Part 4

This narrows down the peasant-proprietor theory vastly in its practical application; it remains hardly a national question. But I have been astonished to see in the neighbourhood of London of late years the large "gentleman" market-gardeners steadily displacing the smaller and all the single-handed men. The subject is so important that I will take one of two instances in detail. I have seen a gentleman market-gardener, eight miles or so from Covent Garden, growing strawberries, several acres in each patch. He had young men (a separate staff) out at daybreak to keep the birds off. The small gardener, growing a few long beds of strawberries, is ruined by the birds, whether he lets them eat or goes into the expense and labour of netting. The gentleman has his own large spring-vans waiting; these vans are fitted for fruit, and as the pickers gather the strawberries they deliver them in small and frequent parcels to the packers. The moment the first van is laden it starts at three miles per hour and travels to Covent Garden itself, where the strawberries are delivered to the fruit-dealer, who buys them wholesale of the gentleman-gardener. The small grower has to get his strawberries to the local railway station, and to arrange to get them from the London terminus to market; his trouble and expense are considerable; but, more important still, his strawberries do not come into the hands of the wholesale dealer in the "condition" that the large grower's do. This large grower admitted that he was paying £12 an acre per annum for some of his land; he added, "My labour per acre, and even my manure per acre, costs so much that I do not think about a few pounds rent more or less." These gentleman-gardeners are on the average better educated than the small market-gardeners; they travel about the country, gather hints, and pick up new good varieties of strawberries, etc. From their scale of operations and varied sorts of strawberries they can, even in rough wet weather or in drought, always supply to their wholesale dealer some fruit. In fine, they beat the small grower at every point; they undersell him at Covent Garden; they outbid him for desirable garden-land within reach of London. It may be said that in growing plain vegetables the small gardener would not be at such a disadvantage. I will reply (without detailing all my observations) that I have seen the same gentleman-gardener growing a two-acre plot of early radishes, and that he completely spoilt early radishes for all the small gardeners.

The advocates of peasant-proprietors have thought cowkeeping hopeful for small men. In my experience dairies of fifty or sixty cows have an enormous advantage; they can have perfectly designed dairies; they have enough cream to make butter daily throughout the year (which saves much trouble, loss, and occasionally inferior butter); they can maintain approximately a uniform supply. In short, they beat, undersell, and displace the small cowkeepers wherever the large dairy is moderately well managed.

The cottager or peasant-proprietor has, I believe, an advantage in poultry of all kinds. When poultry are kept in very large numbers they are more liable to disease, and the diseases are more disastrous--sweeping off the whole large stock. Fowl and egg farming is one of the most successful, perhaps the most successful point with the French peasant-proprietors. To make birdfarming successful the proper plan is to keep a moderate number of as many birds as possible--fowls, "galeenies," ducks, geese, turkeys, large pigeons--and to go in for eggs as well as fowls. I have not seen peasant-proprietors in England attempting this, which seems to me one of the most hopeful of experiments for them.

The second point urged by Mill, and still by some, is that peasant-proprietors are better off than English labourers. With the present price of agricultural labour in England this seems to be very generally not the case; the French peasant-proprietors and the agricultural lower classes in Germany are (with small exceptions) now worse off than the English farm-labourer; they work very much harder and they get less to eat. The economic truth doubtless is that the hired labourer may or may not be better off than the peasant-proprietor, according to circumstances; and circumstances in England just now are in favour of the hired labourer.

Then as to independence, it may fairly be questioned whether a good agricultural workman, now practically liberated from the Law of Settlement, and who can command a fair wage anywhere, is not really more independent than a French peasant absolutely tied to a three-acre plot for life.

The real difference between the advocates of the nationalisation of the land and the Conservatives is this. The Conservative says, "Leave everything to its natural course, and let us have no Government interference. If the peasant-proprietor really can maintain himself while paying as high a rent as the ordinary farmer, we shall soon have plenty of them." Or, the Conservative has no objection to a philanthropist starting a few picked peasant-proprietors as an experiment. But he objects to starting any gigantic new scheme of working the land, except as a matter of business; he objects to Government philanthropy, which means giving away other people's money.

Our farm-labourers, as a rule, know nothing of gardening, and few of them can command £10 capital. I have sometimes looked round to select a picked man, and wondered whether, if I put him in a selected five-acre plot near a town, and also lent him the £200 or so capital requisite to give him a chance, this picked agricultural labourer would succeed; and I have inclined to think he would not succeed. I need not therefore express any opinion as to what would happen if Government were to take 10,000 or 100,000 farm-labourers, advance them £200 each, and place them in five-acre or ten-acre plots: there would be a tremendous bill to pay, and the plan of peasant-proprietors would be put aside for many a day. If the plan is to be successful it must be introduced gradually and in a business manner, i.e. what does not pay must not be persisted in.

