AN OLD FASHIONED SHEPHERD--OLD TRICKER--A GARDENER--MY SECOND HEAD
CARTER--A LABOURER.
"Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way."
--GRAY'S _Elegy_.
I had experiences of various shepherds, and the man I remember best
was John C. Short, sturdy, strong, and willing, he was somewhat
prejudiced and old-fashioned, with many traditions and inherited
convictions as to remedies and the treatment of sheep. John had a
knowing expression; his nose projected and his forehead and chin
retreated, so that his profile was angular. He wore the old-fashioned
long smock-frock--not the modern short linen jacket which goes by the
name of smock, but a garment that reached to his knees, with a
beautifully worked front over the chest. It is a pity that these old
smock-frocks are no longer in vogue: I never see one now; they were
most picturesque, and afforded great protection from the rough weather
which a shepherd has constantly to face. His hat was of soft felt,
placed well towards the back of his head, and, behind it, he wore a
wealth of curls overlapping the collar of his smock. John was very
proud of his curls; he told a group of men, who were sheep-dipping
with him, that the parasites of the sheep, which are formidable in
appearance, never troubled him until they reached his head. "Into them
curls, I suppose, John?" said a flippant bystander. John was pleased
that his most attractive feature should receive even this recognition.
Altogether he presented a notable figure, and one quite typical of his
profession, especially when armed with his staff of office, his crook.
He was inclined to superstitious beliefs, and told me when I noticed
the matted condition of the manes of some colts domiciled in a distant
set of buildings that he reckoned "Old P. G."--an ancient dame in a
neighbouring cottage with a reputation for witchcraft--"had been
a-ridin' of 'em on moonlight nights." This matted appearance of colts'
manes, which is only the natural result of their not being groomed or
combed when young and unbroken, was known in many country places as
"hag-ridden." Such superstitions are now nearly, if not quite,
extinct, but still linger in old place-names, for it was usual in
former times to attribute any uncommon or surprising physical
appearance to supernatural agency. Thus we have such names as "Devil's
Dyke," "Devil's Punchbowl," "Puck Pits," "Pokes-down" (Puck's Down),
and many others.
The fairy rings, too, which puzzled our ancestors, are explicable by a
natural process. The starting-point is a fungus, _Marasmius oreades_,
which in due course sheds its spores in a tiny circle around it; the
decay of the fungus supplies nitrogen to the grass, and renders it
dark green in colour. The circle expands, always outwards, more and
more fungi appearing every year; it does not return inwards because
the mineral constituents of the soil are exhausted by the growth of
the fungus and of the grass, under the stimulus of the abundant
nitrogen left by the former, so that the dark ring of grass extends
its diameter year by year.
In the _Tempest_ Shakespeare refers to the fairies:
"... That
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites."
John carried a magic bottle of caustic liniment for application to the
feet of sheep affected with the complaint called "foot-rot." The cause
of this troublesome disease is excessive development of the walls of
the hoof, owing to the animals grazing exclusively on wet pasture, the
surface of which is too soft to keep them worn down; the walls
gradually double over and collect wet mud, which causes inflammation.
It never occurred on my arable land, either among ewes or younger
sheep, but whenever I bought sheep from the flint stones of Hampshire
and grazed them on soft pasture, it soon made its appearance. The
remedy is timely and constant paring of the hoof before any tendency
to lameness is observed, and when this is properly attended to no
caustic application is necessary. Lame sheep indicate an inefficient
shepherd, and the disorder has been well called "Shepherd's Neglect."
An eminent breeder of prize Hampshire Down sheep told me that, when
contemplating the exhibition of sheep, the first necessity is to get a
"prize shepherd," a man with a presence, and a reputation which he
would not risk in the show-ring without something worth exhibiting. I
started a flock of pedigree Shropshires, but my land was too good and
grew them too big and coarse for showing, and I soon found that it was
useless to try, though I succeeded in taking a prize at the
Warwickshire county show. It so happened that when my shepherd (not
John) returned in great triumph from the show, he found his first-born
son, who had arrived in his absence, awaiting him. "Well done,
shupperd," said a neighbour, "got him a son and a prize the same day!"
