet of one of the
+horses frightens them up into the firs again.
+
+Horses and men are becoming impatient. 'That dalled keeper has left an
+earth open,' remarks one of the riders. His companion points with his whip
+at the hedge just where it joins the wood. A long slender muzzle is thrust
+for a moment cautiously over the bare sandy mound under cover of a thorn
+stole. One sniff, and it is withdrawn. The fox thought also to steal away
+along the copses, the worst and most baffling course he could choose. Five
+minutes afterwards, and there is this time no mistake. There comes from
+the park above the low, dull, rushing roar of hundreds of hoofs, that
+strike the sward together, and force by sheer weight the reluctant earth
+to resound. The two old hands lead over the hedge, and the little company,
+slipping along below the wood, find themselves well on the track, far in
+front of the main body. There is a block in the treacherous 'drive,' those
+who where foremost struggling to get back, and those behind struggling to
+come down. The rest at last, learning the truth, are galloping round the
+outside, and taking it out of their horses before they get on the course
+at all.
+
+It is a splendid burst, and the pace is terrible. The farmers' powerful
+horses find it heavy going across the fresh ploughed furrows and the wet
+'squishey' meadows, where the double mounds cannot be shirked. Now a lull,
+and the two old hands, a little at fault, make for the rising ground,
+where are some ricks, and a threshing machine at work, thinking from
+thence to see over the tall hedgerows. Upon the rick the labourers have
+stopped work, and are eagerly watching the chase, for from that height
+they can see the whole field. Yonder the main body have found a succession
+of fields with the gates all open: some carting is in progress, and the
+gates have been left open for the carter's convenience. A hundred horsemen
+and eight or ten ladies are galloping in an extended line along this
+route, riding hardest, as often happens, when the hounds are quiet, that
+they may be ready when the chiding commences.
+
+Suddenly the labourers exclaim and point, the hounds open, and the
+farmers, knowing from the direction they point where to ride, are off. But
+this time the fox has doubled, so that the squadrons hitherto behind are
+now closest up, and the farmers in the rear: thus the fortune of war
+changes, and the race is not to the swift. The labourers on the rick,
+which stands on the side of a hill, are fully as excited as the riders,
+and they can see what the hunter himself rarely views, _i.e._ the fox
+slipping ahead before the hounds. Then they turn to alternately laugh at,
+and shout directions to a disconsolate gentleman, who, ignorant of the
+district, is pounded in a small meadow. He is riding frantically round and
+round, afraid to risk the broad brook which encircles it, because of the
+treacherous bank, and maddened by the receding sound of the chase. A boy
+gets off the rick and runs to earn sixpence by showing a way out. So from
+the rick Hodge has his share of the sport, and at that elevation can see
+over a wide stretch of what he--changing the 'd' into a 'j'--calls 'the
+juke's country.'
+
+It is a famous land. There are spaces, which on the map look large, and
+yet have no distinctive character, no individuality as it were. Such broad
+expanses of plain and vale are usefully employed in the production of
+cattle and corn. Villages, hamlets, even towns are dotted about them, but
+a list of such places would not contain a single name that would catch the
+eye. Though occupying so many square miles, the district, so far as the
+world is concerned, is non-existent. It is socially a blank. But 'the
+juke's country' is a well-known land. There are names connected with it
+which are familiar not only in England, but all the world over, where
+men--and where do they not?--converse of sport. Something beyond mere
+utility, beyond ploughing and sowing, has given it within its bounds a
+species of separate nationality. The personal influence of an acknowledged
+leader has organised society and impressed it with a quiet enthusiasm.
+Even the bitterest Radical forgives the patrician who shoots or rides
+exceptionally well, and hunting is a pursuit which brings the peer and the
+commoner side by side.
+
+The agricultural population speak as one man upon the subject. The old
+farmer will tell you with pride how his advice was sought when disease
+entered the kennels, and how his remedy saved the lives of valuable
+hounds. The farmer's son, a mere lad, whose head barely rises to his
+saddle, talks of 'the duke' as his hero. This boy knows the country, and
+can ride straight, better than many a gentleman with groom and second
+horse behind. Already, like his elders, he looks forward impatiently to
+the fall of the leaf. The tenants' wives and daughters allude with
+pleasure to the annual social gatherings at the mansion, and it is
+apparent that something like a real bond exists between landlord and
+tenant. No false pride separates the one from the other--intercourse is
+easy, for a man of high and ancient lineage can speak freely to the
+humblest labourer without endangering his precedence. It needs none of the
+parvenu's _hauteur_ and pomp to support his dignity. Every tenant is
+treated alike.
+
+On small estates there is sometimes a complaint that the largest tenant is
+petted while the lesser are harshly treated. Nothing of that is known
+here. The tenants are as well content as it is possible for men to be who
+are passing under the universal depression. _Noblesse oblige_--it would be
+impossible for that ancient house to stoop to meanness. The head rides to
+the hunt, as his ancestors rode to battle, with a hundred horsemen behind
+him. His colours are like the cockades of olden times. Once now and then
+even Royalty honours the meet with its presence. Round that ancient house
+the goodwill of the county gathers; and when any family event--as a
+marriage--takes place, the hearty congratulations offered come from far
+beyond the actual property. His pastime is not without its use--all are
+agreed that hunting really does improve the breed of horses. Certainly it
+gives a life, a go, a social movement to the country which nothing else
+imparts.
+
+It is a pleasant land withal--a land of hill and vale, of wood and copse.
+How well remembered are the copses on the hills, and the steeples, those
+time-honoured landmarks to wandering riders! The small meadows with double
+mounds have held captive many a stranger. The river that winds through
+them enters by-and-by a small but ancient town, with its memories of the
+fierce Danes, and its present talk of the hunt. About five o'clock on
+winter afternoons there is a clank of spurs in the courtyard of the old
+inn, and the bar is crowded with men in breeches and top-boots. As they
+refresh themselves there is a ceaseless hum of conversation, how so-and-so
+came a cropper, how another went at the brook in style, or how some poor
+horse got staked and was mercifully shot. A talk, in short, like that in
+camp after a battle, of wounds and glory. Most of these men are tenant
+farmers, and reference is sure to be made to the price of cheese, and the
+forthcoming local agricultural show.
+
+This old market town has been noted for generations as a great cheese
+centre. It is not, perhaps, the most convenient situation for such a
+market, and its population is inconsiderable; but the trade is, somehow or
+other, a tradition of the place, and traditions are hard to shake. Efforts
+have been made to establish rival markets in towns nearer to the modern
+resorts of commerce, but in vain. The attempt has always proved a failure,
+and to this day the prices quoted at this place rule those of the
+adjoining counties, and are watched in distant cities. The depression made
+itself felt here in a very practical manner, for prices fell to such an
+extent that the manufacture of the old style of cheese became almost a
+dead loss. Some farmers abandoned it, and at much trouble and expense
+changed their system, and began to produce Cheddar and Stilton. But when
+the Stilton was at last ready, there was no demand for it. Almost
+suddenly, however, and quite recently, a demand sprang up, and the price
+of that cheese rose. They say here in the bar that this probably saved
+many from difficulties; large stocks that had been lying on hand
+unsaleable for months going off at a good price. They hope that it is an
+omen of returning prosperity, and do not fail to observe the remarkable
+illustration it affords of the close connection between trade and
+agriculture. For no sooner did the iron trade revive than the price of
+cheese responded. The elder men cannot refrain from chuckling over the
+altered tone of the inhabitants of cities towards the farmers. 'Years
+ago,' they say, 'we were held up to scorn, and told that we were quite
+useless; there was nothing so contemptible as the British farmer. Now they
+have discovered that, after all, we are some good, and even Manchester
+sympathises with us.'
+
+It is now hoped that the forthcoming local show--largely patronised and
+promoted by the chief of the hunting field--will be better than was at one
+time anticipated. Those who would like to see the real working of an
+agricultural show such as this should contrive to visit the yard early in
+the morning of the opening day, some few hours before the public are
+admitted. The bustle, the crash of excited exhibitors, the cries of men in
+charge of cattle, the apparently inextricable confusion, as if everything
+had been put off to the last moment--the whole scene is intensely
+agricultural. Every one is calling for the secretary. A drover wants to
+know where to put his fat cattle; a carter wants to ask where a great
+cart-horse is to stand--he and his horse together are hopelessly
+floundering about in the crowd. The agent of a firm of implement
+manufacturers has a telegram that another machine is coming, and is
+anxious for extra space; the representative of an artificial manure
+factory is vainly seeking a parcel that has got mislaid. The seedsman
+requires permission to somewhat shift his stall; wherever is the
+secretary?
+
+When he appears, a clergyman at once pounces on him to apply for tickets
+for the dinner, and is followed by a farmer, who must have a form and an
+explanation how to fill it up. One of his labourers has decided at the
+last minute to enter for a prize--he has had a year to make up his mind
+in. A crowd of members of the Society are pushing round for a private
+view, and watching the judges at their work. They all turn to the
+secretary to ask where such and such an exhibit may be found, and demand
+why on earth the catalogues are not ready? Mr. Secretary, a stout tenant
+farmer, in breeches and top-boots, whose broad face beams with good nature
+(selected, perhaps, for that very quality), pants and wipes his forehead,
+for, despite the cold, the exertion and the universal flurry have made him
+quiet hot. He gives every inquirer a civil answer, and affably begs the
+eager folk that press upon him to come up into the committee-room.
+
+At this a satisfied smile replaces the troubled expression upon their
+faces. They feel that their difficulties are at an end; they have got hold
+of the right man at last--there is something soothing in the very sound of
+the committee-room. When they get up into this important apartment they
+find it quite empty. There is a blazing fire in the grate, and littered on
+the long table is a mass of forms, letters, lists, and proofs of the
+catalogue waiting for the judges' decision to be entered. After half an
+hour or so their hopes begin to fall, and possibly some one goes down to
+try and haul the secretary up into his office. The messenger finds that
+much-desired man in the midst of an excited group; one has him by the arm
+pulling him forward, another by the coat dragging him back, a third is
+bawling at him at the top of a powerful voice.
+
+By-and-by, however, the secretary comes panting up into the committee-room
+with a letter in his hand and a pleased expression on his features. He
+announces that he has just had a note from his Grace, who, with his party,
+will be here early, and who hopes that all is going on well. Then to
+business, and it is surprising how quickly he disposes of it. A farmer
+himself, he knows exactly what is wanted, and gives the right order
+without a moment's hesitation. It is no new experience to him, and despite
+all this apparent confusion, everything presently falls into its place.
+
+After the opening of the show there is a meeting, at which certain prizes
+are distributed, among them rewards to the best ploughman in 'the juke's
+country,' and to those labourers who have remained longest in the service
+of one master. For the graceful duty of presentation a marchioness has
+been selected, who, with other visitors of high social rank, has come over
+from that famous hunting mansion. To meet that brilliant party the whole
+agricultural interest has assembled. The room is crowded with tenant
+farmers, the entire hunting field is present. Every clergyman in the
+district is here, together with the gentry, and many visitors for the
+hunting season. Among them, shoulder to shoulder, are numbers of
+agricultural labourers, their wives, and daughters, dressed in their best
+for the occasion. After some speeches, a name is called, and an aged
+labourer steps forward.
+
+His grandchildren are behind him; two of his sons, quite elderly
+themselves, attend him almost to the front, so that he may have to make
+but a few steps unsupported. The old man is frosted with age, and moves
+stiffly, like a piece of mechanism rather than a living creature, nor is
+there any expression--neither smile nor interest--upon his absolutely
+immobile features. He wears breeches and gaiters, and a blue coat cut in
+the style of two generations since. There is a small clear space in the
+midst of the well-dressed throng. There he stands, and for the moment the
+hum is hushed.
+
+For sixty years that old man laboured upon one farm; sixty years of
+ploughing and sowing, sixty harvests. What excitement, what discoveries
+and inventions--with what giant strides the world has progressed while he
+quietly followed the plough! An acknowledgment has been publicly awarded
+to him for that long and faithful service. He puts forth his arm; his dry,
+horny fingers are crooked, and he can neither straighten nor bend them.
+Not the least sign appears upon his countenance that he is even conscious
+of what is passing. There is a quick flash of jewelled rings ungloved to
+the light, and the reward is placed in that claw-like grasp by the white
+hand of the marchioness.
+
+Not all the gallant cavalry of the land fearlessly charging hedge and
+brook can, however, repel the invasion of a foe mightier than their chief.
+Frost sometimes comes and checks their gaiety. Snow falls, and levels
+every furrow, and then Hodge going to his work in the morning can clearly
+trace the track of one of his most powerful masters, Squire Reynard, who
+has been abroad in the night, and, likely enough, throttled the
+traditional grey goose. The farmer watches for the frozen thatch to drip;
+the gentleman visiting the stable looks up disconsolately at the icicles
+dependent from the slated eave with the same hope. The sight of a stray
+seagull wandering inland is gladly welcomed, as the harbinger of drenching
+clouds sweeping up on soft south-westerly gales from the nearest coast.
+
+
+The hunt is up once more, and so short are the hours of the day in the
+dead of the year, that early night often closes round the chase. From out
+of the gloom and the mist comes the distant note of the horn, with a weird
+and old-world sound. By-and-by the labourer, trudging homeward, is
+overtaken by a hunter whose horse's neck droops with weariness. His boots
+are splashed with mud, his coat torn by the thorns. He is a visitor,
+vainly trying to find his way home, having come some ten or fifteen miles
+across country since the morning. The labourer shows the route--the
+longest way round is the shortest at night--and as they go listens eagerly
+to the hunter's tale of the run. At the cross roads they part with mutual
+goodwill towards each other, and a shilling, easily earned, pays that
+night for the cottager's pipe and glass of ale.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+THE FINE LADY FARMER. COUNTRY GIRLS
+
+
+A pair of well-matched bays in silver-plated harness, and driven by a
+coachman in livery, turn an easy curve round a corner of the narrow
+country road, forcing you to step on the sward by the crimson-leaved
+bramble bushes, and sprinkling the dust over the previously glossy surface
+of the newly fallen horse chestnuts. Two ladies, elegantly dressed, lounge
+in the carriage with that graceful idleness--that indifferent
+indolence--only to be acquired in an atmosphere of luxury. Before they
+pass out of sight round another turn of the road it is possible to observe
+that one at least possesses hair of the fashionable hue, and a complexion
+delicately brilliant--whether wholly natural or partly aided by art. The
+other must be pronounced a shade less rich in the colours of youth, but is
+perhaps even more expensively dressed. An experienced observer would at
+once put them down as mother and daughter, as, indeed, they are.
+
+The polished spokes of the wheels glitter in the sun, the hoofs of the
+high-stepping pair beat the firm road in regular cadence, and smoothly the
+carriage rolls on till the brown beech at the corner hides it. But a sense
+of wealth, of social station, and refinement--strange and in strong
+contrast to the rustic scene--lingers behind, like a faint odour of
+perfume. There are the slow teams pulling stolidly at the ploughs--they
+were stopped, of course, for the carters to stare at the equipage; there
+are the wheat ricks; yonder a lone farmstead, and black cattle grazing in
+the pasture. Surely the costly bays, whose hoofs may even now be heard,
+must belong to the lordly owner of these broad acres--this undulating
+landscape of grass and stubble, which is not beautiful but evidently
+fertile!
+
+A very brief inquiry at the adjacent market town disposes of this natural
+conclusion. It is the carriage of a tenant farmer--but what a tenant! The
+shopkeepers here are eloquent, positively gratefully eloquent, in the
+praise of his wife and daughter. Customers!--no such customers had been
+known in the old borough from time immemorial. The tradesman as he speaks
+involuntarily pulls out his till, glances in, and shuts it up with a
+satisfied bang. The old style of farmer, solid and substantial enough,
+fumbling at the bottom of his canvas bag for silver and gold, was a crusty
+curmudgeon where silk and satin, kid gloves, and so forth were concerned.
+His wife had to look sharp after her poultry, geese and turkeys, and such
+similar perquisites, in order to indulge in any innocent vanity,
+notwithstanding that the rent was paid and a heavy balance at the bank.
+
+Then he would have such a length of credit--a year at least--and nowadays
+a shopkeeper, though sure of his money, cannot wait long for it. But to
+ask for the account was to give mortal offence. The bill would be paid
+with the remark, intended to be intensely sarcastic, 'Suppose you thought
+we was a-going to run away--eh?' and the door would never again be
+darkened by those antique breeches and gaiters. As for the common run of
+ordinary farmers, their wives bought a good deal, but wanted it cheap and,
+looking at the low price of corn and the 'paper' there was floating about,
+it did not do to allow a long bill to be run up. But the Grange
+people--ah! the Grange people put some life into the place. 'Money! they
+must have heaps of money' (lowering his voice to a whisper). 'Why, Mrs.
+---- brought him a fortune, sir; why, she's got a larger income than our
+squire' (as if it were, rank treason to say so). 'Mr. ---- has got money
+too, and bless you, they holds their heads as high as their landlord's,
+and good reason they should. They spend as much in a week as the squire do
+in a month, and don't cheapen nothing, and your cheque just whenever you
+like to ask for it. That's what I calls gentlefolks.' For till and counter
+gauge long descent, and heraldic quarterings, and ancestral Crusaders, far
+below the chink of ready money, that synonym for all the virtues.
+
+The Grange people, indeed, are so conspicuous, that there is little
+secrecy about them or their affairs. The house they reside in--it cannot
+be called a farmstead--is a large villa-like mansion of recent erection,
+and fitted with every modern convenience. The real farmstead which it
+supplanted lies in a hollow at some distance, and is occupied by the head
+bailiff, for there are several employed. As the architecture of the villa
+is consonant with modern 'taste,' so too the inferior is furnished in the
+'best style,' of course under the supervision of the mistress. Mrs. ----
+has filled it with rosewood and ormolu, with chairs completely gilt, legs,
+back, seat, and all, with luxurious ottomans, 'occasional' tables inlaid
+with mother-o'-pearl, soft carpets, polished brazen grate-fittings,
+semi-ecclesiastical, semi-mediaeval, and so forth.
+
+Everywhere the glitter of glass, mirrors over the mantelpieces, mirrors
+let into panels, glass chiffoniers, and pendent prisms of glass round the
+ornamental candlesticks. Mixed with this some of the latest productions of
+the new English Renaissance--stiff, straight-back, plain oak chairs, such
+as men in armour may have used--together with Japanese screens. In short,
+just such a medley of artistic styles as may be seen in scores of suburban
+villas where money is of little account, and even in houses of higher
+social pretensions. There is the usual illustrated dining-room literature,
+the usual _bric-a-brac_, the usual cabinet series of poets. There are oil
+paintings on the walls; there is an immense amount of the most expensive
+electroplate on the dinner table; the toilet accessories in the guest
+chambers are 'elegant' and _recherche_. The upholsterer has not been
+grudged.
+
+For Mrs. ---- is the daughter of a commercial man, one of the principals
+of a great firm, and has been accustomed to these things from her youth
+upwards. She has no sympathies with the past, that even yet is loth to
+quit its hold of the soil and of those who are bred upon it. The ancient
+simplicity and plainness of country life are positively repulsive to her;
+she associates them with poverty. Her sympathies are with warm,
+well-lighted rooms, full of comfort, shadowless because of the glare of
+much gas. She is not vulgar, just the reverse--she is a thorough lady, but
+she is not of the country and its traditions. She is the city and the
+suburb transplanted to the midst of corn, and grass, and cattle. She has
+her maid, skilled in the toilet, her carriage and pair and pony carriage,
+grooms, footmen, just exactly as she would have done had she brought her
+magnificent dowry to a villa at Sydenham.
+
+In the season, with her daughter, she goes to town, and drives daily in
+the park, just the same as to-day she has driven through the leaf-strewn
+country-lane to the market town. They go also to the sea-side, and now and
+then to the Continent. They are, of course, invited to the local balls,
+and to many of the best houses on more private occasions. The
+ramifications of finance do not except the proudest descendants of the
+Crusaders, and the 'firm' has its clients even among them. Bonnets come
+down from Madame Louise, boxes of novels from Mudie's; 'Le Follet' is read
+in the original, and many a Parisian romance as well. Visitors are
+continually coming and going--the carriage is perpetually backwards and
+forwards to the distant railway station. Friends come to the shooting, the
+hunting, the fishing; there is never any lack of society.
+
+The house is full of servants, and need be, to wait upon these people.
+Now, in former days, and not such a great while since, the best of
+servants came from the country. Mistresses sought for them, and mourned
+when, having imbibed town ways and town independence, they took their
+departure to 'better' themselves. But that is a thing of the past; it is
+gone with the disappearance of the old style of country life. Servant
+girls in farmhouses when young used to have a terribly hard life: hard
+work, hard fare, up early of a morning, stone flags under foot by day,
+bare boards under foot upstairs, small pay, and hard words too often. But
+they turned out the best of women, the healthiest and strongest, the most
+sought after. Now they learn a great deal about Timbuctoo, and will soon,
+no doubt, about Cyprus; but the 'servant from the country' is no more.
+Nothing less will suit them to begin with than the service of the parish
+clergyman, then they aspire to the Grange, get there, and receive a
+finishing education, and can never afterwards condescend to go where a
+footman is not kept. They become, in short, fine ladies, whose fathers are
+still at the plough--ladies who at home have been glad of bread and bacon,
+and now cannot possibly survive without hot butcher's meat every day, and
+game and fish in their seasons.
+
+But to return. Mrs. ---- and her daughter have also their saddle horses.
+They do not often hunt, but frequently go to the meet. They have, it is
+true, an acceptable excuse for preferring riding to walking--the fashion
+of tying the dress back so tightly makes it extremely difficult for a lady
+to get over a country stile. The rigours of winter only enable them to
+appear even yet more charming in furs and sealskin. In all this the Grange
+people have not laid themselves open to any reproach as to the
+extravagance or pretension of their doings. With them it is genuine, real,
+unaffected: in brief, they have money, and have a right to what it can
+purchase.
+
+Mr. ---- is not a tenant farmer from necessity; personally he is not a
+farmer at all, and knows no more of shorthorns than the veriest 'City'
+man. He has a certain taste for country life, and this is his way of
+enjoying it--and a very acute way, too, when you come to analyse it. The
+major portion of his capital is, with his wife's, in the 'firm'; it is
+administered and employed for him by men whose family interests and his
+are identical, whose knowledge of business is profound, whose own capital
+is there too. It is a fortunate state of things, not brought about in a
+day, but the growth of more than one generation. Now this man, as has been
+remarked, has a taste for country life--that is to say, he is an
+enthusiast over horses--not betting, but horses in their best form. He
+likes to ride and drive about, to shoot, and fish, and hunt. There is
+nothing despicable in this, but, after the manner of men, of course he
+must find an excuse.
+
+He found it in the children when they were young--two boys and one girl.
+It was better for them to have country air, to ride about the country
+lanes, and over the hills. The atmosphere altogether was more healthy,
+more manly than in the suburbs of a city. The excuse is a good one. Now
+come the means; two plans are open to him. He can buy an estate, or he can
+rent a large farm, or rather series of farms. If he purchases a fine
+estate he must withdraw his capital from business. In the first place,
+that would be inconvenient to old friends, and even unjust to them; in the
+second place, it would reduce his income most materially. Suppose we say,
+not for absolute exactness, but for the sake of present contrast, that
+capital well invested in business brings in ten per cent. The same capital
+invested in land brings in, say, three per cent. nominally; but is it as
+much in reality if you deduct those expensive improvements upon which
+tenants insist nowadays, and the five per cents, and ten per cents,
+allowed off the rent in bad years? At all events, it is certain that
+landlords, as a class, are investing more and more every year in business,
+which looks as if they did not consider land itself sufficiently
+remunerative. In addition, when you have bought your estate, should you
+subsequently wish to realise, the difficulties and delays are very trying.
+You cannot go down to your broker and say, 'Sell me a thousand acres this
+morning.' Capital in land is locked up.
+
+Mr. ----, having been trained in traditions of ready money and easy
+transfer, does not like this prospect. But as the tenant of a great farm
+it is quite another matter. The larger part of his capital still remains
+in the 'firm,' and earns him a handsome income. That which is invested in
+stock, cattle, horses, implements, &c., is in a sense readily negotiable
+if ever he should desire to leave. Instead of having to pet and pamper
+discontented tenants, his landlord has to pet and pamper him. He has, in
+fact, got the upper hand. There are plenty of landlords who would be only
+too glad to get the rich Mr. ---- to manure and deep-plough their lands;
+but there are comparatively few Mr. ----'s whose rent-day payments can be
+implicitly relied on. Mr. ----, in point of fact, gets all the sweets of
+the country gentleman's life, and leaves the owner all the sour. He has no
+heir presumptive to check his proceedings; no law of entail to restrain
+him; no old settlements to bind him hand and foot; none of those hundred
+and one family interests to consult which accumulate in the course of
+years around a landed estate, and so seriously curtail the freedom of the
+man in possession, the head of the family. So far as liberty and financial
+considerations go, he is much better off than his landlord, who perhaps
+has a title.
+
+Though he knows nothing of farming, he has the family instinct of accounts
+and figures; he audits the balance-sheets and books of his bailiff
+personally, and is not easily cheated. Small peculations of course go on,
+but nothing serious. The farms pay their way, and contribute a trifle
+towards the household expenses. For the rest, it is taken out in liberty,
+out-of-door life, field sports, and unlimited horses. His wife and
+daughter mix in the best society the county affords, besides their annual
+visits to town and the sea-side: they probably enjoy thrice the liberty
+and pleasure they would elsewhere. Certainly they are in blooming health.
+The eldest son is studying for the law, the younger has the commercial
+instinct more strongly developed, and is already with the 'firm.' Both of
+them get the full benefit of country life whenever they wish; both of them
+feel that there is plenty of capital behind them, and not the slightest
+jealousy exists on account of primogeniture. Of course they have their
+troubles--what family has not its troubles?--but on the whole their
+position is an enviable one.
+
+When Mrs. ---- and her daughter rustle into their pew at church--placed
+next in honour to that of the proprietor of the soil--all eyes are turned
+upon them. The old-fashioned farmer's wife, who until her years pressed
+heavily upon her made the cheese and butter in her husband's dairy, is not
+so old but that her eyes can distinguish the colour of a ribbon. She may
+talk of such things as vanities, and unknown in her day, but for all that
+a pair of keen eyes criticise skirt, and trimmings, and braidings, and so
+forth, as displayed up in the Grange pew. Her daughter, who is quite
+young--for in her mother's time farming people did not marry till late in
+life--brings a still keener pair of eyes to bear in the same direction.
+
+The bonnets from Regent Street are things to think over and talk of. The
+old lady disinters her ancient finery; the girl, by hook or crook, is
+determined to dress in the fashion. If one farmer's wife is a fine lady,
+why not another? Do not even the servant girls at the Grange come out
+twenty times finer than people who have a canvas bag full of sovereigns at
+home, and many such bags at the bank? So that the Grange people, though
+they pay their way handsomely, and plough deep and manure lavishly, and
+lead the van of agriculture, are not, perhaps, an unmixed good. They help
+on that sapping and undermining of the ancient, sturdy simplicity, the
+solid oak of country character, replacing it with veneer. It is not, of
+course, all, or a tenth part, their fault, or in any way traceable to
+them. It is part and parcel of the wide-spread social changes which have
+gradually been proceeding.
+
+But the tenant farmer's wife who made the butter and cheese, and even
+helped to salt bacon, where is she now? Where are the healthy daughters
+that used to assist her? The wife is a fine lady--not, indeed, with
+carriage and pair, but with a dandy dog-cart at least; not with
+three-guinea bonnets, but with a costly sealskin jacket. There are kid
+gloves on her hands; there is a suspicion of perfume about her; there is a
+rustling of silk and satin, and a waving of ostrich feathers. The daughter
+is pale and interesting, and interprets Beethoven, and paints the old
+mill; while a skilled person, hired at a high price, rules in the dairy.
+The son rides a-hunting, and is glib on the odds. The 'offices'--such it
+is the fashion to call the places in which work was formerly done--are
+carefully kept in the background. The violets and snowdrops and crocuses
+are rooted up, all the sweet and tender old flowers ruthlessly eradicated,
+to make way for a blazing parterre after the manner of the suburban
+villa--gay in the summer, in the spring a wilderness of clay, in the
+autumn a howling desert of musty evergreens..
+
+The 'civilisation' of the town has, in fact, gone out and taken root
+afresh in the country. There is no reason why the farmer should not be
+educated; there is no reason why his wife should not wear a sealskin
+jacket, or the daughter interpret Beethoven. But the question arises, Has
+not some of the old stubborn spirit of earnest work and careful prudence
+gone with the advent of the piano and the oil painting? While wearing the
+dress of a lady, the wife cannot tuck up her sleeves and see to the
+butter, or even feed the poultry, which are down at the pen across 'a
+nasty dirty field.' It is easy to say that farming is gone to the dogs,
+that corn is low, and stock uncertain, and rents high, and so forth. All
+that is true, but difficulties are nothing new; nor must too much be
+expected from the land.
+
+A moderate-sized farm, of from 200 to 800 acres, will no more enable the
+mistress and the misses to play the fine lady to-day than it would two
+generations ago. It requires work now the same as then--steady,
+persevering work--and, what is more important, prudence, economy,
+parsimony if you like; nor do these necessarily mean the coarse manners of
+a former age. Manners may be good, education may be good, the intellect
+and even the artistic sense may be cultivated, and yet extravagance
+avoided. The proverb is true still: 'You cannot have your hare and cook
+him too.' Now so many cook their hares in the present day without even
+waiting to catch them first. A euphuism has been invented to cover the
+wrongfulness of this system; it is now called 'discounting.' The fine lady
+farmers discount their husbands' corn and fat cattle, cheese and butter,
+before they reach the market. By-and-by the plough stops in the furrow,
+and the team is put up to auction, and farewell is said to the old
+homestead for evermore.
+
+There was no warmer welcome to be met with in life than used to be
+bestowed upon the fortunate visitor to an old house in the country where
+the people were not exactly farmers in the ordinary sense, because they
+were sufficiently well off to be independent, and yet made no pretence to
+gentility. You dropped in quite unexpectedly and informally after a
+pleasant stroll about the fields with a double-barrel, untrammelled by any
+attendant. The dogs were all over cleavers sticking to their coats, and
+your boots had to be wiped with a wisp of straw; your pocket was heavy
+with a couple of rabbits or a hare, and your hands black enough from
+powder and handling gates and stiles. But they made you feel immediately
+that such trifles were not of the slightest account.
+
+The dogs were allowed to rush in anyhow and set to work to lick their paws
+by the fire as if the house was their own. Your apology about your boots
+and general state of disorder was received with a smile by the mistress,
+who said she had sons of her own, and knew their ways. Forthwith one
+sturdy son seized the double-barrel, and conveyed it to a place of safety;
+a second took the rabbits or the hare, that you might not be incommoded by
+such a lump in your pocket, and sent the game on home to your quarters by
+a labourer; a third relieved you of your hat. As many tall young ladies
+rose to offer you a seat, so that it was really difficult to know which
+way to turn, besides which the old grandfather with silvery hair pressed
+you to take his chair by the fire.
+
+They had just sat down to the old-fashioned tea at half-past four, and in
+a moment there was a cup and plate ready. The tea had a fragrant scent,
+warm and grateful after the moist atmosphere of the meadows, smelling of
+decaying leaves. The mistress suggested that a nip of brandy might improve
+it, thinking that tea was hardly strong enough for a man. But that was,
+declined; for what could be more delicious than the sweet, thick cream
+poured in by a liberal hand? A fine ham had already been put on the table,
+as if by magic--the girls really seemed to anticipate everything you could
+possibly want. As for the butter, it was exquisite, and so, too, the
+home-baked bread, the more so, because only touched in the processes of
+preparing by the whitest and softest of hands. Such simple things become
+luxuries when brought to perfection by loving care. The old dog on the
+hearthrug came thrusting his nose into your hands, making almost too great
+friends, being perfectly well aware (cunning old fellow) that he could
+coax more out of a visitor than one of the family, who knew how he had
+stuffed all day.
+
+Over all there was an atmosphere of welcome, a genial brightness. The
+young men were anxious to tell you where the best sport could be got. The
+young ladies had a merry, genuine, unaffected smile--clearly delighted to
+see you, and not in the least ashamed of it. They showed an evident desire
+to please, without a trace of an _arriere pensee_. Tall, well-developed,
+in the height of good health, the bloom upon the cheek and the brilliant
+eyes formed a picture irresistibly charming. But it was the merry laugh
+that so long dwelt in the memory--nothing so thoroughly enchants one as
+the woman who laughs from her heart in the joyousness of youth. They
+joined freely in the conversation, but did not thrust themselves forward.
+They were, of course, eager for news of the far away world, but not a hint
+was breathed of those social scandals which now form our favourite gossip.
+From little side remarks concerning domestic matters it was evident that
+they were well acquainted with household duties. Indeed, they assisted to
+remove the things from the table without any consciousness that it was a
+menial task.
+
+It was not long after tea before, drawing round the fire, pipes were
+produced, and you were asked to smoke. Of course you declined on account
+of the ladies, but it was none the less pleasant to be asked. There was
+the great secret of it all-the genuine, liberal, open-handed and
+open-hearted proffering of all the house contained to the guest. And it
+was none the less an amusing conversation because each of the girls
+candidly avowed her own opinions upon such topics as were started--blushing
+a little, it is true, if you asked the reason for the opinion, for ladies
+are not always quite ready with the why and wherefore. But the contrast of
+character, the individuality displayed, gave a zest and interest to the
+talk; so that the hour wore late before you were aware of it. Then, if you
+would go, two, at least, of the three boys piloted you by the best and
+cleanest route, and did not wish you farewell till you were in the
+straight road. This was not so many years ago.
+
+Today, if you call at such a country house, how strangely different is the
+reception! None of the family come to the door to meet you. A servant
+shows you into a parlour--drawing-room is the proper word now--well
+carpeted and furnished in the modern style. She then takes your name--what
+a world of change is shown in that trifling piece of etiquette! By-and-by,
+after the proper interval, the ladies enter in morning costume, not a
+stray curl allowed to wander from its stern bands, nature rigidly
+repressed, decorum--'Society'--in every flounce and trimming. You feel
+that you have committed a solecism coming on foot, and so carrying the
+soil on your boots from the fields without into so elegant an apartment
+Visitors are obviously expected to arrive on wheels, and in correct trim
+for company. A remark about the crops falls on barren ground; a question
+concerning the dairy, ignorantly hazarded, is received with so much
+_hauteur_ that at last you see such subjects are considered vulgar. Then a
+touch of the bell, and decanters of port and sherry are produced and our
+wine presented to you on an electro salver together with sweet biscuits.
+It is the correct thing to sip one glass and eat one biscuit.
+
+The conversation is so insipid, so entirely confined to the merest
+platitudes, that it becomes absolutely a relief to escape. You are not
+pressed to stay and dine, as you would have been in the old days--not
+because there is a lack of hospitality, but because they would prefer a
+little time for preparation in order that the dinner might be got up in
+polite style. So you depart--chilled and depressed. No one steps with you
+to open the gate and exchange a second farewell, and express a cordial wish
+to see you again there. You feel that you must walk in measured step and
+place your hat precisely perpendicular, for the eyes of 'Society' are upon
+you. What a comfort when you turn a corner behind the hedge and can thrust
+your hands into your pockets and whistle!
+
+The young ladies, however, still possess one thing which they cannot yet
+destroy--the good constitution and the rosy look derived from ancestors
+whose days were spent in the field under the glorious sunshine and the
+dews of heaven. They worry themselves about it in secret and wish they
+could appear more ladylike--i.e. thin and white. Nor can they feel quite
+so languid and indifferent, and _blase_ as they desire. Thank Heaven they
+cannot! But they have succeeded in obliterating the faintest trace of
+character, and in suppressing the slightest approach to animation. They
+have all got just the same opinions on the same topics--that is to say,
+they have none at all; the idea of a laugh has departed. There is a dead
+line of uniformity. But if you are sufficiently intimate to enter into the
+inner life of the place it will soon be apparent that they either are or
+wish to appear up to the 'ways of the world.'
+
+They read the so-called social journals, and absorb the gossip,
+tittle-tattle, and personalities--absorb it because they have no means of
+comparison or of checking the impression it produces of the general loose
+tone of society. They know all about it, much more than you do. No turn of
+the latest divorce case or great social exposure has escaped them, and the
+light, careless way in which it is the fashion nowadays to talk openly of
+such things, as if they were got up like a novel--only with living
+characters--for amusement, has penetrated into this distant circle. But
+then they have been to half the leading watering-places--from Brighton to
+Scarborough; as for London, it is an open book to them; the railways have
+long dissipated the pleasing mysteries that once hung over the metropolis.
+Talk of this sort is, of course, only talk; still it is not a satisfactory
+sign of the times. If the country girl is no longer the hoyden that swung
+on the gates and romped in the hay, neither has she the innocent thought
+of the olden days.
+
+At the same time our friends are greatly devoted to the Church--old people
+used to attend on Sundays as a sacred and time honoured duty, but the
+girls leave them far behind, for they drive up in a pony carriage to the
+distant church at least twice a week besides. They talk of matins and
+even-song; they are full of vestments, and have seen 'such lovely things'
+in that line. At Christmas and Easter they are mainly instrumental in
+decorating the interior till it becomes perfectly gaudy with colour, and
+the old folk mutter and shake their heads. Their devotion in getting
+hothouse flowers is quite touching. One is naturally inclined to look with
+a liberal eye upon what is capable of a good construction. But is all this
+quite spontaneous? Has the new curate nothing at all to do with it? Is it
+not considered rather the correct thing to be 'High' in views, and even to
+manifest an Ultramontane tendency? There is a rather too evident
+determination to go to the extreme--the girls are clearly bent upon
+thrusting themselves to the very front of the parish, so that no one shall
+be talked of but the Misses ----. Anything is seized upon, that will
+afford an opening for posing before the world of the parish, whether it be
+an extreme fashion in dress or in ritual.
+
+And the parish is splitting up into social cliques. These girls, the local
+leaders of fashion, hold their heads far above those farmers' sons who
+bear a hand in the field. No one is eligible who takes a share in manual
+work: not even to be invited to the house, or even to be acknowledged if
+met in the road. The Misses ----, whose papa is well-to-do, and simply
+rides round on horseback to speak to the men with his steam-plough, could
+not possibly demean themselves to acknowledge the existence of the young
+men who actually handle a fork in the haymaking time. Nothing less than
+the curate is worthy of their smile. A very great change has come over
+country society in this way. Of course, men (and women) with money were
+always more eligible than those without; but it is not so very long ago
+that one and all--well-to-do and poor--had one bond in common. Whether
+they farmed large or small acres, all worked personally. There was no
+disgrace in the touch of the plough--rather the contrary; now it is
+contamination itself.
+
+The consequence is that the former general goodwill and acquaintanceship
+is no more. There are no friendly meetings; there is a distinct social
+barrier between the man and the woman who labours and the one who does
+not. These fashionable young ladies could not possibly even go into the
+hayfield because the sun would spoil their complexion, they refresh
+themselves with aerated waters instead. They could not possibly enter the
+dairy because it smells so nasty. They would not know their father's teams
+if they met them on the road. As for speaking to the workpeople--the idea
+would be too absurd!
+
+Once on a time a lift in the waggon just across the wet turf to the
+macadamised road--if it chanced to be going that way--would have been
+looked upon as a fortunate thing. The Misses ---- would indeed stare if
+one of their papa's carters touched his hat and suggested that they should
+get up. They have a pony carriage and groom of their own. He drives the
+milk-cart to the railway station in the morning; in the afternoon he dons
+the correct suit and drives the Misses ---- into the town to shopping. Now
+there exists a bitter jealousy between the daughters of the tradesmen in
+the said town and these young ladies. There is a race between them as to
+which shall be first in fashion and social rank. The Misses ---- know very
+well that it galls their rivals to see them driving about so grandly half
+the afternoon up and down the streets, and to see the big local people
+lift their hats, as the banker, with whom, of course, the large farmer has
+intimate dealings. All this is very little; on paper it reads moan and
+contemptible: but in life it is real--in life these littlenesses play a
+great part. The Misses ---- know nothing of those long treasured recipes
+formerly handed down in old country houses, and never enter the kitchen.
+No doubt, if the fashion for teaching cooking presently penetrates into
+the parish, they will take a leading part, and with much show and blowing
+of trumpets instruct the cottager how to boil the pot. Anything, in short,
+that happens to be the rage will attract them, but there is little that is
+genuine about them, except the eagerness for a new excitement.
+
+What manner of men shall accept these ladies as their future helpmates?
+The tenant farmers are few and far between that could support their
+expenditure upon dress, the servants they would require, and last, but not
+least, the waste which always accompanies ignorance in household
+management. Nor, indeed, do they look for tenant farmers, but hope for
+something higher in the scale.
+
+The Misses ---- are fortunate in possessing a 'papa' sufficiently
+well-to-do to enable them to live in this manner. But there are hundreds
+of young ladies whose fathers have not got so much capital in their farms,
+while what they have is perhaps borrowed. Of course these girls help
+cheerfully in the household, in the dairy, and so forth? No. Some are
+forced by necessity to assist in the household with unwilling hands: but
+few, indeed, enter the dairy. All dislike the idea of manual labour,
+though never so slight. Therefore they acquire a smattering of knowledge,
+and go out as governesses. They earn but a small stipend in that
+profession, because they have rarely gone through a sufficiently strict
+course of study themselves. But they would rather live with strangers,
+accepting a position which is often invidious, than lift a hand to work at
+home, so great is the repugnance to manual labour. These, again, have no
+domestic knowledge (beyond that of teaching children), none of cooking, or
+general household management. If they marry a tenant farmer of their own
+class, with but small capital, they are too often a burden financially.
+Whence comes this intense dislike to hand work--this preference for the
+worst paid head work? It is not confined, of course, to the gentler sex.
+No more striking feature of modern country life can be found.
+
+You cannot blame these girls, whether poor or moderately well-to-do, for
+thinking of something higher, more refined and elevating than the
+cheese-tub or the kitchen. It is natural, and it is right, that they
+should wish to rise above that old, dull, dead level in which their
+mothers and grandmothers worked from youth to age. The world has gone on
+since then--it is a world of education, books, and wider sympathies. In
+all this they must and ought to share. The problem is how to enjoy the
+intellectual progress of the century and yet not forfeit the advantages of
+the hand labour and the thrift of our ancestors? How shall we sit up late
+at night, burning the midnight oil of study, and yet rise with the dawn,
+strong from sweet sleep, to guide the plough? One good thing must be
+scored down to the credit of the country girls of the day. They have done
+much to educate the men. They have shamed them out of the old rough,
+boorish ways; compelled them to abandon the former coarseness, to become
+more gentlemanly in manner. By their interest in the greater world of
+society, literature, art, and music (more musical publications probably
+are now sold for the country in a month than used to be in a year), they
+have made the somewhat narrow-sighted farmer glance outside his parish. If
+the rising generation of tenant farmers have lost much of the bigoted
+provincial mode of thought, together with the provincial pronunciation, it
+is undoubtedly due to the influence of the higher ideal of womanhood that
+now occupies their minds. And this is a good work to have accomplished.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE, THE GOVERNESS
+
+
+A country 'roadside' railway station seemed deserted upon a warm August
+afternoon. It was all but concealed on that level ground by the hedges and
+trees of the fields with which it was surrounded. There was no sound of
+man or wheels, and nothing moving upon the platform. On the low green
+banks of the rail, where the mast-like telegraph poles stood, the broad
+leaves of the coltsfoot almost covered the earth, and were dusty with the
+sand whirled up an hour since behind the rushing express. By the footpath,
+higher up under the close-cropped hedge, the yarrow flourished, lifting
+its white flower beside the trodden soil. The heavy boots of the
+platelayers walking to and fro to their work on the permanent way brushed
+against it, and crushed the venturous fibres of the creeping cinquefoil
+that stretched into the path. From the yellow standing wheat the sparrows
+rose in a bevy, and settled upon the hedge, chirping merrily. Farther
+away, where a meadow had been lately mown, the swallows glided to and fro,
+but just above the short grass, round and round, under the shadow of the
+solitary oaks. Over the green aftermath is the swallows' favourite haunt
+when the day, though passing fair, does not look like settled weather. For
+lack of such weather the reapers have not yet entered the ripening corn.
+
+But, for the hour, the sun shines brightly, and a narrow line along the
+upper surfaces of the metals, burnished by the polishing friction of a
+thousand wheels, glints like silver under the rays. The red brick of the
+booking-office looks redder and more staring under the fierce light. The
+door is locked, and there is no waiting-room in which to take shelter;
+nothing but a projecting roof over a part of the platform. On the lintel
+is the stationmaster's name painted in small white letters, like the name
+of the landlord over the doorway of an inn. Two corded boxes lie on the
+platform, and near them stand half a dozen rusty milk tins, empty. With
+the exception of a tortoiseshell cat basking in the sunshine, there seems
+nothing living in the station, and the long endless rails stretching on
+either side in a straight line are vacant. For hours during the day the
+place slumbers, and a passenger gliding by in the express may well wonder
+why a station was built at all in the midst of trees and hedges without so
+much as a single visible house.
+
+But by night and very early in the morning there is bustle enough. Then
+the white painted cattle pen yonder, from which the animals are forced
+into the cattle trucks, is full of frightened beasts, lowing doubtfully,
+and only goaded in by the resounding blows upon their backs. Then the
+sheep file in in more patient ranks, but also doubtful and bleating as
+they go. An engine snorts to and fro, shunting coal waggons on to the
+siding--coal for the traction engines, and to be consumed in threshing out
+the golden harvest around. Signalmen, with red and green lights, rush
+hither and thither, the bull's-eyes now concealed by the trucks, and now
+flashing out brightly like strange will-o'-the-wisps. At intervals long
+and heavy goods trains go by, causing the solid earth to tremble.
+
+Presently the sun rises over the distant hills, and the red arms of the
+signals stand out clearly defined, and then the noise of wheels, the
+shouts of the drivers, and the quick sound of hoofs betoken the approach
+of the milk carts with their freight for the early morning train. From the
+platform it is out of sight; but a few yards from the gate a small inn is
+hidden under the tall elms of the hedgerow. It has sprung up since the
+railway came, and is called the Railway Hotel. It proffers good stabling,
+and even a fly and posting for the passenger who finds himself set down at
+that lonely place--a mere road--without the certainty of a friendly
+carriage meeting him. The porter may, perhaps, be taking his glass within.
+The inspector or stationmaster (whichever may be technically correct), now
+that the afternoon express has gone safely through, has strolled up the
+line to his garden, to see how his potatoes are getting on. He knows full
+well that the slow, stopping train despatched just after it will not reach
+his station for at least an hour.
+
+Outside the 'Hotel' stands a pony cart--a gaily coloured travelling rug
+lies across the seat, and the pony, a perfect little beauty, is cropping
+the grass by the hedge side. By-and-by a countryman comes up the road,
+evidently a labourer dressed in his best--he hastens to the 'Hotel,'
+instead of to the station, and finds from the porter that he is at least
+twenty minutes too soon. Then a waggon arrives, and stops while the carter
+drinks. Presently the porter and the labourer stroll together over to the
+platform, and after them a young fellow--a farmer's son, not yet a man but
+more than a boy--comes out and re-arranges the travelling rug in the pony
+cart. He then walks on to the platform, whistling defiantly with his hands
+in his pockets, as if he had got an unpleasant duty to perform, but was
+not going to be intimidated. He watches the stationmaster unlock the
+booking-office, and follows him in out of idle curiosity.
+
+It is booking-office, parcel-office, waiting-room and all combined, and
+the telegraph instrument is there too, some of the needles blocked over
+with a scrap of paper. The place is crammed with sacks, bags, boxes,
+parcels and goods mixed together, such as ironwork for agricultural
+machines, and in a corner lies a rick-cloth smelling strongly of tar like
+the rigging of a ship. On the counter, for there is no sliding window as
+usual at large stations, stands the ticket-stamping machine, surrounded
+with piles of forms, invoices, notices, letters, and the endless documents
+inseparable from railway business, all printed on a peculiar paper with a
+faint shade of yellow.
+
+Somebody says 'A' be coming,' and the young farmer walks out to watch the
+white steam now just visible far away over the trees. The train runs round
+the curve on to the straight, and the engine in front grows gradually
+larger and larger as it comes nearer, visibly vibrating till the brake
+draws it up at the platform.
+
+Master Jack has no difficulty in identifying the passenger he has come to
+meet. His sister, a governess, coming home for a holiday, is the only
+person that alights, and the labourer, dressed for the occasion, is the
+only one who gets in. No sooner is he in than he gapes out of the window
+open-mouthed at Miss S----. She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress
+from the dust and dirt of travel. Her fashionable hat has an air of the
+West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as those
+must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots. Up goes her
+parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from the glaring sun.
+Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss her; he looks her up and
+down with a kind of contemptuous admiration, nods, and asks how much
+luggage? He has, you see, been repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions.
+Mademoiselle points to her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already
+taken out. He worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon
+her with cheerful alacrity. She gives him a small coin, but looks the
+other way, without a sign of recognition. The luggage is placed in the
+pony cart.
+
+Mademoiselle gets in without so much as patting the beautiful little
+creature in the shafts. Her ticket is the only first-class ticket that has
+been given up at that lonely station all the week. 'Do make haste,' she
+remarks petulantly as her brother pauses to speak to a passing man who
+looks like a dealer. Master Jack turns the pony cart, and away they go
+rattling down the road. The porter, whilom an agricultural labourer, looks
+after them with a long and steady stare. It is not the first time he has
+seen this, but he can hardly take it in yet.
+
+'She do come the lady grandish, don't her?' the dealer remarks
+meditatively. 'Now her father----'
+
+'Ay,' interrupts the porter, 'he be one of the old sort; but she----' he
+cannot get any further for lack of an appropriate illustration. The
+arrival of mademoiselle periodically takes their breath away at that
+little place.
+
+As the pair rattle along in the pony trap there is for a time a total
+silence. Mademoiselle looks neither to the right nor the left, and asks
+after nobody. She does not note the subtle tint of bronze that has begun
+to steal over the wheat, nor the dark discoloured hay, witness of rough
+weather, still lying in the meadows. Her face--it is a very pretty
+face--does not light up with any enthusiasm as well-remembered spots come
+into sight. A horseman rides round a bend of the road, and meets them--he
+stares hard at her--she takes no heed. It is a young farmer, an old
+acquaintance, anxious for some sign of recognition. After he has passed he
+lifts his hat, like a true countryman, unready at the moment. As for the
+brother, his features express gathering and almost irrepressible disgust.
+He kicks with his heavy boots, he whistles, and once now and then gives a
+species of yell. Mademoiselle turns up her pretty nose, and readjusts her
+chevron gloves.
+
+'Have you not got any cuffs, Jack?' she asks, 'your wrists look so bare
+without them.'
+
+Jack makes no reply. Another silence. Presently he points with an
+expression meant to be sardonic at a distant farmhouse with his whip.
+
+'Jenny's married,' he says, full well aware that this announcement will
+wake her up, for there had been of old a sort of semi-feud or rivalry
+between the two girls, daughters of neighbouring farmers, and both with
+pretensions to good looks.
+
+'Who to?' she asks eagerly.
+
+'To old Billy L----; lots of tin.'
+
+'Pshaw!' replies mademoiselle. 'Why, he's sixty, a nasty, dirty old
+wretch.'
+
+'He has plenty of money,' suggests Jack.
+
+'What you think plenty of money, perhaps. He is nothing but a farmer,' as
+if a farmer was quite beneath her notice.
+
+Just then a farmer rode out into the road from the gateway of a field, and
+Jack pulled up the pony. The farmer was stout, elderly, and florid; he
+appeared fairly well-to-do by his dress, but was none too particular to
+use his razor regularly. Yet there was a tenderness--almost a pathos--in
+the simple words he used:--'Georgie, dear, come home?' 'Yes, papa,' and
+she kissed his scrubby chin as he bent down from his horse. He would not
+go to the station to meet her; but he had been waiting about behind the
+hedge for an hour to see her come along. He rode beside the pony cart, but
+Georgie did not say anything more, or ask after any one else.
+
+As they turned a corner the farmer pointed ahead. 'There's your mother,
+Georgie, looking over the garden wall.' The yearning mother had been there
+these two hours, knowing that her darling could not arrive before a
+certain time, and yet unable in her impatience to stay within. Those old
+eyes were dim with tears under the spectacles as Georgie quietly kissed
+her forehead, and then suddenly, with something like generous feeling, her
+lips.
+
+They went in, an old pointer, whose days in the stubble were nearly over,
+following close at Georgie's heels, but without obtaining a pat for his
+loving memory. The table was spread for tea--a snowy cloth, the whitest of
+bread, the most delicious golden butter, the ham fresh cooked, as Georgie
+might be hungry, the thick cream, the silver teapot, polished for Georgie,
+and the bright flowers in the vase before her plate. The window was open,
+with its view of the old, old hills, and a breath of summer air came in
+from the meadow. The girl glanced round, frowned, and went upstairs to her
+room without a word, passing on the landing the ancient clock in its tall
+case, ticking loud and slow.
+
+And this was 'home.' The whole place jarred upon her, fresh as she was
+from a fine house in Belgravia. The sitting-room beneath, which she had so
+quickly left, looked cheerful and homely, but it was that very homeliness
+that jarred upon her. The teapot was real silver, but it was of
+old-fashioned shape. Solid as the furniture was, and still after so many
+years of service worth money, yet it was chipped by kicks from iron-shod
+boots, which had also worn the dingy carpet bare. There was an absence of
+the nick-nacks that strew the rooms of people in 'Society.' There was not
+even a bell-handle to pull; if you wanted the maid of all work, you must
+open the door and call to her. These little things, trifles as they may
+be, repelled her. It was a bitter cup to her to come 'home.'
