DEALERS--LUCK MONEY--FAIRS--SALES--EFFECT OF CLIMATE ON CATTLE AND
SHEEP--AGRICULTURAL SHOWS.
"I'll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend;
But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair."
--_1 Henry IV_.
Dealers of all kinds were much more frequent callers at farm-houses in
the early days of my farming, than latterly when auction sales, to
some extent, superseded private negotiations, but the horse-dealer
remained constant, because comparatively few horses were offered by
auction. The horse-dealers appeared to conform to an understanding
that it was a breach of etiquette to exceed certain well-marked
boundaries in their search for purchases, or to interfere in each
other's business. This principle was carried so far as to prevent
dealers from one of these "countries" purchasing a horse at a fair
coming from another dealer's "country," and the understanding of
course minimized competition likely to raise the price. The dealers
however I think, gave fair values, governed for the most part by the
prices obtainable by them in the large towns.
Most of my horses, when for sale, were bought by a man in a
considerable way of business, a well-known breeder, too, of shire
horses, taking many prizes at the leading shows. A handsome man with a
presence, and an excellent judge, shrewd but straight. He would ask
the price after examining the animal, and make an offer which he would
very seldom exceed if refused at first; but he would spend some time
in conversation, apparently quite irrelevant and very amusing, though
always returning to the point at intervals with arguments in favour of
the acceptance of his bid. He was so genial and pleasant and such good
company, for no man was ever better acquainted with the ways of the
world, that he very rarely, I think, left the premises without a deal,
though sometimes he was in his gig before the final bargain was
struck. It is a custom of the trade for the seller to give something
back to the buyer by way of "luck money," and the last time I did
business with him I refused to give more than one shilling each on two
horses, as I never received more than that sum when a buyer myself. He
accepted cheerfully, telling me that a shilling each was quite worth
taking, as he had a thousand horses through his hands in the course of
every twelve months, and that a thousand shillings meant £50 a year.
The best piece of horse-dealing I ever did, was the purchase of a six
months old colt for £26, winning £20 in prizes with him as a
two-year-old, working him regularly at three and four on the farm, and
selling him at five for eighty guineas to a large brewery firm. Eighty
guineas in those days was a big price for a cart horse, though, of
course, in modern times, owing to the war, much higher prices can be
obtained.
I remember another dealer, who, a notable figure in a white top hat
with a deep black band, and large coloured spectacles, was to be seen
at all the fairs and principal sales. He, too, had an ingratiating
manner, and would accost a young farmer with a hearty, "Good-morning,
Squire," or some such flattering introduction. A wise dealer always
knows how to keep up amicable relations with a possible seller or
buyer, and never descends to abuse, or the assumption of a personal
injury if he cannot persuade a seller to accept his price, as is the
case with some dealers with less _savoir faire_.
A successful cattle dealer I knew had similar tactics of fraternity,
always addressing his sellers as "Governor," with marked respect. But
the best instance of this diplomatic spirit occurred in the case of a
deal between an old Hampshire friend of mine and a well-known and
historic sheep dealer from the same county. My friend had lately
become the happy father of twins, the fact being widely known in the
neighbourhood, for he was a very prominent man. He had 100 sheep for
sale, and the dealer was inspecting them, in a pen near the house. As
the bargain proceeded, the front door opened, and a nurse-maid
appeared with the twins in their perambulator. The dealer noticed them
immediately, and was not slow to turn the incident to his advantage.
"There they be, there they be, the little darlings," he called out, "a
sovereign apiece nurse, a sovereign apiece." Diving into a capacious
pocket, he pulled out a handful of gold and silver, and selecting two
sovereigns he handed them to the nurse for the children. "After that,"
my friend said, "what could I do but sell him the sheep, though he got
them at two shillings a head less than I ought to have made." Now two
shillings a head, on one hundred sheep, represents ten pounds, leaving
eight pounds which the dealer earned by his keen insight into human
nature.
