country living are far less than in England, the countryman who goes to
town is less likely to wish himself back on the farm than is the
town-bred farmer to long for the comforts and conveniences of his former
condition.
"Man is a social animal," and the aphorism is especially true of his
wife and daughter. As the lives of the wife and daughter are much more
confined to the immediate surroundings of the domicile than is that of
the man himself, so the question as between town and country should be
considered more especially with reference to them.
There is a certain amount of truth on both sides of every question; and
the one which we are now considering is not to be answered by a decision
in favor of the heart of a great city, or of the entire solitude of an
outlying farm. As is so often the case, its solution lies between the
two extremes. If one may be permitted to imagine the conditions best
suited to the perfect physical, intellectual, and social development of
the human being, one would naturally think of a small town or a large
village where society is sufficient, where the facilities for
instruction are good, where communication with the large centres is
easy, where the conveniences and facilities for household economy are
complete, and where the country with its beauty and quiet and freshness
is close at hand,--where one feels on this side the influence of a
complete social organization, and on that the sweet breath of mother
earth.
Unfortunately, these imaginings can never be freed from the practical
bearing of the bread-winning and money-making interests. Men must live,
not where they prefer to live, but where their interests compel them to
live. The town and the country have their mutual economic duties by
which their life must be controlled. All that we can hope to do is, on
one hand, to ameliorate the hardness and solitude of country living,
and, on the other, to bring the citizen into nearer relation with the
invigorating fields and woods and boundless air of the country.
Devising no modern Sybaris, where all possible good of life may follow
from the unaided operation of a perfect social and industrial
organization, I propose to confine myself to the simple question of the
best practical development of village life for farmers. The village or
its immediate vicinity seems to me to offer the urbanist the nearest
approach to the country that is available for his purposes; and in like
manner village life, so far as it can be made to fit his conditions,
offers to the farmer as much of the benefit of town life as the needs of
his work will allow him to obtain. If those who now seek the pleasures
of retirement in costly and soul-wearying country-seats would congregate
into spacious and well-kept villages, and if those who now live in the
solitary retirement of the mud-bound farmhouse would congregate into
villages, we should secure far more relief from the confinement of the
town and a wider-reaching attractiveness in agricultural life; this
latter leading to the improvement of our farming by a solution of that
long-mooted problem, "How to keep the boys on the farm."
Nearly everywhere on the Continent of Europe those who are engaged in
the cultivation of the land live in villages. An observation of the
modes of life and industry of these villages has led me to consider
whether some similar system might not tend to the improvement of the
conditions of our own farmers, and to the amelioration of some hardships
to which their families are subjected.
In Europe, as here, the methods of living have grown from natural
causes. There it was a necessary condition of agricultural industry,
that those who tilled the soil should be protected by the military
power of their lord or chief; and their houses were clustered under the
shadow of his castle wall. The castles have crumbled away, and the
protecting arm of the old baron has been replaced by the protecting arm
of the nation.
The community of living, which grew from necessity, having proved its
fitness by long trial, is still maintained; but there seems to have been
no general tendency toward the formation of such little communities
here. Save in a few exceptional cases,--as in the old villages of the
Connecticut Valley, where protection against Indians or safety from
inundation compelled the original settlers to gather into
communities,--the pioneer built his cabin in his new clearing, and, as
his circumstances improved, changed his cabin for a house, and his small
house for a larger one, and finally established his comfortable home in
connection with his fertile fields. This method has been adopted
throughout the whole country; and the peculiarly American system of
isolated farm-life has become almost universal throughout the length and
breadth of the land.
I am not so enthusiastic as to believe that a radical change from this
universal system is to be hoped for at any early day; but I believe that
it is worth while for farmers to consider how far they may, without
permanent harm to the interests for which they are working, secure for
themselves, and especially for their families, the benefits of village
life.
To this end are adduced the following examples, both of which are of
course purely imaginary. The first has reference to a new settlement of
wild land, where, by the Government's system of division, the boundaries
are rectangular, and where the political subdivisions are of uniform
measurement. The second relates to the necessary change of conditions
now existing in the longer-settled parts of the country.
For this latter, the illustration is taken from an actual accurate
survey[1] of a purely agricultural district in Rhode Island, showing the
roads, houses, and field boundaries as they now exist, followed by a
suggestion as to the manner in which the same division of estates might
be made to conform to the assembling of their owners into a village.
[Footnote 1: A map of the United States Coast Survey.]
