The Works of Daniel Webster, Volume 1

Some little clouds have overhung our horizon,—I trust they will soon pass away. I am sure that the age we live in does not expect that England and America are to have controversies 439 carried to the extreme, upon any occasion not of the last importance to national interests and honor.

We live in an age when nations, as well as individuals, are subject to a moral responsibility. Neither governments nor people—thank God for it!—can now trifle with the general sense of the civilized world; and I am sure that the civilized world would hold your country and my country to a very strict account, if, without very plain and apparent reason, deeply affecting the independence and great interests of the nation, any controversy between them should have other than an amicable issue.

I will venture to say that each country has intelligence enough to understand all that belongs to its just rights, and is not deficient in means to maintain them; and if any controversy between England and America were to be pushed to the extreme of force, neither party would or could have any signal advantage over the other, except what it could find in the justice of its cause and the approbation of the world.

With respect to the occasion which has called us together, I beg to repeat the gratification which I have felt in passing a day in such a company, and to conclude with the most fervent expression of my wish for the prosperity and usefulness of the Agricultural Society of England.

THE AGRICULTURE OF ENGLAND. 117

Mr. Webster has at all periods of life cherished a strong attachment to agricultural pursuits. Of late years, when not obliged to be at Washington, in the discharge of his public duties, he has resided wholly on his farm at Marshfield, Massachusetts. The condition of the agriculture of England was one of the objects which most received his attention, during his short visit to that country in 1839. On his return to the United States in January, 1840, a strong desire was entertained by his friends to meet him on some public occasion, and a wish was expressed, particularly by many members of the Legislature of Massachusetts, who were in the habit of holding occasional meetings for the discussion of agricultural subjects, to learn the result of his observations on the present state of English agriculture. These wishes were communicated to Mr. Webster, and an early day was appointed for a meeting, at which the following remarks were made by him.

Mr. Chairman, I would observe in the outset of these remarks, that I regard agriculture as the leading interest of society; and as having, in all its relations, a direct and intimate bearing upon human comfort and the national prosperity. I have been familiar with its operations in my youth; and I have always looked upon the subject with a lively and deep interest. I do not esteem myself to be particularly qualified to judge of the subject in all its various aspects and departments; and I neither myself regard, nor would I have others regard, my opinions as authoritative. But the subject has been one of careful observation to me, both in public and private life; and my visit to Europe, at a season of the year particularly favorable for this purpose, has given me the opportunity of seeing 444 its improved husbandry, and as far as it may be interesting, or can have a bearing upon the subject of the evening’s discussion, the agriculture of Massachusetts, I will, as the meeting appear to expect, say a few words upon what has attracted my notice.

How far, in a question of this kind, the example of other countries is to be followed, is an inquiry worthy of much consideration. The example of a foreign country may be too closely followed. It will furnish a safe rule of imitation only as far as the circumstances of the one country correspond with those of the other.

The great objects of agriculture, and the great agricultural products of England and of Massachusetts, are much the same. Neither country produces olives, nor rice, nor cotton, nor the sugar-cane. Bread, meat, and clothing are the main productions of both. But, although the great productions are mainly the same, there are many diversities of condition and circumstances, and various modes of culture.

The primary elements which enter into the consideration of the agriculture of a country are four,—climate, soil, price of land, and price of labor. In any comparison, therefore, of the agriculture of England with that of Massachusetts, these elements are to be taken particularly into view.

The climate of England differs essentially from that of this country. England is on the western side of the eastern, and we on the eastern side of the western continent. The climate of all countries is materially affected by their respective situations in relation to the ocean. The winds which prevail most, both in this country and in England, are from the west. It is known that the wind blows, in our latitude, from some point west to some point east, on an average of years, nearly or quite three days out of four. These facts are familiar. The consequences resulting from them are, that our winters are colder and our summers much hotter than in England. Our latitude is about that of Oporto, yet the temperature is very different. On these accounts, therefore, the maturing of the crops in England, and the power of using these crops, creates a material difference between its agriculture and ours. It may be supposed that our climate must resemble that of China in the same latitudes; and this fact may have an essential bearing upon that branch of agriculture which it is proposed to introduce among us, the production of silk.

