'THE common notion has been, that the mass of the people need no
other culture than is necessary to fit them for their various
trades; and though this error is passing away, it is far from
being exploded.'
'SELF-CULTURE:' CHANNING.
THE cultivation of the soil is the most easily learned of any
art. It is falsely supposed that a certain degree of obtuseness,
roughness, clod-hopper ignorance, is essential to the farmer;
that intelligence, refinement, and science are poorly applied to
agriculture. This is the impression that farmers themselves have;
and as a body they mistrust the advantages of education as applied
to their occupation. The cause of this impression may be traced
to the fact, that most of the scientific farmers sink money in
carrying on their farms, while they who doggedly plough, plant,
and dig, as their fathers did before them, lay up money yearly.
These successful men sneer at the gentleman-farmer, and deride his
science; and his yearly losses only confirm them the more strongly
in their previous habits. Now they might be told that this gentleman
farmer expects from the beginning to sink money; that he has taken
up the cultivation of the land for amusement, health, or scientific
experiment; that his object is not to make money, but to gratify
his taste, or perhaps benefit the general farming interest of the
country by his failures. It can easily be understood that a very
erroneous notion of the value of science, as applied to agriculture,
is likely to be drawn from such instances, and how the true farmer
comes to mistrust the spirit of modern improvement.
It is pretty well understood among farmers that no man can succeed
in their employment who hires his labor. The price of products is
so low that wages consume all the profits. And yet there is a great
deal of labor hired on the land by those who have lately begun to
cultivate it; and the farmer should know that these persons can
afford to lose five or six hundred dollars a year, and that they
expect to do so, while learning the art of country life, and still
be better off than they would had they continued in commerce at a
yearly loss of as many thousands.
Much surprise is often expressed by those unacquainted with the
facts, that the farm-houses of the country look so rough; that more
attention is not bestowed upon the cultivation of shade-trees and
pleasure-grounds. Why, they ask, are the houses unpainted? why is it
that the farmer's horse and cattle look as if they never felt the
curry-comb? His harness looks as if it were never washed, and the
owner himself only shaves on Sundays! Oh! farming must be a horrid
business! So dirty! such smells! and so slovenly! It will do well
enough in poetry and pictures, but Heaven preserve us from this
harrowing, dung-heaving life!
It must be confessed that the first business of the tiller of the
soil is to attend to his crops, his wheat-fields and corn-fields;
to think more of the fences around his pasture-lands than the
flower-garden before his house. He must think first of these, and
afterward of ornament. It must be confessed that the man who makes
money or who keeps his farm from running him in debt, 'in these
times,' must rise in the morning with his 'boys,' eat with them and
work with them. He must wear a coarse frock and thick boots, and
lead a rough but a healthful life. And we aver that the smell of the
barn-yard is like a bed of violets, when compared with the reeking
gutters of the city, and that the very gentlemen who take a pride
in eating cheese _all alive_, turn up their noses with a poor grace
of consistency at the earth-worms the plough-share turns up in the
furrow.
It is worse than idle for any man to expect to better his condition
in a pecuniary point of view, by turning gentleman farmer. If a
person have a fortune already, he may lay out pleasure-grounds,
fence in parks, make experiments in crops, try crosses in breeds of
cattle, and set out trees for shade and scenery, and thus gratify
his taste, and possibly make some discovery for others to benefit
by; but in his own case he will lose money; probably he expects it.
What would any one think of a gentleman warrior or gentleman poet?
that is, of a man who should hire all his fighting done or all his
verses made. If success only crowns individual, personal exertion in
all other matters, how is it that in this alone, in the primitive
occupation of mankind, men expect it, without putting their own hand
to the plough, and girding themselves for the labor? It is a common
remark among husbandmen that he who works with his 'hands' gets
double the amount of work out of them compared with him who only
gives his orders and waits until they are accomplished. The general
must lead his troops to victory; he must endanger his own life if
he would infuse bravery into the hearts of his soldiers; and this
principle is not inapplicable to the 'boss' of the farm.
The snow was not yet off the earth when Rufus Gilbert and his
companions reached their new home in Landsgrove. It was one of those
late seasons when winter departs tardily and reluctantly, but which
almost always repay the farmer by a year of abundance. Vegetation,
when it does begin to appear, shoots up as if by magic, and hardly
has the snow melted from off the hills before flowers are in blossom
all over the valleys. But we must attempt to give the reader some
idea of the situation of the place at which they had arrived.
The Green Mountains run north and south nearly in the centre of
the State of Vermont, on the west sloping toward Lake Champlain,
the Otter Creek river, and the eastern tributaries of the Hudson,
and on the east to the Connecticut river. The ascent begins on the
eastern side almost as soon as you leave the river. At whatever
point you attempt to cross the State, you meet hills which rise in
regular succession, until you reach the summit of the ridge. The
villages lie mostly in the valleys, although some are perched like
watch-towers on the elevations or table-lands of the mountains.
A small river runs through the southern part of the town of
Landsgrove, on its way to join the Connecticut. Here it rushes
through a narrow gap in the hills, in which its course was
undoubtedly once confined, where it formed a lake, now changed
into a broad extent of rich meadow land. All about this little
amphitheatre the hills rise, sometimes abruptly, and, on the north,
by regular steps or plats of table-land. It was upon one of these
latter that Rufus had built his house, fronting the south, and
overlooking the whole extent of the farm he had purchased.
Human contrivance could hardly have planned a situation so agreeable
to the eye, or one better suited to the purpose for which he had
made the purchase. Completely shut out from the rest of the world,
and yet near enough for all objects of trade and convenience, he
owned the whole of this little valley, with enough of the upland
for grazing. The widening of the river still left a small lake or
pond in the centre of his domain, well stocked by nature with the
daring trout which wanders fearlessly up the waterfalls in search of
food; and this little sheet of water added much to the beauty of the
prospect. The house, on an elevation itself, was protected by still
higher land from the cutting north winds, and the plain on which it
stood was just large enough for barns, out-buildings, and a garden
plat.
