SMALL FARMING.
“See the results of the judicious application of capital,” said my
father, one fine spring day, when I rode with him and Mr. Malton round
the thriving property of the latter. After enjoying the view of the
manifold tokens of prosperity which surrounded us, we were struck by the
appearance of a field which looked by far less flourishing than any we
had seen.
“What is the matter here, sir?” said my father. “What have you been
doing to keep back this field while all the rest have been improving?”
“Pray do not take this field for one of mine. It belongs to neighbour
Norton; and I am afraid that, cheap as he has bought it, he will find it
a dear bargain.”
“I feared,” said my father, “that he would not have sufficient capital
to keep his land in good condition.”
“Look here,” said Mr. Malton, “this next field is his too, and there he
is among the labourers. You may know him now, poor fellow, by his shabby
looks. Those labourers are mine, and they appear more creditable, every
one, than he. And there is not one of them that does not live in a
better house than that of his. That is his cottage yonder. What a
tumble-down place for a landed proprietor to live in! Better call
one’s-self a labourer, in my opinion, and have plenty to eat, and a
whole roof over one’s head, than pinch and starve for the sake of owning
a couple of fields.”
“Yes, indeed. But how does it happen that your labourers are at work in
his field?”
“Why, you see the thing is this. He cannot afford a team to plough his
field, and he has not sheep to eat off the crop of turnips, (if he had
one,) and to manure it; so he meant to let the land be fallow. I thought
this a great pity, so I offered to plough and sow it, if my sheep were
allowed to eat off the turnips; by this plan he will have his land
manured, and returned to him in a good state, while I shall have an
equal advantage on account of my sheep.”
“Surely,” said I, “people who cannot afford a team and a flock of sheep
should not attempt to farm?”
“To be sure they should not, Miss Lucy; and much less to have land of
their own. And in these days, when tillage has been so much improved, it
is utterly impossible that a man who has little money at command can
bring his crops to market on the same terms with one who has much. You
have no idea of the great expense of making land as productive as it can
be made.”
“I have heard,” I replied, “that many noblemen and rich gentlemen, who
are fond of agriculture, have lost thousands upon thousands of pounds in
trying new plans upon their lands.”
“Aye, aye; that is in trying experiments, for which we farmers are much
obliged to them, I am sure. We look on while they are making the trial,
and have the benefit of their experience. If they succeed, we adopt
their plans; if they fail, we take warning. If the small farmers would
look on too, they would learn a good lesson; they would see how
impossible it is to make the most of land without money, or labour,
which is money’s worth.”
“In these days,” said my father, “when so much advantage is gained by
the division of labour, no one man, and no one family, can do justice to
a farm, be it ever so small. It is incalculable what is gained by
substituting division of labour for division of land. In former times,
Lucy, the proprietor or occupier of thirty or forty acres was thought a
substantial farmer. He and his family performed all the requisite
labour, even down to making his implements, except, perhaps, the plough.
His rickety harrow was stuck full of wooden teeth; the harness was made
of withy, or of horse-hair, twisted at home. The wicker baskets, the
wooden spoons, the beechen bowls, were made by the men in the winter’s
evenings; while the wife and daughters carded, and spun, and wove the
wool of the flock.”
“But was not the change from those ways to the present very gradual?”
“Yes. The division of labour began in the towns, and farmers found the
advantage of buying their utensils and clothing before they put the
division of labour in practice in their tillage. They knew little yet of
the advantage of providing a succession of employments on their farms,
or of portioning out the work to the best advantage. The work of tillage
all came on at once; two or three teams were required for a short time,
and then the horses were done with, and turned out to graze till
harvest, and the plough was laid up till the following spring, and the
men, after being excessively busy, looked round for something to do. Now
one team suffices for the same quantity of land, as the crops are
successive, and a much smaller amount of labour, continually employed,
achieves more than under the old system of husbandry.”
“But surely this is a division of time, and not of labour.”
