“It is at our cost,” said Mr. Malton, “that new and improved implements, and men to use them, have been sent for from one end of the kingdom to the other. Some have sent their men into distant counties or abroad, to learn new methods of tillage. What folly it is to suppose that little farmers can farm to the same advantage as people who can adopt all these improvements!”
“If all our farmers were men of little capital,” observed my father, “we should have much less variety of produce in the market, and should therefore be liable to famines, as in old times.”
“I have often wondered,” said I, “why we are free from those apprehensions of famine which disturbed our forefathers so often.”
“It would have been well if they had suffered from nothing worse than the apprehension, my dear. Our ancestors cultivated little besides grain; and a bad season cut off all their crops at once: while, at present, what is fatal to one crop, may not injure another; so that our supply of food is not only more varied and agreeable, but it is no longer precarious. We can form no idea in these days of the intense interest with which harvest weather was watched three centuries ago.”
“We farmers were not ridiculed then for grumbling about weather,” said Mr. Malton, laughing; “for we had the whole nation grumbling with us in a wet season or a drought.—There is another consideration which we have not mentioned. As small capitalists cannot wait for their money, the supply of corn in the market would be very irregular if it depended upon them. They must bring their corn to market and sell it at once.”
“Then I suppose,” said I, “that in plentiful years there would be too much, and in unfavourable seasons too little, if we had no rich steward, like Joseph, to garner it up, and distribute it as it is wanted?”
“Not only that,” said my father, “but there would be too much every autumn for the good of the farmers, and too little every spring for the good of the people. It is always a pretty certain thing that as much of a good article as can be brought to market will be consumed; but the price, while it is plentiful, would fall so low as to injure the producer; while afterwards, when the people are in want, the producer would have nothing to bring to market. Thus it would be if all were small capitalists; but now, large capitalists, who can afford to wait for their returns, keep back their corn in plentiful seasons; for which those who are compelled to sell are much obliged to them; and the people are no less obliged to them for regulating the supply.”
Mr. Malton looked pleased at this acknowledgment of the obligation the community are under to large farmers.
“So you see, Lucy,” said my father, “that if it were not for large farming, our moors and morasses, and indeed all our inferior soils, would still have been barren: we should have been liable to frequent scarcities; our breeds of cattle would not have improved; and we should have no idea how prolific the soil might be made, or how incalculable a sum of human life may be sustained by it. If the people who rail against the owners of large productive capitals could but be convinced of this, they would soon grow ashamed of their complaints.”
“Perhaps so, father; but surely it is hard upon the small farmer to go down in the world in spite of all his labour; and it does not seem fair that he should be driven out of the market by his neighbours because he begins the world with less capital than they.”