This dealer carried on business with a brother, and they were to be
seen for very many years at all the large Hampshire summer sheep
fairs, where indeed, sometimes, when prices were rising, they owned
nearly all the sheep offered for sale, having bought them up
beforehand. As in a favourable summer when there was plenty of keep
and a good prospect of abundant roots prices would rise as much as
10s. a head during the months of the big fairs, and as at a single
fair as many as 30,000 sheep would be for sale, the chances of profit
offered to the courageous dealer with capital are manifest.
Though risen from small beginnings, these brothers amassed
considerable fortunes, all of which, it was said, they invested in
real estate, so that they were known at one time to be worth at least
£100,000; and, as they continued in business for some years after the
time of which I am writing, they must have exceeded that sum
considerably as a total, though the values of land began to fall away
towards the end of their active existence.
The more energetic of the two used very original phrases, in which he
extolled the physical virtues of flocks he had to sell; referring to
their size, he would say, "Just look at their backs! look at their
backs! they be as long as a wet Sunday!" Watching him, you could see
that while giving full attention to his customer, and keeping him in a
good humour with pleasant chat, while a bargain was proceeding, his
glance perpetually wandered to the moving crowd around the pens, and
that he had not only eyes, but ears, open to catch any impression
bearing on the progress of the general trade. He knew everybody, and
intuition told him upon what business they were present.
These two dealers combined money-lending with sheep-dealing; if a
buyer had not the ready cash they would give credit for the purchase
price, the sheep forming the security; it being understood that when
they were again for sale the lenders should have the selling of them
on commission.
Speaking of horse-dealers I referred to the custom of giving "luck
money," otherwise called "chap money." The word "chap" takes its
derivation from the Anglo-Saxon _ceap_ price or bargain, and
_ceapean_, to bargain, whence come the words "chop," to exchange;
"cheap," "Cheapside," "Mealcheapen Street" in Worcester, "cheapjack,"
etc. Also, the prefix in the names of market towns, such as Chipping
Campden, Chipping Norton, etc. There is a curious place-name here in
Burley, New Forest, where I am now living, spelt "Shappen," which
puzzled me until I chanced to meet with an ancient print of a village
merry-making, with dancing and a May-pole and found that the name
Shappen applied especially to the spot, and that not far away the
Forest ponies and cattle were formerly penned for sale at an annual
fair in a lane, still called Pound Lane "Pound" is from the
Anglo-Saxon _pund_, a fold or inclosure. Shappen is evidently,
therefore, derived from _ceap_ (and possibly _pund_) as a place in
which bargains were struck, and the name testifies to the extreme
antiquity of the New Forest pony and cattle fair formerly held there.
There are several notable horse fairs still held near Evesham. Besides
the one at Pershore, already mentioned, the most important fairs are
held at Stow-on-the-Wold and Shipston-on-Stour, both very
out-of-the-way places; and many stories of the wiles of horse-copers
were related in connection therewith. I remember the following told as
occurring at Stow-on-the-Wold. A man approached a simple-looking young
farmer, and getting into conversation with him, pointed out a horse
not far off, telling him that he had quarrelled with the owner who
refused in consequence to sell him the horse which he wished to buy.
He promised the farmer £2 if he would undertake the negotiation, and
could buy the horse for £10. The farmer agreed, and after some
apparent difficulty succeeded in effecting the purchase at the sum
named, paid the money and returned with the horse to the place where
he had left his acquaintance. The latter, however, had disappeared,
and after searching the fair from one end to the other, the farmer
took back the horse, to repudiate the bargain. The owner had also
vanished, and the farmer found himself with an ancient screw, which
eventually he was glad to get rid of at a pound a leg, losing £6 on
the deal.
There are small pig-dealers, in almost every village, on the lookout
for bargains, and very cute men they generally are. One of these
well-known at Aldington, though nearly blind, could tell the points
and value of any pig in a marvellous way almost by intuition; it was
said of him that, "though blind, he was a better judge of a pig than
most folks with their eyes open."