The Government division is into townships six miles square. It is
proposed to divide each township into nine settlements, giving to each a
square of two miles, or 2,560 acres. Each of these settlements should
have its whole population concentrated in a village at its centre. A
suitable method of division would be that indicated in Figure 11, where
a public road crosses the middle of the tract north and south, and east
and west. The outside of the tract, for the width of half a mile all
around, is laid off in farms of 80 acres and 160 acres. These are
bounded on the inner sides by a road. Inside of this road again is a
series of smaller farms (40 acres), and inside of these a tier of still
smaller places (10 acres), separated from the central village by a
narrow road. The village itself occupies 40 acres.
The division of the agricultural land is as follows:--
4 farms of 160 acres 640
16 " 80 " 1,280
12 " 40 " 480
12 " 10 " 120
in all, 44 tracts, aggregating 2,520 acres, and averaging nearly 60
acres each, the most distant being less than a mile from the village
green. This division is arbitrary; in practice, the more industrious
members of the community would buy land from their less industrious
neighbors, and the size and arrangement of the farms would vary. Often,
too, the division would be into farms averaging more than sixty acres.
In such cases there would usually be about the same population, as the
larger holders would employ more workmen.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.--DIVISION OF FOUR SQUARE MILES WITH CENTRAL
VILLAGE.]
What is attempted is chiefly to show how four square miles of land may
be so divided that its occupiers may be conveniently gathered into a
village; and it may fairly be assumed, that, except in the more remote
grazing and grain-growing regions, the population (including laborers)
would generally be about one household for each sixty acres. In the more
thickly settled regions, this limit is exceeded now; and, as population
increases, this condition will extend. In any case, the principle
advanced remains the same, whether there be thirty households or sixty.
A suitable division of the village is shown in Figure 12. Its centre is
occupied by a public square at the intersection of the main roads. The
road surrounds a piece of ornamental ground, containing about one acre.
North and south of the square are the sites of two churches, a
schoolhouse, and a store and public house. This is again arbitrary; the
purpose is to have these spaces occupied by somewhat important
buildings, which it will not be necessary to enclose by fences, so that
an appearance of more size may be given to the central feature of the
village.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.--DIVISION OF THE CENTRAL VILLAGE.]
The spaces set apart for these buildings, as well as the village green,
should be surrounded by regularly planted trees, such as will grow to a
large size, like the American elm. But the whole open space should
remain otherwise free from planting. Smooth, well-kept grass, and large
trees planted in formal lines, with an entire absence of fences, posts,
chains, bushes, and all decorations, will give a dignity and character
which an excess of ornamentation would spoil. A certain amount of
judicious bedding would be permissible, but it would be best that even
this should be confined to private places. Any fund available for
embellishing the village green will be best used in keeping its grass
cut and its walks clean,--entire neatness and simplicity being its most
effective characteristics.
On the streets leading east and west from the green there are shown
sixteen lots 100 X 250 (one-half acre), eight 50 X 250 (one-quarter
acre). These lots all open on narrow lanes at the rear. On the streets
leading north and south there are twelve lots 50 X 650 (three-quarters
acre), and eight lots 100 X 650 (one and one-half acres). These are the
village lots proper, but the twelve ten-acre tracts which front on its
surrounding street would be the residences of their owners; and these
semi-detached houses--the most distant not a quarter of a mile from the
green--would form a part of the village, and come within the operation
of its rules of association. Probably the blacksmith, the wheelwright,
and the builder would occupy these outlying places, with an "annex" of
farming to supplement their trades.
The village lots proper are all large enough for a kitchen-garden, barn,
barn-yard, &c.; and all have means of access from the rear, so that
their street fronts may be kept for ornamental purposes.
It would be a good rule that no house should stand nearer to the street
line than thirty feet, and that no fence should be made nearer to the
street than sixty feet. This would add very much to the largeness of
appearance of the whole village; would decorate every street with the
ornamental fronts of the houses and with their plants and shrubbery, and
would, at the same time, shut off from the ornamental parts every thing
belonging to the working department of the village life. Even the baker
and the shoemaker should conform to this rule, and their shops should be
made to help the neatness of appearance of the village.
The larger farmers, having the most cattle, would occupy the largest
lots, which would readily accommodate their larger needs. The more
ambitious of them would probably buy land, for night pasture or for
cultivation, from a ten-acre neighbor opposite their rear line.
The village population would be somewhat as follows: two clergymen, one
doctor, one teacher, one baker, one shoemaker, one tailor, two
store-keepers, one carpenter, one wheelwright, one blacksmith, one
dressmaker, one innkeeper, forty-four farmers: total, fifty-eight heads
of families. Probably, including hired laborers and servants, the
average would be six persons to each household. This would make the
population of the village about 350. No part of the whole scheme is more
arbitrary than this arrangement of its human element; and no part of it
would be more modified in different cases by the element of human
nature. Still, this sketch of the industrial division of the community
would probably be approximated in any purely agricultural village of
this size,--with such changes in the detail as would come from
individual enterprise or indolence.