John was jealous of any interference in his remedial measures for
ailing sheep, but my wife, who doctored the village generally, was
anxious to try her hand, having little faith in his skill; so we
arranged that the next time he had what he considered a hopeless case
it was to be given over to her exclusively. The opportunity soon
occurred; a ewe was found caught by the fleece in some rough briars in
an old hedge, where it had been some hours in great distress, and,
with much struggling to free itself, it was quite exhausted. Pneumonia
supervened, and when John thought it impossible to save its life he
handed the case over to my wife. She succeeded, chiefly, I think, by
careful nursing, in pulling it through, much to John's surprise;
doubtless he thought its recovery a lucky fluke. John was given to
occasional alcoholic lapses; on one occasion I found him aimlessly
driving sheep across a field of growing mangolds! I could see that he
was muddled, and on reaching home later I sought an interview. He was
not to be found, but at his cottage his wife told me that John was not
very well. I postponed my reckoning till the following day, when, with
great readiness, he explained how it happened. "The day before," he
said, "I frained my fittle (refrained from my victuals) all day, and
when I got up yesterday I didn't feel justly righteous (quite right)
ov my inside; so I gets a bit of 'bacca, just about as much as _you_
med put in your pipe (this, apparently, to incriminate me), and I
putts it at the bottom of a tay-cup, with a drop ov rum; then I fills
it up with hot tay and drinks it off, and very soon I felt it a coming
over (overcoming) mer (me)."
Sheep-breeding was not one of the most important branches of farming
in my part of Worcestershire: the land is too stiff and wet, they
thrive much better on the Cotswolds or the chalk downs of Hampshire.
At one time I visited the latter county every summer, attending the
big fairs like Overton or Alresford, for the purpose of buying 100
draft ("full-mouthed") ewes from one of the best flocks. It was very
interesting in the early morning, reaching Overton by rail from
Basingstoke, where I had passed the night at the Red Lion with £300 in
bank-notes under my pillow, to see the gipsies in the village asleep
on the ground under their vans, the girls sometimes awake, combing
their hair, and beautifying themselves in readiness for the pleasure
fair where they were to appear in charge of the shooting-galleries and
competitions. A short walk, with only time for a passing glance at the
speckled trout near the bridge over the Itchen, which I never omitted,
took me to the sheep-pens on the hill-top where the fair is held. One
could see the flocks, with their shepherds always _in front_ and the
dogs behind, winding along the narrow lanes, which, from all
directions, lead to the hill, in a cloud of chalky dust, flock after
flock with only a few dividing yards between them. It is advisable to
reach the fairground thus early, to see the sheep before they are
penned; they can be much better inspected in the open than when packed
close together, and a more reliable opinion of their condition can be
formed. From the aesthetic point of view the grand old shepherds
interested me most, dignified, patriarchal men, with a reserve of
strength of character evident in their rugged features, and the
patience and hardihood that takes little heed of exposure to every
variety of weather.
The sheep were sold by auction, and when I had bought a pen of 100,
generally from Lord Ashburton's flock, paid the auctioneer's clerk as
soon as possible and received a ticket permitting the release of the
sheep, as the roads in all directions are soon crowded, I induced the
shepherd to help in driving them to the railway-station. He was always
a dear old fellow, and full of interesting information. On reaching
the station we packed the sheep into three open trucks, so close that
they could not jump out, and despatched them to Worcestershire,
whither they would arrive about noon the following day. We never had a
mishap with them on the journey, but they were terribly thirsty on
reaching Aldington, and made straight for water immediately.
Old Tricker came to Worcestershire originally with a farmer who
migrated from Suffolk, which proves him to have been a valuable man.
But he was worn out even when he first came to work for me, though as
willing and industrious as ever. My bailiff often praised him--for his
work was excellent, if somewhat slow on account of his age--and used
to tell him that "All as be the matter with you, Tricker, is that you
was born too soon," which was only too true, for he must have been the
oldest man on the farm by at least twenty years. He was a steady
worker, and was often so absorbed in his job, such as hoeing, that,
being, moreover, somewhat deaf, he was not aware of my approach until
I was quite close. On such occasions, with a violent start, he always
said: "My word, how you did frighten I, to be sure! Shows I don't look
about me much, however, don't it?"
He was fond of fairs, wakes, and "mops"--no doubt they were
reminiscent of old days, for he lived in the past--and he would often
beg a day off for such outings; he was a subject for the chaff of the
other men for his gaiety when these jaunts took place. They pretended
that, as a widower for many years, it was time for him to think of
another courtship. On a festive occasion, when we were giving a dinner
to all the men and their wives, great amusement was caused by
crackers, which the guests, I think, had never seen before, containing
paper caps and imitation jewellery; and it was a merry scene when all
around the tables were decorated in the most incongruous fashion. Old
Tricker happened to become possessed of a plain gilt wedding-ring, and
of course chaff was levelled at him from all sides: "Ah, Tricker; sly
dog, sly dog!" and so on. He was greatly pleased, accepting
good-naturedly the part of pantaloon of the piece; and I am sure, from
his beaming smiles, he felt, for a time at least, dozens of years
younger.