+
+Mr. S---- was a farmer of fair means, and, compared with many of his
+neighbours, well-to-do, and well connected. But he was still a yeoman
+only, and personally made pretensions to nothing more. Though he himself
+had received little or no education, he quite saw the value of it, and was
+determined that his children should be abreast of the times. Accordingly,
+so soon as Georgie grew old enough, a governess with high recommendations,
+and who asked what the farmer then thought a high price (he knows more
+about such things now!) was had down from London. Of course the
+rudimentary A B C of learning could just as well have been imparted by an
+ordinary person, but Mr. and Mrs. S---- had a feeling which they could not
+perhaps have expressed in words, that it was not so much the actual
+reading and writing, and French and music, and so on, as a social
+influence that was needed to gradually train the little country girl into
+a young lady fit to move in higher society.
+
+The governess did her work thoroughly. Georgie was not allowed to walk in
+the wet grass, to climb up the ladder on to the half-completed hayrick,
+and romp under the rick-cloth, to paddle with naked feet in the shallow
+brook, or any other of the things that country children have done from
+time immemorial. Such things she was taught were not ladylike, and, above
+all, she was kept away from the cottage people. She was not permitted to
+enter their doors, to converse with the women, or to watch the carter with
+his horses. Such vulgar folk and their vulgar dialect were to be carefully
+avoided. Nor must she get into a hedge after a bird's-nest, lest she
+should tear her frock.
+
+It was not long before the governess really ruled the house. The farmer
+felt himself totally unable to interfere in these matters; they were
+outside his experience altogether. His wife did not like it, but for
+Georgie's sake she gave up her former habits, and endeavoured to order the
+house according to the ideas of the governess from London. The traditions,
+as it were, of the place were upset. It was not a solitary instance, the
+same thing has happened in scores of farmhouses to a more or less degree.
+Mr. S---- all his life had ridden on horseback, or driven a gig, which did
+very well for him and his wife. But the governess thought Georgie ought to
+learn to ride and drive, and gigs were so much out of fashion. So the pony
+cart and pony were purchased for her, and in this she went into the
+distant market town twice or more weekly. Sometimes it was for shopping,
+sometimes to fetch household goods, sometimes to see friends; any excuse
+answered very well. The governess said, and really believed, that it was
+better for Georgie to be away from the farm as much as possible, to see
+town people (if only a country town), and to learn their ways.
+
+The many cheap illustrated papers giving the last details of fashionable
+costumes were, of course, brought home to be carefully read in the
+evenings. These publications have a large circulation now in farmhouses.
+Naturally Georgie soon began to talk about, and take an interest--as girls
+will do--in the young gentlemen of the town, and who was and who was not
+eligible. As for the loud-voiced young farmers, with their slouching walk,
+their ill-fitting clothes, and stupid talk about cows and wheat, they were
+intolerable. A banker's clerk at least--nothing could be thought of under
+a clerk in the local banks; of course, his salary was not high, but then
+his 'position.' The retail grocers and bakers and such people were quite
+beneath one's notice--low, common persons. The 'professional tradesmen'
+(whatever that may be) were decidedly better, and could be tolerated. The
+solicitors, bank managers, one or two brewers (wholesale--nothing retail),
+large corn factors or coal merchants, who kept a carriage of some
+kind--these formed the select society next under, and, as it were,
+surrounding the clergy and gentry. Georgie at twelve years old looked at
+least as high as one of these; a farmhouse was to be avoided above all
+things.
+
+As she grew older her mind was full of the local assembly ball. The ball
+had been held for forty years or more, and had all that time been in the
+hands of the exclusive upper circles of the market town. They only asked
+their own families, relations (not the poor ones), and visitors. When
+Georgie was invited to this ball it was indeed a triumph. Her poor mother
+cried with pleasure over her ball dress. Poor woman, she was a good, a too
+good, mother, but she had never been to a ball. There were, of course,
+parties, picnics, and so on, to which Georgie, having entered the charmed
+circle, was now asked; and thus her mind from the beginning centred in the
+town. The sheep-fold, the cattle-pen, the cheese-tub, these were thrust
+aside. They did not interest her, she barely understood the meaning when
+her father took the first prize at an important cattle show. What
+So-and-so would wear at the flower show, where all the select would come,
+much more nearly concerned her.
+
+At the high-class academy where her education was finished the same
+process went on. The other girls quickly made her thoroughly understand (a
+bitter knowledge) that the great people in the little market town, the
+very richest of them, were but poor in comparison with their papas. Their
+papas were in the 'City,' or on ''Change,' and had as many thousands a
+year as the largest farmer she knew could reckon hundreds. Georgie felt
+ashamed of her papa, recollecting his crumpled old hat, and his scrubby
+chin. Being really a nice girl, under the veneer that was so industriously
+placed upon her, she made friends among her fellow scholars, and was
+invited to more than one of their grand homes in Kensington and the
+suburbs of London. There she learned all the pomp of villa life, which put
+into the shade the small incomes which displayed their miserable vanities
+in the petty market town. Footmen, butlers, late dinners, wines,
+carriages, the ceaseless gossip of 'Society' were enough to dazzle the
+eyes of a girl born so near the cowshed. The dresses she had to wear to
+mix with these grand friends cost a good deal--her parents sacrificing
+their own comforts for her advantage--and yet, in comparison with the
+beautiful costumes she saw, they seemed shabby.
+
+Georgie was so far fortunate as to make friends of some of the elder
+people, and when she had passed her examinations, and obtained the
+diplomas and certificates which are now all essential, through their
+interest she obtained at starting a very high salary. It was not long
+before she received as much as sixty or seventy pounds a year. It was not
+only that she really was a clever and accomplished girl, but her
+recommendations were influential. She was employed by wealthy people, who
+really did not care what they paid so long as their children were in good
+hands. Now to the old folk at home, and to the neighbours, this seemed an
+immense salary for a girl, especially when the carriage, the footmen, the
+wines, and late dinners, and so on, were taken into consideration. The
+money, however, was of very little use to her. She found it necessary to
+dress equal to her place. She had to have several dresses to wear,
+according to the time of day, and she had to have new ones very often, or
+she might be told petulantly and pointedly by her mistress that 'one gets
+so weary of seeing the same dresses every day.' Instead of the high salary
+leaving a handsome profit, her father had occasionally to pay a stiff bill
+for her. But then the 'position'--look at the 'position' and the society.
+
+Georgie, in process of time, went to Scotland, to Paris, the South of
+France, to Rome, and Naples. Being a discreet girl, and having a winning
+manner, she became as much a companion to her mistress as governess, and
+thus saw and heard more of the world than she would otherwise have done.
+She saw some very grand people indeed occasionally. After this, after the
+Continent, and, above all, London in the season, the annual visit to the
+old farmhouse came to be a bitter time of trial. Georgie had come home now
+for a few days only, to ask for money, and already before she had scarcely
+spoken had rushed upstairs to hide her feeling of repulsion in the privacy
+of her room.
+
+Her welcome had been warm, and she knew that under the rude exterior it
+was more than warm; but the absence of refinement jarred upon her. It all
+seemed so uncouth. She shrank from the homely rooms; the very voice of her
+mother, trembling with emotion, shocked her ear, unaccustomed to country
+pronunciation. She missed the soft accents of the drawing-room. From her
+window she could see nothing but the peaceful fields--the hateful green
+trees and hedges, the wheat, and the hateful old hills. How miserable it
+was not to be born to Grosvenor Square!
+
+Georgie's case was, of course, exceptional in so far as her 'success' was
+concerned. She possessed good natural parts, discretion, and had the
+advantage of high-class recommendations. But apart from her 'success,' her
+case was not exceptional. The same thing is going on in hundreds of
+farmhouses. The daughters from the earliest age are brought up under a
+system of education the practical tendency of which is to train their
+minds out of the associations of farming. When later on they go out to
+teach they are themselves taught by the social surroundings of the
+households into which they enter to still more dislike the old-fashioned
+ways of agriculture. Take twenty farmers' families, where there are girls,
+and out of that twenty fifteen will be found to be preparing for a
+scholastic life. The farmer's daughter does not like the shop-counter,
+and, as she cannot stay at home, there is nothing left to her but the
+profession of governess. Once thoroughly imbued with these 'social' ideas,
+and a return to the farm is almost impossible. The result is a continuous
+drain of women out of agriculture--of the very women best fitted in the
+beginning to be the helpmate of the farmer. In no other calling is the
+assistance of the wife so valuable; it is not too much to say that part at
+least of the decadence of agriculture is owing to the lack of women
+willing to devote themselves as their mothers did before them. It follows
+that by degrees the farming caste is dying out. The sons go to the city,
+the daughters go to the city; in a generation, or little more, a once
+well-known farming family becomes extinct so far as agriculture is
+concerned.
+
+How could such a girl as poor Georgie, looking out of window at the
+hateful fields, and all at discord with the peaceful scene, settle down as
+the mistress of a lonely farmhouse?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+FLEECEBOROUGH. A 'DESPOT'
+
+
+An agricultural district, like a little kingdom, has its own capital city.
+The district itself is as well defined as if a frontier line had been
+marked out around it, with sentinels and barriers across the roads, and
+special tolls and duties. Yet an ordinary traveller, upon approaching,
+fails to perceive the difference, and may, perhaps, drive right through
+the territory without knowing it. The fields roll on and rise into the
+hills, the hills sink again into a plain, just the same as elsewhere;
+there are cornfields and meadows; villages and farmsteads, and no visible
+boundary. Nor is it recognised upon the map. It does not fit into any
+political or legal limit; it is neither a county, half a county, a
+hundred, or police division. But to the farmer it is a distinct land. If
+he comes from a distance he will at once notice little peculiarities in
+the fields, the crops, the stock, or customs, and will immediately inquire
+if it be not such and such a place that he has heard of. If he resides
+within thirty miles or so he will ever since boyhood have heard 'the
+uplands' talked of as if it were a separate country, as distinct as
+France. Cattle from the uplands, sheep, horses, labourers, corn or hay, or
+anything and anybody from thence, he has grown up accustomed to regard
+almost as foreign.
+
+There is good reason, from an agricultural point of view, for this. The
+district, with its capital city, Fleeceborough, really is distinct, well
+marked, and defined. The very soil and substrata are characteristic. The
+products are wheat, and cattle, and sheep, the same as elsewhere, but the
+proportions of each, the kind of sheep, the traditionary methods and farm
+customs are separate and marked. The rotation of crops is different, the
+agreements are on a different basis, the very gates to the fields have
+peculiar fastenings, not used in other places. Instead of hedges, the
+fields, perhaps, are often divided by dry stone walls, on which, when they
+have become old, curious plants may sometimes be found. For the flora,
+too, is distinct; you may find herbs here that do not exist a little way
+off, and on the other hand, search how you will, you will not discover one
+single specimen of a simple flower which strews the meadows elsewhere.
+
+Here the very farmhouses are built upon a different plan, and with
+different materials; the barns are covered with old stone slates, instead
+of tiles or thatch. The people are a nation amongst themselves. Their
+accent is peculiar and easily recognised, and they have their own
+folklore, their own household habits, particular dainties, and way of
+life. The tenant farmers, the millers, the innkeepers, and every Hodge
+within 'the uplands' (not by any means all hills)--in short, every one is
+a citizen of Fleeceborough. Hodge may tend his flock on distant pastures,
+may fodder his cattle in far-away meadows, and dwell in little hamlets
+hardly heard of, but all the same he is a Fleeceborough man. It is his
+centre; thither he looks for everything.
+
+The place is a little market town, the total of whose population in the
+census records sounds absurdly small; yet it is a complete world in
+itself; a capital city, with its kingdom and its ruler, for the territory
+is practically the property of a single family. Enter Fleeceborough by
+whichever route you will, the first object that fixes the attention is an
+immensely high and endless wall. If you come by carriage one way, you
+skirt it for a long distance; if you come the other, you see it as you
+pass through the narrow streets every now and then at the end of them,
+closing the prospect and overtopping the lesser houses. By railway it is
+conspicuous from the windows; and if you walk about the place, you
+continually come upon it. It towers up perpendicular and inaccessible,
+like the curtain wall of an old fortification: here and there the upper
+branches of some great cedar or tall pine just show above it. One or more
+streets for a space run conterminous with it--the wall on one side, the
+low cottage-houses on the other, and their chimneys are below the coping.
+It does not really encircle the town, yet it seems everywhere, and is the
+great fact of the place.
+
+If you wander about examining this wall, and wondering where it begins and
+where it ends, and what is inside, you may perchance come upon a gateway
+of noble proportions. It is open, but one hesitates to pass through,
+despite the pleasant vista of trees and green sward beyond. There is a
+watchman's wooden hut, and the aged sentinel is reading his newspaper in
+the shadow, his breast decorated with medal and clasp, that tell of
+honourable service. A scarlet-coated soldier may, too, be strolling
+thereabout, and the castellated top of a barrack-like building near at
+hand is suggestive of military force. You hesitate, but the warden invites
+you to walk at your leisure under the old trees, and along the endless
+glades. If you enter, you pass under the metal scrollwork of the iron
+gates, and, above, the gilded circle of a coronet glistens in the
+sunshine. These are the private demesnes of a prince and ruler of
+Hodge--the very highest and most powerful of his masters in that part of
+the country. The vast wall encloses his pleasure-grounds and mansion; the
+broad iron gates give access to mile after mile of park and wood, and the
+decorated warden or pensioner has but to open them for the free entry of
+all Fleeceborough and her citizens. Of course the position of the barrack
+is a mere accident, yet it gives an air of power and authority--the place
+is really as open, the beautiful park as common and accessible as the
+hill-top under the sky. A peer only at Westminster, here he is a prince,
+whose dominions are almost co-extensive with the horizon; and this, the
+capital city, is for the most part his.
+
+Far away stretches that little kingdom, with its minor towns of villages,
+hamlets, and farms. Broad green meadows, where the cattle graze beside the
+streams and in the plains; rolling uplands, ploughed and sown, where the
+barley nourishes; deep rich wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey
+church towers; new glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient
+farmhouses tenanted for generations by the same families.
+
+Farmers have long since discovered that it is best to rent under a very
+large owner, whether personal as in this case, or impersonal as a college
+or corporation. A very large owner like this can be, and is, more liberal.
+He puts up sheds, and he drains, and improves, and builds good cottages
+for the labourers. Provided, of course, that no serious malpractice comes
+to light, he, as represented by his steward, never interferes, and the
+tenant is personally free. No one watches his goings out and comings in;
+he has no sense of an eye for ever looking over the park wall. There is a
+total absence of the grasping spirit sometimes shown. The farmer does not
+feel that he will be worried to his last shilling. In case of unfavourable
+seasons the landlord makes no difficulty in returning a portion of the
+rent; he anticipates such an application. Such immense possessions can
+support losses which would press most heavily upon comparatively small
+properties. At one side of the estate the soil perchance is light and
+porous, and is all the better for rain; on the other, half across the
+county, or quite, the soil is deep and heavy and naturally well watered
+and flourishes in dry summers. So that there is generally some one
+prospering if another suffers, and thus a balance is maintained.
+
+A reserve of wealth has, too, slowly accumulated in the family coffers,
+which, in exceptional years, tides the owner over with little or no
+appreciable inconvenience. With an income like this, special allowances,
+even generous allowances, can be and are made, and so the tenants cease to
+feel that their landlord is living out of their labour. The agreements are
+just; there is no rapacity. Very likely the original lease or arrangement
+has expired half a century since; but no one troubles to renew it. It is
+well understood that no change will be effected. The tenure is as steady
+as if the tenant had an Act of Parliament at his back.
+
+When men have once settled, they and their descendants remain, generation
+after generation. By degrees their sons and sons' descendants settle too,
+and the same name occurs perhaps in a dozen adjacent places. It is this
+fixed unchangeable character of the district which has enabled the mass of
+the tenants not indeed to become wealthy, but to acquire a solid,
+substantial standing. In farming affairs money can be got together only in
+the slow passage of years; experience has proved that beyond a doubt.
+These people have been stationary for a length of time, and the moss of
+the proverb has grown around them. They walk sturdily, and look all men in
+the face; their fathers put money in the purse. Times are hard here as
+everywhere, but if they cannot, for the present season, put more in that
+purse, its contents are not, at all events, much diminished, and enable
+them to maintain the same straightforward manliness and independence.
+By-and-by, they know there will come the chink of the coin again.
+
+When the tenant is stationary, the labourer is also. He stays in the same
+cottage on the same farm all his life, his descendants remain and work for
+the same tenant family. He can trace his descent in the locality for a
+hundred years. From time immemorial both Hodge and his immediate employers
+have looked towards Fleeceborough as their capital. Hodge goes in to the
+market in charge of his master's sheep, his wife trudges in for household
+necessaries. All the hamlet goes in to the annual fairs. Every cottager in
+the hamlet knows somebody in the town; the girls go there to service, the
+boys to get employment. The little village shops obtain their goods from
+thence. All the produce--wheat, barley, oats, hay, cattle, and sheep--is
+sent into the capital to the various markets held there. The very ideas
+held in the villages by the inhabitants come from Fleeceborough; the local
+papers published there are sold all round, and supply them with news,
+arguments, and the politics of the little kingdom. The farmers look to
+Fleeceborough just as much or more. It is a religious duty to be seen
+there on market days. Not a man misses being there; if he is not visible,
+his circle note it, and guess at various explanations.
+
+Each man has his own particular hostelry, where his father, and his
+grandfather, put up before him, and where he is expected to dine in the
+same old room, with the pictures of famous rams, that have fetched
+fabulous prices, framed against the walls, and ram's horns of exceptional
+size and peculiar curve fixed up above the mantelpiece. Men come in in
+groups of two or three, as dinner time approaches, and chat about sheep
+and wool, and wool and sheep; but no one finally settles himself at the
+table till the chairman arrives. He is a stout, substantial farmer, who
+has dined there every market day for the last thirty or forty years.
+
+Everybody has his own particular seat, which he is certain to find kept
+for him. The dinner itself is simple enough, the waiters perhaps still
+more simple, but the quality of the viands is beyond praise. The mutton is
+juicy and delicious, as it should be where the sheep is the very idol of
+all men's thoughts; the beef is short and tender of grain; the vegetables,
+nothing can equal them, and they are all here, asparagus and all, in
+profusion. The landlord grows his own vegetables--every householder in
+Fleeceborough has an ample garden--and produces the fruit from his own
+orchards for the tarts. Ever and anon a waiter walks round with a can of
+ale and fills the glasses, whether asked or not. Beef and mutton,
+vegetables and fruit tarts, and ale are simple and plain fare, but when
+they are served in the best form, how will you surpass them? The real
+English cheese, the fresh salads, the exquisite butter--everything on the
+table is genuine, juicy, succulent, and rich. Could such a dinner be found
+in London, how the folk would crowd thither! Finally, comes the waiter
+with his two clean plates, the upper one to receive the money, the lower
+to retain what is his. If you are a stranger, and remember what you have
+been charged elsewhere in smoky cities for tough beef, stringy mutton,
+waxy potatoes, and the very bread black with smuts, you select half a
+sovereign and drop it on the upper plate. In the twinkling of an eye eight
+shillings are returned to you; the charge is a florin only.
+
+They live well in Fleeceborough, as every fresh experience of the place
+will prove; they have plentiful food, and of the best quality; poultry
+abounds, for every resident having a great garden (many, too, have
+paddocks) keeps fowls; fresh eggs are common; as for vegetables and fruit,
+the abundance is not to be described. A veritable cornucopia--a horn of
+plenty--seems to forever pour a shower of these good things into their
+houses. And their ale! To the first sight it is not tempting. It is thick,
+dark, a deep wine colour; a slight aroma rises from it like that which
+dwells in bonded warehouses. The first taste is not pleasing; but it
+induces a second, and a third. By-and-by the flavour grows upon the
+palate; and now beware, for if a small quantity be thrown upon the fire it
+will blaze up with a blue flame like pure alcohol. That dark
+vinous-looking ale is full of the strength of malt and hops; it is the
+brandy of the barley. The unwary find their heads curiously queer before
+they have partaken, as it seems to them, of a couple of glasses. The very
+spirit and character of Fleeceborough is embodied in the ale; rich,
+strong, genuine. No one knows what English ale is till he has tried this.
+
+After the market dinner the guests sit still--they do not hurry away to
+counter and desk; they rest awhile, and dwell as it were on the flavour of
+their food. There is a hum of pleasant talk, for each man is a right boon
+companion. The burden of that talk has been the same for generations--sheep
+and wool, wool and sheep. Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to
+'he,' what 'he' will do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support
+such and such a movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view
+will 'he' take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
+special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that favoured
+man is an object of the deepest interest, and is cross-questioned all
+round the table till his small item of authentic intelligence has been
+thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the resident within those vast and endless
+walls, with the metal gates and the gilded coronet above--the prince of
+this kingdom and its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally
+hastening hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.
+
+It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads converging on the
+town are visible. The province lies stretched out beneath. There is the
+gleam of water--the little river, with its ancient mills--that flows
+beside the town; there are the meadows, with their pleasant footpaths.
+Yonder the ploughed fields and woods, and yet more distant the open hills.
+Along every road, and there are many, the folk are hastening to their
+capital city, in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or
+sturdily trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
+hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the chest as
+you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend themselves in
+mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force. For how many years,
+how many centuries, has this little town and this district around it been
+distinct and separate? In the days before the arrival of the Roman legions
+it was the country of a distinct tribe, or nation, of the original
+Britons. But if we speak of history we shall never have done, for the town
+and its antique abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled
+more or less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
+camp yonder on the hills to to-day--down to the last puff of the
+locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs in with
+passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and the latest
+novel from London.
+
+Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous in the
+town here. Men marry in the place, find their children employment in the
+place, and will not move, if they can help it. Their families--well-to-do
+and humble alike--have been there for so many, many years. The very
+carter, or the little tailor working in his shop-window, will tell you
+(and prove to you by records) that his ancestor stood to the barricade
+with pike or matchlock when the army of King or Parliament, as the case
+may be, besieged the sturdy town two hundred years ago. He has a longer
+pedigree than many a titled dweller in Belgravia. All these people believe
+in Fleeceborough. When fate forces them to quit--when the young man seeks
+his fortune in New Zealand or America--he writes home the fullest
+information, and his letters published in the local print read curiously
+to an outsider, so full are they of local inquiries, and answers to
+friends who wished to know this or that. In the end he comes back--should
+he succeed in getting the gold which tempted him away--to pass his latter
+days gossiping round with the dear old folk, and to marry amongst them.
+Yet, with all their deep local patriotism, they are not bigoted or
+narrow-minded; there is too much literature abroad for that, and they have
+the cosiest reading-room wherein to learn all that passes in the world.
+They have a town council held now and then in an ancient wainscoted hall,
+with painted panels and coats of arms, carved oaken seats black with age,
+and narrow windows from which men once looked down into the street,
+wearing trunk hose and rapier.
+
+But they have at least two other councils that meet much more often, and
+that meet by night. When his books are balanced, when his shop is shut,
+after he has strolled round his garden, and taken his supper, the
+tradesman or shopkeeper walks down to his inn, and there finds his circle
+assembled. They are all there, the rich and the moderately well-to-do, the
+struggling, and the poor. Each delivers his opinion over the social glass,
+or between the deliberate puffs of his cigar or pipe. The drinking is
+extremely moderate, the smoking not quite so temperate; but neither the
+glass nor the cigar are the real attractions. It is the common hall--the
+informal place of meeting.
+
+It is here that, the real government of the town is planned--the mere
+formal resolutions voted in the ancient council-room are the outcome of
+the open talk, and the quiet whisper here. No matter what subject is to
+the front, the question is always heard--What will 'he' do? What will 'he'
+say to it? The Volunteers compete for prizes which 'he' offers. The
+cottage hospital; the flower show; the cattle show, or agricultural
+exhibition; the new market buildings arose through his subscriptions and
+influence; the artesian well, sunk that the town might have the best of
+water, was bored at his expense; and so on through the whole list of town
+affairs. When 'he' takes the lead all the lesser gentry--many of whom,
+perhaps, live in his manor houses--follow suit, and with such powerful
+support to back it a movement is sure to succeed, yet 'he' is rarely seen;
+his hand rarely felt; everything is done, but without obtrusiveness. At
+these nightly councils at the chief hostelries the farmers of the district
+are almost as numerous as the townsmen. They ride in to hear the news and
+exchange their own small coin of gossip. They want to know what 'he' is
+going to do, and little by little of course it leaks out.
+
+But the town is not all so loyal. There is a section which is all the more
+vehemently rebellious because of the spectacle of its staid and
+comfortable neighbours. This section is very small, but makes a
+considerable noise. It holds meetings and utters treasonable speeches, and
+denounces the 'despot' in fiery language. It protests against a free and
+open park; it abhors artesian wells; it detests the throwing open of nut
+woods that all may go forth a-nutting; it waxes righteously indignant at
+every gift, be it prizes for the flower show or a new market site. It
+scorns those mean-spirited citizens that cheer these kindly deeds. It asks
+why? Why should we wait till the park gates are open? Why stay till the
+nut woods are declared ready? Why be thankful for pure water? Why not take
+our own? This one man has no right to these parks and woods and pleasure
+grounds and vast walls; these square miles of ploughed fields, meadows and
+hills. By right they should all be split up into little plots to grow our
+potatoes. Away with gilded coronet and watchman, batter down these walls,
+burn the ancient deeds and archives, put pick and lever to the tall church
+tower; let us have the rights of man! These violent ebullitions make not
+the least different. All the insults they can devise, all the petty
+obstructions they can set up, the mud they can fling, does not alter the
+calm course of the 'despot' one jot. The artesian well is bored, and they
+can drink pure water or not, as pleases them. The prizes are offered, and
+they can compete or stand aloof. Fleeceborough smiles when it meets at
+night in its council-rooms, with its glass and pipe; Fleeceborough knows
+that the traditional policy of the Hall will continue, and that policy is
+acceptable to it.
+
+What manner of man is this 'despot' and prince behind his vast walls?
+Verily his physique matters nothing; whether he be old or of middle age,
+tall or short, infirm or strong. The policy of the house keeps the actual
+head and owner rather in the background. His presence is never obtruded;
+he is rarely seen; you may stay in his capital for months and never catch
+a glimpse of him. He will not appear at meetings, that every man may be
+free, nor hesitate to say his say, and abuse what he lists to abuse. The
+policy is simply perfect freedom, with support and substantial assistance
+to any and to every movement set on foot by the respectable men of
+Fleeceborough, or by the tenant farmers round about. This has been going
+on for generations; so that the personnel of the actual owner concerns
+little. His predecessors did it, he does it, and the next to come will do
+it. It is the tradition of the house. Nothing is left undone that a true
+princely spirit could do to improve, to beautify, or to preserve.
+
+The antiquities of the old, old town are kept for it, and not permitted to
+decay; the ancient tesselated pavements of Roman villas carefully
+protected from the weather; the remnants of the enclosing walls which the
+legions built for their defence saved from destruction; the coins of the
+emperors and of our own early kings collected; the spurs, swords,
+spearheads, all the fragments of past ages arranged for inspection and
+study by every one who desires to ponder over them. Chipped flints and
+arrowheads, the bones of animals long extinct, and the strange evidences
+of yet more ancient creatures that swam in the seas of the prehistoric
+world, these too are preserved at his cost and expense. Archaeologists,
+geologists, and other men of science come from afar to see these things
+and to carry away their lessons. The memories of the place are cherished.
+There was a famous poet who sang in the woods about the park; his
+hermitage remains, and nothing is lost that was his. Art-treasures there
+are, too, heirlooms to be seen behind those vast walls by any who will be
+at the trouble of asking.
+
+Such is the policy of Hodge's own prince, whose silent influence is felt
+in every household for miles about, and felt, as all must admit, however
+prejudiced against the system, in this case for good. His influence
+reaches far beyond the bounds even of that immense property. The example
+communicates itself to others, and half the county responds to that
+pleasant impulse. It is a responsible position to hold; something,
+perhaps, a little like that of the Medici at Florence in the olden times.
+But here there is no gonfalon, no golden chain of office, no velvet
+doublet, cloak, and rapier, no guards with arquebuss or polished crossbow.
+An entire absence of state and ceremony marks this almost unseen but
+powerful sway. The cycle of the seasons brings round times of trial here
+as over the entire world, but the conditions under which the trial is
+sustained could scarcely in our day, and under our complicated social and
+political system, be much more favourable.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+THE SQUIRE'S 'ROUND ROBIN
+
+
+A cock pheasant flies in frantic haste across the road, beating the air
+with wide-stretched wings, and fast as he goes, puts on yet a faster spurt
+as the shot comes rattling up through the boughs of the oak beneath him.
+The ground is, however, unfavourable to the sportsman, and the bird
+escapes. The fir copse from which the pheasant rose covers a rather sharp
+descent on one side of the highway. On the level above are the ploughed
+fields, but the slope itself is too abrupt for agricultural operations,
+and the soil perhaps thin and worthless. It is therefore occupied by a
+small plantation. On the opposite side of the road there grows a fine row
+of oaks in a hedge, under whose shade the dust takes long to dry when once
+damped by a shower. The sportsman who fired stands in the road; the
+beaters are above, for they desire the game to fly in a certain direction;
+and what with the narrow space between the firs and the oaks, the
+spreading boughs, and the uncertainty of the spot where the pheasant would
+break cover, it is not surprising that he missed.
+
+The shot, after tearing through the boughs, rises to some height in the
+air, and, making a curve, falls of its own weight only, like pattering
+hail--and as harmless--upon an aged woman, just then trudging slowly
+round the corner. She is a cottager, and has been to fetch the weekly dole
+of parish bread that helps to support herself and infirm husband. She
+wears a long cloak that nearly sweeps the ground on account of her
+much-bowed back, and carries a flag basket full of bread in one hand, and
+a bulging umbrella, which answers as a walking stick, in the other. The
+poor old body, much startled, but not in the least injured, scuttles back
+round the corner, exclaiming, 'Lor! it be Filbard a-shooting: spose a'had
+better bide a bit till he ha' done.' She has not long to wait. The young
+gentleman standing in the road gets a shot at another cock; this time the
+bird flies askew, instead of straight across, and so gives him a better
+opportunity. The pheasant falls crash among the nettles and brambles
+beside the road. Then a second and older gentleman emerges from the
+plantation, and after a time a keeper, who picks up the game.
+
+The party then proceed along the road, and coming round the corner the
+great black retriever runs up to the old woman with the most friendly
+intentions, but to her intense confusion, for she is just in the act of
+dropping a lowly curtsey when the dog rubs against her. The young
+gentleman smiles at her alarm and calls the dog; the elder walks on
+utterly indifferent. A little way up the road the party get over the gate
+into the meadows on that side, and make for another outlying plantation.
+Then, and not till then, does the old woman set out again, upon her slow
+and laborious journey. 'Filbard be just like a gatepost,' she mutters; 'a'
+don't take no notice of anybody.' Though she had dropped the squire so
+lowly a curtsey, and in his presence would have behaved with profound
+respect, behind his back and out of hearing she called him by his family
+name without any prefix. The cottagers thereabout almost always did this
+in speaking among themselves of their local magnate. They rarely said
+'Mr.'; it was generally 'Filbard,' or, even more familiarly, 'Jim
+Filbard.' Extremes meet. They hardly dared open their mouths when they saw
+him, and yet spoke of him afterwards as if he sat with them at bacon and
+cabbage time.
+
+Squire Filbard and one of his sons were walking round the outlying copses
+that October day with the object of driving the pheasants in towards the
+great Filbard wood, rather than of making a bag. The birds were inclined
+to wander about, and the squire thought a little judicious shooting round
+the outskirts would do good, and at the same time give his son some sport
+without disturbing the head of game he kept up in the wood itself. The
+squire was large made, tall, and well proportioned, and with a bearded,
+manly countenance. His neck was, perhaps, a little thick and
+apoplectic-looking, but burnt to a healthy brick-dust colour by exposure
+to the sun. The passing years had drawn some crows'-feet round the eyes,
+but his step was firm, his back straight, and he walked his ancestral
+acres every inch the master. The defect of his features was the thinness
+of the lips, and a want of character in a nose which did not accord with a
+good forehead. His hands, too, were very large and puffy; his finger-nails
+(scrupulously clean) were correspondingly large, and cut to a sharp point,
+that seemed to project beyond the tip of the finger, and gave it a
+scratchy appearance.
+
+The chimneys of Filbard Hall showed for some distance above the trees of
+the park, for the house stood on high ground. It was of red brick,
+somewhat square in style, and had little of the true Elizabethan
+character--it was doubtless later in date, though not modern. The
+chimneys, however, had a pleasing appearance over the trees; they were in
+stacks, and rather larger, or broader apparently at the top than where
+they rose from the roof. Such chimneys are not often seen on recent
+buildings. A chimney seems a simple matter, and yet the aspect of a house
+from a distance much depends upon its outline. The mansion was of large
+size, and stood in an extensive park, through which carriage drives swept
+up to the front from different lodge gates. Each of the drives passed
+under avenues of trees--the park seemed to stretch on either hand without
+enclosure or boundary--and the approach was not without a certain
+stateliness. Within the apartments were commodious, and from several there
+were really beautiful views. Some ancient furniture, handed down
+generation after generation, gave a character to the rooms; the oak
+staircase was much admired, and so was the wainscoating of one part.
+
+The usual family portraits hung on the walls, but the present squire had
+rather pushed them aside in favour of his own peculiar hobby. He collected
+antique Italian pictures--many on panels--in the pre-Raphaelite style.
+Some of these he had picked up in London, others he had found and
+purchased on the Continent. There were saints with glories or _nimbi_
+round their heads, Madonnas and kneeling Magi, the manger under a kind of
+penthouse, and similar subjects--subjects the highest that could be
+chosen. The gilding of the _nimbi_ seemed well done certainly, and was
+still bright, but to the ordinary eye the stiffness of the figures, the
+lack of grace, the absence of soul in the composition was distressingly
+apparent. It was, however, the squire's hobby, and it must be admitted
+that he had very high authority upon his side. Some sensitive persons
+rather shrank from seeing him handle these painted panels with those
+peculiar scratchy finger-nails; it set their teeth on edge. He gave
+considerable sums of money for many of these paintings, the only
+liberality he permitted himself, or was capable of.
+
+His own room or study was almost bare, and the solitary window looked on a
+paved passage that led to the stables. There was nothing in it but a large
+table, a bookcase, and two or three of the commonest horsehair chairs; the
+carpet was worn bare. He had selected this room because there was a door
+close by opening on the paved passage. Thus the bailiff of the Home Farm,
+the steward, the gamekeeper, the policeman, or any one who wished to see
+him on business, could come to the side door from the back and be shown in
+to him without passing through the mansion. This certainly was a
+convenient arrangement; yet one would have thought that he would have had
+a second and more private study in which to follow his own natural bent of
+mind. But the squire received the gardener and gave him directions about
+the cucumbers--for he descended even to such minutiae as that--sitting at
+the same table on which he had just written to an Italian art collector
+respecting a picture, or to some great friend begging him to come and
+inspect a fresh acquisition. The bookcase contained a few law books, a
+manual for the direction of justices--the squire was on the commission--a
+copy of Burke, and in one corner of a shelf a few musty papers referring
+to family history. These were of some value, and the squire was proud of
+showing them to those who took an interest in archaeology; yet he kept
+them much as if they had been receipts for the footman's livery, or a
+dozen bottles of stable medicine. He wrote with a quill pen, and as it
+went up and down it scratched the paper as if it had been those sharp
+projecting finger-nails.
+
+In this study he spent many hours when at home--he rose late, and after
+breakfast repaired hither. The steward was usually in attendance. He was a
+commonplace man, but little above the description of a labourer. He
+received wages not much superior to those a labourer takes in summer time,
+but as he lived at the Home Farm (which was in hand) there were of course
+some perquisites. A slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he
+pottered about and looked after things in general. One morning perhaps he
+would come in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going
+to cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been
+paid for. Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the Home Farm,
+or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which was decaying. A
+cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft. One of the tenants wanted a
+new shed put up, but it did not seem necessary; the old one would do very
+well if people were not so fidgety. The wife or daughter of one of the
+cottage people was taking to drink and getting into bad ways. This or that
+farmer had had some sheep die. Another farmer had bought some new
+silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village gossip.
+
+Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in or was sent
+for. The squire kept a large head of pheasants for certain reasons, but he
+was not over-anxious to pay for them. The keeper grumbled about his wages,
+that he had no perquisites, and that the shooting season never brought him
+any fees--unless the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every
+year. This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.
+He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs, and to
+give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted renewing. The
+steward had seen it, and thought it might be repaired; why did the keeper
+think it ought to be renewed altogether? And was there not plenty of larch
+timber lying about, that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a
+very good spar-gate, without purchasing one? Why couldn't old Hooker, the
+hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?
+
+Next came the coachman--the squire did not keep up anything of a stud,
+just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary riding horses and a
+pony for the children. The coachman had to explain why a new lock was
+wanted on the stable door; why the blacksmith's bill was so much for
+shoes; after which there was a long gossip about the horses of a gentleman
+who had come down and rented a place for the season. The gardener
+sometimes had an interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold
+from the orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire
+delighted. As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear with
+patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty bottles.
+
+The squire would have had the cook in and discussed the stock-pot with her
+for a full hour, but the cook set up her back. She wouldn't, no, that she
+wouldn't; and the squire found that the cook was mistress of the
+situation. She was the only personage who did not pass him with deference.
+She tossed her head, and told her fellow-servants audibly that he was a
+poor, mean-spirited man; and as for missis, she was a regular
+Tartar--there! In this they thoroughly agreed. The coachman and footman,
+when out with the carriage, and chancing to get a talk with other coachmen
+and footmen, were full of it. He was the meanest master they had ever
+known; yet they could not say that he paid less wages, or that they were
+ill-fed--it was this meddling, peddling interference they resented. The
+groom, when he rode into town for the letter-bag, always stopped to tell
+Ills friends some fresh instance of it. All the shopkeepers and tradesmen,
+and everybody else, had heard of it. But they were none the less
+obsequious when the squire passed up the street. The servants were never
+so glad as when young master came home with the liberal views imbibed in
+modern centres of learning, and with a free, frank mode of speech. But
+miss, the sole daughter, they simply hated; she seemed to have ten times
+the meanness of her papa, and had been a tell-tale from childhood. The
+kitchen said she saved her curl papers to sell as waste paper.
+
+The 'missis' was as haughty, as unapproachable, and disdainful as the
+master was inquisitive; she never spoke to, looked at, nor acknowledged
+any one--except the three largest tenants and their wives. To these, who
+paid heavily, she was gracious. She dressed in the very extreme and front
+of fashion--the squire himself quite plainly, without the least pretence
+of dandyism. Hateful as the village folk thought her _hauteur_ and open
+contempt for them, they said she was more the lady than the squire was the
+gentleman.
+
+The squire's time, when at home, like everything else, was peddled away.
+He rode into market one day of the week; he went to church on Sundays with
+unfailing regularity, and he generally attended the petty sessional bench
+on a third day. Upon the bench, from the long standing of his family, he
+occupied a prominent position. His mind invariably seized the minutiae of
+the evidence, and never seemed to see the point or the broad bearings of
+the case. He would utterly confuse a truthful witness, for instance, who
+chanced to say that he met the defendant in the road. 'But you said just
+now that you and he were both going the same way; how, then, could you
+meet him?' the squire would ask, frowning sternly. Whether the witness
+overtook or met the defendant mattered nothing to the point at issue; but
+the squire, having got a satisfactory explanation, turned aside, with an
+aggravating air of cleverness. For the rest of the week the squire could
+not account for his time. He sometimes, indeed, in the hunting season,
+rode to the meet; but he rarely followed. He had none of the enthusiasm
+that makes a hunter; besides, it made the horse in such a heat, and would
+work him out too quick for economy.
+
+He went out shooting, but not in regular trim. He would carry his gun
+across to the Home Farm, and knock over a rabbit on the way; then spend
+two hours looking at the Alderney cow, the roof of the pig-sty, and the
+poultry, and presently stroll across a corner of the wood, and shoot a
+pheasant. The head of game was kept up for the purpose of letting the
+mansion from time to time when the squire or his lady thought it desirable
+to go on the Continent, that the daughter might acquire the graces of
+travel. A visit to London in the season, a visit to the seaside, and then
+home in the autumn to peddle about the estate, made up the year when they
+did not go abroad. There was a broad park, noble trees, a great mansion, a
+stately approach; but within it seemed all littleness of spirit.
+
+The squire's own private study--the morning-room of the owner of this fine
+estate--was, as previously observed, next the passage that led to the
+stables, and the one window looked out on a blank wall. It was in this
+room that he conducted his business and pleasure, and his art researches.
+It was here that he received the famous 'Round Robin' from his tenants.
+The estate was not very large--something between 3,000 and 4,000
+acres--but much of it was good and fertile, though heavy land, and highly
+rented. Had the squire received the whole of his rents for his own private
+use he would have been well off as squires go. But there was a flaw or
+hitch somewhere in the right, or title, or succession. No one knew the
+precise circumstances, because, like so many similar family disputes, when
+the lawyers were ready, and the case had come before the tribunal, a
+compromise was arrived at, the terms of which were only known to the
+tribunal and the parties directly concerned.
+
+But everybody knew that the squire had to pay heavy pensions to various
+members of another branch of the family; and it was imagined that he did
+not feel quite fixed in the tenure--that possibly the case might, under
+certain circumstances, be heard of again--since it was noticed that he did
+not plant trees, or make improvements, or in any way proceed to increase
+the permanent attractions of the estate. It seemed as if he felt he was
+only lodging there. He appeared to try and get all he could off the
+place--without absolute damage--and to invest or spend nothing. After all
+these payments had been made the squire's income was much reduced, and
+thus, with all these broad acres, these extensive woods, and park, and
+mansion, pleasure grounds, game, and so forth, he was really a poor man.
+Not poor in the sense of actual want, but a man in his position had, of
+course, a certain appearance to keep up. Horses, carriages--even
+cooks--are not to be had for nothing, and are absolutely essential to
+those who are compelled to maintain any kind of dignity. Sons with liberal
+ideas are expensive; a daughter is expensive; a wife who insists on
+dressing in the fashion is expensive.
+
+Now, taking all those things into consideration, and remembering, too,
+that the squire as a good father (which he was admittedly) wished to make
+provision for the future of his children, it may perhaps, after all, be
+questioned whether he really was so mean and little of spirit as appeared.
+Under the circumstances, if he wished to save, the only way open to him
+was to be careful in little things. Even his hobby--the pre-Raphaelite
+pictures--was not without its advantage in this sense; the collection was
+certainly worth more than he gave for it, for he got it all by careful
+bargaining, and it could be sold again at a profit. The careful
+superintendence of the Alderney cow, the cucumber frames, and the rabbits,
+might all be carried out for the very best of objects, the good of his
+children.
+
+Now, the squire was, of course, very well aware of the troubles of
+agriculture, the wetness of the seasons--which played havoc with the
+game--the low prices, and the loud talk that was going on around him. But
+he made no sign. He might have been deaf, dumb, and blind. He walked by
+the wheat, but did not see the deficiency of the crop, nor the
+extraordinary growth of weeds. There were voices in the air like the
+mutterings of a coming storm, but he did not hear them. There were
+paragraphs in the papers--how So-and-So had liberally reduced the rents or
+returned a percentage; but he did not read them, or did not understand.
+Rent days came and went, and no sign was made. His solicitor received the
+rents, but nothing could be got out of him by the farmers. The little
+farmers hardly liked to take the lead: some of them did not dare. The
+three largest farmers looked at each other and wondered which would speak
+first. They were awkwardly situated. The squire's wife acknowledged their
+wives and daughters, and once now and then deigned to invite them to the
+mansion. The squire himself presented them with specimens of a valuable
+breed of poultry he was bringing up at the Home Farm. It was difficult to
+begin unpleasant business.
+
+Meantime the solicitor gathered up the cheques, wished them good afternoon
+and departed. Another rent day came round, and still no sign. The squire's
+policy was, in fact, to ignore. He ignored the depression altogether--could
+not see that it existed in that county at all. Recollect, it was the only
+policy open to him. Whether the rents paid to him were large or small, his
+expenses would be the same. There were the members of the other branch of
+the family to be paid in full. There were the carriages, the servants, the
+gamekeepers, and so on. He could reduce nothing; no wonder that he was
+slow to acknowledge that he must be himself reduced. The fatal day--so
+long dreaded--came at last.
+
+A large letter lay on the table in the study one morning, along with the
+other letters. He did not recognise the handwriting, and naturally opened
+it first. It was a 'Round Robin' from the tenants. All had signed a
+memorial, setting forth the depression, and respectfully, even humbly,
+asking that their case be taken into consideration, and that a percentage
+be returned, or the rent reduced. Their heavy land, they pointed out, had
+been peculiarly difficult to work in such seasons. They had suffered
+exceptionally, and they trusted he would take no offence. But there was an
+unmistakable hint that they were in earnest. All signed it--from the
+ungrateful largest tenants, who had had presents of fancy poultry, and
+whose wives had been smiled upon, down to the smallest working farmer, who
+could hardly be distinguished from his own labourers.
+
+The squire read the names over twice, pointing to each with his sharp,
+scratchy finger-nail. There were other letters from the members of the
+other branch of the family whose pensions were just due in full. Suppose
+he returned ten per cent. of the rents to the tenants, that would not be
+like ten per cent. upon the entire rental, but perhaps twenty-five or
+thirty per cent, upon that portion of the rental which actually went into
+his own pocket. A man can hardly be expected to cheerfully tender other
+people a third of his income. But sprawling and ill-written as many of the
+signatures were to the 'Round Robin'--the pen held by heavy hands--yet
+they were genuine, and constituted a very substantial fact, that must be
+yielded to.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+AN AMBITIOUS SQUIRE
+
+
+Perhaps the magistrate most regular in his attendance at a certain country
+Petty Sessional Court is young Squire Marthorne. Those who have had
+business to transact at such Courts know the difficulty that often arises
+from the absence of a second magistrate, there being a numerous class of
+cases with which one justice of the peace is not permitted to deal. There
+must be two, and it sometimes happens that only one is forthcoming. The
+procedure adopted varies much in different divisions, according to the
+population and the percentage of charges brought up. Usually a particular
+day is appointed when it is understood that a full bench will be present,
+but it not unfrequently happens that another and less formal meeting has
+to be held, at which the attendance is uncertain. The district in which
+Mr. Marthorne resides chances to be somewhat populous, and to include one
+or two turbulent places that furnish a steady supply of offenders. The
+practice therefore is to hold two Courts a week; at one of these, on the
+Saturday, the more important cases are arranged to be heard, when there
+are always plenty of magistrates. At the other, on the Tuesday, remands
+and smaller matters are taken, and there then used to be some delay.
+
+One justice thought his neighbour would go, another thought the same of
+his neighbour, and the result was nobody went. Having tacitly bound
+themselves to attend once a week, the justices, many of whom resided miles
+away, did not care formally to pledge themselves to be invariably present
+on a second day. Sometimes the business on that second day was next to
+nothing, but occasionally serious affairs turned up, when messengers had
+to be despatched to gather a quorum.
+
+But latterly this uncertainty has been put an end to through the regular
+attendance of young Squire Marthorne, of Marthorne House. The Marthornes
+are an old family, and one of the best connected in the county, though by
+no means rich, and, whether it was the lack of great wealth or a want of
+energy, they had until recently rather dropped out of the governing
+circle. When, however, the young squire, soon after his accession to the
+property, in the natural course of events, was nominated to the Commission
+of the Peace, he began to exhibit qualities calculated to bring him to the
+front. He developed an aptitude for business, and at the same time showed
+a personal tact and judgment which seemed to promise a future very
+different from the previous stagnation of his family.
+
+These qualities came first into play at the Petty Sessions, which, apart
+from the criminal business, is practically an informal weekly Parliament
+of local landowners. Marthorne, of course, was well known to the rest long
+before his appearance among them as a colleague. He had gained some
+reputation at college; but that had long since been forgotten in the
+prestige he had attained as a brilliant foxhunter. Even in the days before
+his accession, when his finances were notoriously low, he had somehow
+contrived to ride a first-rate horse. Everybody likes a man who rides a
+good horse. At the same time there was nothing horsey about him; he was
+always the gentleman. Since his succession the young squire, as he was
+familiarly described--most of the others being elderly---had selected his
+horses with such skill that it was well known a very great man had noticed
+them, so that when he came to the Bench, young as he was, Marthorne
+escaped the unpleasant process of finding his level--_i.e._ being
+thoroughly put down.
+
+If not received quite as an equal by that assemblage of elderly gentlemen,
+he was made to feel that at all events they would listen to what he had to
+say. That is a very great point gained. Marthorne used his advantage with
+judgment. He displayed a modesty highly commendable in a young man. He
+listened, and only spoke for the purpose of acquiring information. Nothing
+is so pleasing as to find a man of intelligence willingly constituting
+himself your pupil. They were all anxious to teach him the business of the
+county, and the more he endeavoured to learn from them the cleverer they
+thought him.
+
+Now, the business of the county was not very intricate; the details were
+innumerable, but the general drift was easy to acquire. Much more
+complicated to see through were all the little personal likings,
+dislikings, petty spites, foibles, hobbies, secret understandings, family
+jars, and so forth, which really decide a man's vote, or the scale into
+which he throws his influence. There were scores of squires dotted over
+the county, each of whom possessed local power more or less considerable,
+and each of whom might perchance have private relations with men who held
+high office in the State. Every family had its history and its archives
+containing records of negotiations with other families. People who met
+with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the same party, might have
+grudges half a century old, but not yet forgotten. If you made friends
+with one, you might mortally offend the other. The other would say
+nothing, but another day a whisper to some great authority might destroy
+the hopes of the aspirant. Those who would attain to power must study the
+inner social life, and learn the secret motives that animate men. But to
+get at the secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote,
+would occupy one for years.
+
+Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle, knew the
+main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to work, he quickly
+felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment he might irritate some
+one's hidden prejudice. He looked round for an older man who knew all
+about it, and could inform him. This man he found in the person of the
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions. The nominal Chairman, like many other
+unpaid officials, held the place because of old family greatness, not from
+any personal ability--family greatness which was in reality a mere
+tradition. The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the circle.
+
+A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for its own
+sake, and understood every technicality. With little or no personal
+ambition, he had assisted in every political and social movement in the
+county for half a century, and knew the secret motives of every individual
+landowner. With large wealth, nothing to do, and childless, he took a
+liking to young Marthorne. The old man wished for nothing better than to
+talk; the young squire listened attentively. The old man was delighted to
+find some one who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty
+Sessional business. Thus it was that the people who had to attend the
+Local Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it
+was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their business
+facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates. The Vice-Chairman was
+always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there. It sometimes happened
+that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or Hodge the recent pugilist, was
+stolidly waiting for his sentence, the two justices in the retiring room
+were convulsed with laughter; the one recounting, the other imbibing, some
+curious racy anecdote concerning the family history of a local magnate.
+
+Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for solid
+qualities, for work and application. Not only at the Bench, but at the
+Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice of the peace is
+_ex officio_ a member, he steadily worked at details, sat patiently upon
+committees, audited endless accounts, read interminable reports, and was
+never weary of work. The farmers began to talk about him, and to remark to
+each other what a wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a
+pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was. The applause was well earned,
+for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work than that of
+attending Boards which never declare dividends. He next appeared at the
+farmers' club, at first as a mere spectator, and next, though with evident
+diffidence, as a speaker.
+
+Marthorne was no orator; he felt when he stood up to speak an odd
+sensation in the throat, as if the glottis had contracted. He was, in
+fact, very nervous, and for the first two or three sentences had not the
+least idea what he had said. But he forced himself to say it--his will
+overruled his physical weakness. When said it was not much--only a few
+safe platitudes--but it was a distinct advance. He felt that next time he
+should do better, and that his tongue would obey his mind. His remarks
+appeared in the local print, and he had started as a speaker. He was
+resolved to be a speaker, for it is evident to all that, without frequent
+public speech, no one can now be a representative man. Marthorne, after
+this, never lost an opportunity of speaking--if merely to second a
+resolution, to propose a toast, he made the most of it. One rule he laid
+down for himself, namely, never to say anything original. He was not
+speaking to propound a new theory, a new creed, or view of life. His aim
+was to become the mouthpiece of his party. Most probably the thought that
+seemed to him so clever might, if publicly expressed, offend some
+important people. He, therefore, carefully avoided anything original. High
+authorities are now never silent; when Parliament closes they still
+continue to address the public, and generally upon more or less stirring
+questions of the time.
+
+In those addresses, delivered by the very leaders of his own party,
+Marthorne found the material, and caught from their diligent perusal the
+spirit in which to use it. In this way, without uttering a single original
+idea of his own, and with very little originality of expression, the young
+orator succeeded perfectly in his aim. First, he became recognised as a
+speaker, and, therefore, extremely useful; secondly, he was recognised as
+one of the soundest exponents of politics in the county. Marthorne was not
+only clever, but 'safe.' His repute for the latter quality was of even
+more service to him than for talent; to be 'safe' in such things is a very
+great recommendation. Personal reputation is of slow growth, but it does
+grow. The Vice-Chairman, Marthorne's friend and mentor, had connections
+with very high people indeed. He mentioned Marthorne to the very high
+people. These, in their turn, occasionally cast a glance at what Marthorne
+was doing. Now and then they read a speech of his, and thought it
+extremely good, solid, and well put. It was understood that a certain M.P.
+would retire at the next election; and they asked themselves whom they had
+to take his place?
