Hodge and His Masters | Page 4

other without haste, ringing
forth a holy melody composed centuries ago. It is as well to pause a
minute and listen to their voice, even in this railroad age of hurry. Over
the busy market-place the notes go forth, and presently the hum comes
back and dwells in the recess of the window. It is a full hour after the
time fixed, and now at last, as the carillon finishes, there are sounds of
heavy boots upon the staircase. Three or four farmers gather on the
landing; they converse together just outside. The secretary's clerk
comes, and walks to the table; more farmers, who, now they have
company, boldly enter and take seats; still more farmers; the secretary
arrives; finally the president appears, and with him the lecturer. There
is a hum of greeting; the minutes are read; the president introduces the
professor, and the latter stands forth to read his paper--'Science, the
Remedy for Agricultural Depression.'
Farmers, he pointed out, had themselves only to blame for the present
period of distress. For many years past science had been like the voice
crying in the wilderness, and few, a very few only, had listened. Men
had, indeed, come to the clubs; but they had gone away home again,
and, as the swine of the proverb, returned to their wallowing in the mire.
One blade of grass still grew where two or even three might be grown;
he questioned whether farmers had any real desire to grow the extra
blades. If they did, they had merely to employ the means provided for
them. Everything had been literally put into their hands; but what was
the result? Why, nothing--in point of fact, nothing. The country at large
was still undrained. The very A B C of progress had been neglected. He
should be afraid to say what proportion of the land was yet undrained,
for he should be contradicted, called ill names, and cried down. But if

they would look around them they could see for themselves. They
would see meadows full of rank, coarse grass in the furrows, which
neither horse nor cattle would touch. They would see in the
wheat-fields patches of the crop sickly, weak, feeble, and altogether
poor; that was where the water had stood and destroyed the natural
power of the seed. The same cause gave origin to that mass of weeds
which was the standing disgrace of arable districts.
But men shut their eyes wilfully to these plain facts, and cried out that
the rain had ruined them. It was not the rain--it was their own intense
dislike of making any improvement. The vis inertiae of the agricultural
class was beyond the limit of language to describe. Why, if the land
had been drained the rain would have done comparatively little damage,
and thus they would have been independent of the seasons. Look, again,
at the hay crop; how many thousand tons of hay had been wasted
because men would not believe that anything would answer which had
not been done by their forefathers! The hay might have been saved by
three distinct methods. The grass might have been piled against hurdles
or light frame-work and so dried by the wind; it might have been pitted
in the earth and preserved still green; or it might have been dried by
machinery and the hot blast. A gentleman had invented a machine, the
utility of which had been demonstrated beyond all doubt. But no;
farmers folded their hands and watched their hay rotting.
As for the wheat crop, how could they expect a wheat crop? They had
not cleaned the soil--there were horse-hoes, and every species of
contrivances for the purpose; but they would not use them. They had
not ploughed deeply: they had merely scratched the surface as if with a
pin. How could the thin upper crust of the earth--the mere rind three
inches thick--be expected to yield crop after crop for a hundred years?
Deep ploughing could only be done by steam: now how many farmers
possessed or used steam-ploughs? Why, there were whole districts
where such a thing was unknown. They had neglected to manure the
soil; to restore to it the chemical constituents of the crops. But to speak
upon artificial manure was enough to drive any man who had the power
of thought into temporary insanity. It was so utterly dispiriting to see
men positively turning away from the means of obtaining good crops,

and then crying out that they were ruined. With drains, steam-ploughs,
and artificial manure, a farmer might defy the weather.
Of course, continued the professor, it was assumed that the farmer had
good substantial buildings and sufficient capital. The first he could get
if he chose; and without the second, without capital, he had no business
to be farming