Grain and Chaff from an English Manor. Arthur Herbert Savory
ob res bellicosas tam Angl: quam Hiberniâ
fortiter, & feliciter gestas,
Illustrissimis Principib: & Regum optimis
Carolo primo et secundo charissimi:
Qui duxit uxorem Elizabetham ex antiquâ, et
Generosâ prosapiâ Packingtoniensium
De Westwood;
Familiâ intemeratae fidei in principes,
et amoris in patriam.
Ex praeclaris hisce natalibus Penelope oriunda,
Divini Numinis summâ cum religione
Cultrix assidua;
Genetricis (parentum solæ superstitis)
Ingens Solatium;
Aegrotantib. et egentib. mirâ promptitudine
Liberalis et benefica;
Humilis & casta, et soli Christo nupta;
Ex hac vitâ caducâ ad sponsum migravit
Febr. 27 An. Dom. 1697.
[Translation]
INSCRIPTION
ON THE TOMBSTONE LYING ON THE NORTH SIDE OF THE ALTAR, IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF WICKHAMFORD, NEAR EVESHAM, IN THE COUNTY OF WORCESTER, ENGLAND. M.S.
Sacred to the memory of
PENELOPE,
daughter of that renowned and distinguished
soldier, Colonel Henry Washington. He was
descended from Sir William Washington,
Knight, of the county of Northampton, who
was highly esteemed by those most illustrious
Princes and best of Kings, Charles the First
and Second, for his valiant and successful warlike
deeds both in England and in Ireland:
he married ELIZABETH, of the ancient and
noble stock of the Packingtons of Westwood, a family of untarnished fidelity to its Prince and love to its country. Sprung from such illustrious ancestry, PENELOPE was a diligent and pious worshipper of her Heavenly Father. She was the consolation of her mother, her only surviving parent; a prompt and liberal benefactress of the sick and poor; humble and pure in spirit, and wedded to Christ alone.
From this fleeting life she migrated
to her Spouse,
February 27, Anno Domini. 1697.
CHAPTER II.
THE FARM BAILIFF.
"If a job has to be done you may as well do it first as last." —WILLIAM BELL.
The labourers born and bred in the Vale of Evesham are mostly tall and powerful men, and mine were no exception; where the land is good the men compare favourably in size and strength with those in less favoured localities, and the same applies to the horses, cattle, and sheep; but the Vale, with its moist climate, does not produce such ruddy complexions as the clear air of the Hills, and even the apples tell the same story in their less brilliant colouring, except after an unusually sunny summer. In the days of the Whitsuntide gatherings for games of various kinds, sports, and contests of strength, the Vale men excelled, and certain parishes, famous for the growth of the best wheat, are still remembered as conspicuously successful.
My men, though grown up before education became compulsory, could all read and write, and they were in no way inferior to the young men of the present day. They were highly skilled in all the more difficult agricultural operations, and it was easy to find among them good thatchers, drainers, hedgers, ploughmen, and stockmen; they were, mostly, married, with families of young children, and they lived close to their work in the cottages that went with the farm. They exhibited the variations, usual in all communities, of character and disposition, and though somewhat prejudiced and wedded to old methods and customs they were open to reason, loyal, and anxious to see the land better farmed and restored to the condition in which the late tenant found it, when entering upon his occupation seven years previously.
The late tenant, my predecessor, though a gentleman and a pleasant man to deal with, was no farmer for such strong and heavy land as the farm presented; it was no fault of his, for the farmer, like the poet, is born, not made, and, as I was often told, he was "nobody's enemy but his own." His wife came of a good old stock of shorthorn breeders whose name is known and honoured, not only at home, but throughout the United States of America, our Dominions, and wherever the shorthorn has established a reputation; and my men were satisfied that she was the better farmer of the two.
I had scarcely bargained for the foul condition of the stubbles, disclosed when the corn was harvested shortly before I took possession at Michaelmas; they were overrun with couch grass—locally called "squitch"—and the following summer I had 40 acres of bare-fallow, repeatedly ploughed, harrowed, and cultivated throughout the whole season, which, of course, produced nothing by way of return. My predecessor had found that his arable land was approaching a condition in which it was difficult to continue the usual course of cropping, and had expressed his wish to one of the men that all the arable was grass. He was answered, I was told:
"If you goes on as you be a-going it very soon will be!" I heard, moreover, that a farming relative of his, on inspecting the farm, shortly before he gave it up, had pronounced his opinion that it was "all going to the devil in a gale of wind!"
I soon recognized that I had a splendid staff of workers, and, under advice from the late tenant, I selected one to be foreman or bailiff. Blue-eyed, dark-haired, tall, lean, and muscular, he was the picture of energy, in the prime of life. Straightforward, unselfish, a natural leader of men, courageous and untiring, he immediately became devoted to me, and remained my right hand, my dear friend, and adviser in the practical working of the farm, throughout the twenty years that followed. Like many of the agricultural labourers, his remote ancestors belonged to a class higher in the social scale, and there were traditions of a property in the county and a family vault in Pershore Abbey Church. However this might be, William Bell was one of Nature's gentlemen, and it was apparent in a variety of ways in his daily life.
Shortly before my coming to Aldington he had received a legacy of £150, which, without any legal necessity or outside suggestion, he had in fairness, as he considered it, divided equally between his brother, his sister and himself—each—and his share was on deposit at a bank. Seeing that I was young—I was then twenty-two—and imagining that some additional capital would be useful after all my outlay in stocking the farm and furnishing the house, he, greatly to my surprise and delight, offered in a little speech of much delicacy to lend me his £50. I was immensely touched at such a practical mark of sympathy and confidence, but was able to assure him gratefully that, for the present at any rate, I could manage without it. On another occasion, after a bad season, he voluntarily asked me to reduce his wages, to which of course I did not see my way to agree.
Bell was always ready with a smart reply to anyone inclined to rally him, or whom he thought inclined to do so; but his method was inoffensive, though from most men it would have appeared impertinent. In the very earliest days of my occupation the weather was so dry for the time of year—October and November—that fallowing operations, generally only possible in summer, could be successfully carried on, a very unusual circumstance on such wet and heavy land. Meeting the Vicar, a genial soul with a pleasant word for everyone, the latter remarked that it was "rare weather for the