Small Farms, 1914
The tilling of the soil is the most natural of all occupations, and the agriculturist, when all is said and done, is perhaps the most important member of the community.
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Small Farms” from Scottish Life and Character, by William Sanderson, 1914.
The tilling of the soil is the most natural of all occupations, and the agriculturist, when all is said and done, is perhaps the most important member of the community. Without the results of his labours we are poor indeed, for most of our so-called necessaries of life are but luxuries when the fruits of the soil are at stake. No true patriot can watch the disappearance of the small farmer from our country without regretting the necessity if it indeed be a necessity which demands that the many small farms shall be merged into a few large ones. The altered conditions under which the world's food-supplies are now produced, and the lack of any proper system of co-operation among the farmers, have brought about the present regrettable state of affairs; but it is just possible that by new and improved modes of united working the day of small farms may return, and the solitary places be made once more glad with the warm pulsing life of humanity.
We have heard much about deer forests and depopulation in the Highlands; but the same state of affairs has been produced in the Lowlands, where the old arguments as to barren and unfruitful soil lose their point. I have often been saddened, when standing on the top of some great broad Border hill, by finding that no human habitation was in sight. Far as the eye could reach were soft, rounded hills, verdure-clad to their summits, owing much of their greenness to the fact that not so many years ago their sloping sides were under cultivation. Down in the valleys, through which the little burns wimple, were open spaces where once stood thriving villages, filled with the glad music of daily toil. The ring of the anvil, the click of the shuttle, and the merry voices of the bairns at play once resounded through these solitudes, while down the hillsides, as the evening shadows began to lengthen, might be heard the jingling of the horses' chains, as the toilers gladly returned after the labours of the day. How altered everything now is! Nothing is heard but the bleating of sheep or the scream of the wild bird, and the glare of noonday is almost as solemn as midnight's darkest hour.
Farm life is not the dull daily round which many imagine it to be, and to the intelligent eye its employments are full of interesting variety. In the early morn the ploughman goes whistling to the field, for though he knows that the toil which lies before him will be severe, he feels that thrill of freedom which compensates for many discomforts. The noonday rest is enjoyed by man and beast with a relish which only rural toilers can enjoy, and when the twilight shadows begin to creep up the glen and the evening mists encircle the hilltops, the homecoming has a joy all its own. Even the proverbial uncertainty of the weather in Scotland adds zest to country life, and introduces an element of speculation which provides subjects for conversation. The changing seasons which bring their ever-fresh mysteries to greet new generations have all their special tasks for the agriculturist, and the careful preparation for these marks the successful farmer.
In the byegone days, when the farms were small, the life was even more eventful than it is now, and many things had to be attended to which are now rendered unnecessary. Occasionally the cow had to assist in drawing the rather primitive plough, and even the guidwife has been requisitioned for this work at a pinch. Gathering peats or roots, and storing them for winter use, was also a necessary task, for the railways were either non-existent or too far away to render a supply of coal possible.
Only a few years ago a contractor used to convey a cartload of coal to an outlying farm near Loch Katrine, and, though the distance traversed was not very great, the task occupied two days. During the latter part of the journey the road was so difficult that half of the load had to be left at the wayside until the other half had been delivered. Sheep-washings, sheep-shearings, etc., were great events in the small farmer's calendar, and generally brought together assistants from neighbouring farms, which added a spice of variety to these operations. Then the great crowning event of the year, the harvest, was not rushed through with machinery while the harvest field was full of life and not a little mirth.
From our advanced stand-point the agriculture of the past may appear very primitive and unprofitable, but it suited the times, and though it caused much toil and provided few comforts, it generally placed the small farmer and his family beyond the reach of want. From a national point of view the hard toil had many compensations, for it developed in the farmers and peasants the virtues of industry, thrift, forethought, and unobtrusive piety. These virtues were generally put to the test when the lease of the farm had run out, and a new lease or "tack," as it is called, was rendered necessary.