At farm and other auction sales there are always anxious buyers who
make a practice of trying to depreciate ("crabbing," as it is called)
any article or property they particularly wish to purchase, by making
damaging statements or insinuations to anybody whom, they fear, is
also a probable buyer. At a sale of cottage property adjoining a
public-house, in a village not far from Aldington, a keen purchaser
remarked that there was no water on the premises. The auctioneer,
however, knowing that water was not his man's strong point,
immediately replied, "Oh, never mind the water, sir, there's plenty of
whisky to be had next door." At another property sale, the tenant of
the house on offer, gratuitously informed me that the roof was in a
very bad state; knowing my man, I was not surprised when the house was
knocked down to him, but I never saw any repairs to the roof in
progress afterwards.
A friend of mine had a caretaker in an empty house, and, finding that
no applications to view ever got beyond that stage, called at the
house with his wife, ostensibly as intending tenants. He was not
personally known to the caretaker, and on making the usual inquiries,
found the man by no means enthusiastic as to the amenities of the
place, and particularly doubtful as to the drainage, so much so as to
make it plain that any otherwise likely tenant would be repelled.
Knowing that all the sanitary arrangements were in perfect order, he
disclosed his identity, much to the dismay of the caretaker who, of
course, was dismissed.
The person who asks damaging questions of the auctioneer or solicitor
at a property sale, though perhaps not declared the buyer on the fall
of the hammer, not infrequently proves later to have been so, having
employed an agent to bid for him.
At a sale of farm stock and implements I was examining a waggon
practically new, though with no intention of buying, when I was
surprised by a cousin of the vendor volunteering the statement that,
having lately borrowed the waggon, he noticed one of the wheels giving
out a suspicious noise when in use, as if something were wrong. This
was a particularly bad case of "crabbing," as the man eventually
became the purchaser at a high price.
It is an alarming sensation to see one's name on a waggon for the
first time, especially when the vehicle has been wholly repainted in
blue or yellow to represent the owner's supposed political tendencies,
for such was the custom in Worcestershire; but perhaps one's name,
address, and crest on a hop-pocket is more alarming still, when we
remember that twenty or more of these pockets, all marked alike, will
form each of several loads to be carted from a London railway station
to the Borough, the seat of the hop-trade, on the way to the factor's
warehouses, for all beholders to "read, mark, learn, and inwardly
digest."
In the delightful and now somewhat rare book _Talpa; or, The
Chronicles of a Clay Farm_, by Chandos Wren Hoskins, one of the few
agricultural works ever written by a scholar, he refers to his first
experience of this sort, when speaking of his difficulty in making up
his mind as to whether he should let the property into which he had
just come by inheritance, or occupy it himself, as follows:
"What was to be done? Apostatize from all the promises and
vows made from my youth up, and take it _in hand_--that is,
in a bailiff's hand, which certain foregone experiences had
led me to conceive was of all things the most _out of hand_
(if that may be called so, which empties the hand and the
pocket too). Such seemed the only alternative! At first it
was an impossibility--then an improbability--and then, as
the ear of bearded corn wins its forbidden way up the
schoolboy's sleeve, and gains a point in advance by every
effort to stop or expel it, so did every determination,
every reflection counteract the very purpose it was summoned
to oppose, and, in short, one fine morning I almost jumped a
yard backward at seeing--my own name on a waggon!"
The reference to a bailiff reminds me of my father's illustration, one
evening at dessert, of the difference between a farmer selling his
produce personally, or doing so through the medium of a bailiff.
Taking three wine-glasses--No. 1 representing the farmer, No. 2 the
bailiff, and No. 3 the purchaser--he filled No. 1 with port and poured
the contents into No. 3; what few drops were left in No. 1 remained
the property of the farmer. But if the wine were poured into No. 2,
and from thence into No. 3, however much the complete transference was
attempted, some small portion always remained for the benefit of the
intermediary.
I always conducted my sales personally, except in small matters, and
my experience in the latter proved an exception to the above rule, as
I have previously related (pp. 17 and 20).