+
+While this important question was exercising the minds of those in
+authority, Marthorne was energetically at work gaining the social
+suffrage. The young squire's lady--he had married in his minority for
+beauty and intelligence, and not for money--was discovered to be a very
+interesting young person. Her beauty and intelligence, and, let it be
+added, her true devotion to her husband's cause, proved of fifty times
+more value to him than a dowry of many manors. Her tact smoothed the way
+everywhere; she made friends for him in all directions, especially perhaps
+during the London season. Under the whirl and glitter of that fascinating
+time there are latent possibilities of important business. Both Marthorne
+and his lady had by birth and connections the _entree_ into leading
+circles; but many who have that _entree_ never attain to more influence in
+society than the furniture of the drawing-room.
+
+These two never for a moment lost sight of the country while they enjoyed
+themselves in town. Everything they said or did was said and done with a
+view to conciliate people who might have direct or indirect influence in
+the country. In these matters, ladies of position still retain
+considerable power in their hands. The young squire and his wife put
+themselves to immense trouble to get the good-will of such persons, and
+being of engaging manners they in time succeeded. This was not effected at
+once, but three or four years are a very short time in which to develop
+personal influence, and their success within so brief a period argues
+considerable skill.
+
+At home again in the autumn the same efforts were diligently continued.
+The mansion itself was but of moderate size and by no means convenient,
+but the squire's lady transformed it from a gaunt, commonplace country
+house into an elegant and charming residence. This she contrived without
+great expense by the exercise of good taste and a gift of discriminating
+between what was and what was not. The exterior she left alone--to alter
+an exterior costs a heavy sum and often fails. But the interior she
+gradually fitted in a novel fettle, almost entirely after her own design.
+The gardens, too, under her supervision, became equally inviting. The
+house got talked about, and was itself a social success.
+
+On his part, the squire paid as much attention to the estate. It was not
+large, far from sufficient of itself, indeed, to support any social or
+political pretensions without the most rigid economy. And the pair were
+rigidly economical. The lady dressed in the height of the fashion, and
+drove the most beautiful horses, and yet she never wasted a shilling upon
+herself. Her own little private whims and fancies she resolutely refused
+to gratify. Every coin was spent where it would produce effect. In like
+manner, the squire literally never had half a sovereign in his pocket. He
+selected the wines in his cellar with the greatest care, and paid for them
+prices which the wine merchant, in these days of cheap wines, was
+unaccustomed to receive from men of thrice his income. The squire paid for
+the very best wine, and in private drank a cheap claret. But his guests,
+many of them elderly gentlemen, when once they had dined with him never
+forgot to come again. His bins became known throughout the county; very
+influential people indeed spoke of them with affection. It was in this way
+that the squire got a high value out of his by no means extensive rents.
+
+He also looked after the estate personally. Hodge, eating his luncheon
+under the hedge in October, as he slowly munched his crust, watched the
+squire strolling about the fields, with his gun under his arm, and
+wondered why he did not try the turnips. The squire never went into the
+turnip field, and seemed quite oblivious that he carried a gun, for when a
+covey rose at his feet he did not fire, but simply marked them down. His
+mind, in fact, was busy with more important matters, and, fond as he was
+of shooting, he wanted the birds for some one else's delectation. After he
+had had the place a little while, there was not a square inch of waste
+ground to be found. When the tenants were callous to hints, the squire
+gave them pretty clearly to understand that he meant his land to be
+improved, and improved it was. He himself of his own free motive and
+initiative ordered new buildings to be erected where he, by personal
+inspection, saw that they would pay. He drained to some extent, but not
+very largely, thinking that capital sunk in drains, except in particular
+soils, did not return for many years.
+
+Anxious as he was to keep plenty of game, he killed off the rabbits, and
+grubbed up many of the small covers at the corners and sides of arable
+fields which the tenants believed injurious to crops. He repaired
+labourers' cottages, and added offices to farmsteads. In short, he did
+everything that could be done without too heavy an expenditure. To kill
+off the rabbits, to grub the smaller coverts, to drain the marshy spots,
+to thatch the cottages, put up cattle sheds, and so on, could be effected
+without burdening the estate with a loan. But, small as these improvements
+were in themselves, yet, taken together, they made an appreciable
+difference.
+
+There was a distinct increase in the revenue of the estate after the first
+two years. The increase arose in part from the diminished expenses, for it
+has been found that a tumble-down place is more costly to maintain than
+one in good repair. The tenants at first were rather alarmed, fearing lest
+the change should end in a general rise of rents. It did not. The squire
+only asked an increase when he had admittedly raised the value of the
+land, and then only to a moderate amount. By degrees he acquired a
+reputation as the most just of landlords. His tenantry were not only
+satisfied, but proud of him; for they began to foresee what was going to
+happen.
+
+Yet all these things had been done for his own interest--so true is it
+that the interest of the landlord and the tenant are identical. The squire
+had simply acted judiciously, and from personal inspection. He studied his
+estate, and attended to it personally. Of course he could not have done
+these things had he not succeeded to a place but little encumbered with
+family settlements. He did them from interested motives, and not from mere
+sentiment. But, nevertheless, credit of a high order was justly accorded
+to him. So young a man might naturally have expended his income on
+pleasure. So young a wife might have spent his rents in frivolity. They
+worked towards an end, but it was a worthy end--for ambition, if not too
+extravagant, is a virtue. Men with votes and influence compared this
+squire in their minds with other squires, whose lives seemed spent in a
+slumberous donothingness.
+
+Thus, by degrees, the young squire's mansion and estate added to his
+reputation. The labour which all this represented was immense. Both the
+squire and his wife worked harder than a merchant in his office. Attending
+Boards and farmers' clubs, making speeches, carrying on correspondence,
+looking after the estate, discharging social duties, filled up every
+moment of his time. Superintending the house, the garden, corresponding,
+and a hundred other labours, filled up every moment of hers. They were
+never idle; to rise socially and politically requires as great or greater
+work than for a poor man to achieve a fortune.
+
+Ultimately the desired result began to be apparent. There grew up a
+general feeling that the squire was the best man for the place in
+Parliament which, in the course of events, must ere long be vacant. There
+was much heartburning and jealousy secretly felt among men twice his age,
+who had waited and hoped for years for such an opening, till at last they
+had rusted and become incapable of effort. But, cynical as they might be
+in private, they were too wise to go openly against the stream. A few
+friendly words spoken in season by a great man whose goodwill had been
+gained decided the matter. At an informal meeting of the party--how much
+more is effected at informal than at formal assemblies!--Marthorne was
+introduced as the successor to the then representative. The young squire's
+estate could not, of course, bear the heavy pecuniary strain which must
+arise; but before those who had the control of these things finally
+selected him they had ascertained that there would be no difficulty with
+respect to money. Marthorne's old friend and mentor, the wealthy
+Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions, who had inducted him into the county
+business, announced that he should bear the larger part of the expense. He
+was not a little proud of his _protege_.
+
+The same old friend and mentor, wise with the knowledge and experience
+which long observation of men had given him, advised the young squire what
+to do when the depression first came upon agriculture. The old man said,
+'Meet it; very likely it will not last two years. What is that in the life
+of an estate?' So the young squire met it, and announced at once that he
+should return a percentage of his rents. 'But not too high a percentage,'
+said the old man; 'let us ascertain what the rest of the landowners think,
+else by a too liberal reduction you may seem to cast a reflection upon
+them.' The percentage was returned, and continued, and the young squire
+has tided over the difficulty.
+
+His own tenantry and the farming interest generally are proud of him.
+Hodge, who, slow as he is, likes a real man, says, 'He beant such a bad
+sort of a veller, you; a' beant above speaking to we!' When the time comes
+the young squire will certainly be returned.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+THE PARSON'S WIFE
+
+It is pleasant, on a sunny day to walk through a field of wheat when the
+footpath is bordered on either side by the ripening crop, without the
+intervention of hedge or fence. Such a footpath, narrow, but well kept,
+leads from a certain country churchyard to the highway road, and passes on
+the way a wicket gate in a thick evergreen shrubbery which surrounds the
+vicarage lawn and gardens. This afternoon the wheat stands still and
+upright, without a motion, in the burning sunshine, for the sun, though he
+has sloped a little from his highest meridian altitude, pours an even
+fiercer beam than at the exact hour of noon. The shadeless field is
+exposed to the full glare of the brilliant light. There are no trees in
+the field itself, the hedges are cut low and trimmed to the smallest
+proportions, and are devoid of timber; and, as the ground is high and
+close to the hills, all the trees in sight are beneath, and can be
+overlooked. Whether in sunshine or storm there is no shelter--no medium;
+the wind rushes over with its utmost fury, or the heat rests on it
+undisturbed by the faintest current. Yet, sultry as it is, the footpath is
+a pleasant one to follow.
+
+The wheat ears, all but ripe--to the ordinary eye they are ripe, but the
+farmer is not quite satisfied--rise to the waist or higher, and tempt the
+hand to pluck them. Butterflies flutter over the surface, now descending
+to some flower hidden beneath, now resuming their joyous journey. There is
+a rich ripe feeling in the very atmosphere, the earth is yielding her
+wealth, and a delicate aroma rises from her generous gifts. Far as the eye
+can see, the rolling plains and slopes present various tints of
+yellow--wheat in different stages of ripeness, or of different kinds; oats
+and barley--till the hedges and woods of the vale conceal the farther
+landscape on the one hand and the ridge of the hills upon the other.
+
+Nothing conveys so strong an impression of substantial wealth as the view
+of wheat-fields. A diamond ornament in a window may be ticketed as worth
+so many hundreds of pounds; but the glittering gem, and the sum it
+represents, seem rather abstract than real. But the wheat, the golden
+wheat, is a great fact that seizes hold of the mind; the idea comes of
+itself that it represents solid wealth.
+
+The tiles of the vicarage roof--all of the house visible above the
+shrubbery--look so hot and dry in the glaring sunshine that it does not
+seem possible for vegetation to exist upon them; yet they are tinted with
+lichen. The shrubbery has an inviting coolness about it--the thick
+evergreens, the hollies on which the berries are now green, the cedars and
+ornamental trees planted so close together that the passer-by cannot see
+through, must surely afford a grateful shade--a contrast with the heat of
+the wheat-field and the dust of the highway below. Just without the wicket
+gate a goat standing upon his hind legs, his fore legs placed against the
+palings, is industriously nibbling the tenderest leaves of the shrubs and
+trees which he can reach. Thus extended to his full length he can reach
+considerably higher than might be supposed, and is capable of much
+destruction. Doubtless he has got out of bounds.
+
+Inside the enclosure the reverend gentleman himself reclines in an
+arm-chair of cane-work placed under the shade of the verandah, just
+without the glass door or window opening from the drawing-room upon the
+lawn. His head has fallen back and a little to one side, and an open book
+lies on his knee; his soft felt hat is bent and crumpled; he has yielded
+to the heat and is slumbering. The blinds are partly down the window, but
+a glimpse can be obtained of a luxurious carpet, of tables in valuable
+woods and inlaid, of a fine piano, of china, and the thousand and one
+nicknacks of highly civilised life. The reverend gentleman's suit of
+black, however, is not new; it is, on the contrary, decidedly rusty, and
+the sole of one of his boots, which is visible, is much worn. Over his
+head the roses twine round the pillars of the verandah, and there is a
+_parterre_ of brilliant flowers not far from his feet.
+
+His wife sits, a few yards distant, under a weeping ash, whose
+well-trained boughs make a perfect tent, and shield her from the sun. She
+has a small table before her, and writing materials, and is making notes
+with the utmost despatch from some paper or journal. She is no longer
+young, and there are marks of much care and trouble on her forehead; but
+she has still a pleasing expression upon her features, her hands are
+exquisitely white, and her figure, once really good, retains some of the
+outline that rendered it beautiful. Wherever you saw her you would say,
+That is a lady. But her dress, tasteful though it be, is made of the
+cheapest material, and looks, indeed, as if it had been carefully folded
+away last summer, and was now brought out to do duty a second time.
+
+The slow rumble of waggon wheels goes down the road, close to the lawn,
+but concealed by the trees, against whose boughs the sheaves of the load
+rustle as they go past. Wealth rolling by upon the waggon, wealth in the
+well-kept garden, in the smart lawn, in the roses, the bright flowers, the
+substantial well-furnished house, the luxurious carpet, and the china;
+wealth, too, all around in the vast expanse of ripening wheat. He has
+nothing to do but to slumber in the cane chair and receive his tithe of
+the harvest. She has nothing to do but to sit under the shadow of the
+weeping ash and dream dreams, or write verses. Such, at least, might be
+the first impression.
+
+The publication from which she is so earnestly making notes is occupied
+with the management of bees, and she is so busy because the paper is only
+borrowed, and has to be returned. Most of the papers and books that come
+to the vicarage have to be hastily read for the same reason. Mrs. F---- is
+doing her very best and hardest to increase the Rev. F----'s income--she
+has tried to do so for some years, and despite repeated failures is
+bravely, perhaps a little wearily, still trying. There is not much left
+for her to experiment with. The goat surreptitiously nibbling the valuable
+shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that once seemed to
+promise fair. Goats at one time (she was persuaded) were the means of
+ready wealth--they could live anywhere, on anything (the shrubs to wit),
+and yielded such rich milk; it far surpassed that of the shorthorn; there
+was the analysis to prove it! Such milk must of course be worth money,
+beside which there were the kids, and the cheese and butter.
+
+Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse than that of
+the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation, that no one would have
+them on the land. The milk was all the analysis declared it, but in that
+outlying village, which did not contain two houses above the quality of a
+farmstead, there was no one to buy it. There was a prejudice against the
+butter which could not be got over; and the cheese--well, the cheese
+resembled a tablet of dark soap. Hodge would not eat it at a gift; he
+smelt it, picked a morsel off on the tip of his clasp knife, and threw it
+aside in contempt. One by one the goats were got rid of, and now but two
+or three remained; she could not make up her mind to part with all, for
+living creatures, however greatly they have disappointed, always enlist
+the sympathies of women.
+
+Poultry was the next grand discovery--they ate their heads off, refused to
+lay eggs, and, when by frequent purchase they became numerous and promised
+to pay, quietly died by the score, seized with an epidemic. She learnt in
+visiting the cottagers how profitable their allotment gardens were to
+them, and naturally proceeded to argue that a larger piece of ground would
+yield proportionately larger profit if cultivated on the same principle.
+If the cottagers could pay a rent for an acre which, in the aggregate, was
+three times that given by the ordinary farmer, and could even then make a
+good thing of it, surely intelligence and skill might do the same on a
+more extended scale. How very foolish the farmers were! they might raise
+at least four times the produce they did, and they might pay three times
+the rent. As the vicar had some hundred and fifty acres of glebe let at
+the usual agricultural rent, if the tenants could be persuaded or
+instructed to farm on the cottager's system, what an immense increase it
+would be to his income! The tenants, however, did not see it. They
+shrugged their shoulders, and made no movement The energetic lady resolved
+to set an example, and to prove to them that they were wrong.
+
+She rented an acre of arable land (at the side of the field), giving the
+tenant a fair price for it. First it had to be enclosed so as to be parted
+off from the open field. The cost of the palings made the vicar wince; his
+lady set it duly down to debit. She planted one-half potatoes, as they
+paid thirty pounds per acre, and on the rest put in hundreds of currant
+bushes, set a strawberry bed and an asparagus bed, on the principle that
+luxuries of that kind fetch a high price and occupy no more space than
+cabbages. As the acre was cultivated entirely by the spade, the cost of
+the labour expended upon it ran up the figures on the debit side to an
+amount which rather startled her. But the most dispiriting part of the
+commencement was the length of time to wait before a crop came. According
+to her calculations that represented so much idle capital sunk, instead of
+being rapidly turned over. However, she consoled herself with the pig-sty,
+in which were half a dozen animals, whose feeding she often personally
+superintended.
+
+The potatoes failed, and did not pay for the digging; the currant bushes
+were blighted; the strawberries were eaten by snails, and, of course, no
+asparagus could be cut for three years; a little item, this last, quite
+overlooked. The pigs returned exactly the sum spent upon them; there was
+neither profit nor loss, and there did not appear any chance of making a
+fortune out of pork. The lady had to abandon the experiment quite
+disheartened, and found that, after all her care and energy, her books
+showed a loss of fifteen pounds. It was wonderful it was not more; labour
+was so expensive, and no doubt she was cheated right and left.
+
+She next tried to utilise her natural abilities, and to turn her
+accomplishments to account. She painted; she illuminated texts; she
+undertook difficult needlework of various kinds, in answer to
+advertisements which promised ample remuneration for a few hours' labour.
+Fifteen hours' hard work she found was worth just threepence, and the
+materials cost one shilling: consequently she laboriously worked herself
+poorer by ninepence.
+
+Finally, she was studying bees, which really seemed to hold out some
+prospect of success. Yonder were the hills where they could find thyme in
+abundance; the fields around supplied clover; and the meadows below were
+full of flowers. So that hot summer day, under the weeping ash, she was
+deep in the study of the 'Ligurian queen,' the 'super' system, the
+mysteries of 'driving,' and making sketches of patent hives. Looking up
+from her sketch she saw that her husband had fallen asleep, and stayed to
+gaze at him thoughtfully.
+
+He looked worn, and older than he really was; as if rest or change would
+do him good; as if he required luxuries and petting. She sighed, and
+wondered whether the bees would enable her to buy him such things, for
+though the house was well furnished and apparently surrounded with wealth,
+they were extremely poor. Yet she did not care for money for their own
+household use so much as to give him the weight in parish affairs he so
+sadly needed. She felt that he was pushed aside, treated as a cipher, and
+that he had little of the influence that properly belonged to him. Her two
+daughters, their only children, were comfortably, though not grandly,
+married and settled; there was no family anxiety. But the work, the
+parish, the people, all seemed to have slipped out of her husband's hands.
+She could not but acknowledge that he was too quiet and yielding, that he
+lacked the brazen voice, the personal force that imposes upon men. But
+surely his good intentions, his way of life, his gentle kindness should
+carry sway. Instead of which the parish seemed to have quite left the
+Church, and the parson was outside the real modern life of the village. No
+matter what he did, even if popular, it soon seemed to pass out of his
+hands.
+
+There was the school, for instance. He could indeed go across and visit
+it, but he had no control, no more than the veriest stranger that strolled
+along the road. He had always been anxious for a good school, and had done
+the best he could with means so limited before the new Acts came into
+operation. When they were passed he was the first to endeavour to carry
+them out and to save the village the cost and the possible quarrelling of
+a school board. He went through all the preliminary work, and reconciled,
+as far as possible, the jarring interests that came into play. The two
+largest landlords of the place were unfortunately not on good terms.
+Whatever the one did the other was jealous of, so that when one promised
+the necessary land for the school, and it was accepted, the other withdrew
+his patronage, and declined to subscribe. With great efforts the vicar,
+nevertheless, got the school erected, and to all appearance the difficulty
+was surmounted.
+
+But when the Government inspection took place it was found that, though
+not nearly filled with scholars, there was not sufficient cubic space to
+include the children of a distant outlying hamlet, which the vicar had
+hoped to manage by a dame school. These poor children, ill fed and young,
+could hardly stand walking to and from the village school--a matter of
+some five miles daily, and which in winter and wet weather was, in itself,
+a day's work for their weary little limbs. As the vicar could not raise
+money enough to pay a certificated teacher at the proposed branch or dame
+school, the scheme had to be abandoned. Then, according to red tape, it
+was necessary to enlarge the village school to accommodate these few
+children, and this notwithstanding that the building was never full. The
+enlargement necessitated a great additional expenditure The ratepayers
+did, indeed, after much bickering and much persuasion, in the end pay off
+the deficiency; but in the meantime, the village had been brought to the
+verge of a school board.
+
+Religious differences came to the front--there was, in fact, a trial of
+force between the denominations. Till then for many years these
+differences had slumbered and been almost forgotten; they were now brought
+into collision, and the social quiet of the place was upset. A council of
+the chief farmers and some others was ultimately formed, and, as a matter
+of fact, really did represent the inhabitants fairly well. But while it
+represented the parish, it left the vicar quite outside. He had a voice,
+but nothing more. He was not the centre--the controlling spirit.
+
+He bore it meekly enough, so far as he was personally concerned; but he
+grieved about it in connection with his deep religious feelings and his
+Church. The Church was not in the front of all, as it should be. It was
+hard after all his labour; the rebuffs, the bitter remarks, the sneers of
+those who had divergent views, and, perhaps worse than all, the cold
+indifference and apathy of those who wished things to remain in the old
+state, ignoring the fact that the law would not suffer it. There were many
+other things besides the school, but they all went the same way. The
+modern institution was introduced, championed by the Church, worked for by
+the Church, but when at last it was successful, somehow or other it seemed
+to have severed itself from the Church altogether. The vicar walked about
+the village, and felt that, though nominally in it, he was really out of
+it.
+
+His wife saw it too, still more clearly than he did. She saw that he had
+none of the gift of getting money out of people. Some men seem only to
+have to come in contact with others to at once receive the fruits of their
+dormant benevolent feelings. The rich man writes his cheque for 100_l_.,
+the middle-class well-to-do sends his bank notes for 20_l_., the
+comfortable middle-class man his sovereigns. A testimonial is got up, an
+address engrossed on vellum, speeches are made, and a purse handed over
+containing a draft for so many hundreds, 'in recognition, not in reward,
+of your long continued and successful ministrations.' The art of causing
+the purse-strings to open is an art that is not so well understood,
+perhaps, among the orthodox as by the unorthodox. The Rev. F---- either
+could not, or would not, or did not know how to ask, and he did not
+receive.
+
+Just at present his finances were especially low. The tenants who farmed
+the glebe land threatened to quit unless their rents were materially
+reduced, and unless a considerable sum was expended upon improvements. To
+some very rich men the reduction of rents has made a sensible difference;
+to the Rev. F---- it meant serious privations. But he had no choice; he
+had to be satisfied with that or nothing. Then the vicarage house, though
+substantial and pleasant to look at, was not in a good state within. The
+rain came through in more places than one, and the ancient woodwork of the
+roof was rotten. He had already done considerable repairing, and knew that
+he must soon do more. The nominal income of the living was but moderate;
+but when the reductions were all made, nothing but a cheese-paring seemed
+left. From this his subscriptions to certain ecclesiastical institutions
+had to be deducted.
+
+Lastly, he had received a hint that a curate ought to be kept now that his
+increasing age rendered him less active than before. There was less hope
+now than ever of anything being done for him in the parish. The landowners
+complained of rent reductions, of farms idle on their hands, and of
+increasing expenses. The farmers grumbled about the inclement seasons,
+their continual losses, and the falling markets. It was not a time when
+the churlish are almost generous, having such overflowing pockets. There
+was no testimonial, no address on vellum, no purse with banker's draft for
+the enfeebled servant of the Church slumbering in the cane chair in the
+verandah.
+
+Yet the house was exquisitely kept, marvellously kept considering the
+class of servants they were obliged to put up with. The garden was bright
+and beautiful with flowers, the lawn smooth; there was an air of
+refinement everywhere. So the clergyman slept, and the wife turned again
+to her sketch of the patent hive, hoping that the golden honey might at
+last bring some metallic gold. The waggon rumbled down the road, and
+Hodge, lying at full length on the top of the load, could just see over
+the lowest part of the shrubbery, and thought to himself what a jolly life
+that parson led, sleeping the hot hours away in the shade.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+
+A MODERN COUNTRY CURATE
+
+
+'He can't stroddle thuck puddle, you: can a'?'
+
+'He be going to try: a' will leave his shoe in it.'
+
+Such were the remarks that passed between two agricultural women who from
+behind the hedge were watching the approach of the curate along a deep
+miry lane. Where they stood the meadow was high above the level of the
+lane, which was enclosed by steep banks thickly overgrown with bramble,
+briar, and thorn. The meadows each side naturally drained into the hollow,
+which during a storm was filled with a rushing torrent, and even after a
+period of dry weather was still moist, for the overhanging trees prevented
+evaporation. A row of sarsen stones at irregular intervals were intended
+to afford firm footing to the wayfarer, but they were nothing more than
+traps for the unwary. Upon placing the foot on the smooth rounded surface
+it immediately slipped, and descended at an angle into a watery hole. The
+thick, stiff, yellow clay held the water like a basin; the ruts, quite two
+feet deep, where waggon wheels had been drawn through by main force, were
+full to the brim. In summer heats they might have dried, but in November,
+though fine, they never would.
+
+Yet if the adventurous passenger, after gamely struggling, paused awhile
+to take breath, and looked up from the mud, the view above was beautiful.
+The sun shone, and lit up the oaks, whose every leaf was brown or buff;
+the gnats played in thousands in the mild air under the branches. Through
+the coloured leaves the blue sky was visible, and far ahead a faintly
+bluish shadow fell athwart the hollow. There were still blackberries on
+the bramble, beside which the brown fern filled the open spaces, and
+behind upon the banks the mosses clothed the ground and the roots of the
+trees with a deep green. Two or more fieldfares were watching in an elm
+some distance down; the flock to which they belonged was feeding, partly
+in the meadow and partly in the hedge. Every now and then the larks flew
+over, uttering their call-note. Behind a bunch of rushes a young rabbit
+crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the hole hard by,
+doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to enter the burrow.
+
+It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not the least
+current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the exertion. His
+boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at every step; they came out
+with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the marks of footsteps, planting his
+step where the weight of some carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down
+firm. Where these failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a
+few inches wide, between two sets of ruts. In a minute he felt the ridge
+giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts. Next he
+crept along the very edge of the ditch, where the briars hooked in the
+tail of his black frock-coat, and an unnoticed projecting bough quietly
+lifted his shovel-hat off, but benevolently held it suspended, instead of
+dropping it in the mud. Still he made progress, though slow; now with a
+giant stride across an exceptionally doubtful spot, now zigzagging from
+side to side. The lane was long, and he seemed to make but little advance.
+But there was a spirit in him not to be stayed by mud, or clay, or any
+other obstacle. It is pleasant to see an enthusiast, whether right or
+wrong, in these cynical days. He was too young to have acquired much
+worldly wisdom, but he was full of the high spirit which arises from
+thorough conviction and the sense of personal consecration conferred by
+the mission on the man. He pushed on steadily till brought to a stop by a
+puddle, broad, deep, and impassable, which extended right across the lane,
+and was some six or eight yards long. He tried to slip past at the side,
+but the banks were thick with thorns, and the brambles overhung the water;
+the outer bushes coated with adhesive mud. Then he sounded the puddle with
+his stick as far as he could reach, and found it deep and the bottom soft,
+so that the foot would sink into it. He considered, and looked up and down
+the lane.
+
+The two women, of whose presence he was unconscious, watched him from the
+high and dry level of the meadow, concealed behind the bushes and the
+oaks. They wore a species of smock frock gathered in round the waist by a
+band over their ordinary dress; these smock frocks had once been white,
+but were now discoloured with dirt and the weather. They were both stout
+and stolid-looking, hardy as the trees under which they stood. They were
+acorn picking, searching for the dropped acorns in the long rank grass by
+the hedge, under the brown leaves, on the banks, and in the furrows. The
+boughs of the oak spread wide--the glory of the tree is its head--and the
+acorns are found in a circle corresponding with the outer circumference of
+the branches. Some are still farther afield, because in falling they
+strike the boughs and glance aside. A long slender pole leaning against
+the hedge was used to thrash the boughs within reach, and so to knock down
+any that remained.
+
+A sack half filled was on the ground close to the trunk of the oak, and by
+it was a heap of dead sticks, to be presently carried home to boil the
+kettle. Two brown urchins assisted them, and went where the women could
+not go, crawling under the thorns into the hedge, and creeping along the
+side of the steep bank, gathering acorns that had fallen into the mouths
+of the rabbit holes, or that were lying under the stoles. Out of sight
+under the bushes they could do much as they liked, looking for fallen nuts
+instead of acorns, or eating a stray blackberry, while their mothers
+rooted about among the grass and leaves of the meadow. Such continual
+stooping would be weary work for any one not accustomed to it. As they
+worked from tree to tree they did not observe the colours of the leaves,
+or the wood-pigeons, or the pheasant looking along the edge of the ditch
+on the opposite side of the field. If they paused it was to gossip or to
+abuse the boys for not bringing more acorns to the sack.
+
+But when the boys, hunting in the hedge, descried the curate in the
+distance and came back with the news, the two women were suddenly
+interested. The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the coloured leaves were
+not worthy of a glance. To see a gentleman up to his ankles in mud was
+quite an attraction. The one stood with her lap half-full of acorns; the
+other with a basket on her arm. The two urchins lay down on the ground,
+and peered from behind a thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely
+distinguishable from the brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes.
+The puddle was too wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was
+there any way round it.
+
+The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go back. He
+tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee--he wore them short always--and
+stepped into the water. At this the urchins could barely suppress a shout
+of delight--they did, however, suppress it--and craned forward to see him
+splash. The curate waded slowly to the middle, getting deeper and deeper,
+and then suddenly found firmer footing, and walked the rest of the way
+with the water barely over his boots. After he was through he cleansed his
+boots on a wisp of grass and set off at a good pace, for the ground past
+the pool began to rise, and the lane was consequently drier. The women
+turned again to their acorns, remarking, in a tone with something like
+respect in it, 'He didn't stop for the mud, you: did a'?'
+
+Presently the curate reached the highway with its hard surface, and again
+increased his pace. The hedges here were cut each side, and as he walked
+rapidly, leaning forward, his shovel-hat and shoulders were visible above
+them, and his coat tails floated in the breeze of his own progress. His
+heavy boots--they were extremely thick and heavy, though without
+nails--tramped, tramped, on the hard road. With a stout walking-stick in
+one hand, and in the other a book, he strode forward, still more swiftly
+as it seemed at every stride. A tall young man, his features seemed thin
+and almost haggard; out of correspondence with a large frame, they looked
+as if asceticism had drawn and sharpened them. There was earnestness and
+eagerness--almost feverish eagerness--in the expression of his face. He
+passed the meadows, the stubble fields, the green root crops, the men at
+plough, who noticed his swift walk, contrasting with their own slow
+motion; and as he went his way now and then consulted a little slip of
+paper, upon which he had jotted memoranda of his engagements. Work, work,
+work--ceaseless work. How came this? What could there be to do in a
+sparely-populated agricultural district with, to appearance, hardly a
+cottage to a mile?
+
+After nearly an hour's walking he entered the outskirts of a little
+country town, slumbering outside the railway system, and, turning aside
+from the street, stopped at the door of the ancient vicarage. The resident
+within is the ecclesiastical head of two separate hamlets lying at some
+miles' distance from his own parish. Each of these hamlets possesses a
+church, though the population is of the very sparsest, and in each he
+maintains a resident curate. A third curate assists him in the duties of
+the home parish, which is a large one, that is, in extent. From one of
+these distant hamlets the curate, who struggled so bravely through the
+mire, has walked in to consult with his superior. He is shown into the
+library, and sinks not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who
+is engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.
+
+This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval times. Some
+have conjectured that the present library and the adjoining rooms (the
+partitions being modern) originally formed the refectory of a monastic
+establishment. Others assign it to another use; but all agree that it is
+monastic and antique. The black oak rafters of the roof, polished as it
+were by age, meet overhead unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one
+place a figure seems at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth
+like a spectre from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
+colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy when
+first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat or two of
+plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was carelessly laid on, the
+tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted woman in a flowing robe, with
+upraised arm, stands ever in the act to bless. Only half one of the
+windows of the original hall is in this apartment--the partition wall
+divides it. There yet remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as
+they are and small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems
+to tone the room.
+
+The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a gaunt
+severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the wide expanse of
+wall. On the table are a few books and some letters, with foreign
+postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed handwriting of Continental
+scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp hangs suspended by a slender chain.
+In a corner are some fragments of stone mouldings and wood carvings like
+the panel of an ancient pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides
+those on the table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet
+or covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
+fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are the works
+of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the fireplace and the
+hearth restored; for in that outlying district there is plenty of wood.
+Though of modern make, the heavy brass fire-irons are of ancient shape.
+The fire has gone out--the logs are white with the ash that forms upon
+decaying embers; it is clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called
+a library, but really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal
+comfort. If examined closely the floor yonder bears the marks of feet that
+have walked monotonously to and fro in hours of thought. When the eye has
+taken in these things, as the rustle of the brown leaves blown against the
+pane without in the silence is plainly audible, the mind seems in an
+instant to slip back four hundred years.
+
+The weary curate has closed his eyes, and starts as a servant enters
+bringing him wine, for the vicar, utterly oblivious of his own comfort, is
+ever on the watch for that of others. His predecessor, a portly man, happy
+in his home alone, and, as report said, loving his ease and his palate,
+before he was preferred to a richer living, called in the advice of
+architects as to converting the ancient refectory to some use. In his time
+it was a mere lumber-room, into which all the odds and ends of the house
+were thrown. Plans were accordingly prepared for turning one part of it
+into a cosy breakfast parlour, and the other into a conservatory. Before
+any steps, however, were taken he received his preferment--good things
+flow to the rich--and departed, leaving behind him a favourable memory. If
+any inhabitant were asked what the old vicar did, or said, and what work
+he accomplished, the reply invariably was, 'Oh! hum! he was a very good
+sort of man: he never interfered with anybody or anything!'
+
+Accustomed to such an even tenour of things, all the _vis inertiae_ of the
+parish revolted when the new vicar immediately evinced a determination to
+do his work thoroughly. The restless energy of the man alone set the
+stolid old folk at once against him. They could not 'a-bear to see he
+a-flying all over the parish: why couldn't he bide at home?' No one is so
+rigidly opposed to the least alteration in the conduct of the service as
+the old farmer or farmer's wife, who for forty years and more has listened
+to the same old hymn, the same sing-song response, the same style of
+sermon. It is vain to say that the change is still no more than what
+was--contemplated by the Book of Common Prayer. They naturally interpret
+that book by what they have been accustomed to from childhood. The vicar's
+innovations were really most inoffensive, and well within even a narrow
+reading of the rubric. The fault lay in the fact that they were
+innovations, so far as the practice of that parish was concerned. So the
+old folk raised their voices in a chorus of horror, and when they met
+gossiped over the awful downfall of the faith. All that the vicar had yet
+done was to intone a part of the service, and at once many announced that
+they should stay away.
+
+Next he introduced a choir. The sweet voices of the white-robed boys
+rising along the vaulted roof of the old church melted the hearts of those
+who, with excuses for their curiosity to their neighbours, ventured to go
+and hear them. The vicar had a natural talent, almost a genius, for music.
+There was a long struggle in his mind whether he might or might not permit
+himself an organ in his library. He decided it against himself, mortifying
+the spirit as well as the flesh, but in the service of the Church he felt
+that he might yield to his inclination. By degrees he gathered round him
+the best voices of the parish; the young of both sexes came gladly after
+awhile to swell the volume of song. How powerful is the influence of holy
+music upon such minds as are at all inclined to serious devotion! The
+church filled more and more every Sunday, and people came from the
+farthest corners of the parish, walking miles to listen. The young people
+grew enthusiastic, and one by one the old folk yielded and followed them.
+
+At the same time the church itself seemed to change. It had been cold and
+gloomy, and gaunt within, for so many generations, that no one noticed it.
+A place of tombs, men hurried away from it as quickly as possible. Now,
+little touches here and there gradually gave it the aspect of habitation.
+The new curtains hung at the door of the vestry, and drawn, too, across
+the main entrance when service began, the _fleur-de-lys_ on the crimson
+ground gave an impression of warmth. The old tarnished brazen fittings of
+the pews were burnished up, a new and larger stove (supplied at the
+vicar's expense) diffused at least some little heat in winter. A curate
+came, one who worked heart and soul with the vicar, and the service became
+very nearly choral, the vicar now wearing the vestment which his degree
+gave him the strict right to assume. There were brazen candlesticks behind
+the altar, and beautiful flowers. Before, the interior was all black and
+white. Now there was a sense of colour, of crimson curtains, of polished
+brass, of flowers, and rich-toned altar cloth. The place was lit up with a
+new light. After the first revolt of the old folk there was little
+opposition, because the vicar, being a man who had studied human nature
+and full of practical wisdom as well as learning, did all things
+gradually. One thing as introduced at a time, and the transition--after
+the first start--was effected imperceptibly. Nor was any extravagant
+ritual thrust upon the congregation; nor any suspicious doctrine broached.
+
+In that outlying country place, where men had no knowledge of cathedrals,
+half the offices of the Church had been forgotten. The vicar brought them
+back again. He began early morning services; he had the church open all
+day for private prayer. He reminded the folk of Lent and Eastertide,
+which, except for the traditional pancakes, had almost passed out of their
+lives. Festivals, saints' days, midnight service, and, above all, the
+Communion, were insisted upon and brought home to them. As in many other
+country districts, the Communion had nearly dropped into disuse. At first
+he was alone, but by-and-by a group of willing lay helpers grew up around
+him. The churchwardens began to work with him; then a few of the larger
+tenant farmers. Of the two great landed proprietors, one was for him from
+the first, the other made no active opposition, but stood aloof. When, in
+the autumn, the family of the one that was for him came home, a fresh
+impetus was given. The ladies of the mansion came forward to join in the
+parish and Church work, and then other ladies, less exalted, but fairly
+well-to-do, who had only been waiting for a leader, crowded after.
+
+For the first time in the memory of man the parish began to be 'visited.'
+Lay sisters accepted the charge of districts; and thus there was not a
+cottage, nor an old woman, but had the change brought home to her.
+Confirmation, which had been almost forgotten, was revived, and it was
+surprising what a number of girls came forward to be prepared. The Bishop,
+who was not at all predisposed to view the 'movement' with favour, when he
+saw the full church, the devotional congregation, and after he had visited
+the vicarage and seen into what was going on personally, expressed openly
+a guarded approval, and went away secretly well pleased. Rightly or
+wrongly, there was a 'movement' in the parish and the outlying hamlets:
+and thus it was that the curate, struggling through the mire, carried in
+his face the expression of hard work. Work, work, work; the vicar, his
+three curates and band of lay helpers, worked incessantly.
+
+Besides his strictly parochial duties, the vicar wrote a manual for use in
+the schools, he attended the Chambers of Agriculture, and supported
+certain social movements among the farmers; he attended meetings, and,
+both socially and politically, by force of character, energy, and the gift
+of speech, became a power in the country side. Still striving onwards, he
+wrote in London periodicals, he published a book, he looked from the
+silence of his gaunt study towards the great world, and sometimes dreamed
+of what he might have done had he not been buried in the country, and of
+what he might even yet accomplish. All who came in contact with him felt
+the influence of his concentrated purpose: one and all, after they had
+worked their hardest, thought they had still not done so much as he would
+have done.
+
+The man's charm of manner was not to be resisted; he believed his office
+far above monarchs, but there was no personal pretension. That gentle,
+pleasing manner, with the sense of intellectual power behind it, quite
+overcame the old folk. They all spoke with complacent pride of 'our
+vicar'; and, what was more, opened their purses. The interior of the
+church was restored, and a noble organ built. When its beautiful notes
+rose and fell, when sweet voices swelled the wave of sound, then even the
+vicar's restless spirit was soothed in the fulfilment of his hope. A large
+proportion of the upper and middle class of the parish was, without a
+doubt, now gathered around him; and there was much sympathy manifested
+from adjacent parishes with his objects, sympathy which often took the
+form of subscriptions from distant people.
+
+But what said Hodge to it all? Hodge said nothing. Some few young cottage
+people who had good voices, and liked to use them, naturally now went to
+church. So did the old women and old men, who had an eye to charity. But
+the strong, sturdy men, the carters and shepherds, stood aloof; the bulk
+and backbone of the agricultural labouring population were not in the
+least affected. They viewed the movement with utter indifference. They
+cleaned their boots on a Sunday morning while the bells were ringing, and
+walked down to their allotments, and came home and ate their cabbage, and
+were as oblivious of the vicar as the wind that blew. They had no present
+quarrel with the Church; no complaint whatever; nor apparently any old
+memory or grudge;  yet there was a something, a blank space as it were,
+between them and the Church. If anything, the 'movement' rather set them
+against going.
+
+Agricultural cottagers have a strong bias towards Dissent in one form or
+another; village chapels are always well filled. Dissent, of course, would
+naturally rather dislike a movement of the kind. But there was no active
+or even passive opposition. The cottage folk just ignored the Church;
+nothing more and nothing less. No efforts were spared to obtain their
+good-will and to draw them into the fold, but there was absolutely no
+response. Not a labourer's family in that wide district was left
+unvisited. The cottages were scattered far apart, dotted here and there,
+one or two down in a narrow coombe surrounded on three sides by the green
+wall of the hills. Others stood on the bleak plains, unsheltered by tree
+or hedge, exposed to the keen winds that swept across the level, yet
+elevated fields. A new cottage built in modern style, with glaring red
+brick, was perched on the side of a hill, where it was visible miles away.
+An old thatched one stood in a hollow quite alone, half a mile from the
+highway, and so hidden by the oaks that an army might have ravaged the
+country and never found it. How many, many miles of weary walking such
+rounds as these required!
+
+Though they had, perhaps, never received a 'visitor' before, it was
+wonderful with what skill the cottage women especially--the men being
+often away at work--adapted themselves to the new _regime_. Each time they
+told a more pitiful tale, set in such a realistic framing of hardship and
+exposure that a stranger could not choose but believe. In the art of
+encouraging attentions of this sort no one excels the cottage women; the
+stories they will relate, with the smallest details inserted in the right
+place, are something marvellous. At first you would exclaim with the
+deepest commiseration, such a case of suffering and privation as this
+cannot possibly be equalled by any in the parish; but calling at the next
+cottage, you are presented with a yet more moving relation, till you find
+the whole population are plunged in misery and afflicted with incredible
+troubles. They cannot, surely, be the same folk that work so sturdily at
+harvest. But when the curate has administered words of consolation and
+dropped the small silver dole in the palm, when his shovel-hat and black
+frock-coat tails have disappeared round the corner of the copse, then in a
+single second he drops utterly out of mind. No one comes to church the
+more. If inquiries are made why they did not come, a hundred excuses are
+ready; the rain, a bad foot, illness of the infant, a cow taken ill and
+requiring attention, and so on.
+
+After some months of such experience the curate's spirits gradually
+decline; his belief in human nature is sadly shaken. Men who openly
+oppose, who argue and deny, are comparatively easy to deal with; there is
+the excitement of the battle with evil. But a population that listens, and
+apparently accepts the message, that is so thankful for little charities,
+and always civil, and yet turns away utterly indifferent, what is to be
+done with it? Might not the message nearly as well be taken to the cow at
+her crib, or the horse at his manger? They, too, would receive a wisp of
+sweet hay willingly from the hand.
+
+But the more bitter the experience, the harder the trial, the more
+conscientiously the curate proceeds upon his duty, struggling bravely
+through the mire. He adds another mile to his daily journey: he denies
+himself some further innocent recreation. The cottages in the open fields
+are comparatively pleasant to visit, the sweet fresh air carries away
+effluvia. Those that are so curiously crowded together in the village are
+sinks of foul smell, and may be of worse--places where, if fever come, it
+takes hold and quits not. His superior requests him earnestly to refrain
+awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a holiday--even orders
+him to desist from overmuch labour. The man's mind is in it, and he cannot
+obey. What is the result?
+
+Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance be
+strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people on the one
+side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats are passing to
+and fro. A bath-chair approaches, and a young man clad in black gets out
+of it, where some friendly iron railings afford him a support for his
+hand. There, step by step, leaning heavily on the rails, he essays to walk
+as a child. The sockets of his joints yield beneath him, the limbs are
+loose, the ankle twists aside; each step is an enterprise, and to gain a
+yard a task. Thus day by day the convalescent strives to accustom the
+sinews to their work. It is a painful spectacle; how different, how
+strangely altered, from the upright frame and the swift stride that
+struggled through the miry lane, perhaps even then bearing the seeds of
+disease imbibed in some foul village den, where duty called him!
+
+His wan, white face seems featureless; there is nothing but a pair of
+deep-set eyes. But as you pass, and momentarily catch their glance, they
+are bright and burning still with living faith.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+
+THE SOLICITOR
+
+
+In glancing along the street of a country town, a house may sometimes be
+observed of a different and superior description to the general row of
+buildings. It is larger, rises higher, and altogether occupies more space.
+The facade is stylish, in architectural fashion of half a century since.
+To the modern eye it may not perhaps look so interesting as the true old
+gabled roofs which seem so thoroughly English, nor, on the other hand, so
+bright and cheerful as the modern suburban villa. But it is substantial
+and roomy within. The weather has given the front a sombre hue, and the
+windows are dingy, as if they rarely or never knew the care of a
+housemaid. On the ground floor the windows that would otherwise look on to
+the street are blocked to almost half their height with a wire blind so
+closely woven that no one can see in, and it is not easy to see out. The
+doorway is large, with stone steps and porch--the doorway of a gentleman's
+house. There is business close at hand--shops and inns, and all the usual
+offices of a town--but, though in the midst, this house wears an air of
+separation from the rest of the street.
+
+When it was built--say fifty years ago, or more--it was, in fact, the
+dwelling-house of an independent gentleman. Similar houses may be found in
+other parts of the place, once inhabited by retired and wealthy people.
+Such persons no longer live in towns of this kind--they build villas with
+lawns and pleasure grounds outside in the environs, or, though still
+retaining their pecuniary interest, reside at a distance. Like large
+cities, country towns are now almost given over to offices, shops,
+workshops, and hotels. Those who have made money get away from the streets
+as quickly as possible. Upon approaching nearer to this particular
+building the street door will be found to be wide open to the public, and,
+if you venture still closer, a name may be seen painted in black letters
+upon the side of the passage wall, after the manner of the brokers in the
+courts off Throgmorton Street, or of the lawyers in the Temple. It is, in
+fact, the office of a country solicitor--most emphatically one of Hodge's
+many masters--and is admirably suited for his purpose, on account of its
+roomy interior.
+
+The first door within opens on the clerks' room, and should you modestly
+knock on the panels instead of at once turning the handle, a voice will
+invite you to 'Come in.' Half of the room is partitioned off for the
+clerks, who sit at a long high desk, with a low railing or screen in front
+of them. Before the senior is a brass rail, along which he can, if he
+chooses, draw a red curtain. He is too hard at work and intent upon some
+manuscript to so much as raise his head as you enter. But the two younger
+men, eager for a change, look over the screen, and very civilly offer to
+attend to your business. When you have said that you wish to see the head
+of the firm, you naturally imagine that your name will be at once shouted
+up the tube, and that in a minute or two, at farthest, you will be ushered
+into the presence of the principal. In that small country town there
+cannot surely be much work for a lawyer, and a visitor must be quite an
+event. Instead, however, of using the tube they turn to the elder clerk,
+and a whispered conversation takes place, of which some broken sentences
+may be caught--'He can't be disturbed,' 'It's no use,' 'Must wait.' Then
+the elder clerk looks over his brass rail and says he is very sorry, but
+the principal is engaged, the directors of a company are with him, and it
+is quite impossible to say exactly when they will leave. It may be ten
+minutes, or an hour. But if you like to wait (pointing with his quill to a
+chair) your name shall be sent up directly the directors leave.
+
+You glance at the deck, and elect to wait. The older clerk nods his head,
+and instantly resumes his writing. The chair is old and hard--the stuffing
+compressed by a generation of weary suitors; there are two others at equal
+distances along the wall. The only other furniture is a small but solid
+table, upon which stands a brass copying-press. On the mantelpiece there
+are scales for letter-weighing, paper clips full of papers, a county
+Post-office directory, a railway time-table card nailed to the wall, and a
+box of paper-fasteners. Over it is a map, dusty and dingy, of some estate
+laid out for building purposes, with a winding stream running through it,
+roads passing at right angles, and the points of the compass indicated in
+an upper corner.
+
+On the other side of the room, by the window, a framed advertisement hangs
+against the wall, like a picture, setting forth the capital and reserve
+and the various advantages offered by an insurance company, for which the
+firm are the local agents. Between the chairs are two boards fixed to the
+wall with some kind of hook or nail for the suspension of posters and
+printed bills. These boards are covered with such posters, announcing
+sales by auction, farms to be let, houses to be had on lease, shares in a
+local bank or gasworks for sale, and so on, for all of which properties
+the firm are the legal representatives. Though the room is of fair size
+the ceiling is low, as in often the case in old houses, and it has, in
+consequence, become darkened by smoke and dust, therein, after awhile,
+giving a gloomy, oppressive feeling to any one who has little else to gaze
+at. The blind at the window rises far too high to allow of looking out,
+and the ground glass above it was designed to prevent the clerks from
+wasting their time watching the passers-by in the street. There is,
+however, one place where the glass is worn and transparent, and every now
+and then one of the two younger clerks mounts on his stool and takes a
+peep through to report to his companion.
+
+The restraint arising from the presence of a stranger soon wears off; the
+whisper rises to a buzz of talk; they laugh, and pelt each other with
+pellets of paper. The older clerk takes not the least heed. He writes
+steadily on, and never lifts his head from the paper--long hours of labour
+have dimmed his sight, and he has to stoop close over the folio. He may be
+preparing a brief, he may be copying a deposition, or perhaps making a
+copy of a deed; but whatever it is, his whole mind is absorbed and
+concentrated on his pen. There must be no blot, no erasure, no
+interlineation. The hand of the clock moves slowly, and the half-heard
+talk and jests of the junior clerks--one of whom you suspect of making a
+pen-and-ink sketch of you--mingle with the ceaseless scrape of the
+senior's pen, and the low buzz of two black flies that circle for ever
+round and round just beneath the grimy ceiling. Occasionally noises of the
+street penetrate; the rumble of loaded waggons, the tramp of nailed shoes,
+or the sharp quick sound of a trotting horse's hoofs. Then the junior
+jumps up and gazes through the peephole. The directors are a very long
+time upstairs. What can their business be? Why are there directors at all
+in little country towns?
+
+Presently there are heavy footsteps in the passage, the door slowly opens,
+and an elderly labourer, hat in hand, peers in. No one takes the least
+notice of him. He leans on his stick and blinks his eyes, looking all
+round the room; then taps with the stick and clears his throat--'Be he in
+yet?' he asks, with emphasis on the 'he.' 'No, he be not in,' replies a
+junior, mocking the old man's accent and grammar. The senior looks up,
+'Call at two o'clock, the deed is not ready,' and down goes his head
+again. 'A main bit o' bother about this yer margidge' (mortgage), the
+labourer remarks, as he turns to go out, not without a complacent smile on
+his features for the law's delays seem to him grand, and he feels
+important. He has a little property--a cottage and garden--upon which he
+is raising a small sum for some purpose, and this 'margidge' is one of the
+great events of his life. He talked about it for two or three years before
+he ventured to begin it; he has been weeks making up his mind exactly what
+to do after his first interview with the solicitor--he would have been
+months had not the solicitor at last made it plain that he could waste no
+more time--and when it is finally completed he will talk about it again to
+the end of his days. He will be in and out asking for 'he' all day long at
+intervals, and when the interview takes place it will be only for the
+purpose of having everything already settled explained over to him for the
+fiftieth time. His heavy shoes drag slowly down the passage--he will go to
+the street corner and talk with the carters who come in, and the old
+women, with their baskets, a-shopping, about 'this yer law job.'
+
+There is a swifter step on the lead-covered staircase, and a clerk
+appears, coming from the upper rooms. He has a telegram and a letter in
+one hand, and a bundle of papers in the other. He shows the telegram and
+the letter to his fellow clerks--even the grave senior just glances at the
+contents silently, elevates his eyebrows, and returns to his work. After a
+few minutes' talk and a jest or two the clerk rushes upstairs again.
+
+Another caller comes. It is a stout, florid man, a young farmer or
+farmer's son, riding-whip in hand, who produces a red-bound rate-book from
+a pocket in his coat made on purpose to hold the unwieldy volume. He is a
+rate-collector for his parish, and has called about some technicalities.
+The grave senior clerk examines the book, but cannot solve the
+difficulties pointed out by the collector, and, placing it on one side,
+recommends the inquirer to call in two hours' time. Steps again on the
+stairs, and another clerk comes down leisurely, and after him still
+another. Their only business is to exchange a few words with their
+friends, for pastime, and they go up again.
+
+As the morning draws on, the callers become more numerous, and it is easy
+to tell the positions they occupy by the degree of attention they receive
+from the clerks. A tradesman calls three or four times, with short
+intervals between--he runs over from his shop; the two juniors do not
+trouble to so much as look over the screen, and barely take the trouble to
+answer the anxious inquiry if the principal is yet disengaged. They know,
+perhaps, too much about his bills and the state of his credit. A builder
+looks in--the juniors are tolerably civil and explain to him that it is no
+use calling for yet another hour at least. The builder consults his watch,
+and decides to see the chief clerk (who is himself an attorney, having
+passed the examination), and is forthwith conducted upstairs. A burly
+farmer appears, and the grave senior puts his head up to answer, and
+expresses his sorrow that the principal is so occupied. The burly farmer,
+however, who is evidently a man of substance, thinks that the chief clerk
+can also do what he wants, and he, too, is ushered upstairs. Another
+farmer enters--a rather rougher-looking man--and, without saying a word,
+turns to the advertisement boards on which the posters of farms to be let,
+&c., are displayed. These he examines with the greatest care, pointing
+with his forefinger as he slowly reads, and muttering to himself.
+Presently he moves to go. 'Anything to suit you, sir?' asks the senior
+clerk. 'Aw, no; I knows they be too much money,' he replies, and walks
+out.
+
+A gentleman next enters, and immediately the juniors sink out of sight,
+and scribble away with eager application; the senior puts down his pen and
+comes out from his desk. It is a squire and magistrate. The senior
+respectfully apologises for his employer being so occupied. The gentleman
+seems a little impatient. The clerk rubs his hands together deprecatingly,
+and makes a desperate venture. He goes upstairs, and in a few minutes
+returns; the papers are not ready, but shall be sent over that evening in
+any case. With this even the squire must fain be satisfied and depart. The
+burly farmer and the builder come downstairs together amicably chatting,
+and after them the chief clerk himself. Though young, he has already an
+expression of decision upon his features, an air of business about him; in
+fact, were he not thoroughly up to his work he would not remain in that
+office long. To hold that place is a guarantee of ability. He has a bundle
+of cheques, drafts, &c., in his hand, and after a few words with the grave
+senior at the desk, strolls across to the bank.