The plan, now frequently put forward, that Government is to employ all men out of work to reclaim and bring into cultivation waste lands, is liable to additional objections. Who is to fix the wages, the hours of labour, and the tale of work for the Government labourers? If these were fixed as the advocates of the plan wish them fixed, Government would soon have all the labourers of the country in its employ. If, on the other hand, these were fixed below the market rate, Government would only have such labour as the Poor-Law Unions now have, and which they find hardly worth employing.

Leaving this (practically grave) difficulty aside, if a heath or a moor is now uncultivated it is because nobody sees how it can be profitably brought into cultivation; it can always at a sufficient outlay be reclaimed, but that will not be done unless it is calculated that the rent of the land when reclaimed will pay the interest on the whole expense of reclamation, and something besides. If Government reclaims land that private persons cannot reclaim with profit, we may be sure that Government will suffer a considerable loss. This must be provided out of taxes: are the promoters of reclamation of wastes by Government prepared for this?

The wastes of England are the only land left the public. Elsewhere the public can only walk along a pavement or a high road. The good land is all pretty well in cultivation; and the best of what is left can give but a moderate profit on reclamation, while its enclosure, under Act of Parliament, deprives the public of it for ever. Hence Professor H. Fawcett, throughout his parliamentary career, put his veto with great success on all enclosure schemes. It is possible that there might be a profit on the enclosure of Epping Forest: who will now support that reclamation?

It is very desirable that wealthy private philanthropic individuals and wealthy private philosophic societies, should try experiments in small farming, market-gardening, co-operative farming, reclamation of wastes, etc. There is no hindrance to their so doing: they can readily hire as many farms as they please at cheap rents, and subdivide them, and put in picked labourers with an advance of capital. But that Government should embark in uncertain speculations of this kind is quite another thing.

The safe general principle, whether in the sale of horses, the letting of houses, or the letting of land, is that Government should not interfere; or, to speak more correctly, Government interference should only interfere to prevent restrictive covenants and to ensure Free Trade, so that every article (land included) may pass without restraint into the hands of the man to whom it is worth most. The greater the individual profit the greater the national profit. Under a section headed "Law," below, I will say something about the removal of entail, etc.--a dry but important branch of the question. The National Property Rate, with the aid of sycophants, would remove many obstructions.

There has been much controversy and several Parliamentary Acts concerning the regulation of bargains between landlord and tenant. How a tenant or a landlord can be injured in such a bargain is impossible to understand, except in so far as a man is injured who gives £30 for a horse worth only £20. Will Parliament interfere to protect such horse-purchasers? The matter has been obscured by omitting to notice that a tenant with a long lease at a fixed rent possesses a share (often the larger share) of the "landlord interest," in the language of political economy. As a simple example: A tenant took, say in 1850, a Scotch farm on a Scotch lease absolute of nineteen years, at £500 a year. Within two or three years of his so taking it the rise in wool, potatoes, and other things, caused the value of the farm to rise to £600 a year, and this increased value lasted the whole of his lease and some time after. Now, treating the increase of value of £100 a year as permanent (as it was very soon regarded both by landlord and tenant), it is clear that this £100 a year for the period of the lease (say seventeen years to run) went to the tenant, not to the landlord; and the first seventeen years of an annuity in fee is worth more than all the rest.

It is evident that on a seven years' (absolute) lease the tenant would similarly get a good share (not the larger share) in all the improvement in value that occurred during his lease. Up to ten or twelve years ago the value of land had been rising very steadily in the South of England for near half a century. Rents were pushed up very generally at the termination of every lease, though noblemen, great county gentlemen, the Church, and the Universities, as a rule, never raised the rent on an old tenant; but they could raise the rent all the more by a jump when a new man came in. During all these years the tenant-farmers complained rarely of their leases, though they were often subject to covenant nuisances about cropping, selling off the farm, game, and incoming for the new tenant.