I commend _Talpa_, with George Cruikshank's clever illustrations, to
the attention of all readers of the curiosities of agriculture, as
well as to practical men; it is one of those uncommon books which
enters into the humorous side of farming under disadvantages--as, for
instance, prejudiced labourers who have long been employed upon such
work as draining. The author found one of the men, after instructions
to lay the pipes at a depth of three feet, cutting a drain about
eighteen inches deep, _laying in the tiles, one by one, and filling
the earth in over them as he went_. "I've been a-draining this forty
year and more--I ought to know summat about it." The author adds,
"Need I tell you who said this? or give you the whole of the colloquy
to which it furnished the epilogue?" _Talpa_ was published sixty-seven
years ago, but it contains much that might well be taken to heart by
our post-war amateur agricultural reconstructionists.
The tactics of a combination of buyers at a sale of household goods,
with an arrangement for one man to buy everything they want, so as to
avoid competition, is well known as "the knock out." I saw a most
flagrant case at a sale of valuable books at an old Cotswold Manor
House. The books were tied up, quite promiscuously, in parcels of half
a dozen or more, and although the room was crowded with dealers who
had been examining them with interest beforehand, practically only one
bidder appeared, and nearly every lot was sold to him for a few
shillings. I noticed several men taking notes of the prices made, and,
immediately the book sale was finished, they removed them to the lawn,
where they were resold by one of the gang at greatly enhanced prices.
They would, of course, eventually deduct the original cost from the
amount now realized and divide the difference amongst the buyers at
the second sale, _pro rata_, according to the amount of each man's
total purchases.
Cattle-dealers, with a reputation as judges of fat stock at auctions,
have to be very careful not to let inexperienced butchers see them
bidding, because the latter will bid on the strength of the dealer's
estimate of value, arguing that the animal must be worth more to
himself as a butcher, than to the dealer who has to sell again. I have
often watched the crafty ways of such dealers not to give themselves
away in this manner, and their methods of concealing their bids. One I
particularly noticed, whose habit was to stand just below the
auctioneer's rostrum, facing the animal in the ring, with his back to
the auctioneer. When he wished to bid he raised his head very
slightly, making a nod backwards to the auctioneer, who, knowing his
man, was looking out for this method of attracting his attention.
Though the ordinary farm sale is by far the most amusing and
picturesque, the sale of pedigree stock is much more sensational. When
the shorthorn mania was at its height, and the merits of Bates and
Booth blood were hotly debated, when such phrases as "the sea-otter
touch," referring to the mossy coat of the red, white, or roan
shorthorn, were heard, and the Americans were competing with our own
breeders in purchasing the best stock they could find--prices were
hoisted to an extravagant height. There is no forming a "knock-out" at
a pedigree sale; sturdy competition is the only recognized method of
purchase, and the sporting spirit is a strong incentive, especially
when the vendor is known as a courageous buyer at the sales of the
leading breeders.
I attended the dispersal of a herd where the owner had been for years
one of these sporting buyers; he had, however, gone more for catalogue
blue-blood than perceptible excellence, and the stock were brought
into the ring scarcely up to the exhibition form which a pedigree sale
demands. The American buyers were well represented, and the popularity
of the vendor brought a great crowd of home buyers, so that the sale
went off with spirit. I chanced to sit next to the veterinary surgeon
who attended my own stock as well as the herd on offer, and it was
amusing to hear his confidential communications as the animals were
sold at huge prices. He knew their faults and weaknesses
professionally, and it was no breach of confidence, when a cow had
passed through the ring and extracted a big figure from an American
buyer, to whisper them in my ear. I noticed that the Americans, no
doubt with commissions to buy a particular strain of pedigree,
appeared to pay more attention to the catalogue than to the cattle
themselves, and I saw some sold at fancy prices, which I should really
have been sorry to see in my own non-pedigree herd. The sale was a
great success, from the vendor's point of view at any rate, and I
think the average exceeded seventy guineas all round, including calves
only a few months old.