Years before, when still able to do a good day's work, he walked to
Ipswich to revisit his old home, a distance of about 160 miles, which
he accomplished in four days, and returned in the same time. He had
been specially struck by the building of a new post-office there--this
must have been at least thirty years before the time of which I am
writing. One of my brothers who lived near Ipswich was visiting me,
and I introduced him to the old man, knowing that they would have
common interests. No sooner did Tricker hear that my brother had just
come from Ipswich than he inquired anxiously if the new post-office
was finished. "Oh yes, and pulled down some years ago, and a new one
built!" Tricker was astonished; the years had evidently slipped by him
unnoticed, and no record of dates remained in his memory.
Tricker often got a little mixed in the names of novelties or in
unusual words. I chanced to pass him one day along the road, on my
omnicycle, and next time I saw him he referred to it, adding: "I
didn't know as you'd got a phlorsopher (velocipede and philosopher)"!
Some of my land had been occupied by the Romans in very distant days,
and coins and pottery were frequently found. Tricker, having heard of
the Romans, also of Roman Catholics, jumbled them together, and
"reckoned" that the former inhabitants of these fields were "some of
those old Romans or Cartholics."
This mixture of words, generally bearing some relation to each other,
was not infrequently carried still further by making one word of two.
With some of the villagers "conservatory" stood for conservative and
tory, and "containment" for concert and entertainment. A messenger who
was asked to bring _Daniel Deronda_ from the Evesham library returned
with the announcement that "Dannel Deronomy" was not available; this
appeared to be a confusion between the books of Daniel and
Deuteronomy. A cook (not a Worcestershire person) was asked if the
papers had come. "Yes; the _Standard_ has arrived, but not the Condy's
fluid _(Connoisseur)_ "! The regatta at Evesham was always "the
regretta." An old sexton working in a churchyard, from whom I inquired
if there was a bridge over the river, replied: "Only a temperance
bridge (temporary bridge)."
Tricker, as a very typical representative of the agricultural labourer
in old age, was engaged as model for a figure in a picture by Mr.
Chevalier Taylor, then staying in Badsey. He sat in this capacity when
work was not very pressing, and day by day used to repair to the
artist's lodgings with his tools on his shoulder. His remuneration was
half a crown a day--ordinary day wages for an able-bodied man--but he
told me that the inaction was very trying, and that a day as model was
much more exacting than a day's work on the farm.
When the old man could no longer complete even a short day's work, and
suffered from the cold in winter, he decided to go to the workhouse
for a time, but he was out again before the cuckoo was singing, and we
found him light jobs "by the piece," so that he could work for as long
or as short a time as suited him. He was most grateful for any
assistance, and told me that "A little help is worth a deal of
sympathy." Eventually he became a permanent inmate of the workhouse,
much to my grief; but it is, of course, impossible to run a farm on
which heavy poor-rate has to be paid, as a philanthropic institution.
The difficulty with aged and infirm persons is not so much food and
maintenance as the necessity for nursing and supervision, which are
expensive and difficult to arrange. Tricker told me that he could live
on sixpence a day, and if it had been a question of food only, and our
village could have cut itself adrift from the Union and the rates it
entailed, we could easily have more than kept the poor old man to the
end of his days in comfort. For years he was the only parishioner
receiving any help from the immense sum the parish annually paid in
rates. I have heard it said that out of every shilling of the
ratepayer's contributions the poor people only get twopence or its
equivalent, the officials and administration expenses absorbing the
remaining tenpence.
My first gardener had been employed at the Manor, when I came, for
very many years, and at the end of ten more he was obliged to resign
through old age. He had planted the poplars round the mill-pond in his
earliest days, and, among other trees, the beautiful weeping wych-elm
on the lawn behind the house. The weeping effect he produced by
beheading the tree when quite small and grafting it with a slip of the
weeping variety, and the junction was still plainly visible. It was a
symmetrical and, especially when in bloom, a lovely tree, but as the
blossoms died and scattered themselves all over the grass, they
worried the methodical old man, and every spring he wished it had
never been planted. It had flourished amazingly, and we could
comfortably find sitting room at tea for sixty or seventy people at a
garden-party in its shade.