+
+No sooner has the door closed behind him than a shoal of clerks come
+tripping down on tip-toe, and others appear from the back of the house.
+They make use of the opportunity for a little gossip. Voices are heard in
+the passage, and an aged and infirm labouring man is helped in by a woman
+and a younger man. The clerks take no notice, and the poor old follow
+props himself against the wall, not daring to take a chair. He is a
+witness. He can neither read nor write, but he can recollect 'thuck ould
+tree,' and can depose to a fact worth perhaps hundreds of pounds. He has
+come in to be examined; he will be driven in a week or two's time from the
+village to the railway station in a fly, and will talk about it and his
+visit to London till the lamp of life dies out.
+
+A footman calls with a note, a groom brings another, the letters are
+carelessly cast aside, till one of the juniors, who has been watching from
+the peephole, reports that the chief clerk is coming, and everybody
+scuttles back to his place. Callers come still more thickly; another
+solicitor, well-to-do, and treated with the utmost deference; more
+tradesmen; farmers; two or three auctioneers, in quick succession; the
+well-brushed editor of a local paper; a second attorney, none too well
+dressed, with scrubby chin and face suspiciously cloudy, with an odour of
+spirits and water and tobacco clinging to his rusty coat. He belongs to a
+disappearing type of country lawyer, and is the wreck, perhaps, of high
+hopes and good opportunities. Yet, wreck as he is, when he gets up at the
+Petty Sessions to defend some labourer, the bench of magistrates listen to
+his maundering argument as deferentially as if he were a Q.C. They pity
+him, and they respect his cloth. The scrubby attorney whistles a tune, and
+utters an oath when he learns the principal is engaged. Then he marches
+out, with his hat on one side of his head, to take another 'refresher.'
+
+Two telegrams arrive, and are thrown aside; then a gentleman appears, whom
+the senior goes out to meet with an air of deference, and whom he actually
+conducts himself upstairs to the principal's room. It is a local banker,
+who is thus admitted to the directors' consultation. The slow hand of the
+clock goes round, and, sitting wearily on the hard chair, you wonder if
+ever it will be possible to see this much-sought man. By-and-by a door
+opens above, there is a great sound of voices and chatting, and half a
+dozen gentlemen--mostly landed proprietors from their appearance--come
+downstairs. They are the directors, and the consultation is over. The
+senior clerk immediately goes to the principal, and shortly afterwards
+reappears and asks you to come up.
+
+As you mount the lead-covered stairs you glance down and observe the
+anxious tradesman, the ancient labourer, and several others who have
+crowded in, all eyeing you with jealous glances. But the senior is holding
+the door open--you enter, and it closes noiselessly behind you. A hand
+with a pen in it points to a chair, with a muttered 'Pardon--half a
+moment' and while the solicitor just jots down his notes you can glance
+round the apartment. Shelves of calf-bound law books; piles of japanned
+deed-boxes, some marked in white letters 'Trustees of,' or 'Executors of'
+and pigeon-holes full of papers seem to quite hide the walls. The floor is
+covered with some material noiseless to walk on (the door, too, is double,
+to exclude noise and draught); the furniture is solid and valuable; the
+arm-chair you occupy capacious and luxurious. On the wall hangs a section
+of the Ordnance map of the district. But the large table, which almost
+fills the centre of the room, quickly draws the attention from everything
+else.
+
+It is on that table that all the business is done; all the energies of the
+place are controlled and directed from thence. At the first glance it
+appears to support a more chaotic mass of papers. They completely conceal
+it, except just at the edge. Bundles of letters tied with thin red tape,
+letters loose, letters unopened; parchment deeds with the seals and
+signature just visible; deeds with the top and the words, 'This
+indenture,' alone glowing out from the confusion; deeds neatly folded;
+broad manuscript briefs; papers fastened with brass fasteners; papers
+hastily pinned together; old newspapers marked and underlined in red ink;
+a large sectional map, half unrolled and hanging over the edge; a small
+deed-box, the lid open, and full of blue paper in oblong strips; a tall
+porcupine-quill pen sticking up like a spire; pocket-books; books open;
+books with half a dozen papers in them for markers; altogether an utter
+chaos. But the confusion is only apparent; the master mind knows the exact
+position of every document, and can lay his hand on it the moment it is
+wanted.
+
+The business is such that even the master mind can barely keep pace with
+it. This great house can hardly contain it; all the clerks we saw rushing
+about cannot get through the work, and much of the mechanical copying or
+engrossing goes to London to be done. The entire round of country life
+comes here. The rolling hills where the shepherd watches his flock, the
+broad plains where the ploughman guides the share, the pleasant meadows
+where the roan cattle chew the cud, the extensive parks, the shady woods,
+sweet streams, and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle, all have their
+written counterpart in those japanned deed-boxes. Solid as is the land
+over which Hodge walks stolid and slow, these mere written words on
+parchment are the masters of it all. The squire comes here about intricate
+concerns of family settlements which in their sphere are as hard to
+arrange as the diplomatic transactions of Governments. He comes about his
+tenants and his rent; he comes to get new tenants.
+
+The tenants resort to the solicitor for farms, for improvements,
+reductions, leases, to negotiate advances, to insure for the various
+affairs of life. The clergyman comes on questions that arise out of his
+benefice, the churchyard, ecclesiastical privileges, the schools, and
+about his own private property. The labourer comes about his cottage and
+garden--an estate as important to him as his three thousand acres to the
+squire--or as a witness. The tradesman, the builder, the banker come for
+financial as well as legal objects. As the town develops, and plots are
+needed for houses and streets, the resort to the solicitor increases
+tenfold. Companies are formed and require his advice. Local government
+needs his assistance. He may sit in an official position in the County
+Court, or at the bench of the Petty Sessions. Law suits--locally great--
+are carried through in the upper Courts of the metropolis; the counsel's
+name appears in the papers, but it is the country solicitor who has
+prepared everything for him, and who has marshalled that regiment of
+witnesses from remote hamlets of the earth. His widening circle of
+landlord clients have each their attendant circles of tenants, who feel
+confidence in their leader's legal adviser. Parochial officers come to
+him; overseer, rate-collector, church warden, tithing-man. The
+all-important work of registering voters fills up the space between one
+election and another. At the election his offices are like the
+head-quarters of an army. He may represent some ancient college, or
+corporation with lands of vast extent. Ladies with a little capital go
+home content when he has invested their money in mortgage of real
+property. Still the work goes on increasing; additional clerks have to be
+employed; a fresh wing has to be built to the old house. He has, too, his
+social duties; he is, perhaps, the head or mainspring of a church
+movement--this is not for profit, but from conviction. His lady is carried
+to and fro in the brougham, making social visits. He promotes athletic
+clubs, reading-rooms, shows, exhibitions. He is eagerly seized upon by
+promoters of all kinds, because he possesses the gift of organisation. It
+becomes a labour merely to catalogue his engagements like this. Let the
+rain rain, or the sun shine, the pen never stays work.
+
+Personally he is the very antithesis is of what might be predicated of the
+slow, comfortable, old-fashioned lawyer. He is in the prime of life,
+physically full of vigour, mentally persevering with untiring
+perseverance, the embodiment of energy, ever anxious to act, to do rather
+than to delay. As you talk with him you find his leading idea seems to be
+to arrange your own half-formed views for you; in short, to show you what
+you really do want, to put your desire into shape. He interprets you. Many
+of the clients who come to him are the most impracticable men in the
+world. A farmer, for instance, with a little money, is in search of a
+farm. Find him twenty farms just the size for his capital, he will visit
+them all and discover a fault in each, and waver and waver till the proper
+season for entering on possession is past. The great problem with country
+people is how to bring them to the point. You may think you have got all
+your witnesses ready for the train for London, and, as the bell rings,
+find that one has slipped away half a mile to talk with the blacksmith
+about the shoeing of his mare. Even the squire is trying when, he talks of
+this or that settlement. Of course, as he is educated, no lengthy and
+oft-repeated explanations are needed; but the squire forgets that time is
+valuable, and lingers merely to chat. He has so much time to spare, he is
+apt to overlook that the solicitor has none. The clergyman will talk,
+talk, talk in rounded periods, and nothing will stop him; very often he
+drives his wife in with him from the village, and the wife must have her
+say. As for Hodge and his mortgage, ten years would not suffice for his
+business, were he allowed to wander on. The problem is to bring these
+impracticable people to the point with perfect courtesy. As you talk with
+him yourself, you feel tempted to prolong the interview--so lucid an
+intellect exercises an indefinable charm.
+
+Keen and shrewd as he is, the solicitor has a kindly reputation. Men say
+that he is slow to press them, that he makes allowances for circumstances;
+that if the tenant is honestly willing to discharge his obligation he need
+fear no arbitrary selling up. But he is equally reputed swift of
+punishment upon those who would take shelter behind more shallow pretence,
+or attempt downright deceit. Let a man only be straightforward, and the
+solicitor will wait rather than put the law in force. Therefore, he is
+popular, and people have faith in him. But the labour, the incessant
+supervision, the jotting down of notes, the ceaseless interviews, the
+arguments, the correspondence, the work that is never finished when night
+comes, tell even upon that physical vigour and mental elasticity. Hodge
+sleeps sound and sees the days go by with calm complacency. The man who
+holds that solid earth, as it were, in the japanned boxes finds a nervous
+feeling growing upon him despite his strength of will. Presently nature
+will have her way; and, weary and hungry for fresh air, he rushes off for
+awhile to distant trout-stream, moor, or stubble.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+
+'COUNTY-COURT DAY'
+
+
+The monthly sitting of the County Court in a country market town is an
+event of much interest in all the villages around, so many of the causes
+concerning agricultural people. 'County-Court Day' is looked upon as a
+date in the calendar by which to recollect when a thing happened, or to
+arrange for the future.
+
+As the visitor enters the doorway of the Court, at a distance the scene
+appears imposing. Brass railings and red curtains partition off about a
+third of the hall, and immediately in the rear of this the Judge sits high
+above the rest on a raised and carpeted dais. The elevation and isolation
+of the central figure adds a solemn dignity to his office. His features
+set, as it were, in the wig, stand out in sharp relief--they are of a
+keenly intellectual cast, and have something of the precise clearness of
+an antique cameo. The expression is that of a mind in continuous
+exercise--of a mind accustomed not to slow but to quick deliberation, and
+to instant decision. The definition of the face gives the eyes the aspect
+of penetration, as if they saw at once beneath the surface of things.
+
+If the visitor looks only at the Judge he will realise the dignity of the
+law; the law which is the outcome and result of so many centuries of
+thought. But if he glances aside from the central figure the impression is
+weakened by the miserable, hollow, and dingy framing. The carpet upon the
+dais and the red curtains before it ill conceal the paltry substructure.
+It is composed of several large tables, heavy and shapeless as benches,
+placed side by side to form a platform. The curtains are dingy and
+threadbare the walls dingy; the ceiling, though lofty, dingy; the boxes on
+either side for Plaintiff and Defendant are scratched and defaced by the
+innumerable witnesses who have blundered into them, kicking their shoes
+against the woodwork. The entire apparatus is movable, and can be taken to
+pieces in ten minutes, or part of it employed for meetings of any
+description. There is nothing appropriate or convenient; it is a
+makeshift, and altogether unequal to the pretensions of a Court now
+perhaps the most useful and most resorted to of any that sit in the
+country.
+
+Quarter sessions and assizes come only at long intervals, are held only in
+particular time-honoured places, and take cognisance only of very serious
+offences which happily are not numerous. The County Court at the present
+day has had its jurisdiction so enlarged that it is really, in country
+districts, the leading tribunal, and the one best adapted to modern wants,
+because its procedure is to a great extent free from obsolete forms and
+technicalities. The Plaintiff and the Defendant literally face their
+Judge, practically converse with him, and can tell their story in their
+own simple and natural way. It is a fact that the importance and
+usefulness of the country County Court has in most places far outgrown the
+arrangements made for it. The Judges may with reason complain that while
+their duties have been enormously added to, their convenience has not been
+equally studied, nor their salaries correspondingly increased.
+
+In front, and below the Judge's desk, just outside the red curtain, is a
+long and broad table, at which the High Bailiff sits facing the hall. By
+his side the Registrar's clerk from time to time makes notes in a
+ponderous volume which contains a minute and exact record of every claim.
+Opposite, and at each end, the lawyers have their chairs and strew the
+table with their papers.
+
+As a rule a higher class of lawyers appear in the County Court than before
+the Petty Sessional Bench. A local solicitor of ability no sooner gets a
+'conveyancing' practice than he finds his time too valuable to be spent
+arguing in cases of assault or petty larceny. He ceases to attend the
+Petty Sessions, unless his private clients are interested or some
+exceptional circumstances induce him. In the County Court cases often
+arise which concern property, houses and lands, and the fulfilment of
+contracts. Some of the very best lawyers of the district may consequently
+be seen at that table, and frequently a barrister or two of standing
+specially retained is among them.
+
+A low wooden partition, crossing the entire width of the hall, separates
+the 'bar' from the general public, Plaintiff and Defendant being admitted
+through a gangway. As the hall is not carpeted, nor covered with any
+material, a new-comer must walk on tip-toe to avoid raising the echo of
+hollow boards, or run the risk of a reproof from the Judge, anxiously
+endeavouring to catch the accents of a mumbling witness. Groups of people
+stand near the windows whispering, and occasionally forgetting, in the
+eagerness of the argument, that talking is prohibited. The room is already
+full, but will be crowded when the 'horse case' comes on again. Nothing is
+of so much interest as a 'horse case.' The issues raised concern almost
+every countryman, and the parties are generally well known. All the idlers
+of the town are here, and among them many a rascal who has been, through
+the processes, and comes again to listen and possibly learn a dodge by
+which to delay the execution of judgment. Some few of the more favoured
+and respectable persons have obtained entrance to the space allotted to
+the solicitors, and have planted themselves in a solid circle round the
+fire, effectually preventing the heat from benefiting anyone else. Another
+fire, carefully tended by a bailiff, burns in the grate behind the Judge,
+but, as his seat is so far from it, without adding much to his comfort. A
+chilly draught sweeps along the floor, and yet at the same time there is a
+close and somewhat fetid atmosphere at the height at which men breathe.
+The place is ill warmed and worse ventilated; altogether without
+convenience, and comfortless.
+
+To-day the Judge, to suit the convenience of the solicitors engaged in the
+'horse case,' who have requested permission to consult in private, has
+asked for a short defended cause to fill up the interval till they are
+ready to resume. The High Bailiff calls 'Brown _v_. Jones,' claim 8_s_.
+for goods supplied. No one at first answers, but after several calls a
+woman in the body of the Court comes forward. She is partly deaf, and
+until nudged by her neighbours did not hear her husband's name. The
+Plaintiff is a small village dealer in tobacco, snuff, coarse groceries,
+candles, and so on. His wife looks after the little shop and he works with
+horse and cart, hauling and doing odd jobs for the farmers. Instead of
+attending himself he has sent his wife to conduct the case. The Defendant
+is a labourer living in the same village, who, like so many of his class,
+has got into debt. He, too, has sent his wife to represent him. This is
+the usual course of the cottagers, and of agricultural people who are
+better off than cottagers. The men shirk out of difficulties of this kind
+by going off in the morning early to their work with the parting remark,
+'Aw, you'd better see about it; I don't knaw nothing about such jobs.'
+
+The High Bailiff has no easy task to swear the Plaintiff's representative.
+First, she takes the book and kisses it before the formula prescribed has
+been repeated. Then she waits till the sentence is finished and lifts the
+book with the left hand instead of the right. The Registrar's clerk has to
+go across to the box and shout an explanation into her ear. 'Tell the
+truth,' says the old lady, with alacrity; 'why, that's what I be come
+for.' The Judge asks her what it is she claims, and she replies that that
+man, the Registrar's clerk, has got it all written down in his book. She
+then turns to the Defendant's wife, who stands in the box opposite, and
+shouts to her, 'You knows you ain't paid it.'
+
+It is in vain that the Judge endeavours to question her, in vain that the
+High Bailiff tries to calm her, in vain that the clerk lays his hand on
+her arm--she is bent on telling the Defendant a bit of her mind. The Court
+is perforce compelled to wait till it is over, when the Judge, seeing that
+talking is of no avail, goes at once to the root of the matter and asks to
+see her books. A dirty account-book, such as may be purchased for
+threepence, is handed up to him; the binding is broken, and some of the
+leaves are loose. It is neither a day-book, a ledger, nor anything
+else--there is no system whatever, and indeed the Plaintiff admits that
+she only put down about half of it, and trusted to memory for the rest.
+Here is a date, and after it some figures, but no articles mentioned,
+neither tea nor candles. Next come some groceries, and the price, but no
+one's name, so that it is impossible to tell who had the goods. Then there
+are pages with mysterious dots and strokes and half-strokes, which
+ultimately turn out to mean ounces and half-ounces of tobacco. These have
+neither name nor value attached. From end to end nothing is crossed off,
+so that whether an account be paid or not cannot be ascertained.
+
+While the Judge laboriously examines every page, trying by the light of
+former experience to arrive at some idea of the meaning, the Defendant's
+wife takes up her parable. She chatters in return at the Plaintiff, then
+she addresses the High Bailiff, who orders her to remain quiet, and,
+finally, turns round and speaks to the crowd. The Judge, absorbed in the
+attempt to master the account-book, does not for the moment notice this,
+till, as he comes to the conclusion that the book is utterly valueless, he
+looks up and finds the Defendant with her back turned gesticulating and
+describing her wrongs to the audience. Even his command of silence is with
+reluctance obeyed, and she continues to mutter to herself. When order is
+restored the Judge asks for her defence, when the woman immediately
+produces a receipt, purporting to be for this very eight shillings' worth.
+At the sight of this torn and dirty piece of paper the Plaintiff works
+herself into a fury, and speaks so fast and so loud (as deaf people will)
+that no one else can be heard. Till she is made to understand that she
+will be sent out of Court she does not desist. The Judge looks at the
+receipt, and finds it correct; but still the Plaintiff positively declares
+that she has never had the money. Yet she admits that the receipt is in
+her handwriting. The Judge asks the Defendant who paid over the cash, and
+she replies that it was her husband. The account-book contains no
+memorandum of any payment at all. With difficulty the Judge again obtains
+silence, and once more endeavours to understand a page of the account-book
+to which the Plaintiff persists in pointing. His idea is now to identify
+the various articles mentioned in the receipt with the articles put down
+on that particular page.
+
+After at least three-quarters of an hour, during which the book is handed
+to and fro by the clerk from Judge to Plaintiff, that she may explain the
+meaning of the hieroglyphics, some light at last begins to dawn. By dint
+of patiently separating the mixed entries the Judge presently arrives at a
+partial comprehension of what the Plaintiff has been trying to convey. The
+amount of the receipted bill and the amount of the entries in the page of
+the account-book are the same; but the articles entered in the book and
+those admitted to be paid for are not. The receipt mentions candles; the
+account-book has no candles. Clearly they are two different debts, which
+chanced to come to the same figure. The receipt, however, is not dated,
+and whether it is the Defendant who is wilfully misrepresenting, or
+whether the Plaintiff is under a mistaken notion, the Judge for the time
+cannot decide. The Defendant declares that she does not know the date and
+cannot fix it--it was a 'main bit ago,' and that is all she can say.
+
+For the third time the Judge, patient to the last degree, wades through
+the account-book. Meanwhile the hands of the clock have moved on. Instead
+of being a short case, this apparently simple matter has proved a long
+one, and already as the afternoon advances the light of the dull winter's
+day declines. The solicitors engaged in the 'horse case,' who retired to
+consult, hoping to come to a settlement, returned into Court fully an hour
+ago, and have since been sitting at the table waiting to resume. Besides
+these some four or five other lawyers of equal standing are anxiously
+looking for a chance of commencing their business. All their clients are
+waiting, and the witnesses; they have all crowded into the Court, the
+close atmosphere of which is almost intolerable.
+
+But having begun the case the Judge gives it his full and undivided
+attention. Solicitors, clients, witnesses, cases that interest the public,
+causes that concern valuable property, or important contracts must all be
+put aside till this trifling matter is settled. He is as anxious as any,
+or more so, to get on, because delay causes business to accumulate--the
+adjourned causes, of course, having to be heard at next Court, and thus
+swelling the list to an inordinate length. But, impatient as he may be,
+especially as he is convinced that one or other of the parties is keeping
+back a part of the truth, he is determined that the subject shall be
+searched to the bottom. The petty village shopkeeper and the humble
+cottager obtain as full or fuller attention than the well-to-do Plaintiffs
+and Defendants who can bring down barristers from London.
+
+'What have you there?' the Registrar's clerk demands of the Plaintiff
+presently. She has been searching in her pocket for a snuff-box wherewith
+to refresh herself, and, unable to immediately discover it, has emptied
+the contents of the pocket on the ledge of the witness-box. Among the rest
+is another little account-book.
+
+'Let me see that,' demands the Judge, rather sharply, and no wonder. 'Why
+did you not produce it before?'
+
+'Aw, he be last year's un; some of it be two years ago,' is the reply.
+
+Another long pause. The Judge silently examines every page of the
+account-book two years old. Suddenly he looks up. 'This receipt,' he says,
+'was given for an account rendered eighteen months ago. Here in this older
+book are the entries corresponding with it. The present claim is for a
+second series of articles which happened to come to the same amount, and
+the Defendant, finding that the receipt was not dated, has endeavoured to
+make it do duty for the two.'
+
+'I tould you so,' interrupts the Plaintiff. 'I tould you so, but you
+wouldn't listen to I.'
+
+The Judge continues that he is not sure he ought not to commit the
+Defendant, and then, with a gesture of weary disgust, throws down his pen
+and breaks off in the middle of his sentence to ask the High Bailiff if
+there are any other judgments out against the Defendant. So many years'
+experience of the drifts, subterfuges, paltry misrepresentations and
+suppressions--all the mean and despicable side of poor humanity--have
+indeed wearied him, but, at the same time, taught forbearance. He
+hesitates to be angry, and delays to punish. The people are poor,
+exceedingly poor. The Defendant's wife says she has eight children; they
+are ignorant, and, in short, cannot be, in equity, judged as others in
+better circumstances. There are two other judgments against the Defendant,
+who is earning about 12s. a week, and the verdict is 1s. a month, first
+payment that day three weeks.
+
+Then the solicitor for the Plaintiff in the 'horse case' rises and informs
+the Judge that the parties cannot settle it, and the case must proceed.
+The Plaintiff and Defendant take their places, and some thirty witnesses
+file through the gangway to the witness-room to be out of Court. The
+bailiffs light the gas as the gloom deepens, and the solicitor begins his
+opening speech. The Judge has leant back in his chair, closed his eyes,
+and composed himself to listen. By the time two witnesses have been
+examined the hour has arrived when the Judge can sit no longer. He must
+leave, because on the morrow he has to hold a Court in another part of the
+county. The important 'horse case' and the other causes must wait a
+month.. He sits to the very last moment, then hastily stuffs deeds,
+documents, papers of all descriptions into a portmanteau already
+overflowing, and rushes to his carriage.
+
+He will go through much the same work to-morrow; combating the irritating
+misrepresentations, exposing suppressors, discovering the truth under a
+mountain of crass stupidity and wilful deceit. Next day he will be again
+at work; and the same process will go on the following week. In the month
+there are perhaps about five days--exclusive of Sundays--upon which he
+does not sit. But those days are not holidays. They are spent in patiently
+reading a mass of deeds, indentures, contracts, vouchers, affidavits,
+evidence of every description and of the most voluminous character. These
+have been put in by solicitors, as part of their cases, and require the
+most careful attention. Besides causes that are actually argued out in
+open Court, there are others which, by consent of both parties, are placed
+in his hands as arbitrator. Many involve nice points of law, and require a
+written judgment in well-chosen words.
+
+The work of the County Court Judge at the present day is simply enormous;
+it is ceaseless and never finished, and it demands a patience which
+nothing can ruffle. No matter how much falsehood may annoy him, a Judge
+with arbitrary power entrusted to him must not permit indignation alone to
+govern his decision. He must make allowances for all.
+
+For the County Court in country districts has become a tribunal whose
+decisions enter, as it were, into the very life of the people. It is not
+concerned with a few important cases only; it has to arrange and finally
+settle what are really household affairs. Take any village, and make
+inquiries how many householders there are who have not at one time or
+other come under the jurisdiction of the County Court? Either as
+Plaintiff, or Defendant, or as witness, almost every one has had such
+experience, and those who have not have been threatened with it. Beside
+those defended cases that come before the Judge, there are hundreds upon
+hundreds of petty claims, to which no defence is offered, and which are
+adjudicated upon by the Registrar at the same time that the Judge hears
+the defended causes.
+
+The labourer, like so many farmers in a different way, lives on credit and
+is perpetually in debt. He purchases his weekly goods on the security of
+hoeing, harvest, or piece work, and his wages are continually absorbed in
+payment of instalments, just as the tenant-farmer's income is too often
+absorbed in the payment of interest and instalments of his loans. No one
+seems ever to pay without at least a threat of the County Court, which
+thus occupies a position like a firm appointed to perpetually liquidate a
+vast estate. It is for ever collecting shillings and half-crowns.
+
+
+This is one aspect of the County Court; the other is its position with
+respect to property. It is the great arbitrator of property--of houses and
+land, and deeds and contracts. Of recent years the number of the owners of
+land has immensely increased--that is, of small pieces--and the litigation
+has correspondingly grown. There is enough work for a man of high legal
+ability in settling causes of this character alone, without any 'horse
+case' with thirty witnesses, or any dispute that involves the conflict of
+personal testimony.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+
+THE BANK. THE OLD NEWSPAPER
+
+
+The most imposing building in a certain country market town is the old
+Bank, so called familiarly to distinguish it from the new one. The
+premises of the old Bank would be quite unapproached in grandeur, locally,
+were it not for the enterprise of the new establishment. Nothing could be
+finer than the facade of the old Bank, which stands out clear and elegant
+in its fresh paint among the somewhat dingy houses and shops of the main
+street. It is rather larger in size, more lofty, and has the advantage of
+being a few yards nearer to the railway station. But the rival institution
+runs it very close. It occupies a corner on the very verge of the
+market-place--its door facing the farmer as he concludes his deal--and it
+is within a minute of the best hotels, where much business is done. It is
+equally white and clean with fresh paint, and equally elegant in design.
+
+A stranger, upon a nice consideration of the circumstances, might find a
+difficulty in deciding on which to bestow his patronage; and perhaps the
+chief recommendation of the old establishment lies in the fact that it is
+the older of the two. The value of antiquity was never better understood
+than in these modern days. Shrewd men of business have observed that the
+quality of being ancient is the foundation of credit. Men believe in that
+which has been long established. Their fathers dealt there, they deal
+themselves, and if a new-comer takes up his residence he is advised to do
+likewise.
+
+A visitor desirous of looking on the outside, at least of country banking,
+would naturally be conducted to the old Bank. If it were an ordinary day,
+_i.e._ not a market or fair, he might stand on the pavement in front
+sunning himself without the least inconvenience from the passenger
+traffic. He would see, on glancing Up and down the street, one or two aged
+cottage women going in or out of the grocer's, a postman strolling round,
+and a distant policeman at the farthest corner. A sprinkling of boys
+playing marbles at the side of the pavement, and two men loading a waggon
+with sacks of flour from a warehouse, complete the scene as far as human
+life is concerned. There are dogs basking on doorsteps, larger dogs
+rambling with idleness in the slow sway of their tails, and overhead black
+swifts (whose nests are in the roofs of the higher houses) dash to and
+fro, uttering their shrill screech.
+
+The outer door of the bank is wide open--fastened back--ostentatiously
+open, and up the passage another mahogany door, closed, bears a polished
+brazen plate with the word 'Manager' engraved upon it. Everything within
+is large and massive. The swing door itself yields with the slow motion of
+solidity, and unless you are agile as it closes in the rear, thrusts you
+forward like a strong gale. The apartment is large and lofty: there is
+room for a crowd, but at present there is no one at the counter. It is
+long enough and broad enough for the business of twenty customers at once;
+so broad that the clerks on the other side are beyond arm's reach. But
+they have shovels with which to push the gold towards you, and in a small
+glass stand is a sponge kept constantly damp, across which the cashier
+draws his finger as he counts the silver, the slight moisture enabling him
+to sort the coin more swiftly.
+
+The fittings are perfect, as perfect as in a London bank, and there is an
+air of extreme precision. Yonder open drawers are full of pass-books; upon
+the desks and on the broad mantelpiece are piles of cheques, not scattered
+in disorder but arranged in exact heaps. The very inkstands are heavy and
+vast, and you just catch a glimpse round the edge of the semi-sentry box
+which guards the desk of the chief cashier, of a ledger so huge that the
+mind can hardly realise the extent of the business which requires such
+ponderous volumes to record it. Then beyond these a glass door, half open,
+apparently leads to the manager's room, for within it is a table strewn
+with papers, and you can see the green-painted iron wall of a safe.
+
+The clerks, like the place, are somewhat imposing; they are in no hurry,
+they allow you time to look round you and imbibe the sense of awe which
+the magnificent mahogany counter and the brazen fittings, all the
+evidences of wealth, are so calculated to inspire. The hollow sound of
+your footstep on the floor does not seem heard; the slight 'Ahem!' you
+utter after you have waited a few moments attracts no attention, nor the
+rustling of your papers. The junior clerks are adding up column after
+column of figures, and are totally absorbed; the chief cashier is
+pondering deeply over a letter and annotating it. By-and-by he puts it
+down, and slowly approaches. But after you have gone through the
+preliminary ceremony of waiting, which is an institution of the place, the
+treatment quite changes. Your business is accomplished with practised
+ease, any information you may require is forthcoming on the instant, and
+deft fingers pass you the coin. In brief, the whole machinery of banking
+is here as complete as in Lombard Street. The complicated ramifications of
+commercial transactions are as well understood and as closely studied as
+in the 'City.' No matter what your wishes, provided, of course, that your
+credentials are unimpeachable, they will be conducted for you
+satisfactorily and without delay.
+
+Yet the green meadows are within an arrow shot, and standing on the
+threshold and looking down a cross street you can see the elms of the
+hedgerows closing in the prospect. It is really wonderful that such
+conveniences should he found in so apparently insignificant a place. The
+intelligence and courtesy of the officials is most marked. It is clear,
+upon reflection, that such intelligence, such manners, and knowledge not
+only of business but of men (for a banker and a banker's agent has often
+to judge at a moment's notice whether a man be a rogue or honest), cannot
+be had for nothing. They must be paid for, and, in so far at least as the
+heads are concerned, paid liberally. It is known that the old Bank has
+often paid twenty and twenty-five per cent, to its shareholders. Where
+does all this money come from? From Hodge, toiling in the field and
+earning his livelihood in the sweat of his brow? One would hardly think so
+at first, and yet there are no great businesses or manufactories here.
+Somehow or other the money that pays for this courtesy and commercial
+knowledge, for these magnificent premises and furniture, that pays the
+shareholders twenty-five per cent., must be drawn from the green meadows,
+the cornfields, and the hills where the sheep feed.
+
+On an ordinary day the customers that come to the bank's counter may be
+reckoned on the fingers. Early in the morning the Post-Office people come
+for their cash and change; next, some of the landlords of the principal
+inns with their takings; afterwards, such of the tradesmen as have cheques
+to pay in. Later on the lawyers' clerks, or the solicitors themselves drop
+in; in the latter case for a chat with the manager. A farmer or two may
+call, especially on a Friday, for the cash to pay the labourers next day,
+and so the morning passes. In the afternoon one or more of the local
+gentry or clergy may drive up or may not--it is a chance either way--and
+as the hour draws near for closing some of the tradesmen come hurrying in
+again. Then the day, so far as the public are concerned, is over.
+To-morrow sees the same event repeated.
+
+On a market-day there is a great bustle; men hustle in and out, with a
+bluff disregard of conventional politeness, but with no intention of
+rudeness. Through the open doors comes the lowing of cattle, and the
+baaing of sheep; the farmers and dealers that crowd in and out bring with
+them an odour of animals that exhales from their garments. The clerks are
+now none too many, the long broad counter none too large; the resources of
+the establishment are taxed to the utmost. The manager is there in person,
+attending to the more important customers.
+
+In the crush are many ladies who would find their business facilitated by
+coming on a different day. But market-day is a tradition with all classes;
+even the gentry appear in greater numbers. If you go forth into the
+Market-place you will find it thronged with farmers. If you go into the
+Corn Hall or Exchange, where the corndealers have their stands, and where
+business in cereals and seeds is transacted; if you walk across to the
+auction yard for cattle, or to the horse depository, where an auction of
+horses is proceeding; everywhere you have to push your way through groups
+of agriculturists. The hotels are full of them (the stable-yards full of
+their various conveyances), and the restaurant, the latest innovation in
+country towns, is equally filled with farmers taking a chop, and the inner
+rooms with ladies discussing coffee and light refreshments.
+
+Now every farmer of all this crowd has his cheque-book in the breast
+pocket of his coat. Let his business be what it may, the purchase of
+cattle, sheep, horses, or implements, seed, or any other necessary, no
+coin passes. The parties, if the transaction be private, adjourn to their
+favourite inn, and out comes the cheque-book. If a purchase be effected at
+either of the auctions proceeding it is paid for by cheque, and, on the
+other hand, should the farmer be the vendor, his money comes to him in the
+shape of a cheque. With the exception of his dinner and the ostler, the
+farmer who comes to market carries on all his transactions with paper. The
+landlord of the hotel takes cash for the dinner, and the ostler takes his
+shilling. For the rest, it is all cheques cheques, cheques; so that the
+whole business of agriculture, from the purchase of the seed to the sale
+of the crop, passes through the bank.
+
+The toll taken by the bank upon such transactions as simple buying and
+selling is practically _nil_; its profit is indirect. But besides the
+indirect profit there is the direct speculation of making advances at high
+interest, discounting bills, and similar business. It might almost be said
+that the crops are really the property of the local banks, so large in the
+aggregate are the advances made upon them. The bank has, in fact, to study
+the seasons, the weather, the probable market prices, the import of grain
+and cattle, and to keep an eye upon the agriculture of the world. The
+harvest and the prices concern it quite as much as the actual farmer who
+tills the soil. In good seasons, with a crop above the average, the
+business of the bank expands in corresponding ratio. The manager and
+directors feel that they can advance with confidence; the farmer has the
+means to pay. In bad seasons and with short crops the farmer is more
+anxious than ever to borrow; but the bank is obliged to contract its
+sphere of operations.
+
+It usually happens that one or more of the directors of a country bank are
+themselves farmers in a large way--gentlemen farmers, but with practical
+knowledge. They are men whose entire lives have been spent in the
+locality, and who have a very wide circle of acquaintances and friends
+among agriculturists. Their forefathers were stationed there before them,
+and thus there has been an accumulation of local knowledge. They not only
+thoroughly understand the soil of the neighbourhood, and can forecast the
+effect of particular seasons with certainty, but they possess an intimate
+knowledge of family history, what farmer is in a bad way, who is doubtful,
+or who has always had a sterling reputation. An old-established country
+bank has almost always one or more such confidential advisers. Their
+assistance is invaluable.
+
+Since agriculture became in this way, through the adoption of banking, so
+intimately connected with commerce, it has responded, like other
+businesses, to the fluctuations of trade. The value of money in
+Threadneedle Street affects the farmer in an obscure hamlet a hundred
+miles away, whose fathers knew nothing of money except as a coin, a token
+of value, and understood nothing of the export or import of gold. The
+farmer's business is conducted through the bank, but, on the other hand,
+the bank cannot restrict its operations to the mere countryside. It is
+bound up in every possible manner with the vast institutions of the
+metropolis. Its private profits depend upon the rate of discount and the
+tone of the money market exactly in the same way as with those vast
+institutions. A difficulty, a crisis there is immediately felt by the
+country bank, whose dealings with its farmer customers are in turn
+affected.
+
+Thus commerce acts upon agriculture. _Per contra_, the tradesmen of the
+town who go to the bank every morning would tell you with doleful faces
+that the condition of agriculture acts upon trade in a most practical
+manner. Neither the farmer, nor the farmer's wife and family expend nearly
+so much as they did at their shops, and consequently the sums they carry
+over to the bank are much diminished in amount. The local country
+tradesman probably feels the depression of agriculture all but as much as
+the farmer himself. The tradesman is perhaps supported by the bank; if he
+cannot meet his liabilities the bank is compelled to withdraw that
+support.
+
+Much of this country banking seems to have grown up in very recent times.
+Any elderly farmer out yonder in the noisy market would tell you that in
+his young days when he first did business he had to carry coin with him,
+especially if at a distance from home. It was then the custom to attend
+markets and fairs a long way off, such markets being centres where the
+dealers and drovers brought cattle. The dealers would accept nothing but
+cash; they would not have looked at a cheque had such a thing been
+proffered them. This old Bank prides itself upon the reputation it
+enjoyed, even in those days. It had the power of issuing notes, and these
+notes were accepted by such men, even at a great distance, the bank having
+so good a name. They were even preferred to the notes of the Bank of
+England, which at one time, in outlying country places, were looked on
+with distrust, a state of things which seems almost incredible to the
+present generation.
+
+In those days men had no confidence. That mutual business understanding,
+the credit which is the basis of all commerce of the present time, did not
+exist. Of course this only applies to the country and to country trading;
+the business men of cities were years in advance of the agriculturists in
+this respect. But so good was the reputation of the old Bank, even in
+those times, that its notes were readily accepted. It is, indeed,
+surprising what a reputation some of the best of the country banks have
+achieved. Their names are scarcely seen in the money articles of the daily
+press. But they do a solid business of great extent, and their names in
+agricultural circles are names of power. So the old Bank here, though
+within an arrow shot of the green meadows, though on ordinary days a
+single clerk might attend to its customers, has really a valuable
+_clientele._
+
+Of late years shrewd men of business discovered that the ranks of the
+British farmer offered a wonderful opportunity for legitimate banking. The
+farmer, though he may not be rich, must of necessity be the manager, if
+not the actual owner, of considerable capital. A man who farms, if only a
+hundred acres, must have some capital. It may not be his own--it may be
+borrowed; still he has the use of it. Here, then, a wide field opened
+itself to banking enterprise. Certainly there has been a remarkable
+extension of banking institutions in the country. Every market town has
+its bank, and in most cases two--branches of course, but banks to all
+intents and purposes. Branches are started everywhere.
+
+The new Bank in this particular little town is not really new. It is
+simply a branch set up by a well-established bank whose original centre
+may perhaps be in another county. It is every whit as respectable as the
+other, and as well conducted. Its branch as yet lacks local antiquity, but
+that is the only difference. The competition for the farmer's business
+between these branches, scattered all over the length and breadth of the
+country, must of necessity be close. When the branch, or new Bank, came
+here, it was started in grand premises specially erected for it, in the
+most convenient situation that could be secured.
+
+Till then the business of the old Bank had been carried on in a small and
+dingy basement. The room was narrow, badly lit, and still worse
+ventilated, so that on busy days both the clerks and the customers
+complained of the stuffy atmosphere. The ancient fittings had become worn
+and defaced; the ceiling was grimy; the conveniences in every way
+defective. When it was known that a new branch was to be opened the
+directors of the old Bank resolved that the building, which had so long
+been found inadequate, should be entirely renovated. They pulled it down,
+and the present magnificent structure took its place.
+
+Thus this little country town now possesses two banks, whose facades could
+hardly be surpassed in a city. There is perhaps a little rivalry between
+the managers of the two institutions, in social as well as in business
+matters. Being so long established there the old Bank numbers among its
+customers some of the largest landed proprietors, the leading clergy, and
+solicitors. The manager coming into contact with these, and being himself
+a man of intelligence, naturally occupies a certain position. If any
+public movement is set on foot, the banks strive as to which shall be most
+to the fore, and, aided by its antiquity, the old Bank, perhaps, secures a
+social precedence. Both managers belong to the 'carriage people' of the
+town.
+
+Hodge comes into the place, walking slowly behind cattle or sheep, or
+jolting in on a waggon. His wife comes, too, on foot, through the roughest
+weather, to fetch her household goods. His daughter comes into the hiring
+fair, and stands waiting for employment on the pavement in the same spot
+used for the purpose from time immemorial, within sight of the stately
+facades of the banks. He himself has stood in the market-place with
+reaping hook or hoe looking for a master. Humble as he may be, it is clear
+that the wealth in those cellars--the notes and the gold pushed over the
+counters in shovels--must somehow come from the labour which he and his
+immediate employer--the farmer--go through in the field.
+
+It is becoming more and more the practice for the carter, or shepherd, who
+desires a new situation, to advertise. Instead of waiting for the chance
+of the hiring fair, he trudges into the market town and calls at the
+office of the oldest established local paper. There his wishes are reduced
+to writing for him, he pays his money, and his advertisement appears. If
+there is an farmer advertising for a man, as is often the case, he at the
+same time takes the address, and goes over to offer his services. The
+farmer and the labourer alike look to the advertisement columns as the
+medium between them.
+
+The vitality and influence of the old-fashioned local newspaper is indeed
+a remarkable feature of country life. It would be thought that in these
+days of cheap literature, these papers, charging twopence, threepence, and
+even fourpence per copy, could not possibly continue to exist. But,
+contrary to all expectation, they have taken quite a fresh start, and
+possess a stronger hold than ever upon the agricultural population. They
+enter into the old homesteads, and every member of the farmer's family
+carefully scans them, certain of finding a reference to this or that
+subject or person in whom he takes an interest.
+
+Some such papers practically defy competition. In the outlying towns,
+where no factories have introduced a new element, it is vain for the most
+enterprising to start another. The squire, the clergyman, the lawyer, the
+tenant-farmer, the wayside innkeeper stick to the old weekly paper, and
+nothing can shake it. It is one of the institutions of agriculture.
+
+The office is, perhaps, in a side street of the quiet market-town, and
+there is no display to catch the casual purchaser. No mystery surrounds
+the editor's sanctum; the visitor has but to knock, and is at once
+admitted to his presence. An office could scarcely be more plainly
+furnished. A common table, which has, however, one great virtue--it does
+not shake when written on--occupies the centre. Upon one side is a large
+desk or bureau; the account-books lying open show that the editor, besides
+his literary labour, has to spend much time in double entry. Two chairs
+are so completely hidden under 'exchanges' that no one can sit upon them.
+Several of these 'exchanges' are from the United States or Australia, for
+the colonists are often more interested and concerned about local affairs
+in the old country than they are with the doings in the metropolis.
+Against the wall, too, hangs a picture of a fine steamer careering under
+sail and steam, and near it a coloured sectional map of some new township
+marked out in squares. These are the advertisements of an Atlantic or
+Australian line, or of both; and the editor is their agent. When the young
+ploughman resolves to quit the hamlet for the backwoods of America or the
+sheepwalks of Australia, he comes here to engage his berth. When the young
+farmer wearies of waiting for dead men's shoes--in no other way can he
+hope to occupy an English farm--he calls here and pays his passage-money,
+and his broad shoulders and willing hands are shipped to a land that will
+welcome him. A single shelf supports a few books, all for reference, such
+as the 'Clergy List,' for the Church is studied, and the slightest change
+that concerns the district carefully recorded.
+
+Beneath this, the ponderous volumes that contain the file of the paper for
+the last forty years are piled, their weight too great for a shelf resting
+on the floor. The series constitutes a complete and authentic local
+history. People often come from a distance to consult it, for it is the
+only register that affords more than the simple entry of birth and death.
+
+There is a life in the villages and hamlets around, in the little places
+that are not even hamlets, which to the folk who dwell in them is fully as
+important as that of the greatest city. Farmhouses are not like the villas
+of cities and city suburbs. The villa has hardly any individuality; it is
+but one of many, each resembling the other, and scarcely separated. To-day
+one family occupies it, tomorrow another, next year perhaps a third, and
+neither of these has any real connection with the place. They are
+sojourners, not inhabitants, drawn thither by business or pleasure; they
+come and go, and leave no mark behind. But the farmhouse has a history.
+The same family have lived in it for, perhaps, a hundred years: they have
+married and intermarried, and become identified with the locality. To them
+all the petty events of village life have a meaning and importance: the
+slow changes that take place and are chronicled in the old newspaper have
+a sad significance, for they mark that flux of time which is carrying
+them, too, onwards to their rest.
+
+These columns of the file, therefore, that to a stranger seem a blank, to
+the old folk and their descendants are like a mirror, in which they can
+see the faces of the loved ones who passed away a generation since. They
+are the archives of the hamlets round about: a farmer can find from them
+when his grandfather quitted the old farm, and read an account of the
+sale. Men who left the village in their youth for the distant city or the
+still more distant colonies, as they grow in years often feel an
+irresistible desire to revisit the old, old place. The home they so fondly
+recollect is in other hands, and yet in itself but little changed. A few
+lines in the plainest language found in the file here tell to such a
+greybeard a story that fills his eyes with tears. But even a stranger who
+took the trouble to turn over the folios would now and then find matter to
+interest him: such as curious notes of archaeological discovery, accounts
+of local customs now fallen into disuse, and traditions of the past. Many
+of these are worthy of collection in more accessible form.
+
+There is hardly anything else in the room except the waste basket under
+the table. As the visitor enters, a lad goes out with a roll of manuscript
+in his hand, and the editor looks up from his monotonous task of
+proof-reading, for he has that duty also to perform. Whatever he is doing,
+some one is certain to call and break off the thread of his thought. The
+bailiff or farm-steward of a neighbouring estate comes in to insert an
+advertisement of timber for sale, or of the auction of the ash-poles
+annually felled. A gamekeeper calls with a notice not to sport or trespass
+on certain lands. The editor has to write out the advertisement for these
+people, and for many of the farmers who come, for countrymen have the
+greatest dislike to literary effort of any kind, and can hardly be
+persuaded to write a letter. Even when they have written the letter they
+get the daughter to address the envelope, lest the Post Office should
+smile at their rude penmanship. The business of preparing the
+advertisement is not quickly concluded, for just as it is put down to
+their fancy, they recollect another item which has to be added. Then they
+stand and gossip about the family at the mansion and the affairs of the
+parish generally, totally oblivious of the valuable time they are wasting.
+Farmers look in to advertise a cottage or a house in the village to let,
+and stay to explain the state of the crops, and the why and the wherefore
+of So-and-so leaving his tenancy.
+
+The largest advertisers invariably put off their orders till the morning
+of the paper going to press, from sheer inattention. On that busy morning,
+auctioneers' clerks rush in with columns of auction sales of cattle,
+sheep, horses, hay, or standing crops (according to the season of the
+year), and every species of farm produce. After them come the solicitors'
+clerks, with equally important and lengthy notices of legal matters
+concerning the effects of farmers who have fallen into difficulties, of
+parochial or turnpike affairs, or 'Pursuant to an Act intitled "An Act to
+further amend the Law and to Relieve Trustees."' These notices have been
+lying on their desks for days, but are perversely sent down at the last
+moment, and upset the entire make-up of the paper.
+
+Just as the editor has arranged for these, and is in the act to rush up
+into the press-room, a timid knock announces a poor cottage girl, who has
+walked in from a hamlet six or seven miles away to inquire the address of
+a lady who wants a servant. This advertisement appeared at least three
+weeks since, for country folk could in no wise make up their minds to
+apply under three weeks, and necessitates a search back through the file,
+and a reference to divers papers. He cannot in common courtesy leave the
+poor girl to wait his convenience, and meantime the steam is up and the
+machine waiting. When the address is discovered, the girl thinks she
+cannot remember it, and so he has to write it down on a piece of paper for
+her.
+
+He has no highly organised staff to carry on the routine work; he has to
+look after every department as well as the purely editorial part. Almost
+every one who has a scrap of news or gossip looks in at the office to chat
+about it with him. Farmers, who have driven in to the town from distant
+villages, call to tell him of the trouble they are having over the new
+schools, and the conflict in the parish as to whether they shall or shall
+not have a school board. Clergymen from outlying vicarages come to mention
+that a cottage flower show, a penny reading, a confirmation, or some such
+event, is impending, and to suggest the propriety of a full and special
+account. Occasionally a leading landed proprietor is closeted with him,
+for at least an hour, discussing local politics, and ascertaining from him
+the tone of feeling in the district.
+
+Modern agricultural society insists upon publicity. The smallest village
+event must be chronicled, or some one will feel dissatisfied, and inquire
+why it was not put in the paper. This continual looking towards the paper
+for everything causes it to exercise a very considerable amount of
+influence. Perhaps the clergy and gentry are in some things less powerful
+than the local newspaper, for, from a variety of causes, agricultural
+society has become extremely sensitive to public opinion. The temperate
+and thoughtful arguments put forward by a paper in which they have
+confidence directly affect the tenant-farmers. On the other hand, as
+expressing the views of the tenant-farmers, the paper materially
+influences the course taken by the landed proprietors.
+
+In country districts the mere numerical circulation of a weekly
+publication is no measure of its importance. The position of the
+subscribers is the true test. These old-established papers, in fact,
+represent property. They are the organs of all who possess lands, houses,
+stock, produce; in short, of the middle class. This is evident from the
+advertising columns. The lawyer, the auctioneer, the land agent, the
+farmer, all who have any substance, publish their business in this medium.
+Official county advertisements appear in it. The carter and the shepherd
+look down the column of situations vacant as they call at the village inn
+for a glass of ale, or, if they cannot read, ask some one to read for
+them. But they do not purchase this kind of newspaper. The cottager spells
+over prints advocating the disestablishment of the Church, the division of
+great estates, and the general subversion of the present order of things.
+Yet when the labourer advertises, he goes to the paper subscribed to by
+his master. The disappearance of such an obsolete and expensive paper is
+frequently announced as imminent; but the obsolete and expensive print,
+instead of disappearing, nourishes with renewed vitality. Solid matter,
+temperate argument, and genuine work, in the long ran, pay the best. An
+editor who thus conducts his paper is highly appreciated by the local
+chiefs of his party, and may even help to contribute to the success of an
+Administration.
+
+The personal labour involved in such editing must be great from the
+absence of trained assistance, and because the materials must be furnished
+by incompetent hands. Local news must be forwarded by local people,
+perhaps by a village tailor with literary tastes. Such correspondents
+often indulge in insinuations, or fulsome flattery, which must be
+carefully eliminated. From another village an account of some event comes
+from the schoolmaster--quite an important person nowadays!--who writes in
+a fair, round hand and uses the finest language and the longest words. He
+invariably puts 'hebdomadal' for 'weekly.' A lawyer's clerk writes a
+narrative of some case, on blue foolscap, and, after the manner of legal
+documents, without a single stop from beginning to end.
+
+Once a year comes the labour of preparing the sheet almanac. This useful
+publication is much valued by the tenants of the district, and may be
+found pinned against the wall for ready reference in most farmhouses.
+Besides the calendar it contains a list of county and other officials,
+dates of quarter sessions and assizes, fair days and markets, records of
+the prices obtained at the annual sales of rams or shorthorns on leading
+farms, and similar agricultural information.
+
+The editor has very likely been born in the district, and has thus grown
+up to understand the wants and the spirit of the farming class. He is
+acquainted with the family history of the neighbourhood, a knowledge which
+is of much advantage in enabling him to avoid unnecessarily irritating
+personal susceptibilities. His private library is not without interest. It
+mainly consists of old books picked up at the farmhouse sales of thirty
+years. At such disposals of household effects volumes sometimes come to
+light that have been buried for generations among lumber. Many of these
+books are valuable and all worth examination. A man of simple and retiring
+habits, his garden is perhaps his greatest solace, and next to that a
+drive or stroll through the green meadows around. Incessant mental labour
+has forced him to wear glasses before his time, and it is a relief and
+pleasure to the eyes to dwell on green sward and leaf. Such a man performs
+a worthy part in country life, and possesses the esteem of the country
+side.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+
+THE VILLAGE FACTORY. VILLAGE VISITORS. WILLOW-WORK
+
+
+In the daytime the centre of a certain village may be said to be the shop
+of the agricultural machinist. The majority of the cottagers are away in
+the fields at work, and the place is elsewhere almost quiet. A column of
+smoke and a distant din guide the visitor to the spot where the hammers
+are clattering on the anvils.
+
+Twisted iron, rusty from exposure, lies in confusion on the blackened
+ground before the shed. Coal-dust and the carbon deposited from volumes of
+thick smoke have darkened the earth, and coated everything with a black
+crust. The windows of the shed are broken, probably by the accidental
+contact of long rods of iron carelessly cast aside, and some of the slates
+of the roof appear gone just above the furnace, as if removed for
+ventilation and the escape of the intense heat. There is a creaking of
+stiff leather as the bellows rise and fall, and the roar of the blast as
+it is forced up through the glowing coals.
+
+A ceaseless hum of wheels in motion comes from the rear, and the peculiar
+crackling sound of a band in rapid revolution round the drum of the engine
+and the shaft. Then the grinding scrape of sharp steel on iron as the edge
+of the tool cuts shavings from the solid metal rotating swiftly in the
+lathe. As blow follows blow the red-hot 'scale,' driven from the surface
+of the iron on the anvil by the heavy sledge, flies rattling against the
+window in a spray of fire. The ring of metal, the clatter, the roaring,
+and hissing of steam, fill the air, and through it rises now and then the
+shrill quick calls of men in command.
+
+Outside, and as it seems but a stone's throw distant, stands the old grey
+church, and about it the still, silent, green-grown mounds over those who
+once followed the quiet plough.