Taking the whole area at 2,560 acres, and the population at 350
persons, we have an area of about 7-1/3 acres to furnish the support and
home of each member of the community,--an amount ample for the purpose.
Figure 13 suggests the arrangement of the central open space of the
village,--all of which should be in well-kept grass, except where roads
and paths are needed. Paths should be reduced to the least amount that
will furnish the necessary accommodation, and they should be kept in
neat condition. If no provision can be made for this, it will be better
to leave the people to beat their own tracks across the grass as their
needs direct. These beaten foot-paths are never unsightly (in small
villages), for the reason that they are never large, and that they are
only of such width as their regular use will keep clean: the grass
maintains its effort to spread, and grows always close up to the
necessary foot-way. Even in Hyde Park (London), where the people have
made short cuts across the broad lawns, the paths thus marked out, and
receiving no attention, are not only unobjectionable, but are a charming
feature of that beautiful pleasure-ground.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.--DIVISION OF THE CENTRAL OPEN SPACE OF THE
VILLAGE.]
The foot-path indicated for the village green will be demanded by the
more ambitious village improvers; but were I making an ideal village for
moderate and tasteful people, the road surrounding the green should
enclose only a level, close-cropped lawn, neatly trimmed at its edges,
surrounded by fine and simple trees, and traced here and there with the
foot-paths that honest use had marked out and made, and by the
suggestive diamond-shaped track and bases of the village base-ball club.
It should be perfect in grade, in outline, in regularity of planting,
and in mowing; but it should be a perfect lawn _plus_ the wear of
constant use and frequent pleasure.
* * * * *
The second example is taken from existing conditions in my own
neighborhood. The United States Coast Survey has furnished all the
necessary details save the _farm_ boundaries. The field boundaries and
roads are exact.
The tract is of the same size with the one just considered,--two miles
square. Its centre is in one direction about two miles from a small
village, and in the other about seven miles from a large town which
furnishes the chief market for its agricultural products, and is the
source of all (or nearly all) of its supplies.
[Illustration: FIG. 14.--PRESENT DIVISION AND SETTLEMENT OF TRACT IN
RHODE ISLAND, TWO MILES SQUARE.]
Figure 14 shows the present settlement of this area, the houses, about
sixty in number, being scattered over the whole tract, with no near
approach to a "neighborhood" at any point. These are practically all
farmers' houses, some trade being carried on here and there in
connection with the farm-work. A few of the houses belong to farms
which lie mainly outside of my lines. Deducting a fair proportion for
this, and others for the wheelwright, blacksmith, &c., we shall have
about the same number of farmers as in the former instance, say
forty-four; and, taking the same area for the village, we shall have the
same amount of farm and village property for their support.
Figure 15 shows a suitable division of property and the location of the
village, on a short cross street running from one to the other of the
main public roads, and extending a short distance up and down these
roads.
It would be a necessary condition precedent, that the whole property
taken for the village should be set apart for the purpose. This
requirement and the cost of moving buildings from the farms to the
village would doubtless be an serious obstacle to the immediate carrying
out of the plan. And thus the theory must long remain a theory only. No
sudden change of the sort could be made in practice.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.--THE RHODE ISLAND TRACT, WITH ITS BUILDINGS
GATHERED INTO A COMPACT VILLAGE.]
It would not be impossible, however, to bring about the end in time, if
a few of the larger proprietors could secure possession of the village
tract by exchange, and would dedicate it to the purpose, agreeing at any
future time to sell small lots for building at a fixed low rate. In the
instance under consideration, the village tract is thinly settled, and
so situated as to be available at moderate cost. If a church, a
schoolhouse, and a store could be established as a nucleus of the
village, the young couples of the neighborhood might incline to settle
there; and in time the settlement could be made so attractive--as
compared with the outlying farmhouses--as to lead to the concentration
of the whole population.
This part of the subject is, however, foreign to the present purpose. If
the _desirability_ of village life for farmers can be established, the
ways and means may safely be left to those interested in securing it.
The influences now at work to make the farmers' children seek a better
social condition, together with the necessity which confines them to
some form of agricultural work, must be depended on to secure the relief
suggested, unless some better relief can be found.
In this case, as in every other of village construction, the original
plan should include some quality or feature, which, while appropriate to
the modest end in view, will give character to the place.