“I was going to add, my dear, that the two advantages can be combined on
a large farm, while they cannot on a small one. Norton does what he can
by arranging a succession of labour, but its division is out of his
power, while Mr. Malton practises both.”
“You may see Norton,” said Mr. Malton “one day hedging and ditching,
another time getting lime for manure, and then obliged to look after his
few sheep while the land is wanting him; the ploughing, sowing, cutting,
and threshing, all resting on him: while on my farm such of these things
as ought to be done at the same time, are so done, while yet there is a
constant succession of employments for men and cattle. You may see
lime-burners, drainers, hedgers, shepherds, cowherds, hogherds,
ploughmen, and threshers, all busy, helping on the grand work, and
nothing standing still. We do not leave one piece of land neglected
while we take care of another: every rood is improved; the waste brought
into cultivation; the cultivated enriched, and used for one purpose one
year, and for another the next. This is the way to make farming answer.”
My father observed that it was a proof what could be done by the
vigorous application of capital, when fallows were banished from some
districts. Mr. Malton replied, “Our ancestors would scarcely have been
persuaded that that was possible; and some folks abroad will hardly
believe, at this day, that our best husbandry is found on our poorest
soils. But it is a fact, and a glorious fact, because it shows what
labour, and capital, and skill can do. If the land had been to this time
in the hands of little farmers, this would not, and could not, have been
done. What little farmer would ever have covered his whole farm with
marl, at the rate of a hundred or a hundred and fifty tons an acre? How
should such a man as Norton drain his land at the expense of two or
three pounds an acre? Can he pay a heavy price for the manure of towns,
and convey it thirty or forty miles by land carriage? Can he float his
meadows at the cost of five pounds an acre? It cannot be, you see, that
any very small capitalist can compete with a large one.”
My father observed, that convertible husbandry was quite out of the
question on Norton’s property.
“To be sure,” replied Mr. Malton. “You see, Miss Lucy, it used to be the
way for one man to own a certain extent of corn land, and another of
pasturage; and, in those days, they did not see the advantage (which is
a very important one) of making the corn land into pasture, and growing
grain on the grazing land: and this plan can be pursued only by those
who have large flocks, as well as a good deal of both sorts of land.
Then, again, a farmer must grow a great variety of crops, and maintain
all sorts of animals useful in husbandry, in order to make the most of
every thing that is produced; for soil of different qualities produces
different crops, and these crops feed different flocks and herds; and
they must all change and change about continually.”
“What has been your course here?” inquired my father, pointing to a fine
piece of grass-land.
“A five years’ course. First year, turnips—second, barley, laid down
with clover—third, grass to cut—fourth, grass to feed—fifth, wheat. Next
year, we begin with turnips again.”
“I suppose,” said I, “it costs a great deal to keep your flocks and
herds, independent of their food?”
“More in one year than Norton has to lay out on his whole concern: and
one had need have capital for this part of one’s business; for the
profitable management of live stock is by far the most difficult branch
of farming. But see what capital and skill have done here too! It is a
great thing that improved tillage has doubled the quantity of fodder
raised upon any extent of soil: but it is a yet greater that double the
quantity of animal food can now be sent to market as the produce of the
same quantity of fodder.”
“And is this really the case?”
“It is, indeed; and all owing to the attention paid to the breeding and
rearing of cattle by those who could afford to try new methods.”
“The improvement in the implements of husbandry,” observed my father,
“is not less remarkable; and this we owe to the large farmer.”
“It is at our cost,” said Mr. Malton, “that new and improved implements,
and men to use them, have been sent for from one end of the kingdom to
the other. Some have sent their men into distant counties or abroad, to
learn new methods of tillage. What folly it is to suppose that little
farmers can farm to the same advantage as people who can adopt all these
improvements!”
“If all our farmers were men of little capital,” observed my father, “we
should have much less variety of produce in the market, and should
therefore be liable to famines, as in old times.”
“I have often wondered,” said I, “why we are free from those
apprehensions of famine which disturbed our forefathers so often.”