+
+Bound the corner of the village street comes a man with a grimy red flag,
+and over the roofs of the cottages rises a cloud of smoke, and behind it
+yet another. Two steam ploughing engines are returning from their work to
+their place beside the shed to wait fresh orders. The broad wheels of the
+engines block up the entire width of the street, and but just escape
+overthrowing the feeble palings in front of the cottage doors. Within
+those palings the children at play scarcely turn to look; the very infants
+that can hardly toddle are so accustomed to the ponderous wonder that they
+calmly gnaw the crusts that keep them contented. It requires a full hour
+to get the unwieldy engines up the incline and round the sharp turns on to
+the open space by the workshop. The driver has to 'back,' and go-a-head,
+and 'back' again, a dozen times before he can reach the place, for that
+narrow bye-way was not planned out for such traffic. A mere path leading
+to some cottages in the rear, it was rarely used even by carts before the
+machinist came, and it is a feat of skill to get the engines in without,
+like a conqueror, entering by a breach battered in the walls. When, at
+last, they have been piloted into position, the steam is blown off, and
+the rushing hiss sounds all over the village. The white vapour covers the
+ground like a cloud, and the noise re-echoes against the old grey church,
+but the jackdaws do not even rise from the battlements.
+
+These engines and their corresponding tackle are the chief stock-in-trade
+of the village machinist. He lets them out to the farmers of the district,
+which is principally arable; that is, he contracts to do their ploughing
+and scarifying at so much per acre. In the ploughing seasons the engines
+are for ever on the road, and with their tackle dragging behind them take
+up the highway like a train. One day you may hear the hum and noise from a
+distant field on the left; in a day or two it comes from another on the
+right; next week it has shifted again, and is heard farther off
+northwards, and so all round the compass.
+
+The visitor, driving about the neighbourhood, cannot but notice the huge
+and cumbrous-looking plough left awhile on the sward by the roadside.
+One-half of the shares stand up high in the air, the other half touch the
+ground, and it is so nicely balanced that boys sometimes play at see-saw
+on it. He will meet the iron monster which draws this plough by the bridge
+over the brook, pausing while its insatiable thirst is stayed from the
+stream. He will see it patiently waiting, with a slight curl of steam over
+the boiler, by the wayside inn while its attendants take their lunch.
+
+It sometimes happens in wet weather that the engines cannot be moved from
+the field where they have been ploughing. The soil becomes so soft from
+absorbing so much water that it will not bear up the heavy weight. Logs
+and poles are laid down to form a temporary way, but the great wheels sink
+too deeply, and the engines have to be left covered with tarpaulins. They
+have been known to remain till the fresh green leaves of spring on the
+hedges and trees almost hid them from sight.
+
+The machinist has another and lighter traction engine which does not
+plough, but travels from farm to farm with a threshing machine. In autumn
+it is in full work threshing, and in winter drives chaff-cutters for the
+larger farmers. Occasionally it draws a load of coal in waggons or trucks
+built for the purpose. Hodge's forefathers knew no rival at plough time;
+after the harvest they threshed the corn all the winter with the flail.
+Now the iron horse works faster and harder than he.
+
+Some of the great tenant-farmers have sets of ploughing-engines and tackle
+of their own, and these are frequently at the machinist's for repairs. The
+reaping, mowing, threshing, haymaking, hoeing, raking, and other machines
+and implements also often require mending. Once now and then a bicyclist
+calls to have his machine attended to, something having given way while on
+a tour. Thus the village factory is in constant work, but has to encounter
+immense competition.
+
+Country towns of any size usually possess at least one manufactory of
+agricultural implements, and some of these factories have acquired a
+reputation which reaches over sea. The visitor to such a foundry is shown
+medals that have been granted for excellence of work exhibited in Vienna,
+and may see machines in process of construction which will be used upon
+the Continent; so that the village machinist, though apparently isolated,
+with nothing but fields around him, has in reality competitors upon every
+side.
+
+Ploughing engines, again, travel great distances, and there are firms that
+send their tackle across a county or two. Still the village factory, being
+on the spot, has plenty of local work, and the clatter of hammers, the
+roar of the blast, and the hum of wheels never cease at the shed. Busy
+workmen pass to and fro, lithe men, quick of step and motion, who come
+from Leeds, or some similar manufacturing town, and whose very step
+distinguishes them in a moment from the agricultural labourer.
+
+A sturdy ploughboy comes up with a piece of iron on his shoulder; it does
+not look large, but it is as much as he can carry. One edge of it is
+polished by the friction of the earth through which it has been forced; it
+has to be straightened, or repaired, and the ploughboy waits while it is
+done. He sits down outside the shed on a broken and rusty iron wheel,
+choosing a spot where the sun shines and the building keeps off the wind.
+There, among the twisted iron, ruins and fragments of machines, he takes
+out his hunch of bread and cheese, and great clasp knife, and quietly
+enjoys his luncheon. He is utterly indifferent to the noise of the
+revolving wheels, the creak of the bellows, the hiss of steam; he makes no
+inquiry about this or that, and shows no desire to understand the wonders
+of mechanics. Something in his attitude--in the immobility, the almost
+animal repose of limb; something in the expression of his features, the
+self-contained oblivion, so to say, suggests an Oriental absence of
+aspiration. Only by negatives and side-lights, as it were, can any idea be
+conveyed of his contented indifference. He munches his crust; and, when he
+has done, carefully, and with vast deliberation, relaces his heavy shoe.
+The sunshine illumines the old grey church before him, and falls on the
+low green mounds, almost level with the sward, which cover his ancestors.
+
+These modern inventions, this steam, and electric telegraph, and even the
+printing-press have but just skimmed the surface of village life. If they
+were removed--if the pressure from without, from the world around, ceased,
+in how few years the village and the hamlet would revert to their original
+condition!
+
+On summer afternoons, towards five or six o'clock, a four-wheel
+carriage--useful, but not pretentious--comes slowly up the hill leading to
+the village. The single occupant is an elderly man, the somewhat wearied
+expression of whose features is caused by a continuous application to
+business. The horse, too well fed for work, takes his own time up the
+hill, and when at the summit the reins are gently shaken, makes but an
+idle pretence to move faster, for he knows that his master is too
+good-natured and forbearing to use the whip, except to fondly stroke his
+back. The reins are scarcely needed to guide the horse along the familiar
+road to a large farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where at the
+gate two or more children are waiting to welcome 'papa.'
+
+Though a farmhouse, the garden is laid out in the style so often seen
+around detached villas, with a lawn for tennis and croquet, parterres
+bright with summer flowers, and seats under the pleasant shade of the
+trees. Within it is furnished in villa fashion, and is in fact let to a
+well-to-do tradesman of the market town a few miles distant. He has wisely
+sent his family for the summer months to inhale the clear air of the
+hills, as exhilarating as that of the sea. There they can ride the pony
+and donkeys over the open sward, and romp and play at gipsying. Every
+evening he drives out to join them, and every morning returns to his
+office. The house belongs to some large tenant-farmer, who has a little
+freehold property, and thus makes a profit from it.
+
+This practice of hiring a village home for the summer has become common of
+recent years among the leading tradesmen of country towns. Such visitors
+are welcome to the cottage folk. They require the service of a labourer
+now and then; they want fresh eggs, and vegetables from the allotment
+gardens. The women have the family washing to do, and a girl is often
+needed to assist indoors, or a boy to clean the knives and shoes. Many
+perquisites fall to the cottage people--cast aside dresses, and so on;
+besides which there are little gifts and kindnesses from the lady and her
+children.
+
+Towards November, again, the congregation in the old church one Sunday
+morning find subject for speculation concerning a stranger who enters a
+certain well-appointed pew appropriated to The Chestnuts. He is clearly
+the new tenant who has taken it for the hunting season. The Chestnuts is a
+mansion built in modern style for a former landowner. As it is outside the
+great hunting centres it is let at a low rental compared with its
+accommodation. The labourers are glad to see that the place is let again,
+for although the half-pay officer--the new occupant--who has retired,
+wounded and decorated, from the service of a grateful country, has
+probably not a third the income of the tradesman, and five times the
+social appearance to maintain, still there will be profit to be got from
+him.
+
+What chance has such a gentleman in bargaining with the cottagers? How
+should he know the village value of a cabbage? How should he understand
+the farmyard value of a fowl? It may possibly strike him as odd that
+vegetables should be so dear when, as he rides about, he sees whole fields
+green with them. He sees plenty of fowls, and geese, and turkeys, gobbling
+and cackling about the farmyards, and can perhaps after awhile faintly
+perceive that they are the perquisites of the ladies of the tenants'
+households, who drive him a very hard bargain. He, too, has cast aside
+suits, shoes, hats, and so forth, really but little worn, to give away to
+the poor. If married, his family require some help from the cottage women;
+and there are odd jobs, well paid for, on the place for the men. Thus the
+cottagers are glad of the arrival of their new masters, the one in the
+summer, the other in the winter months.
+
+The 'chapel-folk' of the place have so increased in numbers and affluence
+that they have erected a large and commodious building in the village.
+Besides the cottagers, many farmers go to the chapel, driving in from the
+ends of the parish. It is a curious circumstance that many of the largest
+dealers in agricultural produce, such as cheese, bacon, and corn, and the
+owners of the busiest wharves where coal and timber, slate, and similar
+materials are stored, belong to the Dissenting community. There are some
+agricultural districts where this class of business is quite absorbed by
+Dissenters--almost as much as money-changing and banking business is said
+to be the exclusive property of Jews in some Continental countries. Such
+dealers are often substantial and, for the country, even wealthy men. Then
+there are the Dissenting tradesmen of the market town. All these together
+form a species of guild. The large chapel in the village was built by
+their united subscriptions. They support each other in a marked manner in
+times of difficulty, so that it is rare for a tenant-farmer of the
+persuasion to lose his position unless by wilful misconduct. This mutual
+support is so very marked as to be quite a characteristic fact.
+
+The cottagers and their families go to chapel with these masters. But
+sometimes the cottager, as he approaches the chapel door, finds upon it
+(as in the church porch) a small printed notice affixed there by the
+overseers. If the labourer is now recognised as a person whose opinion is
+to be consulted, on the other hand he finds that he is not without
+responsibilities. The rate-collector knocks at the cottage door as well as
+at the farmer's. By gradual degrees village rates are becoming a serious
+burden, and though their chief incidence may be upon the landlord and the
+tenant, indirectly they begin to come home to the labourer. The school
+rate is voluntary, but it is none the less a rate; the cemetery, the
+ancient churchyard being no more available, has had to be paid for, and,
+as usual, probably cost twice what was anticipated. The highways, the
+sanitary authority, not to speak of poor relief, all demand a share. Each
+in itself may be only a straw, but accumulated straws in time fill a
+waggon.
+
+One side of the stable of the village inn, which faces the road, presents
+a broad surface for the country bill-sticker. He comes out from the market
+town, and travels on foot for a whole day together, from hamlet to hamlet.
+posting up the contents of his bag in the most outlying and lonely
+districts. Every villager as he passes by reads the announcements on the
+wall: the circus coming to the market town, some jeweller's marvellous
+watches, the selling off of spring or summer goods by the drapers at an
+immense reduction, once now and then a proclamation headed V.R., and the
+sales of farm stock (the tenants leaving) and of large freehold
+properties.
+
+These latter are much discussed by the callers at the inn. A carter comes
+along perhaps with a loaded waggon from some distance, and as he stays to
+drink his quart talks of the changes that are proceeding or imminent in
+his locality. Thus the fact that changes are contemplated is often widely
+known before the actual advertisement is issued. The labourers who hear
+the carter's story tell it again to their own employer next time they see
+him, and the farmer meeting another farmer gossips over it again.
+
+There has grown up a general feeling in the villages and agricultural
+districts that the landed estates around them are no longer stable and
+enduring. A feeling of uncertainty is abroad, and no one is surprised to
+hear that some other place, or person, is going. It is rumoured that this
+great landlord is about to sell as many farms as the family settlements
+will let him. Another is only waiting for the majority of his son to
+accomplish the same object. Others, it is said, are proceeding abroad to
+retrench. Properties are coming into the market in unexpected directions,
+and others are only kept back because the price of land has fallen, and
+there is a difficulty in selling a large estate. If divided into a number
+of lots, each of small size, land still fetches its value, and can be
+readily sold; but that is not always convenient, and purchasers hesitate
+to invest in extensive estates. But though kept back, efforts are being
+made to retrench, and, it is said, old mansions that have never been let
+before can now be hired for the season. Not only the tenant-farmers, but
+the landowners are pacing through a period of depression, and their tenure
+too is uncertain. Such is the talk of the country side as it comes to the
+village inn.
+
+Once a week the discordant note of a horn or bugle, loudly blown by a man
+who does not understand his instrument, is heard at intervals. It is the
+newspaper vendor, who, like the bill-sticker, starts from the market town
+on foot, and goes through the village with a terrible din. He stops at the
+garden gate in the palings before the thatched cottage, delivers his print
+to the old woman or the child sent out with the copper, and starts again
+with a flourish of his trumpet. His business is chiefly with the
+cottagers, and his print is very likely full of abuse of the landed
+proprietors as a body. He is a product of modern days, almost the latest,
+and as he goes from cottage door to cottage door, the discordant uproar of
+his trumpet is a sign of the times.
+
+In some districts the osier plantations give employment to a considerable
+number of persons. The tall poles are made into posts and rails; the
+trunks of the pollard trees when thrown are cut into small timber that
+serves many minor purposes; the brushwood or tops that are cut every now
+and then make thatching sticks and faggots; sometimes hedges are made of a
+kind of willow wicker-work for enclosing gardens. It is, however, the
+plantations of withy or osier that are most important. The willow grows so
+often in or near to water that in common opinion the association cannot be
+too complete. But in the arrangement of an osier-bed water is utilised,
+indeed, but kept in its place--i.e. at the roots, and not over the stoles.
+The osier should not stand in water, or rise, as it were, out of a
+lake--the water should be in the soil underneath, and the level of the
+ground higher than the surface of the adjacent stream.
+
+Before planting, the land has to be dug or ploughed, and cleared; the
+weeds collected in the same way as on an arable field. The sticks are then
+set in rows eighteen inches apart, each stick (that afterwards becomes a
+stole) a foot from its neighbours of the same row. At first the weeds
+require keeping down, but after awhile the crop itself kills them a good
+deal. Several willows spring from each planted stick, and at the end of
+twelve months the first crop is ready for cutting. Next year the stick or
+stole will send up still more shoots, and give a larger yield.
+
+The sorts generally planted are called Black Spanish and Walnut Leaf. The
+first has a darker bark, and is a tough wood; the other has a light yellow
+bark, and grows smoother and without knots, which is better for working up
+into the manufactured article. Either will grow to nine feet high--the
+average height is six or seven feet. The usual time for cutting is about
+Good Friday--that is, just before the leaf appears. After cutting, the
+rods are stacked upright in water, in long trenches six inches deep
+prepared for the purpose, and there they remain till the leaf comes out.
+The power of growth displayed by the willow is wonderful--a bough has only
+to be stuck in the earth, or the end of a pole placed in the brook, for
+the sap to rise and shoots to push forth.
+
+When the leaf shows the willows are carried to the 'brakes,' and the work
+of stripping off the bark commences. A 'brake' somewhat resembles a pair
+of very blunt scissors permanently fixed open at a certain angle, and
+rigidly supported at a convenient height from the ground. The operator
+stands behind it, and selecting a long wand from the heap beside him
+places it in the 'brake,' and pulls it through, slightly pressing it
+downwards. As he draws it towards him, the edges of the iron tear the bark
+and peel it along the whole length of the stick. There is a knack in the
+operation, of course, but when it is acquired the wand is peeled in a
+moment by a dexterous turn of the wrist, the bark falls to the ground on
+the other side of the brake, and the now white stick is thrown to the
+right, where a pile soon accumulates. The peel is handy for tying up, and
+when dried makes a capital material for lighting fires. This stripping of
+the osiers is a most busy time in the neighbourhood of the large
+plantations--almost like hop-picking--for men, women, and children can all
+help. It does not require so much strength as skill and patience.
+
+After the peeling the sticks have to be dried by exposure to the sun; they
+are then sorted into lengths, and sold in bundles. If it is desired to
+keep them any time they must be thoroughly dried, or they will 'heat' and
+rot and become useless. This willow harvest is looked forward to by the
+cottagers who live along the rivers as an opportunity for earning extra
+money. The quantity of osier thus treated seems immense, and yet the
+demand is said to be steady, and as the year advances the price of the
+willow rises. It is manufactured into all kinds of baskets--on farms,
+especially arable farms, numbers of baskets are used. Clothes baskets,
+market baskets, chaff baskets, bassinettes or cradles, &c., are some few
+of the articles manufactured from it. Large quantities of willow, too, are
+worked up unpeeled into hampers of all kinds. The number of hampers used
+in these days is beyond computation, and as they are constantly wearing
+out, fresh ones have to be made. An advantage of the willow is that it
+enables the farmer to derive a profit from land that would otherwise be
+comparatively valueless. Good land, indeed, is hardly fitted for osier; it
+would grow rank with much pith in the centre, and therefore liable to
+break. On common land, on the contrary, it grows just right, and not too
+coarse. Almost any scrap or corner does for willow, and if properly tended
+it speedily pays for the labour.
+
+The digging and preparation of the ground gives employment, and afterwards
+the weeding and the work required to clean the channels that conduct water
+round and through the beds. Then there is the cutting and the peeling, and
+finally the basket-making; and thus the willow, though so common as to be
+little regarded, finds work for many hands.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+
+HODGE'S FIELDS
+
+
+The labourer working all the year round in the open air cannot but note to
+some degree those changes in tree and plant which coincide with the
+variations of his daily employment. Early in March, as he walks along the
+southern side of the hedge, where the dead oak leaves still cumber the
+trailing ivy, he can scarcely avoid seeing that pointed tongues of green
+are pushing up. Some have widened into black-spotted leaves; some are
+notched like the many-barbed bone harpoons of savage races. The hardy
+docks are showing, and the young nettles have risen up. Slowly the dark
+and grey hues of winter are yielding to the lively tints of spring. The
+blackthorn has white buds on its lesser branches, and the warm rays of the
+sun have drawn forth the buds on one favoured hawthorn in a sheltered
+nook, so that the green of the coming leaf is visible. Bramble bushes
+still retain their forlorn, shrivelled foliage; the hardy all but
+evergreen leaves can stand cold, but when biting winds from the north and
+east blow for weeks together even these curl at the edge and die.
+
+The remarkable power of wind upon leaves is sometimes seen in May, when a
+strong gale, even from the west, will so beat and batter the tender
+horse-chestnut sprays that they bruise and blacken. The slow plough
+traverses the earth, and the white dust rises from the road and drifts
+into the field. In winter the distant copse seemed black; now it appears
+of a dull reddish brown from the innumerable catkins and buds. The
+delicate sprays of the birch are fringed with them, the aspen has a load
+of brown, there are green catkins on the bare hazel boughs, and the
+willows have white 'pussy-cats.' The horse-chestnut buds--the hue of dark
+varnish--have enlarged, and stick to the finger if touched; some are so
+swollen as to nearly burst and let the green appear. Already it is
+becoming more difficult to look right through the copse. In winter the
+light could be seen on the other side; now catkin, bud, and opening leaf
+have thickened and check the view. The same effect was produced not long
+since by the rime on the branches in the frosty mornings; while each
+smallest twig was thus lined with crystal it was not possible to see
+through. Tangled weeds float down the brook, catching against projecting
+branches that dip into the stream, or slowly rotating and carried
+apparently up the current by the eddy and back-water behind the bridge. In
+the pond the frogs have congregated in great numbers; their constant
+'croo-croo' is audible at some distance.
+
+The meadows, so long bound by frost and covered with snow, are slowly
+losing their wan aspect, and assuming a warmer green as the young blades
+of grass come upwards. Where the plough or harrow has passed over the
+clods they quickly change from the rich brown of fresh-turned soil to a
+whiter colour, the dryness of the atmosphere immediately dissipating the
+moisture in the earth. So, examine what you will, from the clod to the
+tiniest branch, the hedge, the mound, the water--everywhere a step forward
+has been taken. The difference in a particular case may be minute; but it
+is there, and together these faint indications show how closely spring is
+approaching.
+
+As the sun rises the chaffinch utters his bold challenge on the tree; the
+notes are so rapid that they seem to come all at once. Welcome, indeed, is
+the song of the first finch. Sparrows are busy in the garden--the hens are
+by far the most numerous now, half a dozen together perch on the bushes.
+One suddenly darts forth and seizes a black insect as it flies in the
+sunshine. The bee, too, is abroad, and once now and then a yellow
+butterfly. From the copse on the warmer days comes occasionally the deep
+hollow bass of the wood pigeon. On the very topmost branch of an elm a
+magpie has perched; now he looks this way, and then turns that, bowing in
+the oddest manner, and jerking his long tail up and down. Then two of them
+flutter across the field--feebly, as if they had barely strength to reach
+the trees in the opposite hedge. Extending their wings they float slowly,
+and every now and then the body undulates along its entire length. Rooks
+are building--they fly and feed now in pairs; the rookery is alive with
+them. To the steeple the jackdaws have returned and fly round and round;
+now one holds his wings rigid and slides down at an angle of sixty degrees
+at a breakneck pace, as if about to dash himself in fragments on the
+garden beneath.
+
+Sometimes there come a few days which are like summer. There is an almost
+cloudless sky, a gentle warm breeze, and a bright sun filling the fields
+with a glow of light. The air, though soft and genial, is dry, and perhaps
+it is this quality which gives so peculiar a definition to hedge, tree,
+and hill. A firm, almost hard, outline brings copse and wood into clear
+relief; the distance across the broadest fields appears sensibly
+diminished. Such freedom from moisture has a deliciously exhilarating
+effect on those who breathe so pure an atmosphere. The winds of March
+differ, indeed, in a remarkable manner from, the gales of the early year,
+which, even when they blow from a mild quarter, compel one to keep in
+constant movement because of the aqueous vapour they carry. But the true
+March wind, though too boisterous to be exactly genial, causes a joyous
+sense of freshness, as if the very blood in the veins were refined and
+quickened upon inhaling it. There is a difference in its roar--the note is
+distinct from the harsh sound of the chilly winter blast. On the lonely
+highway at night, when other noises are silent, the March breeze rushes
+through the tall elms in a wild cadence. The white clouds hasten over,
+illuminated from behind by a moon approaching the full; every now and then
+a break shows a clear blue sky and a star shining. Now a loud roar
+resounds along the hedgerow like the deafening boom of the surge; it
+moderates, dies away, then an elm close by bends and sounds as the blast
+comes again. In another moment the note is caught up and repeated by a
+distant tree, and so one after another joins the song till the chorus
+reaches its highest pitch. Then it sinks again, and so continues with
+pauses and deep inspirations, for March is like a strong man drawing his
+breath full and long as he starts to run a race.
+
+The sky, too, like the earth, whose hedges, trees, and meadows are
+acquiring fresher colours, has now a more lovely aspect. At noon-day, if
+the clouds be absent, it is a rich azure; after sunset a ruddy glow
+appears almost all round the horizon, while the thrushes sing in the wood
+till the twilight declines. At night, when the moon does not rise till
+late, the heavens are brilliant with stars. In the east Arcturus is up;
+the Great Bear, the Lesser Bear, and Cassiopeia are ranged about the Pole.
+Procyon goes before the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches
+broad across the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries
+droops towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the
+Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike,
+nebulous Cancer. Largest of all, great Sirius is flaming in the south,
+quivering with the ebb and flow of his light, sometimes with an emerald
+scintillation like a dewdrop on which a sunbeam glances.
+
+The busy summer, with its haymaking, reaping, and continuous succession of
+harvest work, passes too swiftly for reflection both for masters and men.
+But in the calm of autumn there is time again to look round. Then white
+columns of smoke rise up slowly into the tranquil atmosphere, till they
+overtop the tallest elms, and the odour of the burning couch is carried
+across the meadows from the lately-ploughed stubble, where the weeds have
+been collected in heaps and fired. The stubble itself, short and in
+regular lines, affords less and less cover every year. As the seed is now
+drilled in, and the plants grow in mathematically straight lines, of
+course when the crop is reaped, if you stand at one side of the field you
+can see right across between the short stubbs, so that a mouse could
+hardly find shelter. Then quickly come the noisy steam ploughing engines,
+after them the couch collectors, and finally the heaps are burnt, and the
+strong scent of smoke hangs over the ground. Against these interruptions
+of their haunts and quiet ways what are the partridges to do? Even at
+night the place is scarcely their own, for every now and then as the
+breeze comes along, the smouldering fires are fanned into bright flame,
+enough to alarm the boldest bird.
+
+In another broad arable field, where the teams have been dragging the
+plough, but have only just opened a few furrows and gone home, a flock of
+sheep are feeding, or rather picking up a little, having been, turned in,
+that nothing might be lost. There is a sense of quietness--of repose; the
+trees of the copse close by are still, and the dying leaf as it drops
+falls straight to the ground. A faint haze clings to the distant woods at
+the foot of the hills; it is afternoon, the best part of an autumn day,
+and sufficiently warm to make the stile a pleasant resting-place. A dark
+cloud, whose edges rise curve upon curve, hangs in the sky, fringed with
+bright white light, for the sun is behind it, and long, narrow streamers
+of light radiate from the upper part like the pointed rays of an antique
+crown. Across an interval of blue to the eastward a second massive cloud,
+white and shining as if beaten out of solid silver, fronts the sun, and
+reflects the beams passing horizontally through the upper ether downwards
+on the earth like a mirror.
+
+The sparrows in the stubble rise in a flock and settle down again. Yonder
+a solitary lark is singing. Then the sun emerges, and the yellow autumn
+beams flood the pale stubble and the dark red earth of the furrow. On the
+bushes in the hedge hang the vines of the bryony, bearing thick masses of
+red berries. The hawthorn leaves in places have turned pale, and are
+touched, too, towards the stalk with a deep brown hue. The contrast of the
+two tints causes an accidental colour resembling that of bronze, which
+catches the eye at the first glance, but disappears on looking closer.
+Spots of yellow on the elms seem the more brilliant from the background of
+dull green. The drooping foliage of the birch exhibits a paler yellow; the
+nut-tree bushes shed brown leaves upon the ground. Perhaps the beech
+leaves are the most beautiful; two or three tints are blended on the
+topmost boughs. There is a ruddy orange hue, a tawny brown, and a bright
+green; the sunlight comes and mingles these together. The same leaf will
+sometimes show two at least of these colours--green shading into brown, or
+into a ruddy gold. Later on, the oaks, in a monochrome of buff, will rival
+the beeches. Now and then an acorn drops from the tree overhead, with a
+smart tap on the hard earth, and rebounds some inches high. Some of these
+that fall are already dark--almost black--but if opened they will be found
+bored by a grub. They are not yet ripe as a crop; the rooks are a good
+guide in that respect, and they have not yet set steadily to work upon
+this their favourite autumn food. Others that have fallen and been knocked
+out of the cup are a light yellow at the base and green towards the middle
+and the point; the yellow part is that which has been covered by the cup.
+In the sward there is a small hole from out of which creeps a wasp at
+intervals; it is a nest, and some few of them are still at work. But their
+motions are slow and lack vivacity; before long, numbers must die, and
+already many have succumbed after crawling miserably on the ground which
+they spurned a short while since, when with a brisk buzz they flew from
+apple to plum.
+
+In the quiet woodland lane a covey of partridges are running to and fro on
+the short sward at the side, and near them two or three pheasants are
+searching for food. The geometrical spiders--some of them look almost as
+big as a nut--hang their webs spun to a regular pattern on the bushes. The
+fungi flourish; there is a huge specimen on the elm there, but the flowers
+are nearly gone.
+
+A few steps down the lane, upon looking over a gate into a large arable
+field where the harrow has broken up the clods, a faint bluish tinge may
+be noticed on the dull earth in the more distant parts. A second glance
+shows that it is caused by a great flock of woodpigeons. Some more come
+down out of the elms and join their companions; there must be a hundred
+and fifty or two hundred of them. The woodpigeon on the ground at a
+distance is difficult to distinguish, or rather to define individually--the
+pale blue tint seems to confuse the eye with a kind of haze. Though the
+flock take little notice now--knowing themselves to be far out of
+gunshot--yet they would be quickly on the alert if an attempt were made to
+approach them.
+
+Already some of the elms are becoming bare--there are gaps in the foliage
+where the winds have carried away the leaves. On the bramble bushes the
+blackberries cluster thickly, unseen and ungathered in this wild spot. The
+happy hearts that go a-blackberrying think little of the past: yet there
+is a deep, a mournful significance attached to that joyous time. For how
+many centuries have the blackberries tempted men, women, and children out
+into the fields, laughing at scratched hands and nettles, and clinging
+burrs, all merrily endured for the sake of so simple a treasure-trove.
+Under the relics of the ancient pile-dwellings of Switzerland, disinterred
+from the peat and other deposits, have been found quantities of blackberry
+seeds, together with traces of crabs and sloes; so that by the dwellers in
+those primeval villages in the midst of the lakes the wild fruits of
+autumn were sought for much as we seek them now; the old instincts are
+strong in us still.
+
+The fieldfares will soon be here now, and the redwings, coming as they
+have done for generations about the time of the sowing of the corn.
+Without an almanack they know the dates; so the old sportsmen used to
+declare that their pointers and setters were perfectly aware when
+September was approaching, and showed it by unusual restlessness. By the
+brook the meadows are green and the grass long still; the flags, too, are
+green, though numbers of dead leaves float down on the current. There is
+green again where the root crops are flourishing; but the brown tints are
+striving hard, and must soon gain the mastery of colour. From the barn
+comes the clatter of the winnowing machine, and the floor is covered with
+heaps of grain.
+
+After the sun has gone down and the shadows are deepening, it is lighter
+in the open stubbles than in the enclosed meadows--the short white stubbs
+seem to reflect what little light there is. The partridges call to each
+other, and after each call run a few yards swiftly, till they assemble at
+the well-known spot where they roost. Then comes a hare stealing by
+without a sound. Suddenly he perceives that he is watched, and goes off at
+a rapid pace, lost in the brooding shadow across the field. Yonder a row
+of conical-roofed wheat-ricks stand out boldly against the sky, and above
+them a planet shines.
+
+Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse and heath,
+and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades, bowed by their
+own weight, are white beads of dew. Wherever the eye seeks an object to
+dwell on, there the cloud-like mist seems to thicken as though to hide it.
+The bushes and thickets are swathed in the vapour; yonder, in the hollow,
+it clusters about the oaks and hangs upon the hedge looming in the
+distance. There it no sky--a motionless, colourless something spreads
+above; it is, of course, the same mist, but looking upwards it apparently
+recedes and becomes indefinite. The glance finds no point to rest on--as
+on the edges of clouds--it is a mere opaque expanse. But the air is dry,
+the moisture does not deposit itself, it remains suspended, and waits but
+the wind to rise and depart. The stillness is utter: not a bird calls or
+insect buzzes by. In passing beneath the oaks the very leaves have
+forgotten to fall. Only those already on the sward, touched by the frost,
+crumble under the footstep. When green they would have yielded to the
+weight, but now stiffened they resist it and are crushed, breaking in
+pieces.
+
+A creaking and metallic rattle, as of chains, comes across the arable
+field--a steady gaze reveals the dim outline of a team of horses slowly
+dragging the plough, their shapes indistinctly seen against the hedge. A
+bent figure follows, and by-and-by another distinct creak and rattle, and
+yet a third in another direction, show that there are more teams at work,
+plodding to and fro. Watching their shadowy forms, suddenly the eye
+catches a change in the light somewhere. Over the meadow yonder the mist
+is illuminated; it is not sunshine, but a white light, only visible by
+contrast with the darker mist around. It lasts a few moments, and then
+moves, and appears a second time by the copse. Though hidden here, the
+disk of the sun must be partly visible there, and as the white light does
+not remain long in one place, it is evident that there is motion now in
+the vast mass of vapour. Looking upwards there is the faintest suspicion
+of the palest blue, dull and dimmed by mist, so faint that its position
+cannot be fixed, and the next instant it is gone again.
+
+But the teams at plough are growing momentarily distinct--a breath of air
+touches the cheek, then a leaf breaks away from the bough and starts forth
+as if bent on a journey, but loses the impetus and sinks to the ground.
+Soon afterwards the beams of the sun light up a distant oak that glows in
+the hedge--a rich deep buff--and it stands out, clear, distinct, and
+beautiful, the chosen and selected one, the first to receive the ray.
+Rapidly the mist vanishes--disappearing rather than floating away; a
+circle of blue sky opens overhead, and, finally, travelling slowly, comes
+the sunshine over the furrows. There is a perceptible sense of warmth--the
+colours that start into life add to the feeling. The bare birch has no
+leaf to reflect it, but its white bark shines, and beyond it two great
+elms, the one a pale green and the other a pale yellow, stand side by
+side. The brake fern is dead and withered; the tip of each frond curled
+over downwards by the frost, but it forms a brown background to the dull
+green furze which is alight here and there with scattered blossom, by
+contrast so brilliantly yellow as to seem like flame. Polished holly
+leaves glisten, and a bunch of tawny fungus rears itself above the grass.
+
+On the sheltered sunny bank lie the maple leaves fallen from the bushes,
+which form a bulwark against the north wind; they have simply dropped upon
+the ivy which almost covers the bank. Standing here with the oaks overhead
+and the thick bushes on the northern side it is quite warm and genial; so
+much so that if is hard to realise that winter is at hand. But even in the
+shortest days, could we only get rid of the clouds and wind, we should
+find the sunshine sufficiently powerful to make the noontide pleasant. It
+is not that the sun is weak or low down, nor because of the sharp frosts,
+that winter with us is dreary and chill. The real cause is the prevalence
+of cloud, through which only a dull light can penetrate, and of
+moisture-laden winds.
+
+If our winter sun had fair play we should find the climate very different.
+Even as it is, now and then comes a break in the masses of vapour
+streaming across the sky, and if you are only sheltered from the wind (or
+stand at a southern window), the temperature immediately rises. For this
+reason the temperatures registered by thermometers are often far from
+being a correct record of the real weather we have had. A bitter frost
+early in the morning sends the mercury below zero, but perhaps, by eleven
+o'clock the day is warm, the sky being clear and the wind still. The last
+register instituted--that of the duration of sunshine, if taken in
+connection with the state of the wind--is the best record of the
+temperature that we have actually felt. These thoughts naturally arise
+under the oaks here as the bright sunlight streams down from a sky the
+more deeply blue from contrast with the brown, and buff, and yellow leaves
+of the trees.
+
+Hark! There comes a joyous music over the fields--first one hound's, note,
+then two, then three, and then a chorus; they are opening up a strong
+scent. It rises and falls--now it is coming nearer, in a moment I shall
+see them break through the hedge on the ridge--surely that was a shout!
+Just in the very moment of expectation the loud tongues cease; I wait,
+listening breathlessly, but presently a straggling cry or two shows that
+the pack has turned and are spread wide trying to recover. By degrees the
+sounds die away; and I stroll onwards.
+
+A thick border of dark green firs bounds the copse--the brown leaves that
+have fallen from the oaks have lodged on the foliage of the firs and are
+there supported. In the sheltered corner some of the bracken has partly
+escaped the frost, one frond has two colours. On one side of the rib it is
+green and on the other yellow. The grass is strewn with the leaves of the
+aspen, which have turned quite black. Under the great elms there seems a
+sudden increase of light--it is caused by the leaves which still remain on
+the branches; they are all of the palest yellow, and, as you pass under,
+give the impression of the tree having been lit up--illuminated with its
+own colour. From the bushes hang the red berries of the night shade, and
+the fruit on the briars glistens in the sun. Inside the copse stand
+innumerable thistles shoulder high, dead and gaunt; and a grey border
+running round the field at the bottom of the hedge shows where the tall,
+strong weeds of summer have withered up. A bird flutters round the topmost
+boughs of the elm yonder and disappears with a flash of blue--it is a jay.
+Here the grass of the meadow has an undertone of grey; then an arable
+field succeeds, where six strong horses are drawing the heavy drill, and
+great bags of the precious seed are lying on the furrows.
+
+Another meadow, where note a broken bough of elder, the leaves on which
+have turned black, while still on its living branches they are green, and
+then a clump of beeches. The trunks are full of knot-holes, after a dead
+bough has fallen off and the stump has rotted away, the bark curls over
+the orifice and seemingly heals the wound more smoothly and completely
+than with other trees. But the mischief is proceeding all the same,
+despite that flattering appearance; outwardly the bark looks smooth and
+healthy, but probe the hole and the rottenness is working inwards. A
+sudden gap in the clump attracts the glance, and there--with one great
+beech trunk on this side and another on that--is a view opening down on
+the distant valley far below. The wood beneath looks dwarfed, and the
+uneven tops of the trees, some green, some tinted, are apparently so close
+together as to hide aught else, and the shadows of the clouds move over it
+as over a sea. A haze upon the horizon brings plain and sky together
+there; on one side, in the far distance a huge block, a rude vastness
+stands out dusky and dimly defined--it is a spur of the rolling hills.
+
+Out in the plain, many a mile away, the sharp, needle-like point of a
+steeple rises white above the trees, which there shade and mingle into a
+dark mass--so brilliantly white as to seem hardly real. Sweeping the view
+round, there is a strange and total absence of houses or signs of
+habitation, other than the steeple, and now that, too, is gone. It has
+utterly vanished--where, but a few moments before it glowed with
+whiteness, is absolutely nothing. The disappearance is almost weird in the
+broad daylight, as if solid stone could sink into the earth. Searching for
+it suddenly a village appears some way on the right--the white walls stand
+out bright and clear, one of the houses is evidently of large size, and
+placed on a slight elevation is a prominent object. But as we look it
+fades, grows blurred and indistinct, and in another moment is gone. The
+whole village has vanished--in its place is nothing; so swift is the
+change that the mind scarcely credits the senses.
+
+A deep shadow creeping towards us explains it. Where the sunlight falls,
+there steeple or house glows and shines; when it has passed, the haze that
+is really there, though itself invisible, instantly blots out the picture.
+The thing may be seen over and over again in the course of a few minutes;
+it would be difficult for an artist to catch so fleeting an effect. The
+shadow of the cloud is not black--it lacks several shades of that--there
+is in it a faint and yet decided tint of blue. This tone of blue is not
+the same everywhere--here it is almost distinct, there it fades; it is an
+aerial colour which rather hints itself than shows. Commencing the descent
+the view is at once lost, but we pass a beech whose beauty is not easily
+conveyed. The winds have scarcely rifled it; being in a sheltered spot on
+the slope, the leaves are nearly perfect. All those on the outer boughs
+are a rich brown--some, perhaps, almost orange. But there is an inner mass
+of branches of lesser size which droop downwards, something after the
+manner of a weeping willow; and the leaves on these are still green and
+show through. Upon the whole tree a flood of sunshine pours, and over it
+is the azure sky. The mingling, shading, and contrast of these colours
+give a lovely result--the tree is aglow, its foliage ripe with colour.
+
+Farther down comes the steady sound of deliberate blows, and the upper
+branches of the hedge falls beneath the steel. A sturdy labourer, with a
+bill on a pole, strikes slow and strong and cuts down the hedge to an even
+height. A dreadful weapon that simple tool must have been in the old days
+before the advent of the arquebus. For with the exception of the spike,
+which is not needed for hedge work, it is almost an exact copy of the
+brown bill of ancient warfare; it is brown still, except where sharpened.
+Wielded by a sinewy arm, what, gaping gashes it must have slit through
+helm and mail and severed bone! Watch the man there--he slices off the
+tough thorn as though it were straw. He notes not the beauty of the beech
+above him, nor the sun, nor the sky; but on the other hand, when the sky
+is hidden, the sun gone, and the beautiful beech torn by the raving winds
+neither does he heed that. Rain and tempest affect him not; the glaring
+heat of summer, the bitter frost of winter are alike to him. He is built
+up like an oak. Believe it, the man that from his boyhood has stood
+ankle-deep in the chill water of the ditch, patiently labouring with axe
+and bill; who has trudged across the furrow, hand on plough, facing sleet
+and mist; who has swung the sickle under the summer sun--this is the man
+for the trenches. This is the man whom neither the snows of the North nor
+the sun of the South can vanquish; who will dig and delve, and carry
+traverse and covered way forward in the face of the fortress, who will lie
+on the bare ground in the night. For they who go up to battle must fight
+the hard earth and the tempest, as well as face bayonet and ball. As of
+yore with the brown bill, so now with the rifle--the muscles that have
+been trained about the hedges and fields will not fail England in the hour
+of danger.
+
+Hark!--a distant whoop--another, a blast of a horn, and then a burst of
+chiding that makes the woods ring. Down drops the bill, and together,
+heedless of any social difference in the common joy, we scramble to the
+highest mound, and see the pack sweep in full cry across the furrows.
+Crash--it is the bushes breaking, as the first foam-flecked, wearied horse
+hardly rises to his leap, and yet crushes safely through, opening a way,
+which is quickly widened by the straggling troop behind. Ha! down the lane
+from the hill dashes another squadron that has eroded the chord of the arc
+and comes in fresher. Ay, and a third is entering at the bottom there, one
+by one, over the brook. Woods, field, and paths, but just before an empty
+solitude, are alive with men and horses. Up yonder, along the ridge,
+gallops another troop in single file, well defined against the sky, going
+parallel to the hounds. What a view they must have of the scene below! Two
+ladies who ride up with torn skirts cannot lift their panting horses at
+the double mound. Well, let us defy 'wilful damage' for once. The gate,
+jealously padlocked, is swiftly hoisted off its hinges, and away they go
+with hearty thanks. We slip the gate on again just as some one hails to us
+across the field to wait a minute, but seeing it is only a man we calmly
+replace the timber and let him take his chance. He is excited, but we
+smile stolidly. In another minute the wave of life is gone; it has swept
+over and disappeared as swiftly as it came. The wood, the field, and lane
+seem painfully--positively painfully--empty. Slowly the hedger and ditcher
+goes back to his work, where in the shade under the bushes even now the
+dew lingers.
+
+So there are days to be enjoyed out of doors even in much-abused November.
+And when the wind rises and the storm is near, if you get under the lee of
+a good thick copse there is a wild pleasure in the frenzy that passes
+over. With a rush the leaves stream outwards, thickening the air, whirling
+round and round; the tree-tops bend and sigh, the blast strikes them, and
+in an instant they are stripped and bare. A spectral rustling, as the
+darkness falls and the black cloud approaches, is the fallen leaves in the
+copse, lifted up from their repose and dashed against the underwood. Then
+a howl of wrath descends and fills the sense of hearing, so that for the
+moment it is hard to tell what is happening. A rushing hiss follows, and
+the rain hurtles through the branches, driving so horizontally as to pass
+overhead. The sheltering thorn-thicket stirs, and a long, deep, moaning
+roar rises from the fir-trees. Another howl that seems to stun--to so fill
+the ears with sound that they cannot hear--the aerial host charges the
+tree-ranks, and the shock makes them tremble to the root. Still another
+and another; twigs and broken boughs fly before it and strew the sward;
+larger branches that have long been dead fall crashing downwards; leaves
+are forced right through the thorn-thicket, and strike against the face.
+Fortunately, so fierce a fury cannot last; presently the billows of wind
+that strike the wood come at longer intervals and with less vigour; then
+the rain increases, and yet a little while and the storm has swept on. The
+very fury--the utter _abandon_--of its rage is its charm; the spirit rises
+to meet it, and revels in the roar and buffeting. By-and-by they who have
+faced it have their reward. The wind sinks, the rain ceases, a pale blue
+sky shows above, and then yonder appears a majesty of cloud--a Himalaya of
+vapour. Crag on crag rises the vast pile--such jagged and pointed rocks as
+never man found on earth, or, if he found, could climb--topped with a peak
+that towers to the heavens, and leans--visibly leans--and threatens to
+fall and overwhelm the weak world at its feet. A gleam as of snow glitters
+on the upper rocks, the passes are gloomy and dark, the faces of the
+precipice are lit up with a golden gleam from the rapidly-sinking sun. So
+the magic structure stands and sees the great round disk go down. The
+night gathers around those giant mounts and dark space receives them.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+
+A WINTER'S MORNING
+
+
+The pale beams of the waning moon still cast a shadow of the cottage,
+when the labourer rises from his heavy sleep on a winter's morning.
+Often he huddles on his things and slips his feet into his thick
+'water-tights'--which are stiff and hard, having been wet over night--by
+no other light than this. If the household is comparatively well managed,
+however, he strikes a match, and his 'dip' shows at the window. But he
+generally prefers to save a candle, and clatters down the narrow steep
+stairs in the semi-darkness, takes a piece of bread and cheese, and steps
+forth into the sharp air. The cabbages in the garden he notes are covered
+with white frost, so is the grass in the fields, and the footpath is hard
+under foot. In the furrows is a little ice--white because the water has
+shrunk from beneath it, leaving it hollow--and on the stile is a crust of
+rime, cold to the touch, which he brushes off in getting over. Overhead
+the sky is clear--cloudless but pale--and the stars, though not yet fading,
+have lost the brilliant glitter of midnight. Then, in all their glory, the
+idea of their globular shape is easily accepted; but in the morning, just
+as the dawn is breaking, the absence of glitter comes the impression of
+flatness--circular rather than globular. But yonder, over the elms, above
+the cowpens, the great morning star has risen, shining far brighter, in
+proportion, than the moon; an intensely clear metallic light--like
+incandescent silver.
+
+The shadows of the trees on the frosted ground are dull. As the footpath
+winds by the hedge the noise of his footstep startles the blackbird
+roosting in the bushes, and he bustles out and flies across the field.
+There is more rime on the posts and rails around the rickyard, and the
+thatch on the haystack is white with it in places. He draws out the broad
+hay-knife--a vast blade, wide at the handle, the edge gradually curving to
+a point--and then searches for the rubber or whetstone, stuck somewhere in
+the side of the rick. At the first sound of the stone upon the steel the
+cattle in the adjoining yard and sheds utter a few low 'moos,' and there
+is a stir among them. Mounting the ladder he forces the knife with both
+hands into the hay, making a square cut which bends outwards, opening from
+the main mass till it appears on the point of parting and letting him fall
+with it to the ground. But long practice has taught him how to balance
+himself half on the ladder, half on the hay. Presently, with a truss
+unbound and loose on his head, he enters the yard, and passes from crib to
+crib, leaving a little here and a little there, for if he fills one first,
+there will be quarrelling among the cows, and besides, if the crib is too
+liberally filled, they will pull it out and tread it under foot. The
+cattle that are in the sheds fattening for Christmas have cake as well,
+and this must be supplied in just proportion.
+
+The hour of milking, which used to be pretty general everywhere, varies
+now in different places, to suit the necessities of the milk trade. The
+milk has, perhaps, to travel three or four miles to the railway station;
+near great towns, where some of the farmers deliver milk themselves from
+house to house, the cows are milked soon after noonday. What would their
+grandfathers have said to that? But where the old customs have not much
+altered, the milker sits down in the morning to his cow with the stars
+still visible overhead, punching his hat well into her side--a hat well
+battered and thickly coated with grease, for the skin of the cow exudes an
+unctuous substance. This hat he keeps for the purpose. A couple of milking
+pails--they are of large size--form a heavy load when filled. The milker,
+as he walks back to the farmhouse, bends his head under the yoke--whence
+so many men are round-shouldered--and steps slowly with a peculiar swaying
+motion of the body, which slight swing prevents it from spilling.
+
+Another man who has to be up while the moon casts a shadow is the carter,
+who must begin to feed his team very early in order to get them to eat
+sufficient. If the manger be over-filled they spill and waste it, and at
+the same time will not eat so much. This is tedious work. Then the lads
+come and polish up the harness, and so soon as it is well light get out to
+plough. The custom with the horses is to begin to work as early as
+possible, but to strike off in the afternoon some time before the other
+men, the lads riding home astride. The strength of the carthorse has to be
+husbanded carefully, and the labour performed must be adjusted to it and
+to the food, i.e. fuel, consumed. To manage a large team of horses, so as
+to keep them in good condition, with glossy coats and willing step, and
+yet to get the maximum of work out of them, requires long experience and
+constant attention. The carter, therefore, is a man of much importance on
+a farm. If he is up to his duties he is a most valuable servant; if he
+neglects them he is a costly nuisance, not so much from his pay, but
+because of the hindrance and disorganisation of the whole farm-work which
+such neglect entails.
+
+Foggers and milkers, if their cottages are near at hand, having finished
+the first part of the day's work, can often go back home to breakfast,
+and, if they have a good woman in the cottage, find a fire and hot tea
+ready. The carter can rarely leave his horses for that, and, therefore,
+eats his breakfast in the stable; but then he has the advantage that up to
+the time of starting forth he is under cover. The fogger and milker, on
+the other hand, are often exposed to the most violent tempests. A gale of
+wind, accompanied with heavy rain, often readies its climax just about the
+dawn. They find the soil saturated, and the step sinks into it--the
+furrows are full of water; the cow-yard, though drained, is a pool, no
+drain being capable of carrying it off quick enough. The thatch of the
+sheds drips continually; the haystack drips; the thatch of the stack,
+which has to be pulled off before the hay-knife can be used, is wet; the
+old decaying wood of the rails and gates is wet. They sit on the
+three-legged milking-stool (whose rude workmanship has taken a dull polish
+from use) in a puddle; the hair of the cow, against which the head is
+placed, is wet; the wind blows the rain into the nape of the neck behind,
+the position being stooping. Staggering under the heavy yoke homewards,
+the boots sink deep into the slush and mire in the gateways, the weight
+carried sinking them well in. The teams do not usually work in very wet
+weather, and most of the out-door work waits; but the cattle must be
+attended to, Sundays and holidays included. Even in summer it often
+happens that a thunderstorm bursts about that time of the morning. But in
+winter, when the rain is driven by a furious wind, when the lantern is
+blown out, and the fogger stumbles in pitchy darkness through mud and
+water, it would be difficult to imagine a condition of things which
+concentrates more discomfort.
+
+If, as often happens, the man is far from home--perhaps he has walked a
+mile or two to work--of course he cannot change his clothes, or get near a
+fire, unless in the farmer's kitchen. In some places the kitchen is open
+to the men, and on Sundays, at all events, they get a breakfast free. But
+the kindly old habits are dying out before the hard-and-fast money system
+and the abiding effects of Unionism, which, even when not prominently
+displayed, causes a silent, sullen estrangement.
+
+Shepherds, too, sometimes visit the fold very early in the morning, and in
+the lambing season may be said to be about both day and night. They come,
+however, under a different category to the rest of the men, because they
+have no regular hours, but are guided solely by the season and the work. A
+shepherd often takes his ease when other men are busily labouring. On the
+other hand, he is frequently anxiously engaged when they are sleeping. His
+sheep rule his life, and he has little to do with the artificial divisions
+of time.
+
+Hedgers and ditchers often work by the piece, and so take their own time
+for meals; the ash woods, which are cut in the winter, are also usually
+thrown by the piece. Hedging and ditching, if done properly, is hard work,
+especially if there is any grubbing. Though the arms get warm from
+swinging the grub-axe or billhook, or cleaning out the ditch and
+plastering and smoothing the side of the mound with the spade, yet feet
+and ankles are chilled by the water in the ditch. This is often dammed up
+and so kept back partially, but it generally forces its way through. The
+ditcher has a board to stand on; there is a hole through it, and a
+projecting stick attached, with which to drag it into position. But the
+soft soil allows the board to sink, and he often throws it aside as more
+encumbrance than use. He has some small perquisites: he is allowed to
+carry home a bundle of wood or a log every night, and may gather up the
+remnants after the faggoting is finished. On the other hand, he cannot
+work in bad weather.
+
+Other men come to the farm buildings to commence work about the time the
+carter has got his horses fed, groomed, and harnessed, and after the
+fogger and milker have completed their early duties. If it is a frosty
+morning and the ground firm, so as to bear up a cart without poaching the
+soil too much, the manure is carried out into the fields. This is plain,
+straightforward labour, and cannot be looked upon as hard work. If the
+cattle want no further attention, the foggers and milkers turn their hands
+after breakfast to whatever may be going on. Some considerable time is
+taken up in slicing roots with the machine, or chaff-cutting--monotonous
+work of a simple character, and chiefly consisting in turning a handle.
+
+The general hands--those who come on when the carter is ready, and who are
+usually young men, not yet settled down to any particular branch--seem to
+get the best end of the stick. They do not begin so early in the morning
+by some time as the fogger, milker, carter, or shepherd; consequently, if
+the cottage arrangements are tolerable, they can get a comfortable
+breakfast first. They have no anxieties or trouble whatever; the work may
+be hard in itself, but there is no particular hurry (in their estimation)
+and they do not distress themselves. They receive nearly the same wages as
+the others who have the care of valuable flocks, herds, and horses; the
+difference is but a shilling or two, and, to make up for that, they do not
+work on Sundays. Now, the fogger must feed his cows, the carter his horse,
+the shepherd look to his sheep every day; consequently their extra wages
+are thoroughly well earned. The young labourer--who is simply a labourer,
+and professes no special branch--is, therefore, in a certain sense, the
+best off. He is rarely hired by the year--he prefers to be free, so that
+when harvest comes he may go where wages chance to be highest. He is an
+independent person, and full of youth, strength, and with little
+experience of life, is apt to be rough in his manners and not overcivil.
+His wages too often go in liquor, but if such a young man keeps steady
+(and there are a few that do keep steady) he does very well indeed, having
+no family to maintain.
+
+A set of men who work very hard are those who go with the steam-ploughing
+tackle. Their pay is so arranged as to depend in a measure on the number
+of acres they plough. They get the steam up as early as possible in the
+morning, and continue as late as they can at night. Just after the
+harvest, when the days are long, and, indeed, it is still summer, they
+work for extremely long hours. Their great difficulty lies in getting
+water. This must be continually fetched in carts, and, of course, requires
+a horse and man. These are not always forthcoming in the early morning,
+but they begin as soon as they can get water for the boiler, and do not
+stop till the field be finished or it is dark.