Every village has in its situation, its uses, or its origin, some
characteristic which may be developed into a leading and an attractive
feature. Especially when the work is to be begun from the foundation,
and when there are no buildings to be torn down or removed, a consistent
and dignified result may be planned for at the outset.
The characteristic feature of the village we are now considering is that
it is to consist of a single long, straight street cut off at each end
by other roads. After removing one unimportant house, there remains no
obstacle to the laying-out of one straight street two hundred feet wide,
with either two or four rows of spreading elms. This street, two
thousand feet long, mainly in well-kept grass, with only the necessary
width of road and the requisite paths,--having perhaps a well-kept and
home-like private place opposite each of its ends,--would stamp the
village at once with an attraction which would have a constant
civilizing effect on those living under its influence.
Such a village street, entirely without costly ornamentation, and
requiring only the simplest care, would soon take on a look of
appropriate neatness and freshness; and, as the trees grew, it would
acquire a dignity and beauty which could in no other way be so well
secured.
The church and the schoolhouse, being placed in broad recesses opposite
the central point of the street, would gain importance from their
position; and, these main features being attended to, the _character_ of
the village would be fixed, and it would be difficult to make any
arrangement of its private places which would spoil its beauty. Neatness
and a reasonable care in the matter of house-gardening, the planting of
flower-beds, vines, etc., are all that would be needed.
With so wide a street, it would be as well to bring all house-fronts to
the street line, completing this line with simple fences, and paying
some attention to the ornamentation of the enclosed yards.
In this village, as in the other, all meretricious ornamentation should
be avoided, whether public or private. All money available for such
improvement should be spent in securing perfect neatness. In fact, the
two radical requirements of good taste in all such cases are an absence
of obvious money-spending, and the evidence of constant care and
attention. "Showiness" is common in every trumpery village in the land.
What we should seek in our farm-villages is the most modest simplicity,
shining with the polish of an affectionate care. Every spot should
breathe of homely influences and moral peacefulness.
[Illustration: FIG. 16.--PROPOSED ARRANGEMENT OF THE RHODE ISLAND FARM
VILLAGE.]
Figure 16 shows the general plan of the village. If other public
buildings are needed, they might very well be placed opposite the ends
of the main street.
It is not possible, in remodelling an old farming district, where
boundaries and roads are irregular, to apportion the division of land
among the population with especial reference to its distance from the
village; so, for example, that the small farmers, who have little
team-force, shall not have so far to go as the larger ones who are
better equipped; but, even in this case, the most distant farm will be
rarely a mile from the village, where all the farmers, their families,
and their work-people, and their flocks and herds, would be gathered
together, under the best circumstances for getting out of their lives as
much good as the need for earning a living by arduous work will allow
them to get anywhere,--more than they could hope to get in the isolation
of the distant farmhouse.
Having now considered the methods by which farmers may congregate their
homes and their farm-buildings, and live in villages, let us take up
the more important question of policy.
Which would be better for a young man, just starting in life with a
young wife,--to go to a distant farmhouse to found his home, or to
settle in a well-ordered farm-village under substantially the conditions
described above?
There is much more to be said, on both sides of this question, than
there is room to say here; but certain points are worthy of
consideration.
There is no doubt that in a strictly money-making aspect there is an
advantage in having the animals on the land from which they are fed, and
the men on the farm which they are to work. It is certain, also, that
the men and the women must be near the stables, that the early and late
work of feeding and milking may be promptly and regularly performed. If
the family is to live in the village, the cattle must live in the
village too. This involves the hauling home of all the hay and grain,
and the hauling out again of all manure,--no slight task. If the work is
all concentrated on the farm, under the immediate supervision of the
farmer, there will be a certain convenience and economy of time.
The same principle holds true in all other relations. The merchant would
find a certain advantage in living at his warehouse, the engine-builder
at his factory, the cotton-spinner at his mill, the carpenter at his
shop, and the grocer at his store. All of these have found that, so far
as may be, they get certain other and greater advantages in living away
from their business. One and all carry to their homes, at least
occasionally, books, papers, and plans for work that needs attention out
of the regular business hours.
The farmer alone--and in this country especially--disregards the
benefits of living away from his shop, and passes his whole life--day
and night--in close contact with his field of operations. He might, if
he chose, make his home nearer to other homes, taking with him so much
of his work as is not necessarily confined to the farm.
For his own sake, it does not make so much difference; but for the sake
of his wife and children it makes all the difference between life and
stagnation. The business needs which call him to town, and the habit he
has of passing his evenings at "the store," give him a certain
amount--and a certain kind--of social intercourse which keeps him from
absolute rust. The amount of society available for his family is not
usually great, and the dulness and confinement of farmhouse life need no
description.