Some years later I visited Shipston-on-Stour with two friends to
attend a shorthorn sale in that neighbourhood. Mr. Thornton, the
well-known pedigree salesman, was the auctioneer. He waited about for
a long time after the hour fixed for the sale, until it became evident
that something had gone wrong. It appeared that the sheriff's
representative had served a writ on the vendor restraining the sale,
and although it was stated that Thornton had offered a personal
guarantee that the proceeds should be handed over to the sheriff, the
representative could not exceed his instructions, and the sale was
abandoned. A large company, including many foreign buyers, had
assembled; it was difficult to get these together at a postponement,
and when the sale was proceeded with some weeks later, I fear the
result could scarcely have proved so satisfactory.
The Vale of Evesham is particularly suitable for pedigree shorthorn
breeding, as the soil and climate are very favourable for their
production according to exhibition type. It is otherwise with the
Jersey, for they quickly adapt themselves to the difference in their
environment as compared with the conditions in their native Channel
Island. When I exchanged my shorthorns for Jerseys, owing to the
foreign competition in the production of beef, which at sevenpence a
pound compared unfavourably with butter at fifteenpence, I imported my
cows direct from the Island, and afterwards bred from their
descendants, selling the bull calves, and occasionally buying a young
bull from Jersey. The blood was therefore kept absolutely pure, and,
as I was a member of the English Jersey Society, all my stock were
entered in the Herd Book.
As time went on my cattle presented a noticeable change from the
original type; they were larger, developing much more hair and bone,
and though they gained in strength of constitution, and were handsome
and profitable, they gradually lost the dainty deer-like appearance of
the imported stock; and though quite as valuable for the purposes of
the dairy, they would have been regarded in the show ring by
connoisseurs as having a tendency to coarseness. I was, at first,
successful at the shows, but as the character of my cattle altered I
recognized that they would stand no chance against Jerseys bred on
lighter land, and in a climate more nearly approximating to that of
their native country.
Precisely the same thing happened with my pedigree Shropshire sheep;
environment altered their character and produced a different
type--bone, wool, and size all increased. The wool was coarser and
darker in colour; they were good, useful, hardy stock, but could not
compete in quality with the pedigree sheep bred in their own county.
No pedigree Shropshire breeder will, as a rule, buy rams bred outside
his own district, for fear of introducing coarseness and an alteration
of the established exhibition type.
An amusing incident happened at Mr. Graham's sale at Yardley near
Birmingham, at which I was present. Mr. Graham had a reputation as a
Shropshire sheep-breeder; though not actually farming in the county,
his land was not unsuitable, and, on one occasion, I believe, he won
the first prize for a shearling ram at the show of the Royal
Agricultural Society of England.
I noticed a very non-agricultural individual in a top hat, who tried
to get into conversation with me and who succeeded in getting a
luncheon ticket gratis. These sale luncheons were at the time very
bountiful spreads, including plenty of champagne, and the man under my
observation made a very hearty meal. Short speeches and toasts always
follow, but an adjournment is quickly made to the sale tent, before
the evaporation of the effects of the hospitality. It is the custom
for a glove to be passed round to collect subscriptions for the
shepherd, during the progress of the sale, and on this occasion two
young fellows undertook the duty of collectors. The man, who had done
himself so well at Mr. Graham's expense, was evidently not buying or
even making bids, and to each of the collectors he said he had already
contributed to the other. Being suspicious they compared notes, and
found that he had made the same excuse to both. Such meanness after
the hospitality he had received was intolerable; shouting, "He's a
Welsher," they lifted him bodily, protesting and struggling, rushed
him out of the tent into a neighbouring field, and cast him into a
dirty pond covered with green and slimy duckweed! A miserable object
he scrambled out, for the pond was shallow, and took his dishevelled
and bedraggled presence away as fast as he could limp along, amid the
laughter and jeers of the crowd.
The Hampshire Down ram sales in the palmy days of farming were
organized upon the same scale of liberality, and while the sale was
proceeding steam was kept up by handing round boxes of sixpenny
cigars, and brandy and water in buckets. It is, of course, good policy
to keep a company of buyers in good humour, but I think it has long
since been recognized that hospitality was carried a little too far in
those times of prosperity, and, in these degenerate if more
business-like days, extravagance is much less evident, though there is
a hearty welcome and abundance for all.