+
+The women do not find much work in the fields during the winter. Now and
+then comes a day's employment with the threshing-machine when the farmer
+wants a rick of corn threshed out. In pasture or dairy districts some of
+them go out into the meadows and spread the manure. They wear gaiters, and
+sometimes a kind of hood for the head. If done carefully, it is hard work
+for the arms--knocking the manure into small pieces by striking it with a
+fork swung to and fro smartly.
+
+In the spring, when the great heaps of roots are opened--having been
+protected all the winter by a layer of straw and earth--it is necessary to
+trim them before they are used. This is often done by a woman. She has a
+stool or log of wood to sit on, and arranges a couple of sacks or
+something of the kind, so as to form a screen and keep off the bitter
+winds which are then so common--colder than those of the winter proper.
+With a screen one side, the heap of roots the other, and the hedge on the
+third, she is in some sense sheltered, and, taking her food with her, may
+stay there the whole day long, quite alone in the solitude of the broad,
+open, arable fields.
+
+From a variety of causes, the number of women working in the fields is
+much less than was formerly the case; thus presenting precisely the
+reverse state of things to that complained of in towns, where the clerks,
+&c., say that they are undersold by female labour. The contrast is rather
+curious. The price of women's labour has, too, risen; and there does not
+appear to be any repugnance on their part to field-work. Whether the
+conclusion is to be accepted that there has been a diminution in the
+actual number of women living in rural places, it is impossible to decide
+with any accuracy. But there are signs that female labour has drifted to
+the towns quite as much as male--especially the younger girls. In some
+places it seems rare to see a young girl working in the field (meaning in
+winter)--those that are to be found are generally women well advanced in
+life. Spring and summer work brings forth more, but not nearly so many as
+used to be the case.
+
+Although the work of the farm begins so soon in the morning, it is, on the
+other hand, in the cold months, over early. 'The night cometh when no man
+can work' was, one would think, originally meant in reference to
+agricultural labour. It grows dusk before half-past four on a dull
+winter's day, and by five is almost, if not quite, dark. Lanterns may be
+moving in the cowyards and stables; but elsewhere all is quiet--the
+hedger and ditcher cannot see to strike his blow, the ploughs have ceased
+to move for some time, the labourer's workshop--the field--is not lighted
+by gas as the rooms of cities.
+
+The shortness of the winter day is one of the primary reasons why, in
+accordance with ancient custom, wages are lowered at that time. In summer,
+on the contrary, the hours are long, and the pay high--which more than
+makes up for the winter reduction. A labourer who has any prudence can, in
+fact, do very well by putting by a portion of his extra summer wages for
+the winter; if he does not choose to exercise common sense, he cannot
+expect the farmer (or any manufacturer) to pay the same price for a little
+work and short time as for much work and long hours. Reviewing the work
+the labourer actually does in winter, it seems fair and just to state that
+the foggers, or milkers, i.e. the men who attend on cattle, the carters,
+and the shepherds, work hard, continuously, and often in the face of the
+most inclement weather. The mere labourers, who, as previously remarked,
+are usually younger and single men, do not work so hard, nor so long. And
+when they are at it--whether turning the handle of a winnowing machine in
+a barn, cutting a hedge, spreading manure, or digging--it must be said
+that they do not put the energy into it of which their brawny arms are
+capable.
+
+'The least work and the most money,' however, is a maxim not confined to
+the agricultural labourer. Recently I had occasion to pass through a busy
+London street in the West-end where the macadam of the roadway was being
+picked up by some score of men, and, being full of the subject of labour,
+I watched the process. Using the right hand as a fulcrum and keeping it
+stationary, each navvy slowly lifted his pick with the left half-way up,
+about on a level with his waistcoat, when the point of the pick was barely
+two feet above the ground. He then let it fall--simply by its own
+weight--producing a tiny indentation such as might be caused by the kick
+of one's heel It required about three such strokes, if they could so
+called strokes, to detach one single small stone. After that exhausting
+labor the man stood at ease for a few minutes, so that there were often
+three or four at once staring about them, while several others lounged
+against the wooden railing placed to keep vehicles back.
+
+A more irritating spectacle it would be hard to imagine. Idle as much
+agricultural labour is, it is rarely so lazy as that. How contractors get
+their work done, if that is a sample, it is a puzzle to understand. The
+complaint of the poor character of the work performed by the agricultural
+labourer seems also true of other departments, where labour--pure and
+simple labour of thews and sinews--is concerned. The rich city merchant,
+who goes to his office daily, positively works harder, in spite of all his
+money. So do the shopmen and assistants behind their counters; so do the
+girls in drapers' shops, standing the whole day and far into the evening
+when, as just observed, the fields have been dark for hours; so, indeed,
+do most men and women who earn their bread by any other means than mere
+bodily strength.
+
+But the cattle-men, carters, and shepherds, men with families and settled,
+often seem to take an interest in their charges, in the cows, horses, or
+sheep; some of them are really industrious, deserving men. The worst
+feature of unionism is the lumping of all together, for where one man is
+hardly worth his salt, another is a good workman. It is strange that such
+men as this should choose to throw in their lot with so many who are
+idle--whom they must know to be idle--thus jeopardising their own position
+for the sake of those who are not worth one-fifth the sacrifice the
+agricultural cottager must be called upon to make in a strike. The
+hard-working carter or cattle-man, according to the union theory, is to
+lose his pay, his cottage, his garden, and get into bad odour with his
+employer, who previously trusted him, and was willing to give him
+assistance, in order that the day labourer who has no responsibilities
+either of his own or his master's, and who has already the best end of the
+stick, should enjoy still further opportunities for idleness.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+
+THE LABOURER'S CHILDREN. COTTAGE GIRLS
+
+
+In the coldest weather one or more of the labourer's children are sure to
+be found in the farmyard somewhere. After the mother has dressed her boy
+(who may be about three or four years old) in the morning, he is at once
+turned out of doors to take care of himself, and if, as is often the case,
+the cottage is within a short distance of the farmyard, thither he toddles
+directly. He stands about the stable door, watching the harnessing of the
+great carthorses, which are, from the very first, the object of his
+intense admiration. But he has already learnt to keep out of the way,
+knowing that his presence would not otherwise be tolerated a moment, and
+occupies a position which enables him to dart quickly behind a tree, or a
+rick.
+
+When the horses are gone he visits the outhouse, where the steam-engine is
+driving the chaff-cutter, or peers in at the huge doors of the barn, where
+with wide wooden shovel the grain is being moved. Or he may be met with
+round the hay-ricks, dragging a log of wood by a piece of tar cord, the
+log representing a plough. As you come upon him suddenly he draws up to
+the rick as if the hay was his natural protector, and looks up at you with
+half-frightened, half-curious gaze, and mouth open. His hat is an old one
+of his father's, a mile too big, coming down over his ears to his
+shoulders, well greased from ancient use--a thing not without its
+advantage, since it makes it impervious to rain. He wears what was a white
+jacket, but is now the colour of the prevailing soil of the place; a belt;
+and a pair of stumping boots, the very picture in miniature of his
+father's, heeled and tipped with iron. His naked legs are red with the
+cold, but thick and strong; his cheeks are plump and firm, his round blue
+eyes bright, his hair almost white, like bleached straw.
+
+An hour or two ago his skin was clean enough, for he was sent out well
+washed, but it is now pretty well grimed, for he has been making himself
+happy in the dirt, as a boy should do if he be a boy. For one thing it is
+clean dirt, nothing but pure mother earth, and not the nasty unctuous
+filth of city courts and back lanes. If you speak to him he answers you
+sturdily--if you can catch the meaning of his words, doubly difficult from
+accent and imperfect knowledge of construction. But he means well, and if
+you send him on an errand will run off to find 'measter' as fast as his
+short stature will allow. He will potter about the farmyard the whole
+morning, perhaps turning up at home for a lunch of a slice of bread well
+larded. His little sister, not so old as himself, is there, already
+beginning her education in the cares of maternity, looking after the
+helpless baby that crawls over the wooden threshold of the door with bare
+head, despite the bitter cold. Once during the day he may perhaps steal
+round the farmhouse, and peer wistfully from behind the tubs or buckets
+into the kitchen, when, if the mistress chances to be about, he is pretty
+certain to pick up some trifle in the edible line.
+
+How those prosperous parents who dwell in highly-rented suburban villas,
+and send out their children for a walk with a couple of nurses, and a
+'bow-wow' to run beside the perambulator, would be eaten up with anxiety
+did their well-dressed boys or girls play where this young son of toil
+finds his amusement! Under the very hoofs of the carthorses--he will go
+out to them when they are loose in the field, three or four in a group,
+under a tree, when it looks as if the slightest movement on their part
+must crush him; down to the side of the deep broad brook to swim sticks in
+it for boats, where a slip on the treacherous mud would plunge him in, and
+where the chance of rescue--everybody being half a mile away at
+work--would be absolutely _nil_. The cows come trampling through the yard;
+the bull bellows in the meadow; great, grunting sows, savage when they
+have young, go by, thrusting their noses into and turning up the earth for
+food; steam ploughing engines pant and rumble about; carts are continually
+coming and going; and he is all day in the midst of it without guardian of
+any kind whatsoever. The fog, and frost, and cutting winter winds make him
+snivel and cry with the cold, and yet there he is out in it--in the
+draughts that blow round the ricks, and through the hedge bare of leaves.
+The rain rushes down pitilessly--he creeps inside the barn or shed, and
+with a stick splashes the puddles. The long glaring days of summer see him
+exposed to the scorching heat in the hay, or the still hotter harvest
+field. Through it all he grows stout and strong, and seems happy enough.
+
+He is, perhaps, more fortunate than his sister, who has to take part in
+the household work from very early age. But the village school claims them
+both after awhile; and the greater number of such schools are well filled,
+taking into consideration the long distances the children have to come and
+the frequent bad state of the roads and lanes. Both the employers and the
+children's own parents get them to school as much as possible; the former
+put on a mild compulsion, the latter for the most part are really anxious
+for the schooling, and have even an exaggerated idea of the value of
+education. In some cases it would seem as if the parents actually educated
+themselves in some degree from their own children, questioning them as to
+what they have been told. But, on the other hand, the labourer objects to
+paying for the teaching, and thinks the few coppers he is charged a
+terrible extortion.
+
+The lads, as they grow older and leave school, can almost always find
+immediate employment with their father on the same farm, or on one close
+by. Though they do not now go out to work so soon, yet, on the other hand,
+when they do commence they receive higher weekly wages. The price paid for
+boys' labour now is such that it becomes a very important addition to the
+aggregate income of the cottager. When a man has got a couple of boys out,
+bringing home so much per week, his own money, of course, goes very much
+farther.
+
+The girls go less and less into the field. If at home, they assist their
+parents at harvest time when work is done by the acre, and the more a man
+can cut the better he is off; but their aim is domestic service, and they
+prefer to be engaged in the towns. They shirk the work of a farmhouse,
+especially if it is a dairy, and so it has come to be quite a complaint
+among farmers' wives, in many places, that servants are not to be
+obtained. Those that are available are mere children, whose mothers like
+them to go out anywhere at first, just to obtain an insight into the
+duties of a servant. The farmer's wife has the trouble and annoyance of
+teaching these girls the rudiments of household work, and then, the moment
+they are beginning to be useful, they leave, and almost invariably go to
+the towns. Those that remain are the slow-witted, or those who are tied in
+a measure by family difficulties--as a bedridden mother to attend to; or,
+perhaps, an illegitimate child of her own may fetter the cottage girl.
+Then she goes out in the daytime to work at the farmhouse, and returns to
+sleep at home.
+
+Cottage girls have taken to themselves no small airs of recent years--they
+dress, so far as their means will go, as flashily as servants in cities,
+and stand upon their dignity. This foolishness has, perhaps, one good
+effect--it tends to diminish the illegitimate births. The girls are
+learning more self-respect--if they could only achieve that and eschew the
+other follies it would be a clear gain. It may be questioned whether
+purely agricultural marriages are as common as formerly. The girl who
+leaves her home for service in the towns sees a class of men--grooms,
+footmen, artisans, and workmen generally--not only receiving higher wages
+than the labourers in her native parish, but possessing a certain amount
+of comparative refinement. It is not surprising that she prefers, if
+possible, to marry among these.
+
+On the other hand, the young labourer, who knows that he can get good
+wages wherever he likes to go, has become somewhat of a wanderer. He roams
+about, not only from village to village, but from county to county;
+perhaps works for a time as a navvy on some distant railway, and thus
+associates with a different class of men, and picks up a sort of coarse
+cynicism. He does not care to marry and settle and tie himself down to a
+routine of labour--he despises home pleasures, preferring to spend his
+entire earnings upon himself. The roaming habits of the rising generation
+of labourers is an important consideration, and it has an effect in many
+ways. Statistics are not available; but the impression left on the mind is
+that purely rural marriages are not so frequent, notwithstanding that
+wages at large have risen. When a young man does marry, he and his wife
+not uncommonly live for a length of time with his parents, occupying a
+part of the cottage.
+
+Had any one gone into a cottage some few years back and inquired about the
+family, most probably the head of the house could have pointed out all his
+sons and daughters engaged in or near the parish. Most likely his own
+father was at work almost within hail. Uncles, cousins, various relations,
+were all near by. He could tell where everybody was. To-day if a similar
+inquiry wore made, the answer would often be very different. The old
+people might be about still, but the younger would be found scattered over
+the earth. One, perhaps, went to the United States or Canada in the height
+of the labourers' agitation some years ago, when agents were busy
+enlisting recruits for the Far West. Since then another has departed for
+Australia, taking with him his wife. Others have migrated northwards, or
+to some other point of the compass--they are still in the old country, but
+the exact whereabouts is not known. The girls are in service a hundred
+miles away--some married in the manufacturing districts. To the
+middle-aged, steady, stay-at-home labourer, the place does not seem a bit
+like it used to. Even the young boys are restless, and talking of going
+somewhere. This may not be the case with every single individual cottage
+family, but it is so with a great number. The stolid phalanx of
+agricultural labour is slowly disintegrating.
+
+If there yet remains anything idyllic in the surroundings of rural cottage
+life, it may be found where the unmarried but grown-up sons--supposing
+these, of course, to be steady--remain at home with their parents. The
+father and head of the house, having been employed upon one farm for the
+last thirty years or more, though nominally carter, is really a kind of
+bailiff. The two young men work on at the same place, and lodge at home,
+paying a small weekly sum for board and lodging. Their sister is probably
+away in service; their mother manages the cottage. She occasionally bears
+a hand in indoor work at the farmhouse, and in the harvest time aids a
+little in the field, but otherwise does not labour. What is the result?
+Plenty to eat, good beds, fairly good furniture, sufficient fuel, and some
+provision for contingencies, through the benefit club. As the wages are
+not consumed in drink, they have always a little ready money, and, in
+short, are as independent as it is possible for working men to be,
+especially if, as is often the case, the cottage and garden is their own,
+or is held on a small quit-rent. If either of the sons in time desires to
+marry, he does not start utterly unprovided. His father's influence with
+the farmer is pretty sure to procure him a cottage; he has some small
+savings himself, and his parents in the course of years have accumulated
+some extra furniture, which is given to him.
+
+If a cottage, where the occupants are steady like this, be visited in the
+evening, say towards seven o'clock, when dinner is on the table (labourers
+dining or supping after the conclusion of the day's work), the fare will
+often be found of a substantial character. There may be a piece of
+mutton--not, of course, the prime cut, but wholesome meat--cabbages,
+parsnips, carrots (labourers like a profusion of vegetables), all laid out
+in a decent manner. The food is plain, but solid and plentiful. If the
+sister out in service wishes to change her situation, she has a home to go
+to meanwhile. Should any dispute occur with the employer the cottage is
+still there, and affords a shelter till the difficulty is settled or other
+work obtained. In towns the workman who has been earning six or even ten
+shillings a day, and paying a high rent (carefully collected every week),
+no sooner gets his discharge than he receives notice to quit his lodgings,
+because the owner knows he will not be paid. But when the agricultural
+labourer has a quit-rent cottage, or one of his own, he has a permanent
+resource, and can look round for another engagement.
+
+The cooking in the best cottages would not commend itself to the student
+of that art: in those where the woman is shiftless it would be deemed
+simply intolerable. Evidence of this is only too apparent on approaching
+cottages, especially towards the evening. Coming from the fresh air of the
+fields, perhaps from the sweet scent of clover or of new-mown grass, the
+odour which arises from the cottages is peculiarly offensive. It is not
+that they are dirty inside--the floor may be scrubbed, the walls brushed,
+the chairs clean, and the beds tidy; it is from outside that all the
+noisome exhalations taint the breeze. The refuse vegetables, the washings,
+the liquid and solid rubbish generally is cast out into the ditch, often
+open to the highway road, and there festers till the first storm sweeps it
+away. The cleanest woman indoors thinks nothing disgusting out of doors,
+and hardly goes a step from her threshold to cast away indescribable
+filth. Now, a good deal of this refuse is the remains of imperfect
+cooking--masses of soddened cabbage, part of which only is eaten, and the
+rest stored for the pig or thrown into the ditch. The place smells of
+soaking, saturated cabbage for yards and yards round about.
+
+But it is much easier to condemn the cottage cook than to show her how to
+do better. It is even doubtful whether professed scientific cooks could
+tell her what to do. The difficulty arises from the rough, coarse taste of
+the labourer, and the fact, which it is useless to ignore, that he must
+have something solid, and indeed, bulky. Thin clear soups--though proved
+to abound with nourishment and of delicious flavour--are utterly beside
+his wants. Give him the finest soup; give him _pates_, or even more meaty
+_entrees_, and his remark will be that it is very nice, but he wants
+'summat to eat.' His teeth are large, his jaws strong, his digestive
+powers such as would astonish a city man; he likes solid food, bacon,
+butcher's meat, cheese, or something that gives him a sense of fulness,
+like a mass of vegetables. This is the natural result of his training and
+work in the fields. The materials used by the cottage cook are often quite
+capable of being made into agreeable dishes, but then those dishes would
+not suit the man. All the soups and kickshaws--though excellent in
+themselves--in the world are not, for his purpose, equal to a round of
+beef or a side of bacon. Let any one go and labour daily in the field, and
+they will come quickly to the same opinion. Yet something might certainly
+be done in the way of preventing waste. The real secret lies in the
+education of the women when young--that is, for the future. But, taking
+the present day, looking at things as they actually exist, it is no use
+abusing or lecturing the cottage cook. She might, perhaps, be persuaded to
+adopt a systematic plan of disposing of the refuse.
+
+The Saturday half-holiday is scarcely so closely observed in rural labour
+as in urban. The work closes earlier, that is, so far as the day labourer
+is concerned, for he gets the best of this as of other things. But,
+half-holiday or not, cows have to be fed and milked, sheep must be looked
+after, and the stable attended to, so that the regular men do not get off
+much sooner. In winter, the days being short, they get little advantage
+from the short time; in summer they do. Compensation is, however, as much
+as possible afforded to the settled men who have gardens, by giving them a
+half-day now and then when work is slack to attend to them.
+
+On Sunday morning the labourer cleans and polishes his boots (after
+digging the potatoes for dinner), puts on a black or dark coat, put his
+hands in his pockets--a marked feature this--and rambles down to his
+garden or the allotment. There, if it be spring or summer, he is sure to
+find some acquaintances likewise 'looking round.' This seems to be one of
+the greatest pleasures of the labourer, noting the growth of a cabbage
+here, and the promise of potatoes yonder; he does not work, but strolls to
+and fro, discussing the vegetable prospect. Then back home in time for
+dinner--the great event of Sunday, being often the only day in the week
+that he can get a hot dinner in the middle of the day. It is his day at
+home, and though he may ramble out he never goes far.
+
+Ladies residing in the country are accustomed to receive periodical
+appeals from friends in town asking their assistance in procuring
+servants. So frequent are such appeals that there would seem to be a
+popular belief that the supply is inexhaustible. The villages are supposed
+to be full of girls, all ready to enter service, and, though a little
+uncouth in manner, possessed nevertheless of sterling good qualities. The
+letter is usually couched in something like the following terms:--'Do you
+happen to know of a really good girl that would suit us? You are aware of
+the scale on which our household is conducted, and how very modest our
+requirements are. All we want is a strong, healthy, honest girl, ready and
+willing to work and to learn, and who will take an interest in the place,
+and who will not ask too extravagant a price. She can have a good home
+with us as long as ever she likes to stay. My dear, you really cannot tell
+what a difficulty we experience in getting servants who are not "uppish,"
+and who are trustworthy and do not mind working, and if you can find us
+one in those pretty villages round you, we shall be so much obliged,' &c.
+
+The fact that a servant from the country is supposed, in the nature of
+things, to be honest and willing, hardworking, strong, and healthy, and
+almost everything else, speaks well for the general character of the girls
+brought up in agricultural cottages. It is, however, quite a mistake to
+suppose the supply to be limitless; it is just the reverse; the really
+good servants from any particular district are quickly exhausted, and
+then, if the friends in town will insist upon a girl from the country,
+they cannot complain if they do not get precisely what they want. The
+migration, indeed, of servants from the villages to the towns has, for the
+time being, rather overdone itself. The best of those who responded to the
+first demand were picked out some time since; many of those now to be had
+are not of the first class, and the young are not yet grown up. After
+awhile, as education progresses--bringing with it better manners--there
+may be a fresh supply; meantime, really good country girls are difficult
+to obtain. But the demand is as great as ever. From the squire's lady down
+to the wife of the small tenant-farmer, one and all receive the same
+requests from friends in town. The character of the true country servant
+stands as high as ever.
+
+Let us hope that the polish of progress may not too much overlay the solid
+if humble virtues which procured that character for her class. Some
+efforts are being made here and there to direct the course of young girls
+after leaving the village schools--to put them in the right way and give
+them the benefit of example. As yet such efforts are confined to
+individuals. The object is certainly worth the formation of local
+organisations, for, too often, on quitting the school, the young village
+girl comes in contact with anything but elevating influences, and,
+unfortunately, her own mother is not always the best guide. The position
+of a servant in town is well known, the antecedents of a girl before she
+reaches town perhaps not so thoroughly, while the lives of those who
+remain in the villages drop out of sight of the great world.
+
+As a child, the cottage girl 'roughs' it in the road and in the fields. In
+winter she learns to slide, and to endure the cold and rain, till she
+often becomes what, to any one accustomed to a more delicate life, seems
+positively impervious to weather. The servants in old-fashioned farmhouses
+really did not seem to know what it was to feel cold. Even nowadays, a
+servant fresh from an outlying hamlet, where her parents probably could
+procure but little fuel beyond what was necessary for cooking, at first
+cares not an atom whether there be a fire in the kitchen or not. Such
+girls are as hardy as the men of their native place. After a time, hot
+rooms and a profusion of meat and good living generally saps and
+undermines this natural strength. Then they shiver like town-bred people.
+
+The cottage child is often locked out by her parents, who go to work and
+leave her in charge of her still smaller brothers and sisters. They play
+about the hedges and ditches, and very rarely come to any harm. In autumn
+their little fingers are employed picking up the acorns fallen from the
+oaks, for which the formers pay so much per bushel. In spring is their
+happiest time. The joy of life--the warm sunshine and pleasant breeze of
+spring--is not wholly lost upon them, despite their hard fare, and the not
+very affectionate treatment they receive at home. Such a girl may then be
+seen sitting under a willow beside the brook, with her charges around
+her--the little brother that can just toddle, the baby that can but crawl
+and crow in the green fresh grass. Between them lies a whole pile of
+flowers--dandelion stems made into rings, and the rings joined together so
+as to form a chain, rushes plaited, blue-bells, cowslips tied up in balls,
+and cowslips loose, their yellow petals scattered over the sward.
+
+The brook flows murmuring by, with an occasional splash, as a water-rat
+dives from the bank or a fish rises to an insect. The children weave their
+flowers and chant some old doggrel rhymes with little or no meaning. Long
+afterwards that girl will retain an unconscious memory of the scene, when,
+wheeling her employer's children out on some suburban road, she seeks a
+green meadow and makes a cowslip ball for the delighted infants. In summer
+they go down to the hay-field, but dare not meddle with the hay, which the
+bailiff does not like to see disturbed; they remain under the shadow of
+the hedge. In autumn they search for the berries, like the birds, nibbling
+the hips and haws, tasting crabs and sloes, or feasting on the fruit of a
+hazel-bush.
+
+Be it spring or summer, autumn or winter, wherever the child may be, her
+eyes are ever on the watch to find a dead stick or a broken branch, too
+heavy to lift, but which may be dragged behind, in order to feed the
+cottage fire at night. That is her first duty as a child; if she remains
+in the hamlet that will be her duty through life, and to the last, as an
+aged woman. So in London, round the purlieus of buildings in the course of
+erection--even in the central thoroughfares, in busy Fleet
+Street--children hang about the temporary hoardings, and pick up the chips
+and splinters of deal. But the latter have not the pleasure of the
+blue-bells and cowslips, nor even of the hips and haws, nor does the fresh
+pure breeze play upon their foreheads.
+
+Rough though it be, the childhood of the cottage girl is not without its
+recompenses, the most valuable of which is sturdy health. Now that good
+schools are open to every village, so soon as the children are old enough
+to walk the distance, often considerable, they are sent off every morning.
+At all events, if it does nothing else, it causes the mothers to give them
+a daily tidying up, which is in itself an advantage. They travel under the
+charge of the girl; often two or three such small parties join company,
+coming from as many cottages. In the warmer months, the lanes and fields
+they cross form a long playground for them, and picking flowers and
+searching for birds'-nests pass away the time. In winter they have to face
+the mire and rain.
+
+When the girl leaves school she is hardly old enough to enter service, and
+too often in the year or so that elapses before she 'goes out' much
+mischief is done. She is then at an age when the mind is peculiarly
+receptive, and the ways of the young labourers with whom she is thrown
+into contact are not very refined. Her first essay at 'service' is often
+as day-nursemaid at some adjacent farmhouse, taking care of the younger
+children in the day, and returning home to sleep. She then wanders with
+the children about the same fields she visited long before. This system
+used to be common enough, but latterly it has not worked well, because the
+parents expect the girl to progress so rapidly. She must be a woman and
+receive a woman's wages almost before she has ceased to be a girl. If she
+does not disdain to enter a farmhouse as kitchen-maid her wages will
+probably be about six pounds a year at first. Of course the exact sum
+varies very much in different localities and in different cases. It is but
+a small sum of money, yet it is often all she is worth.
+
+The cottage is a poor preparation even for the humblest middle-class home.
+Those ladies in towns who have engaged country servants are well aware of
+the amount of teaching they require before they can go through the
+simplest duties in a satisfactory manner. But most of these girls have
+already been out several times before reaching town. What a difficulty,
+then, the first farmer's wife must have had in drilling the rudiments of
+civilised life into them! Indeed, the vexations and annoyances connected
+with servants are no light weight upon the patience of the tenant-farmer.
+His wife is perpetually preparing servant girls for the service of other
+people.
+
+She is a kind of unpaid teacher, for ever shaping the rough material
+which, so soon as it is worth higher wages than a tenant-farmer can
+usually pay, is off, and the business has to be begun over again. No one
+who had not seen it would believe how clumsy and unthinking such girls are
+on first 'going out.' It is, too, the flightiest and giddiest period of
+their existence--before the girl sobers down into the woman. In the houses
+of the majority of tenant-farmers the mistress herself has to be a good
+deal in the kitchen, and therefore comes into close personal contact with
+the servants, and feels these things acutely. Except in the case of
+gentleman-farmers it may, perhaps, be said that almost all the wives of
+farmers have had experience of this kind.
+
+The girls are not nearly so tractable as formerly--they are fully aware of
+their own value and put it extremely high; a word is sufficient, and if
+not pleased they leave immediately. Wages rise yearly to about the limit
+of twelve pounds. In mentioning that sum it is not set down as an exact
+figure, for circumstances of course vary in every case. But it is seldom
+that servants in farmhouses of the middle class receive more than that.
+Until recently few obtained so much. Most of them that are worth anything
+never rest till they reach the towns, and take service in the villas of
+the wealthy suburban residents. Some few, however, remain in the country
+from preference, feeling a strong affection for their native place, for
+their parents and friends. Notwithstanding the general tendency to roam,
+this love of home is by no means extinct, but shows itself very decidedly
+in some of the village girls.
+
+The fogger, or milker, who comes to the farmhouse door in the morning may
+not present a very attractive appearance in the eyes of those accustomed
+to see well-dressed people; but it may be quite different with the young
+girl whose early associations have made her oblivious of dirt. She does
+not notice the bits of hay clinging to the smockfrock, the greasy hat and
+begrimed face, or the clumsy boots thickly coated with mud. A kiss may be
+quite as sweet, despite these mere outside accidents. In her way she is
+full of imagination and fancy--what her mistress would call 'giddy.'
+Within doors an eye may be on her, so she slips out to the wood-stack in
+the yard, ostensibly to fetch a log for the fire, and indulges in a few
+moments of flirtation behind the shelter of the faggots. In the summer she
+works doubly hard in the morning, and gets everything forward, so that she
+may go out to the field haymaking in the afternoon, when she may meet her
+particular friend, and also, perhaps, his rival.
+
+On Sundays she gladly walks two or more miles across the fields to church,
+knowing full well that some one will be lounging about a certain stile, or
+lying on the sward by a gate waiting for her. The practice of coquetry is
+as delightful in the country lane as in the saloons of wealth, though the
+ways in which it exhibits itself may be rude in comparison. So that love
+is sometimes the detaining force which keeps the girl in the country. Some
+of the young labourers are almost heirs to property in their eyes. One is
+perhaps the son of the carrier, who owns a couple of cottages let out to
+tenants; or the son of the blacksmith, at whom several caps are set, and
+about whom no little jealousy rages. On the whole, servants in the
+country, at least at farmhouses, have much more liberty than they could
+possibly get in town.
+
+The work is hard in the morning, but generally much less for the rest of
+the day; in the evening there is often scarcely anything to do. So that
+the farmhouse servant has much time to herself, and is not too strictly
+confined indoors when not at work. There is a good deal of 'company,' too;
+men coming to the door, men in the rick-yards and cattle-yards, men in the
+barn, labourers passing to their work, and so on. It is not so dull a life
+as might appear. Indeed, a farmhouse servant probably sees twice as many
+of her own class in the course of a week as a servant in town.
+
+Vanity, of course, is not to be shut out even from so simple an existence:
+the girl must have a 'fashionable' bonnet, and a pair of thin tight boots,
+let the lanes be never so dirty or the fields never so wet. In point of
+education they have much improved of late, and most can now read and
+write. But when they write home the letter is often read to the mother by
+some friend; the girl's parents being nearly or quite illiterate.
+Tenant-farmers' wives are often asked to act as notaries in such cases by
+cottage women on the receipt of letters from their children.
+
+When such a girl marries in the village she usually finds the work of the
+cottage harder than that of the farmhouse. It is more continuous, and when
+children arrive the trouble of nursing has to be added to the other
+duties, and to occasional work in the fields. The agricultural labourer's
+wife, indeed, has a harder lot than her husband. His toil is for the most
+part over when he leaves the field, but the woman's is never finished.
+When the man reaches home he does not care, or will not turn his hand to
+anything, except, perhaps, to fetch a pail of water, and he is not well
+pleased if asked to do that. The want of conveniences like an accessible
+water supply is severely felt by the women in many villages and hamlets;
+whilst in others there is a quantity running to waste. Many of the men
+obtain a more than liberal amount of beer, while the women scarcely get
+any at all. While working in the field they are allowed a small quantity
+by some farmers; at home they have none.
+
+Very few cottage women are inclined to drink, and they are seldom seen at
+'public' or intoxicated. On Saturdays most of them walk into the nearest
+town, perhaps five or more miles distant, in order to buy household stuff.
+Often a whole bevy of neighbours then meet and return home together, and
+that is about the only time when they call at the roadside inn. Laden with
+heavy parcels, with a long walk yet before them, and after a hard week's
+work, it is not surprising that they should want some refreshment, but the
+quantity of ale then purchased is very small. When there are a number of
+young children, and the parents endeavour to keep them decent, the woman
+works very hard indeed. Many farmers' wives take much interest in such
+families, where there is an evident endeavour to go straight, and assist
+the women in various ways, as with cast-off clothing for the children. A
+basketful of apples even from the farmer's orchard is a treat to the
+children, for, though better fed than formerly, their diet is necessarily
+monotonous, and such fruit as may be grown in the cottage garden is, of
+course, sold.
+
+With the exception of vegetables the cottager now buys almost everything
+and produces nothing for home use; no home-spun clothing--not even a
+home-baked loaf. Instances have been observed where cottagers have gone to
+much expense (for them) to build ovens, and after baking a few batches
+abandoned the project. Besides the cheap outfitters in the towns, the
+pack-drapers come round visiting every cottage. Such drapers have no
+shop-window, and make no display, but employ several men carrying packs,
+who work through the villages on foot and range over a wide stretch of
+country.
+
+Agricultural women, other than those belonging to the families of
+tenant-farmers, may be summed up as employed in the following manner.
+Bailiff's wives and daughters: these are not supposed, on extensive farms,
+to work in the field. The wife frequently has charge of the small home
+dairy, and the daughter assists at the house. Sometimes they also attend
+to the poultry, now occasionally kept in large numbers. A bailiff's
+daughter sometimes becomes housekeeper to a farmer. Dairymaids of the
+ordinary class--not competent to make special cheese--are becoming rarer,
+on account of the demand for their services decreasing--the milk trade and
+cheap foreign cheese having rendered common sorts of cheese unprofitable.
+They are usually cottagers. Of the married labouring women and the indoor
+servants something has already been said. In most villages a seamstress or
+two may be found, and has plenty of work to do for the farmers' families.
+The better class of housekeepers, and those professional dairymaids who
+superintend the making of superior cheese, are generally more or less
+nearly related to the families of tenant-farmers.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+
+THE LOW 'PUBLIC' IDLERS
+
+
+The wise old saw that good wine needs no bush does not hold true in the
+case of the labourer; it would require a very large bush indeed to attract
+him to the best of beer offered for sale under legitimate conditions. In
+fact, he cares not a rap about good beer--that is, intrinsically good, a
+genuine product of malt and hops. He would rather grumble at it, unless,
+perchance, it was a gift; and even then would criticise it behind the
+donor's back, holding the quart cup aslant so as to see the bottom in one
+place, and get a better view of the liquor. The great breweries whose
+names are household words in cities, and whose interest it is to maintain
+a high standard of quality for the delectation of their million consumers,
+do not exalt their garish painted advertisements in gilded letters as tall
+as Tom Thumb over the doors of village alehouses. You might call for Bass
+at Cairo, Bombay, Sydney, or San Francisco, and Bass would be forthcoming.
+But if you knocked the trestle-table with the bottom of a tankard (the
+correct way) in a rural public, as a signal to the cellar you might call
+for Bass in vain.
+
+When the agricultural labourer drops in on his way home from his work of a
+winter evening--heralding his approach by casting down a couple of logs or
+bundle of wood which he has been carrying with a thud outside the door--he
+does not demand liquor of that character. When in harvest time, after
+sundown--when the shadows forbid farther cutting with the fagging hook at
+the tall wheat--he sits on the form without, under the elm tree, and feels
+a whole pocketful of silver, flush of money like a gold-digger at a
+fortunate rush, he does not indulge in Allsopp or Guinness. He hoarsely
+orders a 'pot' of some local brewer's manufacture--a man who knows exactly
+what he likes, and arranges to meet the hardy digestion of the mower and
+the reaper. He prefers a rather dark beer with a certain twang faintly
+suggestive of liquorice and tobacco, with a sense of 'body,' a thickness
+in it, and which is no sooner swallowed than a clammy palate demands a
+second gulp to wash away the relics of the first. Ugh! The second requires
+a third swig, and still a fourth, and appetite increasing with that it
+feeds on, the stream rushes down the brazen throat that burns for more.
+
+Like the Northern demi-god who drank unwittingly at the ocean from a horn
+and could not empty it, but nevertheless caused the ebb of the sea, so our
+toper, if he cannot contain the cask, will bring it down to the third hoop
+if time and credit will but serve. It would require a ganger's staff to
+measure his capacity--in fact, the limit of the labourer's liquor-power,
+especially in summer, has never yet been reached. A man will lie on his
+back in the harvest field, under a hedge sweet with the June roses that
+smile upon the hay, and never move or take his lips away till a gallon has
+entered into his being, for it can hardly be said to be swallowed. Two
+gallons a day is not an uncommon consumption with men who swing the scythe
+or reaping-hook.
+
+This of course is small beer; but the stuff called for at the low public
+in the village, or by the road just outside, though indescribably nauseous
+to a non-vitiated palate, is not 'small.' It is a heady liquid, which if
+anyone drinks, not being accustomed to it, will leave its effects upon him
+for hours afterwards. But this is what the labourer likes. He prefers
+something that he can feel; something that, if sufficiently indulged in,
+will make even his thick head spin and his temples ache next morning. Then
+he has had the value of his money. So that really good ale would require a
+very large bush indeed before it attracted his custom.
+
+It is a marked feature of labouring life that the respectable inn of the
+village at which the travelling farmer, or even persons higher in rank,
+occasionally call, which has a decent stable, and whose liquors are of a
+genuine character, is almost deserted by the men who seek the reeking tap
+of the ill-favoured public which forms the clubhouse of all the vice of
+the village. While the farmer or passing stranger, calling at the decent
+house really for refreshment, drinks but a glass or two and departs, the
+frequenters of the low place never quit their seats till the law compels
+them, so that for sixpence spent in the one by men with cheque-books in
+their pockets, five shillings are spent in the other by men who have not
+got a loaf of bread at home for their half-starving children and pinched
+wife. To an unprincipled landlord clearly this sort of custom is decidedly
+preferable, and thus it is that these places are a real hardship to the
+licensed victualler whose effort it is to keep an orderly house.
+
+The influence of the low public upon the agricultural labourer's life is
+incalculable--it is his club, almost his home. There he becomes
+brutalised; there he spends his all; and if he awakes to the wretched
+state of his own family at last, instead of remembering that it is his own
+act, he turns round, accuses the farmer of starvation wages, shouts for
+what is really Communism, and perhaps even in his sullen rage descends to
+crime. Let us go with him into such a rural den.
+
+Beware that you do not knock your head against the smoke-blackened beams
+of the low ceiling, and do not put your elbow carelessly on the deal
+table, stained with spilled ale, left uncleaned from last night, together
+with little heaps of ashes, tapped out from pipes, and spots of grease
+from the tallow candles. The old-fashioned settles which gave so cosy an
+air in the olden time to the inn room, and which still linger in some of
+the houses, are not here--merely forms and cheap chairs. A great pot hangs
+over the fire, for the family cooking is done in the public apartment; but
+do not ask to join in the meal, for though the food may be more savoury
+than is dreamed of in your philosophy, the two-grained forks have not been
+cleaned these many a day. Neither is the butcher's wooden skewer, just
+extracted from the meat, an elegant toothpick if you are fastidious.
+
+But these things are trifles when the dish is a plump pheasant, jugged
+hare, brown partridges, or trout--perhaps not exactly in season--as the
+chance may be; or a couple of boiled fowls, or a turkey, or some similar
+toothsome morsel. Perhaps it is the gamey taste thus induced that enables
+them to enjoy joints from the butcher which are downright tainted, for it
+is characteristic of the place and people on the one hand to dine on the
+very best, as above, and yet to higgle over a halfpenny a pound at the
+shop. Nowhere else in all the parish, from the polished mahogany at the
+squire's mansion to the ancient solid oaken table at the substantial
+old-fashioned farmer's, can there be found such a constant supply of food
+usually considered as almost the privilege of the rich. Bacon, it is true,
+they eat of the coarsest kind; but with it eggs new laid and delicious. In
+brief, it is the strangest hodge-podge of pheasant and bread and cheese,
+asparagus and cabbage. But somehow, whatever is good, whatever is held in
+estimation, makes its appearance in that grimy little back room on that
+ragged, dirty table-cloth.
+
+Who pays for these things? Are they paid for at all? There is no licensed
+dealer in game in the village nor within many miles, and it seems passing
+strange. But there are other things almost as curious. The wood pile in
+the back yard is ever high and bulky; let the fire burn never so clear in
+the frosty days there is always a regular supply of firewood. It is the
+same with coal. Yet there is no copse attached to the place, nor is the
+landlord ever seen chopping for himself, nor are the farmers in the habit
+of receiving large orders for logs and faggots. By the power of some magic
+spell all things drift hitherward. A magnet which will draw logs of timber
+and faggots half across the parish, which will pull pheasants off their
+perch, extract trout from the deep, and stay the swift hare in midst of
+her career, is a power indeed to be envied. Had any enchanter of mediaeval
+days so potent a charm?
+
+Perhaps it is the engaging and attractive character of the landlord
+himself. He is a tall, lanky man, usually seen in slippers, and trousers
+too short for his limbs; he 'sloppets' about in his waistcoat and
+shirt-sleeves, hands in pockets, and shoulders forward almost in a hump.
+He hangs about the place, now bringing in a log, now carrying a bucket,
+now spinning a mop, now slouching down the garden to feed the numerous
+fowls that scratch around the stumps of cabbages. Anything, in short, but
+work. Sometimes, however, he takes the trap and horse, and is supposed to
+be gone on a dealing expedition. Sometimes it is only to carry a jar of
+beer up to the men in the field, and to mouch a good armful of fresh-cut
+clover for provender from the swathe. He sips gin the live-long day--weak
+gin always--every hour from morn till a cruel Legislature compels the
+closing of the shutters. He is never intoxicated--it is simply a habit, a
+sort of fuel to feed the low cunning in which his soul delights. So far
+from intoxication is he, that there is a fable of some hard knocks and ill
+usage, and even of a thick head being beaten against the harder stones of
+the courtyard behind, when the said thick head was helpless from much ale.
+Such matters are hushed up in the dark places of the earth. So far from
+intoxication is he, that he has the keenest eye to business.
+
+There is a lone rick-yard up in the fields yonder to which the carters
+come from the farm far away to fetch hay, and straw, and so forth. They
+halt at the public, and are noticed to enjoy good living there, nor are
+they asked for their score. A few trusses of hay, or bundles of straw, a
+bushel of corn, or some such trifle is left behind merely out of
+good-fellowship. Waggons come up laden with tons of coal for the farms
+miles above, far from a railway station; three or four teams, perhaps, one
+after the other. Just a knob or two can scarcely be missed, and a little
+of the small in a sack-bag. The bundles of wood thrown down at the door by
+the labourers as they enter are rarely picked up again; they disappear,
+and the hearth at home is cold. The foxes are blamed for the geese and the
+chickens, and the hunt execrated for not killing enough cubs, but Reynard
+is not always guilty. Eggs and poultry vanish. The shepherds have ample
+opportunities for disposing of a few spare lambs to a general dealer whose
+trap is handy. Certainly, continuous gin does not chill the faculties.
+
+If a can of ale is left in the outhouse at the back and happens to be
+found by a few choice spirits at the hour when the vicar is just
+commencing his sermon in church on Sunday, it is by the purest accident.
+The turnip and swede greens left at the door, picked wholesale from the
+farmers' fields; the potatoes produced from coat pockets by fingers which
+have been sorting heaps at the farmstead; the apples which would have been
+crushed under foot if the labourers had not considerately picked them
+up--all these and scores of other matters scarce worth naming find their
+way over that threshold. Perhaps the man is genial, his manners enticing,
+his stories amusing, his jokes witty? Not at all. He is a silent fellow,
+scarce opening his mouth except to curse the poor scrub of a maid servant,
+or to abuse a man who has not paid his score. He slinks in and lights his
+pipe, smokes it silently, and slinks out again. He is the octopus of the
+hamlet, fastening on the cottage homes and sucking the life-blood from
+them. He misses nothing, and nothing comes amiss to him.
+
+His wife, perhaps, then, may be the centre of attraction? She is a short,
+stout woman, whose cheeks as she walks wobble with fat, whose face is ever
+dirty, and dress (at home) slatternly. But mayhap her heart is in the
+right place, and when Hodge is missed from his accustomed seat by the fire
+of an evening, when it is bruited abroad that he is down with illness,
+hurriedly slips on her bonnet, and saying nothing, carries a basket of
+good things to cheer the inner man? Or, when his wife is confined, perhaps
+she brings some little delicacies, a breast of pheasant, a bottle of port
+wine, and strengthens her with motherly counsel in the hour of her
+travail. Is this so? Hodge's wife could tell you that the cottage door has
+never been darkened by her presence: that she indeed would not acknowledge
+her if passed by chance on the road. For the landlady sails forth to the
+adjacent town in all the glory of those fine feathers that proverbially
+make the fine bird.
+
+It is a goodly spectacle to see her in rustling ample silk, in costly
+sealskin, in a bonnet 'loud' but rich, shading a countenance that glows
+ruddy red as a furnace. A gold chain encircles her portly neck, with a
+gold watch thereto attached; gold rings upon her fingers, in one of which
+sparkles a brilliant diamond; gold earrings, gold brooch, kid gloves
+bursting from the fatness of the fingers they encase. The dingy trap and
+limping rawboned hack which carry her to the outskirts of the town
+scarcely harmonise with so much glory. But at the outskirts she alights,
+and enters the street in full dignity. By some potent alchemy the sweat of
+Hodge's brow has become condensed into that sparkling diamond, which is
+disclosed when the glove is drawn off in the shops, to the admiration of
+all beholders.
+
+Or, if not the wife, perhaps it may be the daughter who is the magnet that
+draws the very timber across the parish? She is not ill-looking, and might
+pass muster in her best dress were it not for a squareness of build, like
+the set of a man rather than the full curves associated with woman. She is
+rarely seen in the house at all, and neither talks to the men nor the
+women who enter. She sallies forth at night, and her friends are the
+scampish among the sons of the lower class of tenant-farmers.
+
+This is the family. How strange and yet how undeniable is it that such a
+house should attract the men whose self-interest, one would imagine, would
+lead them to shun it, and if they must spend their hard-won earnings, at
+least to get a good article for their money! It proves that an appeal to
+reason is not always the way to manage the working man. Such a low house
+is always a nest of agitation: there the idle, drunken, and
+ill-conditioned have their rendezvous, there evil is hatched, and from
+there men take their first step on the road that leads to the gaol. The
+place is often crowded at night--there is scarcely room to sit or stand,
+the atmosphere is thick with smoke, and a hoarse roar of jarring voices
+fills it, above which rises the stave of a song shouted in one unvarying
+key from some corner. Money pours in apace--the draughts are deep, and
+long, and frequent, the mugs are large, the thirst insatiate. The takings,
+compared with the size and situation of the house, must be high, and yet,
+with all this custom and profit, the landlord and his family still grovel.
+And grovel they will in dirt, vice, low cunning, and iniquity--as the
+serpent went on his belly in the dust--to the end of their days.
+
+Why do these places exist? Because in England justice is ever tempered
+with mercy; sometimes with too much mercy. The resident squire and
+magistrate knows the extent of the evil only too well. He sees it with his
+own eyes in the village; he sees it brought before him on the bench; the
+clergyman tells him of it, so do the gamekeeper and the policeman. His
+tenants complain of it. He is perpetually reminded of it, and of what it
+may ultimately mean as these places become the centres of communistic
+propagandas. But though perfectly aware of the evil, to suppress it is
+quite another matter.
+
+First, you must find the power, and then, having the power, the question
+arises, is it wise to exercise it? Though the men who frequent such dens
+are often of the lowest type, or on their way to that condition, they are
+not all of that character. Men of a hard-working and honest stamp go there
+as well. All have their rights alike--rights and liberties which must be
+held sacred even at some disadvantage. In short, the reprobate nature of
+the place may be established, but while it is the chosen resort of the
+people, or of a section of them, unless some great and manifest harm
+arises it cannot be touched. The magistrate will willingly control it as
+far as lies in his province, but unless directly instructed by the
+Legislature he cannot go farther. The truth is, it lies with the labourer
+himself. He is not obliged to visit there. A respectable inn may be found
+in every village if he desires that wholesome conviviality which, when it
+does not overstep certain bounds, forms a bond between man and man. Were
+such low houses suddenly put down, what an outcry would be raised of
+favouritism, tyranny, and so on! When the labourer turns against them
+himself, he will speedily find powerful friends to assist in attaining the
+object.
+
+If ever a man deserved a good glass of beer it is the agricultural
+labourer upon the conclusion of his day's work, exposed as he is to the
+wear and tear of the elements. After following the slow plough along the
+furrows through the mist; after tending the sheep on the hills where the
+rain beats with furious energy; after grubbing up the tough roots of
+trees, and splitting them with axe and wedge and mallet, a man may
+naturally ask for refreshment. And it is equally natural that he should
+desire to take it in the society of his fellows, with whom he can
+associate freely and speak his mind unchecked. The glass of ale would not
+hurt him; it is the insidious temptation proffered in certain quarters to
+do evil for an extra quart. Nothing forms so strong a temptation as the
+knowledge that a safe receiver is near at hand.
+
+He must not be harshly judged because of the mere quantity he can take,
+for a quart of ale to him is really no more than a glass of wine to the
+'City' gentleman who lives delicately. He is to be pitied rather than
+condemned, and aided out of the blunder rather than chastised. Punishment,
+indeed, waits upon him only too doggedly, and overtakes him too quickly in
+the shape of sorrows and privations at home. The evil lies not in the ale,
+but in the character of the man that sold him the ale, and who is, at the
+same time, the worst enemy of the legitimately-trading innkeeper. No one,
+indeed, has better cause than the labourer to exclaim, 'Save me from my
+friends!' To do the bulk of the labourers bare justice it must be stated
+that there is a certain bluff honesty and frankness among them, a rude
+candour, which entitles them to considerable respect as a body. There are
+also men here and there whose strength of character would certainty have
+obtained favourable acknowledgment had their lot been cast in a higher
+rank of life. But, at the same time, the labourer is not always so
+innocent and free from guile--so lamblike as it suits the purpose of some
+to proclaim, in order that his rural simplicity may secure sympathy. There
+are very queer black sheep in the flock, and it rather unfortunately
+happens that these, in more ways than one, force themselves, sometimes
+most unpleasantly, upon the notice of the tenant-farmer and the landlord.
+
+A specimen or two may easily be selected from that circle of choice
+manhood whose head-quarters are at the low 'public.' A tall, well-built
+man stands forward, and at the first glance a stranger might take him for
+a favourable example. He holds himself more upright than most of his
+class, he is not ill-looking, and a marked air of deference towards those
+who address him conveys rather a pleasing impression. He can read fairly
+well and sign his name. This man, who is still young, began life as
+carter's lad, in which occupation he had not been long engaged before the
+horse-hair carefully accumulated as a perquisite disappeared. Whipcord and
+similar small articles next vanished, and finally a handsome new whip.
+This last, not being so easily disposed of, was traced to his possession
+and procured him a sound thrashing. Some short time afterwards a carthorse
+was found in the fields stabbed in several places, though, fortunately,
+not severely. Having already the bad name that hangs the dog, he was
+strongly suspected of this dastardly act in revenge for the thrashing from
+the carter, and threat of dismissal from the employer. No evidence,
+however, could be procured, and though he was sent about his business he
+escaped punishment. As he grew older he fell in with a tribe of
+semi-gipsies, and wandered in their company for a year or two, learning
+their petty pilfering tricks. He then returned to agriculture labour, and,
+notwithstanding the ill-flavour that clung about his doings, found no
+difficulty in obtaining employment.
+
+It is rare in agriculture for a man to be asked much about his character,
+unless he is to be put into a position of some trust. In trades and
+factories--on railways, too--an applicant for employment is not only
+questioned, but has to produce evidence as to his immediate antecedents at
+least. But the custom in farming prescribes no such checks; if the farmer
+requires a man, the applicant is put on to work at once, if he looks at
+all likely. This is especially the case in times of pressure, as when
+there is a great deal of hoeing to be done, in harvest, and when extra
+hands are wanted to assist in feeding the threshing machine. Then the
+first that comes along the road is received, and scarcely a question
+asked. The custom operates well enough in one way, since a man is nearly
+sure of procuring employment, and encounters no obstacles; on the other
+hand, there is less encouragement to preserve a good character. So the
+fellow mentioned quickly got work when he applied for it, and went on
+pretty steadily for a period. He then married, and speedily discovered the
+true use of women--i.e. to work for idle men. The moment he learnt that he
+could subsist upon her labour he ceased to make any effort, and passed his
+time lounging about.
+
+The wife, though neither handsome nor clever, was a hard-working person,
+and supported herself and idle husband by taking in washing. Indignation
+has often been expressed at the moral code of savages, which permits the
+man to lie in his hammock while the woman cultivates the maize; but,
+excepting the difference in the colour of the skin, the substitution of
+dirty white for coppery redness, there is really no distinction. Probably
+washing is of the two harder work than hoeing maize. The fellow 'hung
+about,' and doubtless occasionally put in practice the tricks he had
+acquired from his nomad friends.
+
+The only time he worked was in the height of the harvest, when high wages
+are paid. But then his money went in drink, and drink often caused him to
+neglect the labour he had undertaken, at an important juncture when time
+was of consequence. On one such occasion the employer lost his temper and
+gave him a piece of his mind, ending by a threat of proceedings for breach
+of contract. A night or two afterwards the farmer's rick-yard was ablaze,
+and a few months later the incendiary found himself commencing a term of
+penal servitude. There he was obliged to work, began to walk upright, and
+acquired that peculiarly marked air of deference which at first contrasts
+rather pleasantly with the somewhat gruff address of most labourers.
+During his absence the wife almost prospered, having plenty of employment
+and many kind friends. He signalised his return by administering a
+thrashing--just to re-assert his authority--which, however, the poor woman
+received with equanimity, remarking that it was only his way. He
+recommenced his lounging life, working occasionally when money was to be
+easily earned--for the convict stain does not prevent a man getting
+agricultural employment--and spending the money in liquor. When tolerably
+sober he is, in a sense, harmless; if intoxicated, his companions give him
+the road to himself.