“It would have been well if they had suffered from nothing worse than
the apprehension, my dear. Our ancestors cultivated little besides
grain; and a bad season cut off all their crops at once: while, at
present, what is fatal to one crop, may not injure another; so that our
supply of food is not only more varied and agreeable, but it is no
longer precarious. We can form no idea in these days of the intense
interest with which harvest weather was watched three centuries ago.”
“We farmers were not ridiculed then for grumbling about weather,” said
Mr. Malton, laughing; “for we had the whole nation grumbling with us in
a wet season or a drought.—There is another consideration which we have
not mentioned. As small capitalists cannot wait for their money, the
supply of corn in the market would be very irregular if it depended upon
them. They must bring their corn to market and sell it at once.”
“Then I suppose,” said I, “that in plentiful years there would be too
much, and in unfavourable seasons too little, if we had no rich steward,
like Joseph, to garner it up, and distribute it as it is wanted?”
“Not only that,” said my father, “but there would be too much every
autumn for the good of the farmers, and too little every spring for the
good of the people. It is always a pretty certain thing that as much of
a good article as can be brought to market will be consumed; but the
price, while it is plentiful, would fall so low as to injure the
producer; while afterwards, when the people are in want, the producer
would have nothing to bring to market. Thus it would be if all were
small capitalists; but now, large capitalists, who can afford to wait
for their returns, keep back their corn in plentiful seasons; for which
those who are compelled to sell are much obliged to them; and the people
are no less obliged to them for regulating the supply.”
Mr. Malton looked pleased at this acknowledgment of the obligation the
community are under to large farmers.
“So you see, Lucy,” said my father, “that if it were not for large
farming, our moors and morasses, and indeed all our inferior soils,
would still have been barren: we should have been liable to frequent
scarcities; our breeds of cattle would not have improved; and we should
have no idea how prolific the soil might be made, or how incalculable a
sum of human life may be sustained by it. If the people who rail against
the owners of large productive capitals could but be convinced of this,
they would soon grow ashamed of their complaints.”
“Perhaps so, father; but surely it is hard upon the small farmer to go
down in the world in spite of all his labour; and it does not seem fair
that he should be driven out of the market by his neighbours because he
begins the world with less capital than they.”
“Begging your pardon, my dear, that is a more foolish remark than I
should have expected from you. When we reason upon subjects of this
kind, it is not our business to take the part of one class against
another, but to discover what is for the general good; which is, in the
long-run, the same as the good of individuals. We are not now taking the
part of the large farmers against the small (though Mr. Malton is riding
beside us), nor of the small against the large (though we are full of
pity for poor Norton); but the question is, how the most regular and
plentiful supply of food can be brought to market? If it be clear that
this is done by cultivation on an extensive scale, we ought not to wish
for the continuance of small landed properties, but rather that their
owners may apply their labour and capital where they will meet with a
better return. We are all sorry for the little farmers, and nobody more
so than Mr. Malton; but the more clearly we see that they suffer through
a mistake, the more anxious we must be that the mistake should be
rectified.”
“I am sure,” said Mr. Malton, “it gives me great concern to see a man
like Norton growing poorer and poorer every year; but I know that it is
partly his own fault, because he must see that his mode of tillage can
never answer. If I had his lot now in my own hands, I would serve him,
not by doing anything to his two fields, but by employing him on good
wages. In the one case the help I should give would be all at an end in
a year or two; in the other, he would soon be in possession of the
comforts of life, and might lay by a provision for his old age; while,
at the same time, he would be serving me and society at large by giving
up his land to be made more productive.”
“I am aware,” said I, “that an industrious labourer is a benefactor to
society.”
“And what more honourable title need a man desire?” exclaimed my father.
“Is it not better to deserve this title, and to possess the comforts of
life, than to starve on the empty name of a landed proprietor?”
“But is it not a hard thing,” I persisted, “for a man who is born to a
few acres to give them up? I do not pretend to justify Norton’s
ambition. He might have been content as he was; but it must cost a man a
severe struggle to part with his fifty or hundred acres when his fathers
tilled them before him.”