But during the last ten years the process is reversed. A farmer took a farm for £500 a year for seven years in the south of England, and before the lease had run half out the farm was not worth £400 (and in many cases not £300). Here the tenant suffered a heavy loss. When in former years he got a gain he never proposed to allow his landlord 15 per cent extra rent. But now that the drop in value of such farms has taken place, and probably will not proceed further, a tenant who takes a new lease requires no Act of Parliament to protect him: he can protect himself. By the date the Abolition of the Game Laws (a wrong but intelligible phrase) was carried, the farmers in the South of England were in a position not to take any benefit under that Act, but to covenant for all the game and sporting on their farms for themselves. So as to the Act regulating the leases between tenant and landlord, where they chose to avail themselves of it, the tenant now can generally get more favourable terms outside the provisions of the Act. Farms are so down, tenants so scarce, that landlords have to give way on all minor points. Wherever Government interference operates at all, it is almost sure to operate harmfully. Consider for a moment the case of "incoming." Formerly, by the "custom of the country" south of London, the incoming tenant paid for two years' dressing for the corn crops, north of London he paid the outgoing tenant only for one year's dressing, by the custom of the country too. The question practically only amounted to increasing by 5 per cent the capital necessary to take the farm south of London. Now what can be gained by Government interference in such a matter as this, in which each farmer and land-agent was in general in favour of the "custom" he had grown up under?

A prevalent idea is that the land is not highly farmed enough, and that the land of England might be made to yield much more, and that Government is to cause this to be done. It is most unfortunate to raise this theory at the moment when land is "down," i.e. when produce is cheap, labour expensive. Every farmer knows that the only way to meet these conditions is to farm "lower." In a south country farm the farmer will sow much less corn, and try to keep more sheep. In the Western States of America, where produce is very cheap, labour very dear, the "lowness" of the farming is always abused by the English traveller (who thus shows that he knows nothing about either farming or political economy). A farmer, twenty-five years ago, took a very large and fine corn farm: it had been worked on the five-course system, i.e. three white crops in five years; the farmer made a careful calculation whether a four-course husbandry, i.e. two white crops in four years, would not be more profitable; it appeared to come to exactly the same thing. At this juncture a rise of a shilling a week in wages took place; this gave a clear advantage to the four-course, and the farm was at once worked round to the four course shift. In this simple case a small rise in wages brought about a considerable diminution in gross produce, while the loss to the farmer was small. The remarks in this section have been directed to the case, common in the South of England, where there has been within the last twelve years a fall of rent from 25 to 50 per cent. In pasture farms, in rich land, and in potato farms (wherein you can keep one-sixth the land in potatoes), the fall in rent has been much less--sometimes inappreciable.

But, some person may urge, if Government interferes, and compels the farmer to farm higher than he wishes to himself, the gross produce will be more, and the employment for labourers will be at the same time better. True, and this is the quintessence of Protection. The whole point of Free Trade is to allow capital to be employed where it is most profitable: high farming is only to be preferred (both for individual and nation) to low when it is the more profitable. Capital that cannot be employed to ordinary trade profit on the land must be transferred to other industries where it will earn the ordinary rate of trade profit; or, if there is no trade yielding such profit ready to absorb it in England, the capital must go to the United States or New Zealand and earn an increased profit. As to the labourers, they must follow the capital; or they may starve in England leaving few progeny, while the well-fed labourers of the Western States of America and New Zealand leave large families: this will do instead of emigration.

It is to be noted that great improvements in farming, especially in machinery, have been effected in the last thirty years, largely by the operation of the All England and County Agricultural Societies. I note further that the people who abuse the farmers for bad farming and clamour for Government interference to promote high farming, conspicuously refrain from supporting these agricultural societies.

6. FREE TRADE IN RAILWAYS.

Government might monopolise the retailing of tea in England. At present, in a country town like Exeter or Canterbury, there may be fifty grocers selling tea. In their competition they lay out a good deal in advertisement and handsome shop fronts in the most expensive streets; they keep (the fifty between them) many more hands than are necessary to retail the tea. All this outlay has to come out of the consumer. Government would buy pure tea first-hand in large quantities cheap; a few trustworthy highly-paid officials would test it, value it, and see it done up in sealed packages of sizes from 16 lbs. down to 2 oz.: these might be sold in an odd room attached to the Post Office in each town and village. There can be little doubt but that a saving in capital and labour would thus be effected, while the public would get the tea cheaper and purer than at present. The 2 oz. purchaser, in particular, would pay a good deal less for 2 oz. of real tea than she pays now for 2 oz. of rubbish.

Or,--Government might hand over the tea-retailing of Canterbury and five miles round to a company as a monopoly: the state of things would be something like what we experience in the large stores now: the public would get their tea probably cheaper (quality considered) than at present; the company would make a large profit on their capital. If Government sanctioned two tea-retailing companies at Canterbury, these would probably make a less rate of profit: though, after the first heat of fight was over, they would probably agree to sell the same tea at the same (profitable) rates, and the consumers would gain little out of so restricted a competition. If a new company were to apply for a private Act to enable them to retail tea at Canterbury, the old company would show Parliament that themselves sufficed to satisfy the requirements of the public.