+
+Now there is nothing exceptionally characteristic of the agricultural
+labourer in the career of such a man. Members of other classes of the
+working community are often sent to penal servitude, and sometimes men of
+education and social position. But it is characteristic of agricultural
+life that a man with the stigma of penal servitude can return and
+encounter no overpowering prejudice against him. There are work and wages,
+for him if he likes to take them. No one throws his former guilt in his
+face. He may not be offered a place of confidence, nor be trusted with
+money, as the upper labourers--carters for instance--sometimes are. But
+the means of subsistence are open to him, and he will not be driven by the
+memory of one crime to commit another.
+
+There is no school of crime in the country. Children are not brought up
+from the earliest age to beg and steal, to utter loquacious falsehood, or
+entrap the benevolent with sham suffering. Hoary thieves do not keep
+academies for the instruction of little fingers in the art of theft. The
+science of burglary is unstudied. Though farmhouses are often situate in
+the most lonely places a case of burglary rarely occurs, and if it does,
+is still more rarely traced to a local resident. In such houses there is
+sometimes a good deal of old silver plate, accumulated in the course of
+generations--a fact that must be perfectly well known to the labouring
+class, through the women indoor-servants. Yet such attempts are quite
+exceptional. So, too, are robberies from the person with violence. Serious
+crime is, indeed, comparatively scarce. The cases that come before the
+Petty Sessions are, for the most part, drunkenness, quarreling, neglect or
+absenteeism from work, affiliation, petty theft, and so on.
+
+The fact speaks well for the rural population; it speaks very badly for
+such characters as the one that has been described. If he will not turn
+into the path of honest labour, that is his own fault. The injury he does
+is this, that he encourages others to be idle. Labouring men quit the
+field under the influence of temporary thirst, or that desire for a few
+minutes' change which is not in itself blameworthy. They enter the low
+'public,' call for their quart, and intend to leave again immediately. But
+the lazy fellow in the corner opens conversation, is asked to drink, more
+is called for, there is a toss-up to decide who shall pay, in which the
+idle adept, of course, escapes, and so the thing goes on. Such a man
+becomes a cause of idleness, and a nuisance to the farmers.
+
+Another individual is a huge, raw-boned, double-jointed giant of a man,
+whose muscular strength must be enormous, but whose weakness is beer. He
+is a good workman, and of a civil, obliging disposition. He will commence,
+for instance, making drains for a farmer with the greatest energy, and in
+the best of tempers. A drain requires some little skill. The farmer visits
+the work day by day, and notes with approval that it is being done well.
+But about the third or fourth day the clever workman, whose immense
+strength makes the employment mere child's play to him, civilly asks for a
+small advance of money. Now the farmer has no objection to that, but hands
+it to him with some misgiving. Next morning no labourer is to be seen. The
+day passes, and the next. Then a lad brings the intelligence that his
+parent is just recovering from a heavy drinking bout and will be back
+soon. There is the history of forty years!
+
+The same incident is repeated once or twice a month all the year round.
+Now it is a drain, now hedge-cutting, now hoeing, now haymaking, and now
+reaping. Three or four days' work excellently performed; then a bed in a
+ditch and empty pockets. The man's really vast strength carries him
+through the prostration, and the knocks and bangs and tumbles received in
+a helpless state. But what a life! The worst of it is the man is not a
+reprobate--not a hang-dog, lounging rascal, but perfectly honest, willing
+to oblige, harmless and inoffensive even when intoxicated, and skilful at
+his labour. What is to be done with him? What is the farmer to do who has
+only such men to rely on--perhaps in many cases--without this fellow's
+honesty and good temper--qualities which constantly give him a lift? It is
+simply an epitome of the difficulties too commonly met with in the
+field--bright sunshine, good weather, ripe crops, and men half
+unconscious, or quite, snoring under a hedge! There is no encouragement to
+the tenant to pay high wages in experiences like this.
+
+A third example is a rakish-looking lad just rising into manhood. Such
+young men are very much in demand and he would not have the slightest
+difficulty in obtaining employment, yet he is constantly out of work. When
+a boy he began by summoning the carter where he was engaged for cuffing
+him, charging the man with an assault. It turned out to be a trumpery
+case, and the Bench advised his parents to make him return and fulfil his
+contract. His parents thought differently of it. They had become imbued
+with an inordinate sense of their own importance. They had a high idea of
+the rights of labour; Jack, in short, was a good deal better than his
+master, and must be treated with distinguished respect. The doctrines of
+the Union countenanced the deduction; so the boy did not return. Another
+place was found for him.
+
+In the course of a few months he came again before the Bench. The
+complaint was now one of wrongful dismissal, and a claim for a one pound
+bonus, which by the agreement was to have been paid at the end of the year
+if his conduct proved satisfactory. It was shown that his conduct had been
+the reverse of satisfactory; that he refused to obey orders, that he
+'cheeked' the carters, that he ran away home for a day or two, and was
+encouraged in these goings on by the father. The magistrates, always on
+the side of peace, endeavoured to procure a reconciliation, the farmer
+even paid down the bonus, but it was of no use. The lad did not return.
+
+With little variations the same game has continued ever since. Now it is
+he that complains, now it is his new master; but any way there is always a
+summons, and his face is as familiar in the court as that of the chairman.
+His case is typical. What is a farmer to do who has to deal with a rising
+generation full of this spirit?
+
+Then there are the regular workhouse families, who are perpetually
+applying for parochial relief. From the eldest down to the youngest member
+they seem to have no stamina; they fall ill when all others are well, as
+if afflicted with a species of paralysis that affects body, mind, and
+moral sense at once. If the phrase may be used without irreverence, there
+is no health in them. The slightest difficulty is sufficient to send an
+apparently strong, hale man whining to the workhouse. He localises his
+complaint in his foot, or his arm, or his shoulder; but, in truth, he does
+not know himself what is the matter with him. The real illness is weakness
+of calibre--a looseness of fibre. Many a labourer has an aching limb from
+rheumatism, and goes to plough all the same; many a poor cottage woman
+suffers from that prevalent agony, and bravely gets through her task, and
+keeps her cottage tidy. But these people cannot do it--they positively
+cannot. The summer brings them pain, the winter brings pain, their whole
+life is one long appeal _ad misericordiam_.
+
+The disease seems to spread with the multiplication of the family: the
+sons have it, and the sons' sons after them, so much so that even to bear
+the name is sufficient to stamp the owner as a miserable helpless being.
+All human wretchedness is, of course, to be deeply commiserated, and yet
+it is exasperating to see one man still doing his best under real trouble,
+and another eating contentedly the bread of idleness when there seems
+nothing wrong except a total lack of energy. The old men go to the
+workhouse, the young men go, the women and the children; if they are out
+one month the next sees their return. These again are but broken reeds to
+rely upon. The golden harvest might rot upon the ground for all their
+gathering, the grass wither and die as it stands, without the touch of the
+scythe, the very waggons and carts fall to pieces in the sheds. There is
+no work to be got out of them.
+
+The village, too, has its rookery, though not quite in the same sense as
+the city. Traced to its beginning, it is generally found to have
+originated upon a waste piece of ground, where some squatters settled and
+built their cabins. These, by the growth of better houses around, and the
+rise of property, have now become of some value, not so much for the
+materials as the site. To the original hovels additions have been made by
+degrees, and fresh huts squeezed in till every inch of space is as closely
+occupied as in a back court of the metropolis. Within the cottages are low
+pitched, dirty, narrow, and contracted, without proper conveniences, or
+even a yard or court.
+
+The social condition of the inhabitants is unpleasant to contemplate. The
+young men, as they grow up, arrive at an exaggerated idea of the value of
+their parents' property--the cottage of three rooms--and bitter
+animosities arise between them. One is accused of having had his share out
+in money; another has got into trouble and had his fine paid for him; the
+eldest was probably born before wedlock; so there are plenty of materials
+for recrimination. Then one, or even two of them bring home a wife, or at
+least a woman, and three families live beneath a single roof--with results
+it is easy to imagine, both as regards bickering and immorality. They have
+no wish to quit the place and enter cottages with better accommodation:
+they might rent others of the farmers, but they prefer to be independent,
+and, besides, will not move lest they should lose their rights. Very
+likely a few lodgers are taken in to add to the confusion. As regularly as
+clockwork cross summonses are taken out before the Bench, and then the
+women on either side reveal an unequalled power of abuse and loquacity,
+leaving a decided impression that it is six to one and half a dozen to the
+other.
+
+These rookeries do not furnish forth burglars and accomplished
+pickpockets, like those of cities, but they do send out a gang of lazy,
+scamping fellows and coarse women, who are almost useless. If their
+employer does not please them--if he points out that a waste of time has
+taken place, or that something has been neglected--off they go, for,
+having a hole to creep into, they do not care an atom whether they lose a
+job or not. The available hands, therefore, upon whom the farmers can
+count are always very much below the sum total of the able-bodied
+population. There must be deducted the idle men and women, the drunkards,
+the never satisfied, as the lad who sued every master; the workhouse
+families, the rookery families, and those who every harvest leave the
+place, and wander a great distance in search of exceptionally high wages.
+When all these are subtracted, the residue remaining is often insufficient
+to do the work of the farms in a proper manner. It is got through somehow
+by scratch-packs, so to say--men picked up from the roads, aged men who
+cannot do much, but whose energy puts the younger fellows to shame, lads
+paid far beyond the value of the work they actually accomplish.
+
+Work done in this way is, of course, incomplete and unsatisfactory, and
+the fact supplies one of the reasons why farmers seem disinclined to pay
+high wages. It is not because they object to pay well for hard work, but
+because they cannot get the hard work. There is consequently a growing
+reliance upon floating labour--upon the men and women who tramp round
+every season--rather than on the resident population. Even in the absence
+of any outward agitation--of a strike or open movement in that
+direction--the farmer has considerable difficulties to contend with in
+procuring labour. He has still further difficulties in managing it when he
+has got it. Most labourers have their own peculiar way of finishing a job;
+and however much that style of doing it may run counter to the farmer's
+idea of the matter in hand, he has to let the man proceed after his own
+fashion. If he corrected, or showed the man what he wanted, he would run
+the risk of not getting it done at all. There is no one so thoroughly
+obstinate as an ignorant labourer full of his own consequence. Giving,
+then, full credit to those men whose honest endeavours to fulfil their
+duty have already been acknowledged, it is a complete delusion to suppose
+that all are equally manly.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+
+THE COTTAGE CHARTER. FOUR-ACRE FARMERS
+
+
+The songs sung by the labourer at the alehouse or the harvest home are not
+of his own composing. The tunes whistled by the ploughboy as he goes down
+the road to his work in the dawn were not written for him. Green meads and
+rolling lands of wheat--true fields of the cloth of gold--have never yet
+inspired those who dwell upon them with songs uprising from the soil. The
+solitude of the hills over whose tops the summer sun seems to linger so
+long has not filled the shepherd's heart with a wistful yearning that must
+be expressed in verse or music. Neither he nor the ploughman in the vale
+have heard or seen aught that stirs them in Nature. The shepherd has never
+surprised an Immortal reclining on the thyme under the shade of a hawthorn
+bush at sunny noontide; nor has the ploughman seen the shadowy outline of
+a divine huntress through the mist that clings to the wood across the
+field.
+
+These people have no myths; no heroes. They look back on no Heroic Age, no
+Achilles, no Agamemnon, and no Homer. The past is vacant. The have not
+even a 'Wacht am Rhein' or 'Marseillaise' to chaunt in chorus with
+quickened step and flashing eye. No; nor even a ballad of the hearth,
+handed down from father to son, to be sung at home festivals, as a
+treasured silver tankard is brought out to drink the health of a honoured
+guest. Ballads there are in old books--ballads of days when the yew bow
+was in every man's hands, and war and the chase gave life a colour; but
+they are dead. A cart comes slowly down the road, and the labourer with it
+sings as he jogs along; but, if you listen, it tells you nothing of wheat,
+or hay, or flocks and herds, nothing of the old gods and heroes. It is a
+street ditty such as you may hear the gutter arabs yelling in London, and
+coming from a music hall.
+
+So, too, in material things--in the affairs of life, in politics, and
+social hopes--the labourer has no well-defined creed of race. He has no
+genuine programme of the future; that which is put forward in his name is
+not from him. Some years ago, talking with an aged labourer in a district
+where at that time no 'agitation' had taken place, I endeavoured to get
+from him something like a definition of the wants of his class. He had
+lived many years, and worked all the while in the field; what was his
+experience of their secret wishes? what was the Cottage Charter? It took
+some time to get him to understand what was required; he had been ready
+enough previously to grumble about this or that detail, but when it came
+to principles he was vague. The grumbles, the complaints, and so forth,
+had never been codified. However, by degrees I got at it, and very simple
+it was:--Point 1, Better wages; (2) more cottages; (3) good-sized gardens;
+(4) 'larning' for the children. That was the sum of the cottager's
+creed--his own genuine aspirations.
+
+Since then every one of these points has been obtained, or substantial
+progress made towards it. Though wages are perhaps slightly lower or
+rather stationary at the present moment, yet they are much higher than
+used to be the case. At the same time vast importations of foreign food
+keep the necessaries of life at a lower figure. The number of cottages
+available has been greatly increased--hardly a landlord but could produce
+accounts of sums of money spent in this direction. To almost all of these
+large gardens are now attached. Learning for the children is provided by
+the schools erected in every single parish, for the most part by the
+exertions of the owners and occupiers of land.
+
+Practically, therefore, the four points of the real Cottage Charter have
+been attained, or as nearly as is possible. Why, then, is it that
+dissatisfaction is still expressed? The reply is, because a new programme
+has been introduced to the labourer from without. It originated in no
+labourer's mind, it is not the outcome of a genuine feeling widespread
+among the masses, nor is it the heartbroken call for deliverance issuing
+from the lips of the poet-leader of a downtrodden people. It is totally
+foreign to the cottage proper--something new, strange, and as yet scarcely
+understood in its full meaning by those who nominally support it.
+
+The points of the new Cottage Charter are--(1) The confiscation of large
+estates; (2) the subdivision of land; (3) the abolition of the laws of
+settlement of land; (4) the administration of the land by the authorities
+of State; (5) the confiscation of glebe lands for division and
+distribution; (6) the abolition of Church tithes; (7) extension of the
+county franchise; (8) education gratis, free of fees, or payment of any
+kind; (9) high wages, winter and summer alike, irrespective of season,
+prosperity, or adversity. No. 6 is thrown in chiefly for the purpose of an
+appearance of identity of interest between the labourer and the tenant
+against the Church. Of late it has rather been the cue of the leaders of
+the agitation to promote, or seem to promote, a coalition between the
+labourer and the dissatisfied tenant, thereby giving the movement a more
+colourable pretence in the eyes of the public. Few tenants, however
+dissatisfied, have been deceived by the shallow device.
+
+This programme emanated from no carter or shepherd, ploughman or fogger.
+It was not thought out under the hedge when the June roses decked the
+bushes; nor painfully written down on the deal table in the cottage while
+the winter rain pattered against the window, and, coming down the wide
+chimney, hissed upon the embers. It was brought to the cottage door from a
+distance; it has been iterated and reiterated till at last some begin to
+think they really do want all these things. But with the majority even now
+the propaganda falls flat. They do not enter into the spirit of it. No. 9
+they do understand; that appeals direct, and men may be excused if, with a
+view which as yet extends so short a space around, they have not grasped
+the fact that wages cannot by any artificial combination whatever be kept
+at a high level. The idea of high wages brings a mass of labourers
+together; they vote for what they are instructed to vote, and are thus
+nominally pledged to the other eight points of the new charter Such a
+conception as the confiscation and subdivision of estates never occurred
+to the genuine labourers.
+
+An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new state of
+things would be like. There would be no squire, no parson, no woods or
+preserves--all grubbed for cabbage gardens--no parks, no farmers. 'No
+farmers,' said the old fellow, 'then who's to pay I my wages?' There he
+hit the blot, no doubt. If the first four points of the new charter were
+carried into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist. But if such
+a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a long
+time coming. The idea did not originate with him--he cares nothing for
+it--and can only be got to support it under the guise of an agitation for
+wages. Except by persistent stirring from without he cannot be got to move
+even then. The labourer, in fact, is not by any means such a fool as his
+own leaders endeavour to make him out. He is perfectly well aware that the
+farmer, or any person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay
+the same money in winter as in summer.
+
+Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in the corner
+of an arable field, abutting on the highway. As left by the builders a
+more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined. The cottages themselves
+were well designed and well built, but the surroundings were like a
+wilderness. Heaps of rubbish here, broken bricks there, the ground
+trampled hard as the road itself. No partition from the ploughed field
+behind beyond a mere shallow trench enclosing what was supposed to be the
+garden. Everything bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant. Two families
+went into these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm. The
+aspect of the place immediately began to change. The rubbish was removed,
+the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a quick-set
+hedge was planted round the enclosure. Evening after evening, be the
+weather what it might, these two men were in that garden at work--after a
+long day in the fields. In the dinner hour even they sometimes snatched a
+few minutes to trim something. Their spades turned over the whole of the
+soil, and planting commenced. Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for
+potatoes, onions, parsnips.
+
+Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they set about
+preparing for extras. Fruit trees--apple, plum, and damson--were planted;
+also some roses. Next beehives appeared and were elevated on stands and
+duly protected from the rain. The last work was the building of
+pigsties--rude indeed and made of a few slabs--but sufficient to answer
+the purpose. Flowers in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared
+beside the garden paths. The change was so complete and so quickly
+effected I could hardly realise that so short a time since there had been
+nothing there but a blank open space. Persons travelling along the road
+could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.
+
+I had often been struck with the flourishing appearance of cottage
+gardens, but then those gardens were of old date and had reached that
+perfection in course of years. But here the thing seemed to grow up under
+one's eyes. All was effected by sheer energy. Instead of spending their
+evenings wastefully at 'public,' these men went out into their gardens and
+made what was a desert literally bloom. Nor did they seem conscious of
+doing anything extraordinary, but worked away in the most matter-of-fact
+manner, calling no one's attention to their progress. It would be hard to
+say which garden of the two showed the better result. Their wives are
+tidy, their children clean, their cottages grow more cosy and homelike day
+by day; yet they work in the fields that come up to their very doors, and
+receive nothing but the ordinary agricultural wages of the district.
+
+This proves what can be done when the agricultural labourer really wants
+to do it. And in a very large number of cases it must further be admitted
+that he does want to do it, and succeeds. If any one when passing through
+a rural district will look closely at the cottages and gardens he will
+frequently find evidence of similar energy, and not unfrequently of
+something approaching very nearly to taste. For why does the labourer
+train honeysuckle up his porch, and the out-of-door grape up the southern
+end of his house? Why does he let the houseleek remain on the roof; why
+trim and encourage the thick growth of ivy that clothes the chimney?
+Certainly not for utility, nor pecuniary profit. It is because he has some
+amount of appreciation of the beauty of flowers, of vine leaf, and green
+ivy. Men like these are the real backbone of our peasantry. They are not
+the agitators; it is the idle hang-dogs who form the disturbing element in
+the village.
+
+The settled agricultural labourer, of all others, has the least inducement
+to strike or leave his work. The longer he can stay in one place the
+better for him in many ways. His fruit-trees, which he planted years ago,
+are coming to perfection, and bear sufficient fruit in favourable years
+not only to give him some variety of diet, but to bring in a sum in hard
+cash with which to purchase extras. The soil of the garden, long manured
+and dug, is twice as fertile as when he first disturbed the earth. The
+hedges have grown high, and keep off the bitter winds. In short, the place
+is home, and he sits under his own vine and fig-tree. It is not to his
+advantage to leave this and go miles away. It is different with the
+mechanic who lives in a back court devoid of sunshine, hardly visited by
+the fresh breeze, without a tree, without a yard of earth to which to
+become attached. The factory closes, the bell is silent, the hands are
+discharged; provided he can get fresh employment it matters little. He
+leaves the back court without regret, and enters another in a distant
+town. But an agricultural labourer who has planted his own place feels an
+affection for it. The young men wander and are restless; the middle-aged
+men who have once anchored do not like to quit. They have got the four
+points of their own genuine charter; those who would infuse further vague
+hopes are not doing them any other service than to divert them from the
+substance to the shadow.
+
+Past those two new cottages which have been mentioned there runs a road
+which is a main thoroughfare. Along this road during the year this change
+was worked there walked a mournful procession--men and women on tramp.
+Some of these were doubtless rogues and vagabonds by nature and choice;
+but many, very many, were poor fellows who had really lost employment, and
+were gradually becoming degraded to the company of the professional
+beggar. The closing of collieries, mines, workshops, iron furnaces, &c.,
+had thrown hundreds on the mercy of chance charity, and compelled them to
+wander to and fro. How men like these on tramp must have envied the
+comfortable cottages, the well-stocked gardens, the pigsties, the
+beehives, and the roses of the labourers!
+
+If the labourer has never gone up on the floodtide of prosperity to the
+champagne wages of the miner, neither has he descended to the woe which
+fell on South Wales when children searched the dust-heaps for food, nor to
+that suffering which forces those whose instinct is independence to the
+soup-kitchen. He has had, and still has, steady employment at a rate of
+wages sufficient, as is shown by the appearance of his cottage itself, to
+maintain him in comparative comfort. The furnace may be blown out, and
+strong men may ask themselves, What shall we do next? But still the plough
+turns up the earth morning after morning. The colliery may close, but
+still the corn ripens, and extra wages are paid to the harvest men.
+
+This continuous employment without even a fear of cessation is an
+advantage, the value of which it is difficult to estimate. His wages are
+not only sufficient to maintain him, he can even save a little. The
+benefit clubs in so many villages are a proof of it--each member
+subscribes so much. Whether conducted on a 'sound financial basis' or not,
+the fact of the subscriptions cannot be denied, nor that assistance is
+derived from them. The Union itself is supported in the same way; proving
+that the wages, however complained of, are sufficient, at any rate, to
+permit of subscriptions.
+
+It is held out to the labourer, as an inducement to agitate briskly, that,
+in time, a state of things will be brought about when every man will have
+a small farm of four or five acres upon which to live comfortably,
+independent of a master. Occasional instances, however, of labourers
+endeavouring to exist upon a few acres have already been observed, and
+illustrate the practical working of the scheme. In one case a labourer
+occupied a piece of ground, about three acres in extent, at a low rental
+paid to the lord of the manor, the spot having originally been waste,
+though the soil was fairly good. He started under favourable conditions,
+because he possessed a cottage and garden and a pair of horses with which
+he did a considerable amount of hauling.
+
+He now set up as a farmer, ploughed and sowed, dug and weeded, kept his
+own hours, and went into the market and walked about as independent as any
+one. After a while the three acres began to absorb nearly all his time, so
+that the hauling, which was the really profitable part of the business,
+had to be neglected. Then, the ready money not coming in so fast, the
+horses had to go without corn, and pick up what they could along the
+roadside, on the sward, and out of the hedges. They had, of course, to be
+looked after while thus feeding, which occupied two of the children, so
+that these could neither go to school nor earn anything by working on the
+adjacent farms. The horses meantime grew poor in condition; the winter
+tried them greatly from want of proper fodder; and when called upon to do
+hauling they were not equal to the task. In the country, at a distance
+from towns, there is not always a good market for vegetables, even when
+grown. The residents mostly supply themselves, and what is raised for
+export has to be sold at wholesale prices.
+
+The produce of the three acres consequently did not come up to the
+tenant's expectation, particularly as potatoes, on account of the disease,
+could not be relied on. Meantime he had no weekly money coming in
+regularly, and his wife and family had often to assist him, diminishing
+their own earnings at the same time; while he was in the dilemma that if
+he did hauling he must employ and pay a man to work on the 'farm,' and if
+he worked himself he could not go out with his team. In harvest time, when
+the smaller farmers would have hired his horses, waggon, and himself and
+family to assist them, he had to get in his own harvest, and so lost the
+hard cash.
+
+He now discovered that there was one thing he had omitted, and which was
+doubtless the cause why he did not flourish as he should have done
+according to his calculations. All the agriculturists around kept live
+stock--he had none. Here was the grand secret--it was stock that paid: he
+must have a cow. So he set to work industriously enough, and put up a
+shed. Then, partly by his own small savings, partly by the assistance of
+the members of the sect to which he belonged, he purchased the desired
+animal and sold her milk. In summer this really answered fairly well while
+there was green food for nothing in plenty by the side of little-frequented
+roads, whither the cow was daily led. But so soon as the winter approached
+the same difficulty as with the horses arose, i.e., scarcity of fodder.
+The cow soon got miserably poor, while the horses fell off yet further, if
+that were possible. The calf that arrived died; next, one of the horses.
+The 'hat' was sent round again, and a fresh horse bought; the spring came
+on, and there seemed another chance. What with milking and attending to
+the cow, and working on the 'farm,' scarcely an hour remained in which to
+earn money with the horses. No provision could be laid by for the winter.
+The live stock--the cow and horses--devoured part of the produce of the
+three acres, so that there was less to sell.
+
+Another winter finished it. The cow had to be sold, but a third time the
+'hat' was sent round and saved the horses. Grown wiser now, the 'farmer'
+stuck to his hauling, and only worked his plot at odd times. In this way,
+by hauling and letting out his team in harvest, and working himself and
+family at the same time for wages, he earned a good deal of money, and
+kept afloat very comfortably. He made no further attempt to live out of
+the 'farm,' which was now sown with one or two crops only in the same
+rotation as a field, and no longer cultivated on the garden system. Had it
+not been for the subscriptions he must have given it up entirely long
+before. Bitter experience demonstrated how false the calculations had been
+which seemed to show--on the basis of the produce of a small
+allotment--that a man might live on three or four acres.
+
+He is not the only example of an extravagant estimate being put upon the
+possible product of land: it is a fallacy that has been fondly believed in
+by more logical minds than the poor cottager. That more may be got out of
+the soil than is the case at present is perfectly true; the mistake lies
+in the proposed method of doing it.
+
+There was a piece of land between thirty and forty acres in extent,
+chiefly arable, which chanced to come into the possession of a gentleman,
+who made no pretence to a knowledge of agriculture, but was naturally
+desirous of receiving the highest rental. Up to that time it had been
+occupied by a farmer at thirty shillings per acre, which was thought the
+full value. He did not particularly want it, as it lay separated from the
+farm proper, and gave it up with the greatest alacrity when asked to do so
+in favour of a new tenant. This man turned out to be a villager--a
+blustering, ignorant fellow--who had, however, saved a small sum by
+hauling, which had been increased by the receipt of a little legacy. He
+was confident that he could show the farmers how to do it--he had worked
+at plough, had reaped, and tended cattle, and had horses of his own, and
+was quite sure that farming was a profitable business, and that the
+tenants had their land dirt cheap. He 'knowed' all about it.
+
+He offered three pounds an acre for the piece at once, which was accepted,
+notwithstanding a warning conveyed to the owner that his new tenant had
+scarcely sufficient money to pay a year's rent at that rate. But so rapid
+a rise in the value of his land quite dazzled the proprietor, and the
+labourer--for he was really nothing better, though fortunate enough to
+have a little money--entered on his farm. When this was known, it was
+triumphantly remarked that if a man could actually pay double the former
+rent, what an enormous profit the tenant-farmers must have been making!
+Yet they wanted to reduce the poor man's wages. On the other hand, there
+were not wanting hints that the man's secret idea was to exhaust the land
+and then leave it. But this was not the case--he was honestly in earnest,
+only he had got an exaggerated notion of the profits of farming. It is
+scarcely necessary to say that the rent for the third half year was not
+forthcoming, and the poor fellow lost his all. The land then went begging
+at the old price, for it had become so dirty--full of weeds from want of
+proper cleaning--that it was some time before any one would take it.
+
+In a third case the attempt of a labouring man to live upon a small plot
+of land was successful--at least for some time. But it happened in this
+way. The land he occupied, about six acres, was situated on the outskirts
+of a populous town. It was moderately rented and of fairly good quality.
+His method of procedure was to cultivate a small portion--as much as he
+could conveniently manage without having to pay too much for
+assistance--as a market garden. Being close to his customers, and with a
+steady demand at good prices all the season, this paid very well indeed.
+The remainder was ploughed and cropped precisely the same as the fields of
+larger farms. For these crops he could always get a decent price. The
+wealthy owners of the villas scattered about, some keeping as many horses
+as a gentleman with a country seat, were glad to obtain fresh fodder for
+their stables, and often bought the crops standing, which to him was
+especially profitable, because he could not well afford the cost of the
+labour he must employ to harvest them.
+
+In addition, he kept several pigs, which were also profitable, because the
+larger part of their food cost him nothing but the trouble of fetching it.
+The occupants of the houses in the town were glad to get rid of the refuse
+vegetables, &c.; of these he had a constant supply. The pigs, too, helped
+him with manure. Next he emptied ash-pits in the town, and sifted the
+cinders; the better part went on his own fire, the other on his land. As
+he understood gardening, he undertook the care of several small gardens,
+which brought in a little money. All the rubbish, leaves, trimmings, &c.,
+which he swept from the gardens he burnt, and spread the ashes abroad to
+fertilise his miniature farm.
+
+In spring he beat carpets, and so made more shillings; he had also a small
+shed, or workshop, and did rough carpentering. His horse did his own work,
+and occasionally that of others; so that in half a dozen different ways he
+made money independent of the produce of his land. That produce, too, paid
+well, because of the adjacent town, and he was able to engage assistance
+now and then. Yet, even with all these things, it was hard work, and
+required economical management to eke it out. Still it was done, and under
+the same conditions doubtless might be done by others. But then everything
+lies in those conditions. The town at hand, the knowledge of gardening,
+carpentering, and so on, made just all the difference.
+
+If the land were subdivided in the manner the labourer is instructed would
+be so advantageous, comparatively few of the plots would be near towns.
+Some of the new 'farmers' would find themselves in the centre of Salisbury
+Plain, with the stern trilithons of Stonehenge looking down upon their
+efforts. The occupier of a plot of four acres in such a position--many
+miles from the nearest town--would experience a hard lot indeed if he
+attempted to live by it. If he grew vegetables for sale, the cost of
+carriage would diminish their value; if for food, he could scarcely
+subsist upon cabbage and onions all the year round. To thoroughly work
+four acres would occupy his whole time, nor would the farmers care for the
+assistance of a man who could only come now and then in an irregular
+manner. There would be no villa gardens to attend to, no ash-pits to
+empty, no tubs of refuse for the pig, no carpets to beat, no one who
+wanted rough carpentering done. He could not pay any one to assist him in
+the cultivation of the plot.
+
+And then, how about his clothes, boots and shoes, and so forth? Suppose
+him with a family, where would their boots and shoes come from? Without
+any wages--that is, hard cash received weekly--it would be next to
+impossible to purchase these things. A man could hardly be condemned to a
+more miserable existence. In the case of the tenant of a few acres who
+made a fair living near a large town, it must be remembered that he
+understood two trades, gardening and carpentering, and found constant
+employment at these, which in all probability would indeed have maintained
+him without any land at all. But it is not every man who possesses
+technical knowledge of this kind, or who can turn his hand to several
+things. Imagine a town surrounded by two or three thousand such small
+occupiers, let them be never so clever; where would the extra employment
+come from; where would be the ashpits to empty? Where one could do well, a
+dozen could do nothing. If the argument be carried still further, and we
+imagine the whole country so cut up and settled, the difficulty only
+increases, because every man living (or starving) on his own plot would be
+totally unable to pay another to help him, or to get employment himself.
+No better method could be contrived to cause a fall in the value of
+labour.
+
+The examples of France and China are continually quoted in support of
+subdivision. In the case of France, let us ask whether any of our stalwart
+labourers would for a single week consent to live as the French peasant
+does? Would they forego their white, wheaten bread, and eat rye bread in
+its place? Would they take kindly to bread which contained a large
+proportion of meal ground from the edible chestnut? Would they feel merry
+over vegetable soups? Verily the nature of the man must change first; and
+we have read something about the leopard and his spots. You cannot raise
+beef and mutton upon four acres and feed yourself at the same time; if you
+raise bacon you must sell it in order to buy clothes.
+
+The French peasant saves by stinting, and puts aside a franc by pinching
+both belly and back. He works extremely hard, and for long hours. Our
+labourers can work as hard as he, but it must be in a different way; they
+must have plenty to eat and drink, and they do not understand little
+economies.
+
+China, we are told, however, supports the largest population in the world
+in this manner. Not a particle is wasted, not a square foot of land but
+bears something edible. The sewage of towns is utilised, and causes crops
+to spring forth; every scrap of refuse manures a garden. The Chinese have
+attained that ideal agriculture which puts the greatest amount into the
+soil, takes the greatest amount out of it, and absolutely wastes nothing.
+The picture is certainly charming.
+
+There are, however, a few considerations on the other side. The question
+arises whether our labourers would enjoy a plump rat for supper? The
+question also arises why the Six Companies are engaged in transhipping
+Chinese labour from China to America? In California the Chinese work at a
+rate of wages absolutely impossible to the white man--hence the Chinese
+difficulty there. In Queensland a similar thing is going on. Crowds of
+Chinese enter, or have entered, the country eager for work. If the
+agriculture of China is so perfect; if the sewage is utilised; if every
+man has his plot; if the population cannot possibly become too great, why
+on earth are the Chinese labourers so anxious to get to America or
+Australia, and to take the white man's wages? And is that system of
+agriculture so perfect? It is not long since the Chinese Ambassador
+formally conveyed the thanks of his countrymen for the generous assistance
+forwarded from England during the late fearful famine in China. The
+starvation of multitudes of wretched human beings is a ghastly comment
+upon this ideal agriculture. The Chinese yellow spectre has even
+threatened England; hints have been heard of importing Chinese into this
+country to take that silver and gold which our own men disdained. Those
+who desire to destroy our land system should look round them for a more
+palatable illustration than is afforded by the great Chinese problem.
+
+The truth in the matter seems to be this. A labourer does very well with a
+garden; he can do very well, too, if he has an allotment in addition,
+provided it be not too far from home. Up to a quarter of an acre--in some
+cases half an acre--it answers, because he can cultivate it at odd times,
+and so receive his weekly wages without interruption. But when the plot
+exceeds what he can cultivate in this way--when he has to give whole weeks
+to it--then, of course, he forfeits the cash every Saturday night, and
+soon begins to lose ground. The original garden of moderate size yielded
+very highly in proportion to its extent, because of the amount of labour
+expended on it, and because it was well manured. But three or four acres,
+to yield in like degree, require an amount of manure which it is quite out
+of a labourer's power to purchase; and he cannot keep live stock to
+produce it. Neither can he pay men to work for him consequently, instead
+of being more highly cultivated than the large farms, such plots would not
+be kept so clean and free from weeds, or be so well manured and deeply
+ploughed as the fields of the regular agriculturist.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+
+LANDLORDS' DIFFICULTIES. THE LABOURER AS A POWER. MODERN CLERGY
+
+
+The altered tone of the labouring population has caused the position of
+the landlord, especially if resident, to be one of considerable
+difficulty. Something like diplomatic tact is necessary in dealing with
+the social and political problems which now press themselves upon the
+country gentleman. Forces are at work which are constantly endeavouring to
+upset the village equilibrium, and it is quite in vain to ignore their
+existence. However honestly he may desire peace and goodwill to reign, it
+is impossible for a man to escape the influence of his own wealth and
+property. These compel him to be a sort of centre around which everything
+revolves. His duties extend far beyond the set, formal lines--the easy
+groove of old times--and are concerned with matters which were once
+thought the exclusive domain of the statesman or the philosopher.
+
+The growth of a public opinion among the rural population is a great fact
+which cannot be overlooked. Some analogy may be traced between the awaking
+of a large class, hitherto almost silent, and the strange new developments
+which occur in the freshly-settled territories of the United States.
+There, all kinds of social experiments are pushed to the extreme
+characteristic of American energy. A Salt Lake City and civilised
+polygamy, and a variety of small communities endeavouring to work out new
+theories of property and government, attest a frame of mind escaped from
+the control of tradition, and groping its way to the future. Nothing so
+extravagant, of course, distinguishes the movement among the agricultural
+labourers of this country. There have been strikes; indignation meetings
+held expressly for the purpose of exciting public opinion; an attempt to
+experimentalise by a kind of joint-stock farming, labourers holding
+shares; and a preaching of doctrines which savour much of Communism. There
+have been marches to London, and annual gatherings on hill tops. These are
+all within the pale of law, and outrage no social customs. But they
+proclaim a state of mind restless and unsatisfied, striving for something
+new, and not exactly knowing what.
+
+Without a vote for the most part, without an all-embracing
+organisation--for the Union is somewhat limited in extent--with few
+newspapers expressing their views, with still fewer champions in the upper
+ranks, the agricultural labourers have become in a sense a power in the
+land. It is a power that is felt rather individually than collectively--it
+affects isolated places, but these in the aggregate reach importance. This
+power presses on the landlord--the resident country gentleman--upon one
+side; upon the other, the dissatisfied tenant-farmers present a rugged
+front.
+
+As a body the tenant-farmers are loyal to their landlords--in some cases
+enthusiastically loyal. It cannot, however, be denied that this is not
+universal. There are men who, though unable to put forth a substantial
+grievance, are ceaselessly agitating. The landlord, in view of
+unfavourable seasons, remits a percentage of rent. He relaxes certain
+clauses in leases, he reduces the ground game, he shows a disposition
+to meet reasonable, and even unreasonable, demands. It is useless.
+There exists a class of tenant-farmers who are not to be satisfied
+with the removal of grievances in detail. They are animated by a
+principle--something far beyond such trifles. Unconsciously, no doubt,
+in many cases that principle approximates very nearly to the doctrine
+proclaimed in so many words by the communistic circles of cities. It
+amounts to a total abolition of the present system of land tenure. The
+dissatisfied tenant does not go so far as minute subdivisions of land
+into plots of a few acres. He pauses at the moderate and middle way which
+would make the tenant of three or four hundred acres the owner of the soil.
+In short, he would step into the landlord's place.
+
+Of course, many do not go so far as this; still there is a class of
+farmers who are for ever writing to the papers, making speeches,
+protesting, and so on, till the landlord feels that, do what he may, he
+will be severely criticised. Even if personally insulted he must betray no
+irritation, or desire to part with the tenant, lest he be accused of
+stifling opinion. Probably no man in England is so systematically
+browbeaten all round as the country gentleman. Here are two main
+divisions--one on each side--ever pressing upon him, and, besides these,
+there are other forces at work. A village, in fact, at the present day, is
+often a perfect battle-ground of struggling parties.
+
+When the smouldering labour difficulty comes to a point in any particular
+district the representatives of the labourers lose no time in illustrating
+the cottager's case by contrast with the landlord's position. He owns so
+many thousand acres, producing an income of so many thousand pounds.
+Hodge, who has just received notice of a reduction of a shilling per week,
+survives on bacon and cabbage. Most mansions have a small home farm
+attached, where, of course, some few men are employed in the direct
+service of the landlord. This home farm becomes the bone of contention.
+Here, they say, is a man with many thousands a year, who, in the midst of
+bitter wintry weather, has struck a shilling a week off the wages of his
+poor labourers. But the fact is that the landlord's representative--his
+steward--has been forced to this step by the action and opinion of the
+tenant-farmers.
+
+The argument is very cogent and clear. They say, 'We pay a rent which is
+almost as much as the land will bear; we suffer by foreign competition,
+bad seasons and so on, the market is falling, and we are compelled to
+reduce our labour expenditure. But then our workmen say that at the home
+farm the wages paid are a shilling or two higher, and therefore they will
+not accept a reduction. Now you must reduce your wages or your tenants
+must suffer.' It is like a tradesman with a large independent income
+giving his workmen high wages out of that independent income, whilst other
+tradesmen, who have only their business to rely on, are compelled by this
+example to pay more than they can afford. This is obviously an unjust and
+even cruel thing. Consequently though a landlord may possess an income of
+many thousands, he cannot, without downright injustice to his tenants, pay
+his immediate _employes_ more than those tenants find it possible to pay.
+
+Such is the simple explanation of what has been described as a piece of
+terrible tyranny. The very reduction of rent made by the landlord to the
+tenant is seized as a proof by the labourer that the farmer, having less
+now to pay, can afford to give him more money. Thus the last move of the
+labour party has been to urge the tenant-farmer to endeavour to become his
+own landlord. On the one hand, certain dissatisfied tenants have made use
+of the labour agitation to bring pressure upon the landlord to reduce
+rent, and grant this and that privilege. They have done their best, and in
+great part succeeded, in getting up a cry that rent must come down, that
+the landlord's position must be altered, and so forth. On the other hand,
+the labour party try to use the dissatisfied tenant as a fulcrum by means
+of which to bring their lever to bear upon the landlord. Both together, by
+every possible method, endeavour to enlist popular sympathy against him.
+
+There exists a party in cities who are animated by the most extraordinary
+rancour against landlords without exception--good, bad, and
+indifferent--just because they are landlords. This party welcomes the
+agitating labourer and the discontented tenant with open arms, and the
+chorus swells still louder. Now the landlords, as a body, are quite aware
+of the difficulties under which farming has been conducted of late, and
+exhibit a decided inclination to meet and assist the tenant. But it by no
+means suits the agitator to admit this; he would of the two rather the
+landlord showed an impracticable disposition, in order that there might be
+grounds for violent declamation.
+
+Fortunately there is a solid substratum of tenants whose sound common
+sense prevents them from listening to the rather enchanting cry, 'Every
+man his own landlord.' They may desire and obtain a reduction of rent, but
+they treat it as a purely business transaction, and there lies all the
+difference. They do not make the shilling an acre less the groundwork of a
+revolution; because ten per cent, is remitted at the audit they do not cry
+for confiscation. But it is characteristic of common sense to remain
+silent, as it is of extravagance to make a noise. Thus the opinion of the
+majority of tenants is not heard; but the restless minority write and
+speak; the agitating labourer, through his agent, writes and speaks, and
+the anti-landlord party in cities write and speak. A pleasant position for
+the landlord this! Anxious to meet reasonable wishes he is confronted with
+unreasonable demands, and abused all round.
+
+Besides the labour difficulty, which has been so blazed abroad as to
+obscure the rest, there are really many other questions agitating the
+village. The school erected under the Education Act, whilst it is doing
+good work, is at the same time in many cases a scene of conflict. The
+landlord can hardly remain aloof, try how he will, because his larger
+tenants are so closely interested. He has probably given the land and
+subscribed heavily--a school board has been avoided; but, of course, there
+is a committee of management, which is composed of members of every party
+and religious denomination. That is fair enough, and the actual work
+accomplished is really very good. But, if outwardly peace, it is inwardly
+contention. First, the agitating labourer is strongly of opinion that,
+besides giving the land and subscribing, and paying a large voluntary
+rate, the landlord ought to defray the annual expenses and save him the
+weekly pence. The sectarian bodies, though neutralised by their own
+divisions, are ill-affected behind their mask, and would throw it off if
+they got the opportunity. The one thing, and the one thing only, that
+keeps them quiet is the question of expense. Suppose by a united
+effort--and probably on a poll of the parish the chapel-goers in mere
+numbers would exceed the church people--they shake off the landlord and
+his party, and proceed to a school board as provided by the Act? Well,
+then they must find the annual expenses, and these must be raised by a
+rate.
+
+Now at present the cottager loudly grumbles because he is asked to
+contribute a few coppers; but suppose he were called upon to pay a heavy
+rate? Possibly he might in such a case turn round against his present
+leaders, and throw them overboard in disgust. Seeing this possibility all
+too clearly, the sectarian bodies remain quiescent. They have no real
+grievance, because their prejudices are carefully respected; but it is not
+the nature of men to prefer being governed, even to their good, to
+governing. Consequently, though no battle royal takes place, it is a
+mistake to suppose that because 'education' is now tolerably quiet there
+is universal satisfaction. Just the reverse is true, and under the surface
+there is a constant undermining process proceeding. Without any downright
+collision there is a distinct division into opposing ranks.
+
+Another matter which looms larger as time goes on arises out of the
+gradual--in some cases the rapid--filling up of the village churchyards.
+It is melancholy to think that so solemn a subject should threaten to
+become a ground for bitter controversy; but that much animosity of feeling
+has already appeared is well known. Already many village graveyards are
+overcrowded, and it is becoming difficult to arrange for the future. From
+a practical point of view there is really but little difficulty, because
+the landlords in almost every instance are willing to give the necessary
+ground. The contention arises in another form, which it would be out of
+place to enter upon here. It will be sufficient to recall the fact that
+such a question is approaching.
+
+Rural sanitation, again, comes to the front day by day. The prevention of
+overcrowding in cottages, the disposal of sewage, the supply of
+water--these and similar matters press upon the attention of the
+authorities. Out of consideration for the pockets of the ratepayers--many
+of whom are of the poorest class--these things are perhaps rather shelved
+than pushed forward; but it is impossible to avoid them altogether. Every
+now and then something has to be done. Whatever takes place, of course the
+landlord, as the central person, comes in for the chief share of the
+burden. If the rates increase, on the one hand, the labourers complain
+that their wages are not sufficient to pay them; and, on the other, the
+tenants state that the pressure on the agriculturist is already as much as
+he can sustain. The labourer expects the landlord to relieve him; the
+tenant grumbles if he also is not relieved. Outside and beyond the
+landlord's power as the owner of the soil, as magistrate and _ex-officio_
+guardian, and so on, he cannot divest himself of a personal--a
+family--influence, which at once gives him a leading position, and causes
+everything to be expected of him. He must arbitrate here, persuade there,
+compel yonder, conciliate everybody, and subscribe all round.
+
+This was, perhaps, easy enough years ago, but it is now a very different
+matter. No little diplomatic skill is needful to balance parties, and
+preserve at least an outward peace in the parish. He has to note the
+variations of public opinion, and avoid giving offence. In his official
+capacity as magistrate the same difficulty arises. One of the most
+delicate tasks that the magistracy have had set them of recent years has
+been arbitrating between tenant and man--between, in effect, capital and
+labour. That is not, of course, the legal, but it is the true, definition.
+It is a most invidious position, and it speaks highly for the scrupulous
+justice with which the law has been administered that a watchful and
+jealous--a bitterly inimical party--ever ready, above all things, to
+attempt a sensation--have not been able to detect a magistrate giving a
+partial decision.
+
+In cases which involve a question of wages or non-fulfilment of contract
+it has often happened that a purely personal element has been introduced.
+The labourer asserts that he has been unfairly treated, that implied
+promises have been broken, perquisites withheld, and abuse lavished upon
+him. On the opposite side, the master alleges that he has been made a
+convenience--the man staying with him in winter, when his services were of
+little use, and leaving in summer; that his neglect has caused injury to
+accrue to cattle; that he has used bad language. Here is a conflict of
+class against class--feeling against feeling. The point in dispute has, of
+course, to be decided by evidence, but whichever way evidence leads the
+magistrates to pronounce their verdict, it is distasteful. If the labourer
+is victorious, he and his friends 'crow' over the farmers; and the farmer
+himself grumbles that the landlords are afraid of the men, and will never
+pronounce against them. If the reverse, the labourers cry out upon the
+partiality of the magistrates, who favour each other's tenants. In both
+cases the decision has been given according to law. But the knowledge that
+this kind of feeling exists--that he is in reality arbitrating between
+capital and labour--renders the resident landlord doubly careful what
+steps he takes at home in his private capacity. He hardly knows which way
+to turn when a question crops up, desiring, above all things, to preserve
+peace.
+
+It has been said that of late there has come into existence in the
+political world 'a power behind Parliament.' Somewhat in the same sense it
+may be said that the labourer has become a power behind the apparent
+authorities of the rural community. Whether directly, or through the
+discontented tenant, or by aid of the circles in cities who hold advanced
+views, the labourer brings a pressure to bear upon almost every aspect of
+country life. That pressure is not sufficient to break in pieces the
+existing order of things; but it is sufficient to cause an unpleasant
+tension. Should it increase, much of the peculiar attraction of country
+life will be destroyed. Even hunting, which it would have been thought
+every individual son of the soil would stand up for, is not allowed to
+continue unchallenged. Displays of a most disagreeable spirit must be
+fresh in the memories of all; and such instances have shown a disposition
+to multiply. Besides the more public difficulties, there are also social
+ones which beset the landowner. It is true that all of these do not
+originate with the labourer, or even concern him, but he it dragged into
+them to suit the convenience of others. 'Coquetting with a vote' is an art
+tolerably well understood in these days; the labourer has not got a
+nominal vote, yet he is the 'power behind,' and may be utilised.
+
+There is another feature of modern rural life too marked to be ignored,
+and that is the increased activity of the resident clergy. This energy is
+exhibited by all alike, irrespective of opinion upon ecclesiastical
+questions, and concerns an inquiry into the position, of the labourer,
+because for the most part it is directed towards practical objects. It
+shows itself in matters that have no direct bearing upon the Church, but
+are connected with the everyday life of the people. It finds work to do
+outside the precincts of the Church--beyond the walls of the building.
+This work is of a nature that continually increases, and as it extends
+becomes more laborious.
+
+The parsonage is often an almost ideal presentment of peace and repose.
+Trees cluster about it that in summer cast a pleasant shade, and in winter
+the thick evergreen shrubberies shut out the noisy winds. Upon the one
+side the green meadows go down to the brook, upon the other the cornfields
+stretch away to the hills. Footpaths lead out into the wheat and beside
+the hedge, where the wild flowers bloom--flowers to be lovingly studied,
+food for many a day-dream. The village is out of sight in the hollow--all
+is quiet and still, save for the song of the lark that drops from the sky.
+The house is old, very old; the tiles dull coloured, the walls grey, the
+calm dignity of age clings to it.
+
+A place surely this for reverie--the abode of thought. But the man within
+is busy--full of action. The edge of the great questions of the day has
+reached the village, and he must be up and doing. He does not, indeed,
+lift the latch of the cottage or the farmhouse door indiscreetly--not
+unless aware that his presence will not be resented. He is anxious to
+avoid irritating individual susceptibilities. But wherever people are
+gathered together, be it for sport or be it in earnest, wherever a man may
+go in open day, thither he goes, and with a set purpose beforehand makes
+it felt that he is there. He does not remain a passive spectator in the
+background, but comes as prominently to the front as is compatible with
+due courtesy.
+
+When the cloth is cleared at the ordinary in the market town, and the
+farmers proceed to the business of their club, or chamber, he appears in
+the doorway, and quietly takes a seat not far from the chair. If the
+discussion be purely technical he says nothing; if it touch, as it
+frequently does, upon social topics, such as those that arise out of
+education, of the labour question, of the position of the farmer apart
+from the mere ploughing and sowing, then he delivers his opinion. When the
+local agricultural exhibition is proceeding and the annual dinner is held
+he sits at the social board, and presently makes his speech. The village
+benefit club holds its fete--he is there too, perhaps presiding at the
+dinner, and addresses the assembled men. He takes part in the organisation
+of the cottage flower show; exerts himself earnestly about the allotments
+and the winter coal club, and endeavours to provide the younger people
+with amusements that do not lead to evil--supporting cricket and such
+games as may be played apart from gambling and liquor.
+
+This is but the barest catalogue of his work; there is nothing that
+arises, no part of the life of the village and the country side, to which
+he does not set his hand. All this is apart from abstract theology.
+Religion, of course, is in his heart; but he does not carry a list of
+dogmas in his hand, rather keeping his own peculiar office in the
+background, knowing that many of those with whom he mingles are members of
+various sects. He is simply preaching the practical Christianity of
+brotherhood and goodwill. It is a work that can never be finished, and
+that is ever extending. His leading idea is not to check the inevitable
+motion of the age, but to lone it.
+
+He is not permitted to pursue this course unmolested; there are parties in
+the village that silently oppose his every footstep. If the battle were
+open it would be easier to win it, but it is concealed. The Church is not
+often denounced from the housetop, but it is certainly denounced under the
+roof. The poor and ignorant are instructed that the Church is their
+greatest enemy, the upholder of tyranny, the instrument of their
+subjection, synonymous with lowered wages and privation, more iniquitous
+than the landowner. The clergyman is a Protestant Jesuit--a man of deepest
+guile. The coal club, the cricket, the flower show, the allotments, the
+village _fete_, everything in which he has a hand is simply an effort to
+win the good will of the populace, to keep them quiet, lest they arise and
+overthrow the property of the Church. The poor man has but a few shillings
+a week, and the clergyman is the friend of the farmer, who reduces his
+wages--the Church owns millions and millions sterling. How self-evident,
+therefore, that the Church is the cottager's enemy!
+
+See, too, how he is beautifying that church, restoring it, making it light
+and pleasant to those who resort to it; see how he causes sweeter music
+and singing, and puts new life into the service. This a lesson learnt from
+the City of the Seven Hills--this is the mark of the Beast. But the
+ultimate aim may be traced to the same base motive--the preservation of
+that enormous property.
+
+Another party is for pure secularism. This is not so numerously
+represented, but has increased of recent years. From political motives
+both of these silently oppose him. Nor are the poor and ignorant alone
+among the ranks of his foes. There are some tenant-farmers among them, but
+their attitude is not so coarsely antagonistic. They take no action
+against, but they do not assist, him. So that, although, as he goes about
+the parish, he is not greeted with hisses, the clergyman is full well
+aware that his activity is a thorn in the side of many. They once
+reproached him with a too prolonged reverie in the seclusion of the
+parsonage; now they would gladly thrust him back again.
+
+It may be urged, too, that all his efforts have not produced much visible
+effect. The pews are no more crowded than formerly; in some cases the
+absence of visible effect is said to be extremely disheartening. But the
+fact is that it is yet early to expect much; neither must it be expected
+in that direction. It is almost the first principle of science that
+reaction is equal to action; it may be safely assumed, then, that after
+awhile these labours will bear fruit. The tone of the rising generation
+must perforce be softened and modified by them.