“I have no doubt of it, my dear. Such a man should consider what his
plan of life is to be. If he has only himself to care for, and a little
capital in his pocket, let him remain upon his land, keep it up, and
improve it by the saving of his returns if he can. If he has not capital
to do this, his duty to the public requires that he should not let his
property degenerate. If he has a family to provide for, it becomes his
duty to do his best for them—even at the expense of his pride, if need
be.”
“His pride should be,” said Mr. Malton, “to maintain his children in
decency and comfort; this is a pride worth having.”
“After all,” said my father, “it is not so much that a man loses his
rank in these days by becoming a labourer, as that the employment of a
labourer has become more honourable than formerly.”
“There is one question more,” said I, “that I want to ask; and it is,
why there should be a scarcity in a bad season, even if all our farms
were small? If, in other countries, there is more corn grown than is
wanted, why should not we supply ourselves from them? Would not it be a
mutual advantage?”
My father smiled as he replied,
“You have no idea on what a wide subject your question touches. If I
were to tell you all the whys and wherefores on that question, we should
not have done by dinner-time.”
“If you are getting upon the Corn Laws,” said Mr. Malton, “it is time I
was wishing you good morning.”
“Not till I have spoken to you about a little affair in which I want
your advice,” said my father. “I will not detain you five minutes.”
While they were talking, I endeavoured to discover what there was
remarkable in my question. It seemed to me the simplest thing in the
world that if there was too much corn in one country and too little in
another, the want of the one should be supplied from the abundance of
the other. While I was meditating, my father called out,
“Come, Lucy, your horse is in a reverie as well as yourself, and we
shall see you both fall presently, if you do not wake up. Mr. Malton
says, ‘Good day,’ and we must make the best of our way home; so now for
a canter.”
We cantered till we reached the village.
Miss Black’s window looked very gay at this time. She had been to M—— to
see the fashions at the rooms of a milliner who had been to see the
fashions in London. The caps and bonnets were of quite a new make; and
there were smarter ribbons and flowers than I had ever seen at Brooke
before. She had also another apprentice, and had lately enlarged her
show-room.
“I wonder what has happened to Miss Black!” I observed. “She really
makes a grand display now.”
“A very good thing has happened to her, I fancy,” said my father. “She
has more customers, and those customers are richer. Those gay hats and
caps came out of Mr. Malton’s hedges and ditches, if you know what I
mean by that.”
I supposed he meant that some new families had come to settle at Brooke
on account of the demand for labourers; but I should not have thought
they were people who could spend their wages in millinery.
“Nor are they,” said my father, in answer to my doubt; “but they spend
their wages in bread, milk, beer, meat, and groceries; and, at the same
time, cottagers who lived on potatoes formerly are rising in the world,
so as to be able to afford themselves these comforts. Their custom helps
on the butcher, the baker, and the publican; and Harper told me the
other day that he sells twice the quantity of groceries that he did five
years ago. So the wives and daughters of these trades-people can afford
to dress themselves in Miss Black’s fashions; and thus Mr. Malton’s
money comes round to her.”
“I wonder where it will go next!”
“It is well spent, I believe; for Miss Black is a very good woman. I can
tell you that some of her savings are in the hands of a brother at M——
who, by increasing his capital, is able to improve a very promising
manufacture.”
“So she receives the interest, and increases her capital every year, I
suppose, till she will have gained enough to enable her to leave off
business. This money seems to have done good in every stage of its
progress. I am very happy to see Gray’s children, for instance, well
shod and coated. I like to observe the bustle in Harper’s shop, and his
daughters look very well in their better style of dress. It is pleasant
to see Miss Black prospering, especially as it is a sign of the
prosperity of the place. This money is not given away by Mr. Malton
either; it brings him in more than he pays away.”
“All this stir, therefore, my dear,—this prosperity, which strikes you
so much,—is pure gain; and it proceeds from the inclosure of Brooke
common.”
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