Our adventurers had enough to do from the very day of their arrival
to improve the snow-paths in drawing in their wood for the next
season; for the farmer must always be one year in advance of the
elements, and during one winter draws and cuts his wood for the
succeeding one. All hands were summoned to assist in this their
first united task. One felled the proper trees, taking care to leave
the sap-trees, the sugar-maple, untouched; others, the weaker, drove
the team and helped to load and unload, while the Stewarts cut the
wood into the proper sled length, eight feet. In this form it was
taken near the house and piled up, ready to be prepared, at odd
moments of time, for fuel. And even in this simple operation, at
the close of their first day's labor, they were all astonished at
the amount of work which had been accomplished. Each one, having
an allotted part to perform, acquired new skill every hour, and no
time was lost in changing from one kind of work to another. One
man, with the lever power, can lift large logs on to a sled, and do
his work alone; but he cannot do one fourth as much as four men can
perform in the same time, because he loses time in adjusting a more
complicated apparatus. He not only uses the lever, but rolls the
logs on an inclined plane, and these must be taken up and put down
again for every stick of timber, while the four men, at one effort,
lift it at once upon the sled. The mechanical powers enable one man
to do alone what he could not do at all without their assistance;
but the advantage of their application is by no means universal. On
ship-board they are of incalculable service, standing in the place
of seamen, whose maintenance and room is of great relative value;
for by means of the capstan, ten men can raise an anchor, which,
without it, one hundred men could not start; and two men will run up
a sail with a pulley, which would resist the strength of many hands.
Now any one can see that to keep one hundred men solely to raise the
anchor and run up the sails, and who could not in the intervals be
employed profitably otherwise, would be a great expense. But on a
farm, if it be large enough, no hour is lost; so that ten men united
will accomplish more than ten times as much as one man working
alone, with all the mechanical power he can bring to his assistance.
And as the mechanical powers when combined are capable by one pound
of power of lifting millions of pounds' weight, so the force,
strength, and capacities of men may be so arranged and systematized,
the second acting on the results of the first, and the third on the
second, and so on, to produce effects which individual actors would
never dream of.
Unimportant as this first effort of their united labor might seem,
all the young men were highly delighted with their success, and as
they met in the common hall of the house at supper, Ruth, Clara, and
the mother of the Stewarts had a story to tell about the expedition
with which all domestic affairs had been arranged. One had taken
supervision of the sleeping-rooms, another of the kitchen furniture,
and a third had arranged the library, as it was called, a room which
was to answer the threefold purpose of school-room, chapel, and
lecture-hall. The woodmen returned to find every thing in order,
a plentiful supper spread for their repast, and smiling faces all
around the board; as people are always cheerful when they have done
good actions.
Rufus Gilbert, as he sat at the head of the full table, for they
numbered fourteen souls, and glanced at the happy countenances of
his friends, felt as if his experiment was no longer doubtful. The
party lingered long over the table, which each one might feel was
his own, talking of the various duties of the next day, of the
friends they had left; and the infant delight of two orphan children
Rufus had brought with him, whom the novelty of the scene excited
to ask a thousand questions, was not repressed amid the general
satisfaction. Their impressions were listened to with attention,
their inquiries answered, and the little fellows became careful what
they said, when they found that their careless words were replied to
in earnest. At length, when the company had separated for the night,
all except Rufus and Philip, who were too full of hope to regard
fatigue, the two young men drew together before the fire, to compare
their impressions of their progress, each afraid to speak first,
lest the other should think him extravagant; but Philip could not be
silent.
'The happiest day of my life!' at length broke from him.
'And of mine!' responded Rufus.
'Brother, friend, let us thank God for this hour!' said Philip,
grasping the hand of Rufus, 'for preserving us along our journey,
for bringing us together to this peaceful home, in health and
strength; for my heart is too full for any words but prayer.'
'Most cheerfully and devoutly,' said Rufus. And the brothers knelt
together, and Philip prayed for all beneath their roof; and not
alone for them, but for the poor, the oppressed, the ignorant, and
the destitute in all lands. They rose from their knees calmer and
better prepared to talk together.
'I have read somewhere,' said Rufus in the course of their
conversation, 'and the remark struck me as forcible at the time,
that men ought to mistrust too favorable beginnings. If in any
undertaking every thing goes very smoothly at first, if no obstacles
meet you, no misgivings cloud you, you may be sure there is
something wrong in your plan. And this quaint writer then remarks,
to support his theory, that the early blossoms are apt to be nipped
by the frost.'
'And the Scripture hath it still more pointedly; indeed, what very
wise or very true saying has not a parallel passage in the Bible?
I have often thought that a most interesting book might be made,
showing how much even Shakspere accords with the sacred page.'
'The Bible was once read more thoughtfully than it is now,' said
Rufus; 'it made a more important part of the instruction of the
youth; its words fell with a deeper accent upon the heart of the
young man; it was handled reverently and read devoutly. Shakspere
must have been familiar with it, or himself divinely inspired.'
'Then you argue failure from our happiness to-night,' said Philip.
'No, but let us study caution; you did not hear me out, for I have a
commentary to make. Early success makes men heedless; obstacles and
difficulties render them thoughtful and wary. But it is better not
to be excited with our first gains, and then we shall have no need
of this severe training. Think of this. I will think of it myself;
good night' Having succeeded in cooling his own ardor by attempting
to bring Philip's feelings down to temperate heat, with a meaning
smile on his face, Rufus retired to repose.