The second point of difference between the two countries lies in the soil. The soil of England is mainly argillaceous, a soft and unctuous loam upon a substratum of clay. This may be considered as the predominant characteristic in the parts which I visited. The soil in some of the southern counties of England is thinner; some of it is what we should call stony; much of it is a free, gravelly soil, with some small part which, with us, would be called sandy. Through a great extent of country, this soil rests on a deep bed of chalk. Ours is a granite soil. There is granite in Great Britain; but this species of soil prevails in Scotland, a part of the country which more resembles our own. We may have some lands as good as any in England. Our alluvial soils on Connecticut River, and in some other parts of the country, are equal to any lands; but these have not, ordinarily, a wide extent of clay subsoil. The soil of Massachusetts is harder, more granitic, less abounding in clay, and altogether more stony, than the soil of England. The surface of Massachusetts is more uneven, more broken with mountain ridges, more diversified with hill and dale, and more abundant in streams of water, than that of England.

The price of land in that county, another important element in agricultural calculations, differs greatly from the price of land with us. It is three times as high as in Massachusetts, at least.

On the other hand, the price of agricultural labor is much higher in Massachusetts than in England. The price of labor varies considerably in different parts of England; but it may be set down as twice as dear with us here.

These are the general remarks which have suggested themselves to me in regard to the state of things abroad. Now, have we any thing to learn from them? Is there any thing in the condition of England applicable to us, or in regard to which the agriculture of England may be of use to Massachusetts and other countries?

The subject of agriculture, in England, has strongly attracted the attention and inquiries of men of science. They have studied particularly the nature of the soil. More than twenty years ago, Sir Humphrey Davy undertook to treat the subject of the application of chemical knowledge to agriculture in the analysis of soils and manures. The same attention has been continued to the subject; and the extraordinary discoveries and advances 446 in chemical science, since his time, are likely to operate greatly to the advantage of agriculture. The best results may be expected from them. These inquiries are now prosecuted in France with great enthusiasm and success. We may hope for like beneficial results here from the application of science to the same objects.

But although the circumstances of climate and situation, and nature of the soil, form permanent distinctions which cannot be changed, yet there are other differences, resulting from different modes of culture, and different forms of applying labor; and it is to these differences that our attention should be particularly directed. Here, there is much to learn. English cultivation is more scientific, more systematic, and more exact, a great deal, than ours. This is partly the result of necessity. A vast population is to be supported on comparatively a small surface. Lands are dear, rents are high, and hands, as well as mouths, are numerous. Careful and skillful cultivation is the natural result of this state of things. An English farmer looks not merely to the present year’s crop. He considers what will be the condition of the land when that crop is off; and what it will be fit for the next year. He studies to use his land so as not to abuse it. On the contrary, his aim is to get crop after crop, while still the land shall be growing better and better. If he should content himself with raising from the soil a large crop this year, and then leave it neglected and exhausted, he would starve. It is upon this fundamental idea of constant production without exhaustion, that the system of English cultivation, and, indeed, of all good cultivation, is founded. England is not original in this. Flanders, and perhaps Italy, have been her teachers. This system is carried out in practice by a well-considered rotation of crops. The form or manner of this rotation, in a given case, is determined very much by the value of the soil, and partly by the local demand for particular products. But some rotation, some succession, some variation in the annual productions of the same land, is essential. No tenant could obtain a lease, or, if he should, could pay his rent and maintain his family, who should wholly disregard this. White crops (wheat, barley, rye, oats, &c.) are not to follow one another. Our maize, or Indian corn, must be considered a white crop; although, from the quantity of stalk and leaf which it produces, and which are such excellent food for cattle, it is less exhausting than some other 447 white crops; or, to speak more properly, it makes greater returns to the land. The cultivation of maize has not, however, been carried to any extent in England. Green crops are turnips, potatoes, beets, vetches, or tares (which are usually eaten while growing, by cattle and sheep, or cut for green food), and clover. Buck or beech wheat, and winter oats,—thought to be a very useful product,—are regarded also as green crops, when eaten on the land; and so, indeed, may any crop be considered, which is used in this way. But the turnip is the great green crop of England. Its cultivation has wrought such changes, in fifty years, that it may be said to have revolutionized English agriculture.

Before that time, when lands became exhausted by the repetition of grain crops, they were left, as it was termed, fallow; that is, were not cultivated at all, but left to recruit themselves as they might. This occurred as often as every fourth year, so that one quarter of the arable land was always out of cultivation, and yielded nothing. Turnips are now substituted in the place of these naked fallows; and now land in turnips is considered as fallow. What is the philosophy of this? The raising of crops, even of any, the most favorable crop, does not, in itself, enrich, but in some degree exhausts, the land. The exhaustion of the land, however, as experience and observation have fully demonstrated, takes place mainly when the seeds of a plant are allowed to perfect themselves. The turnip is a biennial plant. It does not perfect its seed before it is consumed.