The case of tea is a very specious one. By Government taking to itself each branch of business in succession till all was in Government hands we should arrive at Communism. For each successive interference of Government a reason from economy can generally be found: as in the case of telegraphs, so in the case of tea. The real objection to Government monopolising the retail of tea is, that so long as we live under a system of competition we had better stick to that plan altogether. At every turn of our present struggling system there is waste; but the ultimate effect of competition is to reduce the waste to a minimum. In the extreme case of tea it is pretty clear that the system of stores will, when fully developed, give the public all or nearly all they might hope to get from Government retailing, and at the same time will reduce the loss by competition among tea-retailers.

But there is one industry, one branch of the public service, which should be the very last to be monopolised or restricted by Government, viz., the carrying of passengers and goods from one place to another, especially carrying by railway; and yet this particular industry is hampered by law and restricted by monopolies above all others--as I suppose, most unnecessarily; but I will take a few cases in detail before arguing from the general principle of Free Trade.

There is one railway from London to Brighton: there are two railways from London to Exeter. There are fewer quick trains daily from London to Brighton than from London to Exeter. There are third-class carriages at a penny a mile on all the quick trains from Waterloo to Exeter: from London to Brighton the only penny a mile train starts at an inconvenient hour and travels exceedingly slow. The Brighton charge express fares on every convenient quick train they run; the South-Western have no express fares at all. The South-Western third-class carriages are padded, and as comfortable as the first; the Brighton third-class carriages are bare, very long, and run so badly that the shaking, the rattling of glass, and the draughts, keep everybody (who can possibly afford it) out of them.

Naturally there have been numerous schemes for a second railway from London to Brighton in the course of the last twenty-five years. The present railway company has (they are not to blame for it) opposed each scheme tooth and nail. They have shown that they themselves satisfy the requirements of the public, and at the same time do not make a very high dividend. If a new grocer required an Act of Parliament to set up as a tea-retailer in Canterbury, could not all the existing tea-retailers there prove most triumphantly that an additional grocer was not wanted, and that their own profits were reasonable? It is not too much to say that the greater part of the evidence admitted by Parliamentary Committees against proposed new railways is foolery: without wasting time on it, the Parliamentary Committee might assume as proved that no monopolist trader wants a competitor. But the only safety for the public is in competition. In railway competition the public always profit: if the two companies agree to run at the same fares, the public gain in number and speed of trains, better carriages, and attentive consideration of their comfort. Moreover, in the case of two railways between London and Exeter, or between London and Brighton, the two lines only meet (not then quite) at the two termini; and the public is accommodated at all the new intermediate stations where there was no station at all before.

The North-Western Railway was many years ago opposing a directly competing scheme. They brought before the Parliamentary Committee the late Mr. Horne, whom they justly credited with ability enough to throw dust in the eyes of almost any Parliamentary five. Mr Home's evidence was: "I understand railway traffic as well as anybody; the public are deluded in thinking they would gain by competition: the two companies might fight for a week or two, then they would more wisely agree, and put up their fares above the present North-Western fares, till they had recouped themselves out of the public all they had lost by their fight." This did very well for the Parliamentary Committee; but it is a fallacy. At present the North-Western Railway, though empowered by law to charge three-pence a mile first-class, charge twopence a mile only: why?--because twopence a mile they find to be on the whole the most paying rate. Ergo, after the fight with their directly competing brother was over, they would settle down to twopence a mile again. The public could not lose by the competition; they might gain. All experience shows that they invariably do gain.

In France, Government has restricted the construction of railways very greatly, and protected the monopoly of each existing company closely. The mileage of railway open in France, in proportion to area and population, is very small in comparison with that in England. Moreover, the French lines are worked by quasi-Government officials, whose object is to avoid work, and still more to avoid responsibility, and who will not make the slightest effort to accommodate the public: they do not wish the trade at their station increased. Under this system the traffic on the French railways is low; especially when we consider how little each is interfered with by other lines, and what a broad band of country it has to drain.

The immense progress made by England since 1846, as compared with the progress of France or of Germany, is often attributed solely to Free Trade. I believe Free Trade has done much for us: but I am sure that our railway superiority (to France, Germany, etc.) has done much also. Probably no one who has not resided some time in a French town (say a station on a main railway 150 miles from Paris as the least favourable case for my argument) can realise the enormous disadvantage by loss of time that a French business man is under, as compared with the Englishman. To get some necessary manufactured article from Paris is a matter of days; during which his machinery may all stand still. The communication with Paris, however, is where the Frenchman suffers least: the number of trains is so small, and the slowness of all (but the express) is such that the "local" traffic is nothing: unless a man intends to go a good many miles he would ride or even walk rather than go by train. He does not mind getting up at 2 a.m. to go to Paris; but he will not get up at that hour to go six or eight miles, especially if he is given no choice as to the hour at which he must return.