He was an excellent gardener, but did not care about novelties in
flowers, though at one time he made a hobby of raising new kinds of
potatoes. His greatest success was the original Ashleaf variety, the
stock of which he sold to Mr. Myatt for a guinea, and which was
afterwards introduced to the public as "Myatt's Early Ashleaf." It was
one of the best potatoes ever grown, very early, and splendid in
quality, and it was unfortunate that he parted with it so cheaply,
though, of course, the purchaser of the first few tubers had no idea
of its immense potential value, and possibly, like so many novelties,
it might have proved a failure. It is still in cultivation, though its
constitution is impaired, like that of all potatoes of long standing.
Later on I shall have more to say about this unfortunate tendency to
deterioration.
J.E. was one of my most reliable men, working for me, first as
under-carter and afterwards as head carter, for, I think, altogether
twenty-six years; he was well educated and a great reader, quiet and
somewhat reserved, and though his humour did not lie on the surface,
he could appreciate a joke. My recollections of him, after his
steadiness and reliability, are chiefly of his personal mishaps, for
he was an unlucky man in this particular.
I was on my round one morning when I met a breathless carter-boy
making for the village. Asked where he was off to, "Please, sir," he
replied, "I be to fetch Master E. another pair of trowsers!"
"Trousers," said I; "what on earth for?" "Please, sir, the bull ha'
ripped 'em!" I hurried on, and soon saw that it was no laughing
matter, for I found poor E. in a terrible plight of rags and tatters,
sitting in a cart-shed in some outlying buildings, on a roller. The
cowman was standing by holding a Jersey bull. The story was soon told.
The cowman, having to go into the yard, had asked E. to hold the bull
a minute. Unfortunately, the animal had only a halter on him, the
cowman having omitted to bring the stick, with hook and swivel, to
attach to the bull's nose-ring. No sooner was the cowman out of sight
than the bull began to fret, and, turning upon E., knocked him down
between a mangoldbury and the outside wall of the yard. In this
position he was unable to get a direct attack upon the man, but he
managed to gore him badly and tear his clothes to pieces. The cowman,
hearing E. calling, came back and rescued him, the bull becoming quite
docile with his regular attendant. Poor E. was black and blue when he
got home in the pony-cart, and was laid up for many weeks afterwards.
He undoubtedly had a very narrow escape. It is curious that, though
the Jersey cows are the most docile of any kind, the bulls are the
most uncertain and, when annoyed, savage; I had trouble with two or
three, and one became so dangerous that he had to be killed in his
stall.
E.'s bad luck overtook him again when returning from Evesham with,
fortunately, an empty waggon and team; one of the horses was startled,
and E. ran forwards to catch the reins. By some means he fell, and the
waggon-wheels passed over him; had it been full, as it was on the
outward journey, with a heavy load of beans, it would have been a
serious matter, but nevertheless he suffered a great deal for some
time afterwards.
J.E. must have walked many hundreds of miles among my hops with the
horses drawing "the mistifier," a syringing machine which pumped a
mist-like spray of soft soap and quassia solution upon the under-side
of the hop-leaves, when attacked by the aphis blight; and he must have
destroyed many millions of aphides, for the blight was an annual
occurrence at Aldington, and taxed our energies to the utmost at one
of the busiest times of year.
Mrs. J.E. was, and is, one of those kind persons always ready to do a
good turn to a neighbour. She and her husband brought up a large
family, all of whom have done well, and a son in the Grenadier Guards
especially distinguished himself in the war. She has a remarkable
memory for dates of birthdays, weddings, and such-like events, and
often writes us one of her interesting letters, full of information of
the old village.
I had many experiences of the honesty of the agricultural labourer,
but one especially remains in my mind. I.P., a man living some two
miles from Aldington, regularly walked the four miles there and back
for many years, in addition to his day's work. He was an excellent
drainer, and a most useful all-round man, exceedingly strong and
willing, bright and cheerful in conversation, and I had a very high
opinion of him. I had just reached the end of a long pay when he
reappeared--having taken his wages earlier in the proceedings--and
asked if I had made a mistake in his money; a sovereign was missing,
and he could not remember actually taking it from the table with the
rest of the cash. I at once balanced my payments and receipts for the
evening, but they corresponded exactly. It was a serious matter, as a
half-year's rent was due to the owner of his cottage that day, and
I.P. was one of those men who take a pride in paying up with
punctuality. I could see, as he realized that the sovereign was lost,
how disappointed and worried he felt, and being glad of an opportunity
to do him a good turn, I gave him another, and sent him away very
grateful. Later still he returned again, placed a sovereign on my
table, and said that he had nearly reached home when he felt something
hard against his knee, inside his corduroys, where he found the
missing coin; there was a hole in his pocket, but the encircling
string which labourers tie below the knee had prevented its escape.