There is another circumstance in respect to the turnip plant which deserves consideration. Plants, it is well understood, derive a large portion of their nutriment from the air. The leaves of plants are their lungs. The leaves of turnips expose a wide surface to the atmosphere, and derive, therefore, much of their subsistence and nutriment from these sources. The broad leaves of the turnips likewise shade the ground, preserve its moisture, and prevent, in some measure, its exhaustion by the sun and air.

The turnips have a further and ultimate use. Meat and clothing come from animals. The more animals are sustained upon a farm, the more meat and the more clothing. These things bear, of course, a proportion to the number of bullocks, sheep, swine, and poultry which are maintained. The great inquiry, 448 then, is, What kind of crops will least exhaust the land in their cultivation, and furnish, at the same time, support to the largest number of animals?

A very large amount of land, in England, is cultivated in turnips. Fields of turnips of three, four, and even five hundred acres, are sometimes seen, though the common fields are much less; and it may be observed here, that, in the richest and best cultivated parts of England, enclosures of ten, fifteen, twenty, or thirty acres seemed more common. Since the introduction of the turnip culture, bullocks and sheep have trebled in number. Turnips, for the reasons given, are not great exhausters of the soil; and they furnish abundant food for animals. Let us suppose that one bushel of oats or barley may be raised at the same cost as ten bushels of turnips, and will go as far in support of stock. The great difference in the two crops is to be found in the farmer’s barn-yard. Here is the test of their comparative value. This is the secret of the great advantages which follow from their cultivation. The value of manure in agriculture is well appreciated. M’Queen states the extraordinary fact, that the value of the animal manure annually applied to the crops in England, at current prices, surpasses in value the whole amount of its foreign commerce. There is no doubt that it greatly exceeds it. The turnip crop returns a vast amount of nutritive matter to the soil. The farmer, then, from his green crops, and by a regular system of rotation, finds green fodder for his cattle and wheat for the market.

Among the lighter English soils is that of the county of Norfolk, a county, however, which I had not the pleasure of visiting. Its soil, I understand, is light, a little inclined to sand, or light loam. Such soils are not unfavorable to roots. Here is the place of the remarkable cultivation and distinguished improvements of that eminent cultivator, Mr. Coke, now Earl of Leicester. In these lands, as I was told, a common rotation is turnips, barley, clover, wheat. These lands resemble much of the land in our county of Plymouth, and the sandy lands to be found in the vicinity of the Connecticut and Merrimack Rivers. The cultivation of green crops in New England deserves attention. There is no incapacity in our soil, and there are no circumstances unfavorable to their production. What would be the best kind of succulent vegetables to be cultivated, whether turnips 449 or carrots, I am not prepared to say. But no attempts, within my knowledge, have been made among us of a systematic agriculture; and until we enter upon some regular rotation of crops, and our husbandry becomes more systematic, no distinguished success can be looked for. As to our soil, as has been remarked, there is no inherent incapacity for the production of any of the common crops. We can raise wheat in Massachusetts. The average crop in England is twenty-six bushels to the acre. From my own farm, where the soil is comparatively thin and poor, I have obtained this summer seventy-six bushels of wheat upon three acres of land. It is not, therefore, any want of capability in the soil; but the improvement and success of our husbandry must depend upon a succession of crops adapted to the circumstances of our soil, climate, and peculiar condition.

In England, a large portion of the turnip crop is consumed on the land where it grows. The sheep are fed out of doors all winter; and I saw many large flocks, in the aggregate thousands and even millions of sheep, which were never housed. This was matter of surprise, especially considering the wetness of the climate; and these sheep are often exposed in fields where a dry spot cannot be found for them to lie down upon. Sheep are often folded in England by wattled fences, or hurdles temporarily erected in different parts of the field, and removed from place to place, as the portions of the crop thus fenced off are consumed. In some cases they are folded, and the turnips dug and carried to them. In such cases, they are always fed upon lands which are intended the next year to be, as far as practicable, brought under cultivation. I have seen many laborers in fields, employed in drawing the turnips, splitting them, and scattering them over the land, for the use of the sheep, which is considered better, often, than to leave the sheep to dig for themselves. These laborers are so employed all winter, and if the ground should become frozen, the turnips are taken up with a bar. Together with the turnips, it is thought important that sheep should have a small quantity of other food. Chopped hay, sometimes a little oil-cake, or oats, is usually given. This is called trough food, as it is eaten in troughs, standing about in the field. In so moist a climate as that of England, some land is so wet that, in the farmer’s 450 phrase, it will not carry sheep; that is, it is quite too wet for sheep to lie out upon it. In such cases, the turnips must be carried, that is, removed from the field, and fed out elsewhere. The last season was uncommonly wet, and for that reason, perhaps, I could not so well judge; but it appeared to me that it would be an improvement in English husbandry, to furnish for sheep, oftener than is done, not only a tolerably dry ground to lie on, but some sort of shelter against the cold rains of winter. The turnips, doubtless, are more completely consumed, when dug, split, and fed out. The Swedish turnip, I have little doubt, is best suited to cold climates. It is scarcely injured by being frozen in the ground in the winter, as it will thaw again, and be still good, in spring. In Scotland, in the Lothians, where cultivation is equal to that in any part of England, it is more the practice than farther south to house turnips, or draw them, and cover them from frost. I have been greatly pleased with Scotch farming, and as the climate and soil of Scotland more resemble the soil and climate of Massachusetts than those of England do, I hope the farmers of Massachusetts will acquaint themselves, as well as they can, with Scotch husbandry. I had the pleasure of passing some time in Scotland, with persons engaged in these pursuits, and acknowledge myself much instructed by what I learned from them, and saw in their company. The great extent of the use of turnips and other green crops in Scotland is evidence that such crops cannot be altogether unsuited to Massachusetts.