+
+There exists at the present day a class that is morally apathetic. In
+every village, in every hamlet, every detached group of cottages, there
+are numbers of labouring men who are simply indifferent to church and to
+chapel alike. They neither deny nor affirm the primary truths taught in
+all places of worship; they are simply indifferent. Sunday comes and sees
+them lounging about the cottage door. They do not drink to excess, they
+are not more given to swearing than others, they are equally honest, and
+are not of ill-repute. But the moral sense seems extinct--the very idea of
+anything beyond gross earthly advantages never occurs to them. The days go
+past, the wages are paid, the food is eaten, and there is all.
+
+Looking at it from the purely philosophic point of view there is something
+sad in this dull apathy. The most pronounced materialist has a faith in
+some form of beauty--matter itself is capable of ideal shapes in his
+conception. These people know no ideal. It seems impossible to reach them,
+because there is no chord that will respond to the most skilful touch.
+This class is very numerous now--a disheartening fact. Yet perhaps the
+activity and energy of the clergyman may be ultimately destined to find
+its reaction, to produce its effect among these very people. They may
+slowly learn to appreciate tangible, practical work, though utterly
+insensible to direct moral teaching and the finest eloquence of the
+pulpit. Finding by degrees that he is really endeavouring to improve their
+material existence, they may in time awake to a sense of something higher.
+
+What is wanted is a perception of the truth that progress and civilisation
+ought not to end with mere material--mechanical--comfort or wealth. A
+cottager ought to learn that when the highest wages of the best paid
+artisan are readied it is _not_ the greatest privilege of the man to throw
+mutton chops to dogs and make piles of empty champagne bottles. It might
+almost be said that one cause of the former extravagance and the recent
+distress and turbulence of the working classes is the absence of an ideal
+from their minds.
+
+Besides this moral apathy, the cottager too often assumes an attitude
+distinctly antagonistic to every species of authority, and particularly to
+that _prestige_ hitherto attached to property. Each man is a law to
+himself, and does that which seems good in his own eyes. He does not pause
+to ask himself, What will my neighbour think of this? He simply thinks of
+no one but himself, takes counsel of no one, and cares not what the result
+may be. It is the same in little things as great. Respect for authority is
+extinct. The modern progressive cottager is perfectly certain that he
+knows as much as his immediate employer, the squire, and the parson put
+together with the experience of the world at their back. He is now the
+judge--the infallible authority himself. He is wiser far than all the
+learned and the thoughtful, wiser than the prophets themselves. Priest,
+politician, and philosopher must bow their heads and listen to the dictum
+of the ploughman.
+
+This feeling shows itself most strikingly in the disregard of property.
+There used to be a certain tacit agreement among all men that those who
+possessed capital, rank, or reputation should be treated with courtesy.
+That courtesy did not imply that the landowner, the capitalist, or the
+minister of religion, was necessarily in himself superior. But it did
+imply that those who administered property really represented the general
+order in which all were interested. So in a court of justice, all who
+enter remove their hats, not out of servile adulation of the person in
+authority, but from respect for the majesty of the law, which it is every
+individual's interest to uphold. But now, metaphorically speaking, the
+labourer removes his hat for no man. Whether in the case of a manufacturer
+or of a tenant of a thousand-acre farm the thing is the same. The cottager
+can scarcely nod his employer a common greeting in the morning. Courtesy
+is no longer practised. The idea in the man's mind appears to be to
+express contempt for big employer's property. It is an unpleasant symptom.
+
+At present it is not, however, an active, but a passive force; a moral
+_vis inertiae_. Here again the clergyman meets with a cold rebuff. No
+eloquence, persuasion, personal influence even, can produce more than a
+passing impression. But here again, perhaps, his practical activity may
+bring about its reaction. In time the cottager will be compelled to admit
+that, at least, coal club, benefit society, cricket, allotment, &c., have
+done him no harm. In time he may even see that property and authority are
+not always entirely selfish--that they may do good, and be worthy, at all
+events, of courteous acknowledgment.
+
+These two characteristics, moral apathy and contempt of property--i.e., of
+social order--are probably exercising considerable influence in shaping
+the labourer's future. Free of mental restraint, his own will must work
+its way for good or evil. It is true that the rise or fall of wages may
+check or hasten the development of that future. In either case it is not,
+however, probable that he will return to the old grooves; indeed, the
+grooves themselves are gone, and the logic of events must force him to
+move onwards. That motion, in its turn, must affect the rest of the
+community. Let the mind's eye glance for a moment over the country at
+large. The villages among the hills, the villages on the plains, in the
+valleys, and beside the streams represent in the aggregate an enormous
+power. Separately such hamlets seem small and feeble--unable to impress
+their will upon the world. But together they contain a vast crowd, which,
+united, may shoulder itself an irresistible course, pushing aside all
+obstacles by mere physical weight.
+
+The effect of education has been, and seems likely to be, to supply a
+certain unity of thought, if not of action, among these people. The solid
+common sense--the law-abiding character of the majority--is sufficient
+security against any violent movement. But how important it becomes that
+that common sense should be strengthened against the assaults of an
+insidious Socialism! A man's education does not come to an end when he
+leaves school. He then just begins to form his opinions, and in nine cases
+out of ten thinks what he hears and what he reads. Here, in the
+agricultural labourer class, are many hundred thousand young men exactly
+in this stage, educating themselves in moral, social, and political
+opinion.
+
+In short, the future literature of the labourer becomes a serious
+question. He will think what he reads; and what he reads at the present
+moment is of anything but an elevating character. He will think, too, what
+he hears; and he hears much of an enticing but subversive political creed,
+and little of any other. There are busy tongues earnestly teaching him to
+despise property and social order, to suggest the overthrow of existing
+institutions; there is scarcely any one to instruct him in the true lesson
+of history. Who calls together an audience of agricultural labourers to
+explain to and interest them in the story of their own country? There are
+many who are only too anxious to use the agricultural labourer as the
+means to effect ends which he scarcely understands. But there are few,
+indeed, who are anxious to instruct him in science or literature for his
+own sake.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+
+A WHEAT COUNTRY
+
+
+The aspect of a corn-growing district in the colder months is perhaps more
+dreary than that of any other country scene. It is winter made visible.
+The very houses at the edge of the village stand out harsh and angular,
+especially if modern and slated, for the old thatched cottages are not
+without a curve in the line of the eaves. No trees or bushes shelter them
+from the bitter wind that rushes across the plain, and, because of the
+absence of trees round the outskirts, the village may be seen from a great
+distance.
+
+The wayfarer, as he approaches along the interminable road, that now rises
+over a hill and now descends into a valley, observes it from afar, his
+view uninterrupted by wood, but the vastness of the plain seems to shorten
+his step, so that he barely gains on the receding roofs. The hedges by the
+road are cropped--cut down mercilessly--and do not afford the slightest
+protection against wind, or rain, or sleet. If he would pause awhile to
+rest his weary limbs no friendly bush keeps off the chilling blast.
+Yonder, half a mile in front, a waggon creeps up the hill, always just so
+much ahead, never overtaken, or seeming to alter its position, whether he
+walks slow or fast. The only apparent inhabitants of the solitude are the
+larks that every now and then cross the road in small flocks. Above, the
+sky is dull and gloomy; beneath, the earth, except, where some snow
+lingers, is of a still darker tint. On the northern side the low mounds
+are white with snow here and there. Mile after mile the open level fields
+extend on either hand; now brown from the late passage of the plough, now
+a pale yellow where the short stubble yet remains, divided by black lines;
+the low-cropped hedges bare of leaves. A few small fir copses are
+scattered about, the only relief to the eye; all else is level, dull,
+monotonous.
+
+When the village is reached at last, it is found to be of considerable
+size. The population is much greater than might have been anticipated from
+the desert-like solitude surrounding the place. In actual numbers, of
+course, it will not bear comparison with manufacturing districts, but for
+its situation, it is quite a little town. Compared with the villages
+situate in the midst of great pastures--where grass is the all-important
+crop--it is really populous. Almost all the inhabitants find employment in
+the fields around, helping to produce wheat and barley, oats and roots. It
+is a little city of the staff of life--a metropolis of the plough.
+
+Every single house, from that of the landowner, through the rent; that of
+the clergyman, through the tithe--down to the humblest cottage, is
+directly interested in the crop of corn. The very children playing about
+the gaps in the hedges are interested in it, for can they not go gleaning?
+If the heralds had given the place a coat of arms it should bear a sheaf
+of wheat. And the reason of its comparative populousness is to be found in
+the wheat also. For the stubborn earth will not yield its riches without
+severe and sustained labour. Instead of tickling it with a hoe, and
+watching the golden harvest leap forth, scarifier and plough, harrow and
+drill in almost ceaseless succession, compel the clods by sheer force of
+iron to deliver up their treasure. In another form it is almost like the
+quartz-crushing at the gold mines--the ore ground out from the solid rock.
+And here, in addition, the ore has to be put into the rock first in the
+shape of manure.
+
+All this labour requires hands to do it, and so--the supply for some time,
+at all events, answering the demand--the village teemed with men. In the
+autumn comes the ploughing, the couch-picking and burning, often second
+ploughing, the sowing by drill or hand, the threshing, &c. In the spring
+will come more ploughing, sowing, harrowing, hoeing. Modern agriculture
+has increased the labour done in the fields. Crops are arranged to succeed
+crops, and each of these necessitates labour, and labour a second and a
+third time. The work on arable land is never finished. A slackness there
+is in the dead of winter; but even then there is still something
+doing--some draining, some trimming of hedges, carting manure for open
+field work. But beyond this there are the sheep in the pens to be attended
+to as the important time of lambing approaches, and there are the horned
+cattle in the stalls still fattening, and leaving, as they reach maturity,
+for the butcher.
+
+The arable agriculturist, indeed, has a double weight upon his mind. He
+has money invested in the soil itself, seed lying awaiting the genial warm
+rain that shall cause it to germinate, capital in every furrow traced by
+the plough. He has money, on the other hand, in his stock, sheep, and
+cattle. A double anxiety is his; first that his crops may prosper, next
+that his stock may flourish. He requires men to labour in the field, men
+to attend to the sheep, men to feed the bullocks; a crowd of labourers are
+supported by him, with their wives and families. In addition to these he
+needs other labour--the inanimate assistance of the steam-engine, and the
+semi-intelligent co-operation of the horse. These, again, must be directed
+by men. Thus it is that the corn village has become populous.
+
+The original idea was that the introduction of machinery would reduce all
+this labour. In point of fact, it has, if anything, increased it. The
+steam-plough will not work itself; each of the two engines requires two
+men to attend to it; one, and often two, ride on the plough itself;
+another goes with the water-cart to feed the boiler: others with the
+waggon for coal. The drill must have men--and experienced men--with it,
+besides horses to draw it, and these again want men The threshing-machine
+employs quite a little troop to feed it; and, turning to the stock in the
+stalls, roots will not pulp or slice themselves, nor will water pump
+itself up into the troughs, nor chaff cut itself. The chaff-cutter and
+pump, and so on, all depend on human hands to keep them going. Such is but
+a very brief outline of the innumerable ways in which arable agriculture
+gives employment. So the labourer and the labourer's family flourish
+exceedingly in the corn tillage. Wages rise; he waxes fat and strong and
+masterful, thinking that he holds the farmer and the golden grain in the
+hollow of his hand.
+
+But now a cloud arises and casts its shadow over the cottage. If the
+farmer depends upon his men, so do the men in equal degree depend upon the
+farmer. This they overlooked, but are now learning again. The farmer, too,
+is not independent and self-sustained, but is at the mercy of many
+masters. The weather and the seasons are one master; the foreign producer
+is another; the markets, which are further influenced by the condition of
+trade at large, form a third master. He is, indeed, very much more in the
+position of a servant than his labourer. Of late almost all these masters
+have combined against the corn-growing farmer. Wheat is not only low but
+seems likely to remain so. Foreign meat also competes with the dearly-made
+meat of the stalls. The markets are dull and trade depressed everywhere.
+Finally a fresh master starts up in the shape of the labourer himself, and
+demands higher wages.
+
+For some length of time the corn-grower puts a courageous face on the
+difficulties which beset him, and struggles on, hoping for better days.
+After awhile, however, seeing that his capital is diminishing, because he
+has been, as it were, eating it, seeing that there is no prospect of
+immediate relief, whatever may happen in the future, he is driven to one
+of two courses. He must quit the occupation or he must reduce his
+expenditure. He must not only ask the labourer to accept a reduction, but
+he must, wherever practicable, avoid employing labour at all.
+
+Now comes the pressure on the corn village. Much but not all of that
+pressure the inhabitants have brought upon themselves through endeavouring
+to squeeze the farmer too closely. If there had been no labour
+organisation whatever when the arable agriculturist began to suffer, as he
+undoubtedly has been suffering, the labourer must have felt it in his
+turn. He has himself to blame if he has made the pain more acute. He finds
+it in this way. Throughout the corn-producing district there has been
+proceeding a gradual shrinkage, as it were, of speculative investment.
+Where an agriculturist would have ploughed deeper, and placed extra
+quantities of manure in the soil, with a view to an extra crop, he has,
+instead, only just ploughed and cleaned and manured enough to keep things
+going. Where he would have enlarged his flock of sheep, or added to the
+cattle in the stalls, and carried as much stock as he possibly could, he
+has barely filled the stalls, and bought but just enough cake and foods.
+Just enough, indeed, of late has been his watchword all through--just
+enough labour and no more.
+
+This cutting down, stinting, and economy everywhere has told upon the
+population of the village. The difference in the expenditure upon a
+solitary farm may be but a trifle--a few pounds; but when some score or
+more farms are taken, in the aggregate the decrease in the cash
+transferred from the pocket of the agriculturist to that of the labourer
+becomes something considerable. The same percentage on a hundred farms
+would amount to a large sum. In this manner the fact of the corn-producing
+farmer being out of spirits with his profession reacts upon the corn
+village. There is no positive distress, but there is just a sense that
+there are more hands about than necessary. Yet at the same moment there
+are not hands enough; a paradox which may be explained in a measure by the
+introduction of machinery.
+
+As already stated, machinery in the field does not reduce the number of
+men employed. But they are employed in a different way. The work all comes
+now in rushes. By the aid of the reaping machine acres are levelled in a
+day, and the cut corn demands the services of a crowd of men and women all
+at once, to tie it up in sheaves. Should the self-binders come into
+general use, and tie the wheat with wire or string at the moment of
+cutting it, the matter of labour will be left much in the same stage. A
+crowd of workpeople will be required all at once to pick up the sheaves,
+or to cart them to the rick; and the difference will lie in this, that
+while now the crowd are employed, say twelve hours, then they will be
+employed only nine. Just the same number--perhaps more--but for less time.
+Under the old system, a dozen men worked all the winter through, hammering
+away with their flails in the barns. Now the threshing-machine arrives,
+and the ricks are threshed in a few days. As many men are wanted (and at
+double the wages) to feed the machine, to tend the 'elevator' carrying up
+the straw to make the straw rick, to fetch water and coal for the engine,
+to drive it, &c. But instead of working for so many months, this rush
+lasts as many days.
+
+Much the same thing happens all throughout arable agriculture--from the
+hoeing to the threshing--a troop are wanted one day, scarcely anybody the
+next. There is, of course, a steady undercurrent of continuous work for a
+certain fixed number of hands; but over and above this are the periodical
+calls for extra labour, which of recent years, from the high wages paid,
+have been so profitable to the labourers. But when the agriculturist draws
+in his investments, when he retrenches his expenditure, and endeavours, as
+far as practicable, to confine it to his regular men, then the
+intermittent character of the extra work puts a strain upon the rest. They
+do not find so much to do, the pay is insensibly decreasing, and they
+obtain, less casual employment meantime.
+
+In the olden times a succession of bad harvests caused sufferings
+throughout the whole of England. Somewhat in like manner, though in a
+greatly modified degree, the difficulties of the arable agriculturist at
+the present day press upon the corn villages. In a time when the
+inhabitants saw the farmers, as they believed, flourishing and even
+treading on the heels of the squire, the corn villagers, thinking that the
+farmer was absolutely dependent upon them, led the van of the agitation
+for high wages. Now, when the force of circumstances has compressed wages
+again, they are both to submit. But discovering by slow degrees that no
+organisation can compel, or create a demand for labour at any price, there
+are now signs on the one hand of acquiescence, and on the other of partial
+emigration.
+
+Thus the comparative density of the population in arable districts is at
+once a blessing and a trouble. It is not the 'pranks' of the farmers that
+have caused emigration, or threats of it. The farmer is unable to pay high
+wages, the men will not accept a moderate reduction, and the idle crowd,
+in effect, tread on each other's heels. Pressure of that kind, and to that
+extent, is limited to a few localities only. The majority have sufficient
+common sense to see their error. But it is in arable districts that
+agitation takes its extreme form. The very number of the population gives
+any movement a vigour and emphasis that is wanting where there may be as
+much discontent but fewer to exhibit it. That populousness has been in the
+past of the greatest assistance to the agriculturist, and there is no
+reason why it should not be so in the future, for it does not by any means
+follow that because agriculture is at present depressed it will always be
+so.
+
+Let the months roll by and then approach the same village along the same
+road under the summer sun. The hedges, though low, are green, and bear the
+beautiful flowers of the wild convolvulus. Trees that were scarcely
+observed before, because bare of leaves, now appear, and crowds of birds,
+finches and sparrows, fly up from the corn. The black swifts wheel
+overhead, and the white-breasted swallows float in the azure. Over the
+broad plain extends a still broader roof of the purest blue--the landscape
+is so open that the sky seems as broad again as in the enclosed
+countries--wide, limitless, very much as it does at sea. On the rising
+ground pause a moment and look round. Wheat and barley and oats stretch
+mile after mile on either hand. Here the red wheat tinges the view, there
+the whiter barley; but the prevailing hue is a light gold. Yonder green is
+the swede, or turnip, or mangold; but frequent as are the fields of roots,
+the golden tint overpowers the green. A golden sun looks down upon the
+golden wheat--the winds are still and the heat broods over the corn. It is
+pleasant to get under the scanty shadow of the stunted ash. Think what
+wealth all that glorious beauty represents. Wealth to the rich man, wealth
+to the poor.
+
+Come again in a few weeks' time and look down upon it. The swarthy reapers
+are at work. They bend to their labour till the tall corn overtops their
+heads. Every now and then they rise up, and stand breast high among the
+wheat. Every field is full of them, men and women, young lads and girls,
+busy as they may be. Yonder the reaping-machine, with its strange-looking
+arms revolving like the vast claws of an unearthly monster beating down
+the grain, goes rapidly round and round in an ever-narrowing circle till
+the last ears fall. A crowd has pounced upon the cut corn. Behind
+them--behind the reapers--everywhere abroad on the great plain rises an
+army, regiment behind regiment, the sheaves stacked in regular ranks down
+the fields. Yet a little while, and over that immense expanse not one
+single, solitary straw will be left standing. Then the green roots show
+more strongly, and tint the landscape. Next come the waggons, and after
+that the children searching for stray ears of wheat, for not one must be
+left behind. After that, in the ploughing time, while yet the sun shines
+warm, it is a sight to watch the teams from under the same ash tree,
+returning from their labour in the afternoon. Six horses here, eight
+horses there, twelve yonder, four far away; all in single file, slowly
+walking home, and needing no order or touch of whip to direct their steps
+to the well-known stables.
+
+If any wish to see the work of farming in its full flush and vigour, let
+them visit a corn district at the harvest time. Down in the village there
+scarcely any one is left at home; every man, woman, and child is out in
+the field. It is the day of prosperity, of continuous work for all, of
+high wages. It is, then, easy to understand why corn villages are
+populous. One cannot but feel the strongest sympathy with these men. The
+scene altogether seems so thoroughly, so intensely English. The spirit of
+it enters into the spectator, and he feels that he, too, must try his hand
+at the reaping, and then slake his thirst from the same cup with these
+bronzed sons of toil.
+
+Yet what a difficult problem lies underneath all this! While the reaper
+yonder slashes at the straw, huge ships are on the ocean rushing through
+the foam to bring grain to the great cities to whom--and to all--cheap
+bread is so inestimable a blessing. Very likely, when he pauses in his
+work, and takes his luncheon, the crust he eats is made of flour ground
+out of grain that grew in far distant Minnesota, or some vast Western
+State. Perhaps at the same moment the farmer himself sits at his desk and
+adds up figure after figure, calculating the cost of production, the
+expenditure on labour, the price of manure put into the soil, the capital
+invested in the steam-plough, and the cost of feeding the bullocks that
+are already intended for the next Christmas. Against these he places the
+market price of that wheat he can see being reaped from his window, and
+the price he receives for his fattened bullock. Then a vision rises before
+him of green meads and broad pastures slowly supplanting the corn; the
+plough put away, and the scythe brought out and sharpened. If so, where
+then will be the crowd of men and women yonder working in the wheat? Is
+not this a great problem, one to be pondered over and not hastily
+dismissed?
+
+Logical conclusions do not always come to pass in practice; even yet there
+is plenty of time for a change which shall retain these stalwart reapers
+amongst us, the strength and pride of the land. But if so, it is certain
+that it must be preceded by some earnest on their part of a desire to
+remove that last straw from the farmer's back--the last straw of
+extravagant labour demands--which have slowly been dragging him down. They
+have been doing their very best to bring about the substitution of grass
+for corn. And the farmer, too, perhaps, must look at home, and be content
+to live in simpler fashion. To do so will certainly require no little
+moral courage, for a prevalent social custom, like that of living fully up
+to the income (not solely characteristic of farmers), is with difficulty
+faced and overcome.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+
+GRASS COUNTRIES
+
+
+On the ground beside the bramble bushes that project into the field the
+grass is white with hoar frost at noon-day, when the rest of the meadow
+has resumed its dull green winter tint. Behind the copse, too, there is a
+broad belt of white--every place, indeed, that would be in the shadow were
+the sun to shine forth is of that colour.
+
+The eager hunter frowns with impatience, knowing that though the eaves of
+the house may drip in the middle of the day, yet, while those white
+patches show in the shelter of the bramble bushes the earth will be hard
+and unyielding. His horse may clear the hedge, but how about the landing
+on that iron-like surface? Every old hoof-mark in the sward, cut out sharp
+and clear as if with a steel die, is so firm that the heaviest roller
+would not produce the smallest effect upon it. At the gateways where the
+passage of cattle has trodden away the turf, the mud, once almost
+impassable, is now hardened, and every cloven hoof that pressed it has
+left its mark as if cast in metal. Along the furrows the ice has fallen
+in, and lies on the slope white and broken, the shallow water having dried
+away beneath it. Dark hedges, dark trees--in the distance they look almost
+black--nearer at hand the smallest branches devoid of leaves are clearly
+defined against the sky.
+
+As the northerly wind drifts the clouds before it the sun shines down, and
+the dead, dry grass and the innumerable tufts of the 'leaze' which the
+cattle have not eaten, take a dull grey hue. Sheltered from the blast
+behind the thick, high hawthorn hedge and double mound, which is like a
+rampart reared against Boreas, it is pleasant even now to stroll to and
+fro in the sunshine. The longtailed titmice come along in parties of six
+or eight, calling to each other as in turn they visit every tree. Turning
+from watching these--see, a redbreast has perched on a branch barely two
+yards distant, for, wherever you may be, there the robin comes and watches
+you. Whether looking in summer at the roses in the garden, or waiting in
+winter for the pheasant to break cover or the fox to steal forth, go where
+you will, in a minute or two, a redbreast appears intent on your
+proceedings.
+
+Now comes a discordant squeaking of iron axles that have not been greased,
+and the jolting sound of wheels passing over ruts whose edges are hard and
+frost-bound. From the lane two manure carts enter the meadow in slow
+procession, and, stopping at regular intervals, the men in charge take
+long poles with hooks at the end and drag down a certain quantity of the
+fertilising material. The sharp frost is so far an advantage to the tenant
+of meadow land that he can cart manure without cutting and poaching the
+turf, and even without changing the ordinary for the extra set of
+broad-wheels on the cart. In the next meadow the hedge-cutters are busy,
+their hands fenced with thick gloves to turn aside the thorns.
+
+Near by are the hay-ricks and cow-pen where a metallic rattling sound
+rises every now and then--the bull in the shed moving his neck and
+dragging his chain through the ring. More than one of the hay-ricks have
+been already half cut away, for the severe winter makes the cows hungry,
+and if their yield of milk is to be kept up they must be well fed, so that
+the foggers have plenty to do. If the dairy, as is most probably the case,
+sends the milk to London, they have still more, because then a regular
+supply has to be maintained, and for that a certain proportion of other
+food has to be prepared in addition to the old-fashioned hay. The new
+system, indeed, has led to the employment of more labour out-of-doors, if
+less within. An extra fogger has to be put on, not only because of the
+food, but because the milking has to be done in less time--with a
+despatch, indeed, that would have seemed unnatural to the old folk.
+Besides which the milk carts to and fro the railway station require
+drivers, whose time--as they have to go some miles twice a day--is pretty
+nearly occupied with their horses and milk tins. So much is this the case
+that even in summer they can scarcely be spared to do a few hours
+haymaking.
+
+The new system, therefore, of selling the milk instead of making butter
+and cheese is advantageous to the labourer by affording more employment in
+grass districts. It is steady work, too, lasting the entire year round,
+and well paid. The stock of cows in such cases is kept up to the very
+highest that the land will carry, which, again, gives more work. Although
+the closing of the cheese lofts and the superannuation of the churn has
+reduced the number of female servants in the house, yet that is more than
+balanced by the extra work without. The cottage families, it is true, lose
+the buttermilk which some farmers used to allow them; but wages are
+certainly better.
+
+There has been, in fact, a general stir and movement in dairy districts
+since the milk selling commenced, which has been favourable to labour. A
+renewed life and energy has been visible on farms where for generations
+things had gone on in the same sleepy manner. Efforts have been made to
+extend the area available for feeding by grubbing hedges and cultivating
+pieces of ground hitherto given over to thistles, rushes, and rough
+grasses. Drains have been put in so that the stagnant water in the soil
+might not cause the growth of those grasses which cattle will not touch.
+Fresh seed has been sown, and 'rattles' and similar plants destructive to
+the hay crop have been carefully eradicated. New gales, new carts, and
+traps, all exhibit the same movement.
+
+The cowyards in many districts were formerly in a very dilapidated
+condition. The thatch of the sheds was all worn away, mossgrown, and bored
+by the sparrows. Those in which the cows were placed at calving time were
+mere dark holes. The floor of the yard was often soft, so that the hoofs
+of the cattle trod deep into it--a perfect slough in wet weather. The cows
+themselves were of a poor character, and in truth as poorly treated, for
+the hay was made badly--carelessly harvested, and the grass itself not of
+good quality--nor were the men always very humane, thinking little of
+knocking the animals about.
+
+Quite a change has come over all this. The cows now kept are much too
+valuable to be treated roughly, being selected from shorthorn strains that
+yield large quantities of milk. No farmer now would allow any such
+knocking about. The hay itself is better, because the grass has been
+improved, and it is also harvested carefully. Rickcloths prevent rain from
+spoiling the rising rick, mowing machines, haymaking machines, and horse
+rakes enable a spell of good weather to be taken advantage of, and the hay
+got in quickly, instead of lying about till the rain returns. As for the
+manure, it is recognised to be gold in another shape, and instead of being
+trodden under foot by the cattle and washed away by the rain, it is
+utilised. The yard is drained and stoned so as to be dry--a change that
+effects a saving in litter, the value of which has greatly risen. Sheds
+have been new thatched, and generally renovated, and even new roads laid
+down across the farms, and properly macadamised, in order that the milk
+carts might reach the highway without the straining and difficulty
+consequent upon wheels sinking half up to the axles in winter.
+
+In short, dairy farms have been swept and garnished, and even something
+like science introduced upon them. The thermometer in summer is in
+constant use to determine if the milk is sufficiently cooled to proceed
+upon its journey. That cooling of the milk alone is a process that
+requires more labour to carry it out. Artificial manures are spread abroad
+on the pastures. The dairy farmer has to a considerable extent awakened to
+the times, and, like the arable agriculturist, is endeavouring to bring
+modern appliances to bear upon his business. To those who recollect the
+old style of dairy farmer the change seems marvellous indeed. Nowhere was
+the farmer more backward, more rude and primitive, than on the small dairy
+farms. He was barely to be distinguished from the labourers, amongst whom
+he worked shoulder to shoulder; he spoke with their broad accent, and his
+ideas and theirs were nearly identical.
+
+In ten years' time--just a short ten years only--what an alteration has
+taken place! It is needless to say that this could not go on without the
+spending of money, and the spending of money means the benefit of the
+labouring class. New cottages have been erected, of course on modern
+plans, so that many of the men are much better lodged than they were, and
+live nearer to their work--a great consideration where cows are the main
+object of attention. The men have to be on the farm very early in the
+morning, and if they have a long walk it is a heavy drag upon them.
+Perhaps the constant intercourse with the towns and stations resulting
+from the double daily visit of the milk carts has quickened the minds of
+the labourers thus employed. Whatever may be the cause, it is certain that
+they do exhibit an improvement, and are much 'smarter' than they used to
+be. It would be untrue to say that no troubles with the labourers have
+arisen in meadow districts. There has been some friction about wages, but
+not nearly approaching the agitation elsewhere. And when a recent
+reduction of wages commenced, many of the men themselves admitted that it
+was inevitable. But the average earnings throughout the year still
+continue, and are likely to continue far above the old rate of payment.
+Where special kinds of cheese are made the position of the labourer has
+also improved.
+
+Coming to the same district in summer time, the meadows have a beauty all
+their own. The hedges are populous with birds, the trees lovely, the brook
+green with flags, the luxuriantly-growing grass decked with flowers. Nor
+has haymaking lost all its ancient charm. Though the old-fashioned sound
+of the mower sharpening his scythe is less often heard, being superseded
+by the continuous rattle of the mowing machine, yet the hay smells as
+sweetly as ever. While the mowing machine, the haymaking machine, and
+horse rake give the farmer the power of using the sunshine, when it comes,
+to the best purpose, they are not without an effect upon the labouring
+population.
+
+Just as in corn districts, machinery has not reduced the actual number of
+hands employed, but has made the work come in spells or rushes; so in the
+meadows the haymaking is shortened. The farmer waits till good weather is
+assured for a few days. Then on goes his mowing machine and levels the
+crop of an entire field in no time. Immediately a whole crowd of labourers
+are required for making the hay and getting it when ready on the waggons.
+Under the old system the mowers usually got drunk about the third day of
+sunshine, and the work came to a standstill. When it began to rain they
+recovered themselves, and slashed away vigorously--when it was not wanted.
+The effect of machinery has been much the same as on corn lands, with the
+addition that fewer women are now employed in haymaking. Those that are
+employed are much better paid.
+
+The hamlets of grass districts are not, as a rule, at all populous. There
+really are fewer people, and at the same time the impression is increased
+by the scattered position of the dwellings. Instead of a great central
+village there are three or four small hamlets a mile or two apart, and
+solitary groups of cottages near farmhouses. One result of this is, that
+allotment gardens are not so common, for the sufficient reason that, if a
+field were set apart for the purpose, the tenants of the plots would have
+to walk so far to the place that it would scarcely pay them. Gardens are
+consequently attached to most cottages, and answer the same purpose; some
+have small orchards as well.
+
+The cottagers have also more firewood than is the case in some arable
+districts on account of the immense quantity of wood annually cut in
+copses and double-mound hedges. The rougher part becomes the labourers'
+perquisite, and they can also purchase wood at a nominal rate from their
+employers. This more than compensates for the absence of gleaning. In
+addition, quantities of wood are collected from hedges and ditches and
+under the trees--dead boughs that have fallen or been broken off by a
+gale.
+
+The aspect of a grazing district presents a general resemblance to that of
+a dairy one, with the difference that in the grazing everything seems on a
+larger scale. Instead of small meadows shut in with hedges and trees, the
+grazing farms often comprise fields of immense extent; sometimes a single
+pasture is as large as a small dairy farm. The herds of cattle are also
+more numerous; of course they are of a different class, but, in mere
+numbers, a grazier often has three times as many bullocks as a dairy
+farmer has cows. The mounds are quite as thickly timbered as in dairy
+districts, but as they are much farther apart, the landscape appears more
+open.
+
+To a spectator looking down upon mile after mile of such pasture land in
+summer from an elevation it resembles a park of illimitable extent. Great
+fields after great fields roll away to the horizon--groups of trees and
+small copses dot the slopes--roan and black cattle stand in the sheltering
+shadows. A dreamy haze hangs over the distant woods--all is large, open,
+noble. It suggests a life of freedom--the gun and the saddle--and, indeed,
+it is here that hunting is enjoyed in its full perfection. The labourer
+falls almost out of sight in these vast pastures. The population is sparse
+and scattered, the hamlets are few and far apart; even many of the
+farmhouses being only occupied by bailiffs. In comparison with a dairy
+farm there is little work to do. Cows have to be milked as well as
+foddered, and the milk when obtained gives employment to many hands in the
+various processes it goes through. Here the bullocks have simply to be fed
+and watched, the sheep in like manner have to be tended. Except in the
+haymaking season, therefore, there is scarcely ever a press for labour.
+Those who are employed have steady, continuous work the year through, and
+are for the most part men of experience in attending upon cattle, as
+indeed they need be, seeing the value of the herds under their charge.
+
+Although little direct agitation has taken place in pasture countries, yet
+wages have equally risen. Pasture districts almost drop out of the labour
+dispute. On the one hand the men are few, on the other the rise of a
+shilling or so scarcely affects the farmer (so far as his grass land is
+concerned, if he has much corn as well it is different), because of the
+small number of labourers he wants.
+
+The great utility of pasture is, of course, the comparatively cheap
+production of meat, which goes to feed the population in cities. Numbers
+of bullocks are fattened on corn land in stalls, but of late it has been
+stated that the cost of feeding under such conditions is so high that
+scarcely any profit can be obtained. The pasture farmer has by no means
+escaped without encountering difficulties; but still, with tolerably
+favourable seasons, he can produce meat much more cheaply than the arable
+agriculturist. Yet it is one of the avowed objects of the labour
+organisation to prevent the increase of pasture land, to stop the laying
+down of grass, and even to plough up some of the old pastures. The reason
+given is that corn land supports so many more agricultural labourers,
+which is so far true; but if corn farming cannot be carried on profitably
+without great reduction of the labour expenses the argument is not worth
+much, while the narrowness of the view is at once evident. The proportion
+of pasture to arable land must settle itself, and be governed entirely by
+the same conditions that affect other trades--i.e.. profit and loss.
+
+It has already been pointed out that the labourer finds it possible to
+support the Union with small payments, and also to subscribe to
+benefit-clubs. The fact suggests the idea that, if facilities were
+afforded, the labourer would become a considerable depositor of pennies.
+The Post-office Savings Banks have done much good, the drawback is that
+the offices are often too distant from the labourer. There is an office in
+the village, but not half the population live in the village. There are
+far-away hamlets and things, besides lonely groups of three or four
+farmhouses, to which a collective name can hardly be given, but which
+employ a number of men. A rural parish is 'all abroad'--the people are
+scattered. To go into the Post-office in the village may involve a walk of
+several miles, and it is closed, too, on Saturday night when the men are
+flush of money.
+
+The great difficulty with penny banks on the other hand is the
+receiver--who is to be responsible for the money? The clergyman would be
+only too glad, but many will have nothing to do with anything under his
+influence simply because he is the clergyman. The estrangement that has
+been promoted between the labourer and the tenant farmer effectually shuts
+the latter out. The landlord's agent cannot reside in fifty places at
+once. The sums are too small to pay for a bank agent to reside in the
+village and go round. There remain the men themselves; and why should not
+they be trusted with the money? Men of their own class collect the Union
+subscriptions, and faithfully pay them in.
+
+Take the case of a little hamlet two, three, perhaps more miles from a
+Post-office Savings Bank, where some thirty labourers  work on the farms.
+Why should not these thirty elect one of their own number to receive their
+savings over Saturday--to be paid in by him at the Post-office? There are
+men among them who might be safely trusted with ten times the money, and
+if the Post-office cannot be opened on Saturday evenings for him to
+deposit it, it is quite certain that his employer would permit of his
+absence, on one day, sufficiently long to go to the office and back. If
+the men wish to be absolutely independent in the matter, all they have to
+do is to work an extra hour for their agent's employer, and so compensate
+for his temporary absence. If the men had it in their own hands like this
+they would enter into it with far greater interest, and it would take root
+among them. All that is required is the consent of the Post-office to
+receive moneys so deposited, and some one to broach the idea to the men in
+the various localities. The great recommendation of the Post-office is
+that the labouring classes everywhere have come to feel implicit faith in
+the safety of deposits made in it. They have a confidence in it that can
+never be attained by a private enterprise, however benevolent, and it
+should therefore be utilised to the utmost.
+
+To gentlemen accustomed to receive a regular income, a small lump sum like
+ten or twenty pounds appears a totally inadequate provision against old
+age. They institute elaborate calculations by professed accountants, to
+discover whether by any mode of investment a small subscription
+proportionate to the labourer's wages can be made to provide him with an
+annuity. The result is scarcely satisfactory. But, in fact, though an
+annuity would be, of course, preferable, even so small a sum as ten or
+twenty pounds is of the very highest value to an aged agricultural
+labourer, especially when he has a cottage, if not his own property, yet
+in which he has a right to reside. The neighbouring farmers, who have
+known him from their own boyhood, are always ready to give him light jobs
+whenever practicable. So that in tolerable weather he still earns
+something. His own children do a little for him. In the dead of the winter
+come a few weeks when he can do nothing, and feels the lack of small
+comforts. It is just then that a couple of sovereigns out of a hoard of
+twenty pounds will tide him over the interval.
+
+It is difficult to convey an idea of the value of these two extra
+sovereigns to a man of such frugal habits and in that position. None but
+those who have mixed with the agricultural poor can understand it. Now the
+wages that will hardly, by the most careful management, allow of the
+gradual purchase of an annuity, will readily permit such savings as these.
+It is simply a question of the money-box. When the child's money-box is at
+hand the penny is dropped in, and the amount accumulates; if there is no
+box handy it is spent in sweets. The same holds true of young and old
+alike. If, then, the annuity cannot be arranged, let the money-box, at all
+events, be brought nearer. And the money-box in which the poor man all
+over the country has the most faith is the Post-office.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+
+HODGE'S LAST MASTERS. CONCLUSION
+
+
+After all the ploughing and the sowing, the hoeing and the harvest, comes
+the miserable end. Strong as the labourer may be, thick-set and capable of
+immense endurance; by slow degrees that strength must wear away. The limbs
+totter, the back is bowed, the dimmed sight can no longer guide the plough
+in a straight furrow, nor the weak hands wield the reaping-hook, Hodge,
+who, Atlas-like, supported upon his shoulders the agricultural world,
+comes in his old age under the dominion of his last masters at the
+workhouse. There, indeed, he finds almost the whole array of his rulers
+assembled. Tenant farmers sit as the guardians of the poor for their
+respective parishes; the clergyman and the squire by virtue of their
+office as magistrates; and the tradesman as guardian for the market town.
+Here are representatives of almost all his masters, and it may seem to him
+a little strange that it should require so many to govern such feeble
+folk.
+
+The board-room at the workhouse is a large and apparently comfortable
+apartment. The fire is piled with glowing coals, the red light from which
+gleams on the polished fender. A vast table occupies the centre, and
+around it are arranged seats, for each of the guardians. The chairman is,
+perhaps, a clergyman (and magistrate), who for years has maintained
+something like peace between discordant elements. For the board-room is
+often a battle-field where political or sectarian animosities exhibit
+themselves in a rugged way. The clergyman, by force of character, has at
+all events succeeded in moderating the personal asperity of the contending
+parties. Many of the stout, elderly farmers who sit round the table have
+been elected year after year, no one disputing with them that tedious and
+thankless office. The clerk, always a solicitor, is also present, and his
+opinion is continually required. Knotty points of law are for ever arising
+over what seems so simple a matter as the grant of a dole of bread.
+
+The business, indeed, of relieving the agricultural poor is no light
+one--a dozen or fifteen gentlemen often sit here the whole day. The
+routine of examining the relieving officers' books and receiving their
+reports takes up at least two hours. Agricultural unions often include a
+wide space of country, and getting from one village to another consumes as
+much time as would be needed for the actual relief of a much denser
+population. As a consequence, more relieving officers are employed than
+would seem at first glance necessary. Each of these has his records to
+present, and his accounts to be practically audited, a process naturally
+interspersed with inquiries respecting cottagers known to the guardians
+present.
+
+Personal applications for out-door relief are then heard. A group of
+intending applicants has been waiting in the porch for admission for some
+time. Women come for their daughters; daughters for their mothers; some
+want assistance during an approaching confinement, others ask for a small
+loan, to be repaid by instalments, with which to tide over their
+difficulties. One cottage woman is occasionally deputed by several of her
+neighbours as their representative. The labourer or his wife stands before
+the Board and makes a statement, supplemented by explanation from the
+relieving officer of the district. Another hour thus passes. Incidentally
+there arise cases of 'settlement' in distant parishes, when persons have
+become chargeable whose place of residence was recently, perhaps, half
+across the country. They have no parochial rights here and must be
+returned thither, after due inquiries made by the clerk and the exchange
+of considerable correspondence.
+
+The master of the workhouse is now called in and delivers his weekly
+report of the conduct of the inmates, and any events that have happened.
+One inmate, an ancient labourer, died that morning in the infirmary, not
+many hours before the meeting of the Board. The announcement is received
+with regretful exclamations, and there is a cessation of business for a
+few minutes. Some of the old farmers who knew the deceased recount their
+connection with him, how he worked for them, and how his family has lived
+in the parish as cottagers from time immemorial. A reminiscence of a grim
+joke that fell out forty years before, and of which the deceased was the
+butt, causes a grave smile, and then to business again. The master
+possibly asks permission to punish a refractory inmate; punishment is now
+very sparingly given in the house. A good many cases, however, come up
+from the Board to the magisterial Bench--charges of tearing up clothing,
+fighting, damaging property, or of neglecting to maintain, or to repay
+relief advanced on loan. These cases are, of course, conducted by the
+clerk.
+
+There is sometimes a report, to be read by one of the doctors who receive
+salaries from the Board and attend to the various districts, and
+occasionally some nuisance to be considered and order taken for its
+compulsory removal on sanitary grounds. The question of sanitation is
+becoming rather a difficult one in agricultural unions.
+
+After this the various committees of the Board have to give in the result
+of their deliberations, and the representative of the ladies' boarding-out
+committee presents a record of the work accomplished. These various
+committees at times are burdened with the most onerous labours, for upon
+them falls the duty of verifying all the petty details of management.
+Every pound of soap, or candles, scrubbing-brushes, and similar domestic
+items, pass under their inspection, not only the payments for them, but
+the actual articles, or samples of them, being examined. Tenders for
+grocery, bread, wines and spirits for cases of illness, meat, coals, and
+so forth are opened and compared, vouchers, bills, receipts, invoices, and
+so forth checked and audited.
+
+The amount of detail thus attended to is something immense, and the
+accuracy required occupies hour after hour. There are whole libraries of
+account-books, ledgers, red-bound relief-books, stowed away, pile upon
+pile, in the house; archives going back to the opening of the
+establishment, and from which any trifling relief given or expenditure
+inclined years ago can be extracted. Such another carefully-administered
+institution it would be hard to find; nor is any proposed innovation or
+change adopted without the fullest discussion--it may be the suggested
+erection of additional premises, or the introduction of some fresh feature
+of the system, or some novel instructions sent down by the Local
+Government Board.
+
+When such matters or principles are to be discussed there is certain to be
+a full gathering of the guardians and a trial of strength between the
+parties. Those who habitually neglect to attend, leaving the hard labour
+of administration to be borne by their colleagues, now appear in numbers,
+and the board-room is crowded, many squires otherwise seldom seen coming
+in to give their votes. It is as much as the chairman can do to assuage
+the storm and to maintain an approach to personal politeness. Quiet as the
+country appears to the casual observer, there are, nevertheless, strong
+feelings under the surface, and at such gatherings the long-cherished
+animosities burst forth.
+
+Nothing at all events is done in a corner; everything is openly discussed
+and investigated. Every week the visiting committee go round the house,
+and enter every ward and store-room. They taste and test the provisions,
+and the least shortcoming is certain to be severely brought home to those
+who are fulfilling the contracts. They pass through the dormitories, and
+see that everything is clean; woe betide those responsible if a spot of
+dirt be visible! There is the further check of casual and unexpected
+visits from the guardians or magistrates. It is probable that not one
+crumb of bread consumed is otherwise than good, and that not one single
+crumb is wasted. The waste is in the system--and a gigantic waste it is,
+whether inevitable as some contend, or capable of being superseded by a
+different plan.
+
+Of every hundred pounds paid by the ratepayers how much is absorbed in the
+maintenance of the institution and its ramifications, and how very little
+reaches poor deserving Hodge! The undeserving and mean-spirited, of whom
+there are plenty in every village, who endeavour to live upon the parish,
+receive relief thrice as long and to thrice the amount as the
+hard-working, honest labourer, who keeps out to the very last moment. It
+is not the fault of the guardians, but of the rigidity of the law. Surely
+a larger amount of discretionary power might be vested in them with
+advantage! Some exceptional consideration is the just due of men who have
+worked from the morn to the very eve of life.
+
+The labourer whose decease was reported to the Board upon their assembling
+was born some seventy-eight or seventy-nine years ago. The exact date is
+uncertain; many of the old men can only fix their age by events that
+happened when they were growing from boys into manhood. That it must have
+been nearer eighty than seventy years since is known, however, to the
+elderly farmers, who recollect him as a man with a family when they were
+young. The thatched cottage stood beside the road at one end of a long,
+narrow garden, enclosed from the highway by a hedge of elder. At the back
+there was a ditch and mound with elm-trees, and green meadows beyond. A
+few poles used to lean against the thatch, their tops rising above the
+ridge, and close by was a stack of thorn faggots. In the garden three or
+four aged and mossgrown apple-trees stood among the little plots of
+potatoes, and as many plum-trees in the elder hedge. One tall pear-tree
+with scored bark grew near the end of the cottage; it bore a large crop of
+pears, which were often admired by the people who came along the road, but
+were really hard and woody. As a child he played in the ditch and hedge,
+or crept through into the meadow and searched in the spring for violets to
+offer to the passers-by; or he swung on the gate in the lane and held it
+open for the farmers in their gigs, in hope of a halfpenny.
+
+As a lad he went forth with his father to work in the fields, and came
+home to the cabbage boiled for the evening meal. It was not a very roomy
+or commodious home to return to after so many hours in the field, exposed
+to rain and wind, to snow, or summer sun. The stones of the floor were
+uneven, and did not fit at the edges. There was a beam across the low
+ceiling, to avoid which, as he grew older, he had to bow his head when
+crossing the apartment. A wooden ladder, or steps, not a staircase proper,
+behind the whitewashed partition, led to the bedroom. The steps were
+worm-eaten and worn. In the sitting-room the narrow panes of the small
+window were so overgrown with woodbine as to admit but little light. But
+in summer the door was wide open, and the light and the soft air came in.
+The thick walls and thatch kept it warm and cosy in winter, when they
+gathered round the fire. Every day in his manhood he went out to the
+field; every item, as it were, of life centred in that little cottage. In
+time he came to occupy it with his own wife, and his children in their
+turn crept through the hedge, or swung upon the gate. They grew up, and
+one by one went away, till at last he was left alone.
+
+He had not taken much conscious note of the changing aspect of the scene
+around him. The violets flowered year after year; still he went to plough.
+The May bloomed and scented the hedges; still he went to his work. The
+green summer foliage became brown and the acorns fell from the oaks; still
+he laboured on, and saw the ice and snow, and heard the wind roar in the
+old familiar trees without much thought of it. But those old familiar
+trees, the particular hedges he had worked among so many years, the very
+turf of the meadows over which he had walked so many times, the view down
+the road from the garden gate, the distant sign-post and the red-bricked
+farmhouse--all these things had become part of his life. There was no hope
+nor joy left to him, but he wanted to stay on among them to the end. He
+liked to ridge up his little plot of potatoes; he liked to creep up his
+ladder and mend the thatch of his cottage; he liked to cut himself a
+cabbage, and to gather the one small basketful of apples. There was a kind
+of dull pleasure in cropping the elder hedge, and even in collecting the
+dead branches scattered under the trees. To be about the hedges, in the
+meadows, and along the brooks was necessary to him, and he liked to be at
+work.
+
+Three score and ten did not seem the limit of his working days; he still
+could and would hoe--a bowed back is no impediment, but perhaps rather an
+advantage, at that occupation. He could use a prong in the haymaking; he
+could reap a little, and do good service tying up the cut corn. There were
+many little jobs on the farm that required experience, combined with the
+plodding patience of age, and these he could do better than a stronger
+man. The years went round again, and yet he worked. Indeed, the farther
+back a man's birth dates in the beginning of the present century the more
+he seems determined to labour. He worked on till every member of his
+family had gone, most to their last home, and still went out at times when
+the weather was not too severe. He worked on, and pottered round the
+garden, and watched the young green plums swelling on his trees, and did a
+bit of gleaning, and thought the wheat would weigh bad when it was
+threshed out.
+
+Presently people began to bestir themselves, and to ask whether there was
+no one to take care of the old man, who might die from age and none near.
+Where were his own friends and relations? One strong son had enlisted and
+gone to India, and though his time had expired long ago, nothing had ever
+been heard of him. Another son had emigrated to Australia, and once sent
+back a present of money, and a message, written for him by a friend, that
+he was doing well. But of late, he, too, had dropped out of sight. Of
+three daughters who grew up, two were known to be dead, and the third was
+believed to be in New Zealand. The old man was quite alone. He had no hope
+and no joy, yet he was almost happy in a slow unfeeling way wandering
+about the garden and the cottage. But in the winter his half-frozen blood
+refused to circulate, his sinews would not move his willing limbs, and he
+could not work.
+
+His case came before the Board of Guardians. Those who knew all about him
+wished to give him substantial relief in his own cottage, and to appoint
+some aged woman as nurse--a thing that is occasionally done, and most
+humanely. But there were technical difficulties in the way; the cottage
+was either his own or partly his own, and relief could not be given to any
+one possessed of 'property' Just then, too, there was a great movement
+against, out-door relief; official circulars came round warning Boards to
+curtail it, and much fuss was made. In the result the old man was driven
+into the workhouse; muttering and grumbling, he had to be bodily carried
+to the trap, and thus by physical force was dragged from his home. In the
+workhouse there is of necessity a dead level of monotony--there are many
+persons but no individuals. The dining-hall is crossed with forms and
+narrow tables, somewhat resembling those formerly used in schools. On
+these at dinner-time are placed a tin mug and a tin soup-plate for each
+person; every mug and every plate exactly alike. When the unfortunates
+have taken their places, the master pronounces grace from an elevated desk
+at the end of the hall.
+
+Plain as is the fare, it was better than the old man had existed on for
+years; but though better it was not his dinner. He was not sitting in his
+old chair, at his own old table, round which his children had once
+gathered. He had not planted the cabbage, and tended it while it grew, and
+cut it himself. So it was, all through the workhouse life. The dormitories
+were clean, but the ward was not his old bedroom up the worm-eaten steps,
+with the slanting ceiling, where as he woke in the morning he could hear
+the sparrows chirping, the chaffinch calling, and the lark singing aloft.
+There was a garden attached to the workhouse, where he could do a little
+if he liked, but it was not his garden. He missed his plum-trees and
+apples, and the tall pear, and the lowly elder hedge. He looked round
+raising his head with difficulty, and he could not see the sign-post, nor
+the familiar red-bricked farmhouse. He knew all the rain that had fallen
+must have come through the thatch of the old cottage in at least one
+place, and he would have liked to have gone and rethatched it with
+trembling hand. At home he could lift the latch of the garden gate and go
+down the road when he wished. Here he could not go outside the
+boundary--it was against the regulations. Everything to appearance had
+been monotonous in the cottage--but there he did not feel it monotonous.
+
+At the workhouse the monotony weighed upon him. He used to think as he lay
+awake in bed that when the spring came nothing should keep him in this
+place. He would take his discharge and go out, and borrow a hoe from
+somebody, and go and do a bit of work again, and be about in the fields.
+That was his one hope all through his first winter. Nothing else enlivened
+it, except an occasional little present of tobacco from the guardians who
+knew him. The spring came, but the rain was ceaseless. No work of the kind
+he could do was possible in such weather. Still there was the summer, but
+the summer was no improvement; in the autumn he felt weak, and was not
+able to walk far. The chance for which he had waited had gone. Again the
+winter came, and he now rapidly grew more feeble.
+
+When once an aged man gives up, it seems strange at first that he should
+be so utterly helpless. In the infirmary the real benefit of the workhouse
+reached him. The food, the little luxuries, the attention were far
+superior to anything he could possibly have had at home. But still it was
+not home. The windows did not permit him from his bed to see the leafless
+trees or the dark woods and distant hills. Left to himself, it is certain
+that of choice he would have crawled under a rick, or into a hedge, if he
+could not have reached his cottage.
+
+The end came very slowly; he ceased to exist by imperceptible degrees,
+like an oak-tree. He remained for days in a semi-unconscious state,
+neither moving nor speaking. It happened at last. In the grey of the
+winter dawn, as the stars paled and the whitened grass was stiff with hoar
+frost, and the rime coated every branch of the tall elms, as the milker
+came from the pen and the young ploughboy whistled down the road to his
+work, the spirit of the aged man departed.
+
+What amount of production did that old man's life of labour represent?
+What value must be put upon the service of the son that fought in India;
+of the son that worked in Australia; of the daughter in New Zealand, whose
+children will help to build up a new nation? These things surely have
+their value. Hodge died, and the very grave-digger grumbled as he delved
+through the earth hard-bound in the iron frost, for it jarred his hand and
+might break his spade. The low mound will soon be level, and the place of
+his burial shall not be known.
+
+
+
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