Agricultural shows under favourable weather conditions are always
popular and well-attended. The large exhibitions of the Royal
Agricultural Society of England, the Bath and West of England, and the
Royal Counties, especially attract immense crowds; much business in
novel implements, machinery, seeds, and artificial fertilizers, was
done when times were good, and the towns in which the shows are held
benefit by a large increase in general trade. The weather, however, is
the arbiter as to the attendance, upon which the financial result of
the show depends.
In 1879, the last of the miserable decade that ruined thousands of
farmers all over the country with almost continuous wet seasons, poor
crops, and wretched prices, the Royal Agricultural Society held its
show at Kilburn. The ground had been carefully prepared and adapted
for the great show with the usual liberal outlay; the work for next
year's show always commencing as soon as the show of the current year
is over; but the site was situated on the stiff London clay, and,
after weeks of summer rains and the traffic caused by collecting the
heavy engines and machinery and the materials used in the construction
of the sheds and buildings, the ground was churned into a quagmire of
clay and water, so that in places it was impassable, and some of the
exhibits were isolated. Thousands of wattled hurdles were purchased in
Hampshire, and laid flat on the mud along the main routes to the tents
and sheds, but they were quickly trodden in out of sight. Many
ponderous engines were bogged on their way to their appointed places;
nothing could move them, and they remained looking like derelict
wrecks, plastered with mud, sunk unevenly above the axles of their
wheels.
I attended the show and shall never forget the scene of disaster. One
afternoon the Prince of Wales--the late King Edward--and a Royal party
made a gallant attempt, in carriages, to see the principal exhibits,
and succeeded, by following a carefully selected and guarded route.
The crowd was dense by the side of the track, and people were making a
harvest by letting out chairs to stand on, so as to get a view of the
procession, with cries of, "'Ere you are, sir; 'ere you are, warranted
not to sink in more than a mile!" Outside the show-yard, too, the
streets were lined with long rows of nondescripts, scraping the
adhesive clay off the shoes of the people leaving the show.
I had a pocket of my hops on exhibition entered in the Worcester
class, and had great difficulty in getting near it. I found the shed
at last, deserted and surrounded by water, with a pool below the
benches on which the hops were staged. My pocket was sold straight
from the show-yard, and when my factor sent in the account, I found
that the pocket had gained no less than seventeen pounds from the damp
to which it had been subjected since it left my premises, about ten
days previously; hops, at that time, were worth about 1s. a pound, so
that the increased value more than balanced all expenses.
A story is told of Tennyson at the Royal Counties show at Guildford.
Accompanied by a lady and child he was walking round the exhibits,
closely followed by an ardent admirer, anxious to catch any nights of
fancy that might fall from his lips. Time passed, and the poet showed
no signs of inspiration until the party approached a refreshment tent;
then, to the lady he said, to the astonishment of the follower, "Just
look after this child a minute while I go and get a glass of beer!" I
cannot vouch for the truth of this story, but I tell the tale as 'twas
told to me.
It is surprising how long farm implements will last if kept in the dry
and repaired when necessary. I remember a waggon at Alton in the
seventies, which bore the name of the original owner and the date
1795; it was still in use. When I decided to give up farming, or
rather, when farming had given up me, I disposed of my stock and
implements by the usual auction sale. The attraction of a pedigree
herd of Jerseys, and a useful lot of horses and implements, brought a
large company together, and Aldington was a lively place that day. I
was talking to my son-in-law some time afterwards, and spoke with
amusement about the price an old iron Cambridge roller had made, not
in the least knowing who was the purchaser, until he said, "And _I was
the mug_ who bought it!" I believe, however, that a year or two later
it fully maintained its price when valued to the next owner, and
probably to-day it must be worth at least three times the money. I can
trace its history for a period of fifty-three years, and I don't think
it was new at the beginning.