THE FEMININE FACTOTUM
[The Daily Chronicle, writing on women farmers, quotes the tribute of Hutton, the historian, to a Derbyshire lady who died at Matlock in 1854: “She undertakes any kind of manual labour, as holding the plough, driving the team, thatching the barn, using the flail; but her chief avocation is breaking horses at a guinea per week. She is fond of Pope and Shakespeare, is a self-taught and capable instrumentalist, and supports the bass viol in Matlock Church.”]
Though in the good old-fashioned days
The feminine factotum rarely
Was honoured with a crown of bays
When she had won it fairly;
She did emerge at times, like one
For manual work a perfect glutton,
Blue-stocking half, half Amazon,
As chronicled by Hutton.
But now you’ll find her counterpart
In almost every English village—
A mistress of the arduous art
Of scientific tillage,
Who cheerfully resigns the quest
Of all that makes a woman charming,
And shows an even greater zest
For gardening and farming.
She used to petrify her dons;
She was a most efficient bowler;
But now she’s baking barley scones
To help the Food Controller;
Good Mrs. Beeton she devours,
And not the dialogues of Plato,
And sets above the Cult of Flowers
The cult of the Potato.
The studious maid whose classic brow
Was high with conscious pride of learning
Now grooms the pony, milks the cow,
And takes a hand at churning;
And one I know, whose music had
Done credit to her educators,
Has sold her well-beloved “Strad”
To purchase incubators!
The object of this humble lay
Is not to minimize the glory
Of women of an earlier day
Whose deeds are shrined in story;
’Tis only to extol the grit
Of clever girls—and none work harder—
Who daily do their toilsome “bit”
To stock the nation’s larder.