At such a time a visit from the factor or Laird's factotum was full of momentous possibilities, for on the result of the conference depended the verdict of "sit or flit." Eager to increase his employer's financial returns from the land, the factor would endeavour to raise the rent, on the ground that the farmer's profits had placed him in a much better position than when he came into the farm, shutting his eyes to the fact that any increase in the value of the land was entirely due to the toiler who, in the sweat of his brow, had improved it and made it more fruitful. The farmer, while paying all due deference to the Laird's representative, would argue the various points with a clearness which was the result of much previous thinking. If the Laird had no desire to see his land in the hands of only a few men, the small farmer was generally safe, and, after a good deal of haggling about necessary repairs, the new tack was granted.
Each small farm had an individuality of its own, and these separate characteristics, when brought together, added an interest to the life of the agricultural communities. There are few cheerier places than a farmhouse in the evening, when the men folk come in and the toils of the day are over. The presence of one or two men from a neighbouring farm lends variety to the company, and soon the laughing and daffing becomes general. The farm kitchen, where these evening gatherings are generally held, is wide and roomy, and the big peat fire sends a ruddy glow along the smooth flagstones of the floor, and creates fantastic shadows among the hams, onions, fishing-rods, guns, etc., which are hung from the rafters. The goodly row of cheeses on the shelf seems to increase and decrease in size as the fitful firelight reaches them, while the huge stack of peats in one corner and the potatoes in another assume animated appearances.
The box-beds for the servant lassies, which have been shut off by sliding doors during the day, are now open, and may serve as temporary wardrobes for the shawls of "neebour lassies," or the plaids and bonnets of the young shepherds and ploughmen who have dropped in to spend the evening.
The pleasant hum of conversation is not the only sound which fills the farm kitchen, however, for the whirr of the spinning-wheel draws our attention to a corner where an "eident" lassie, by the aid of a tallow candle or a "cruisie" oil lamp, is busily engaged spinning the flax or wool which will some day be transformed into her providing. Old ballads, generally of considerable length, are frequently sung, and the "fa-la-la" chorus after each verse is taken up lustily by the whole company.
The present generation may consider these ballads a little tiresome and long drawn out, but they certainly contain more common sense than many of the popular ditties of the present day. When the singers have finished their song-narrative, a reel or strathspey is struck up by one of the shepherds who has brought his fiddle in his plaid neuk. The strains are irresistible, and soon the stone floor resounds to the beat of heavy boots and shoes, while the rafters "dirl" to the "hoochs" of the dancers. The Scots have always been good dancers, and those who imagine them to be a solemn, immovable people have but to see them take part in a reel, to form a different opinion of the folks in the North Countrie. The strains are sometimes varied by the "skirl" of the bagpipes, and then the fun grows fast and furious, for the peculiar blending of shrill and droning music produced by the national instrument has an over-powering effect on the country folks.
Occasionally the entertainment includes a racy story or some bit of news retailed by the travelling packman seated in the ingle neuk. These itinerant merchants were always welcome, not only for the ribbons, etc., which the lassies were enabled to purchase from their well-filled packs, but because of the news which they brought from the outer world, in days when newspapers were only within the reach of the few. And so the time would merrily pass, the weariness consequent upon a day of toil being forgotten in the healthy abandonment produced by the simple recreations of the evening hours.
Farm life, as a whole, may not suit modern tastes, but no one can deny that it is unspeakably better than the life led by the millions who are crowded into our towns, and many pressing social problems may yet find their solution when the "back to the land" movement becomes a realisation. How this is to be accomplished was recently indicated by Lord Onslow when he said: "Solve the problem of living on what your land gives you, and you have solved the problem which is called 'Back to the Land.'"
Back, back to the land may the tide soon be turning,
May exiles return from the city and sea;
Once more may the fires in our ingles be burning,
And man claim his rights in this land of the free.
The clear mountain streamlet that sings through the vale
Is eager as ever the mill-wheels to turn;
The seedtimes come round, and the harvests ne'er fail,
While Nature is waiting the people's return.
Sanderson, William. Scottish Life and Character. Adam and Charles Black, 1914.
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