Among the subjects which of late years have engaged much of the attention of agriculturists in England, few are more important than that of tile draining. This most efficient and successful mode of draining is getting into very extensive use. Much of the soil of England, as I have already stated, rests on a clayey and retentive subsoil. Excessive wetness is prejudicial and destructive to the crops. Marginal drains, or drains on the outside of the fields, do not produce the desired results. These tile-drains have effected most important improvements. The tile itself is made of clay, baked like bricks; it is about one foot in length, four inches in width, three fourths of an inch in thickness, and it stands from six to eight inches in height, being hemispherical, or like the half of a cylinder, with its sides elongated. It somewhat resembles the Dutch tiles which are seen 451 on the roofs of the old houses in Albany and New York. A ditch is sunk, eighteen or twenty inches in depth, and these drains are multiplied over a field, sometimes at a distance of only seven yards apart. The ditch or drain being dug, these tiles are laid down, with the hollow side at bottom, on the smooth clay, or any other firm subsoil, the sides placed near to each other, some little straw thrown over the joints to prevent the admission of dirt, and the whole covered up. This is not so expensive a mode of draining as might be supposed. The ditch or drain need only be narrow, and tiles are of much cheaper transportation than stone would be. But the result is so important as well to justify the expense. It is estimated that this thorough draining adds often twenty per cent. to the production of the wheat crop. A beautiful example came under my observation in Nottinghamshire, not long before I left England. A gentleman was showing me his grounds for next year’s crop of wheat. On one side of the lane, where the land had been drained, the wheat was already up and growing luxuriantly; on the other, where the land was subject to no other disadvantage than that it had not been drained, it was still too wet to be sowed at all. It may be thought singular enough, but it is doubtless true, that, on stiff, clayey lands, thorough draining is as useful in dry, hot summers as in cold and wet summers; for such land, if a wet winter or spring be suddenly followed by hot and dry weather, is apt to become hard and baked, so that the roots of plants cannot enter it. Thorough draining, by giving an opportunity to the water on the surface to be constantly escaping, corrects this evil. Draining can never be needed to so great an extent in Massachusetts as in England and Scotland, from the different nature of the soil; but we have yet quantities of low meadow lands, producing wild, harsh, sour grasses, or producing nothing, which, there is little doubt, might be rendered most profitable hay-fields, by being well drained. When we understand better the importance of concentrating labor, instead of scattering it,—when we shall come to estimate duly the superior profit of “a little farm, well tilled,” over a great farm, half cultivated and half manured, overrun with weeds, and scourged with exhausting crops,—we shall then fill our barns, and double the winter fodder for our cattle and sheep by the products of these waste meadows.

There is in England another mode of improvement, most important, instances of which I have seen, and one of which I regard as the most beautiful agricultural improvement which has ever come under my observation. I mean irrigation, or the making of what are called water meadows. I first saw them in Wiltshire, and was much struck with them, not having before understood, from reading or conversation, exactly what they were. But I afterwards had an opportunity of examining a most signal and successful example of this mode of improvement, on the estates of the Duke of Portland, in the North of England, on the borders of Sherwood forest. Indeed, it was part of the old forest known by that name. Sherwood forest, at least in its present state, is not like the pine forests of Maine, the heavy, hard wood forests of the unredeemed lands of New Hampshire and Vermont, or the still heavier timbered lands of the West. It embraces a large extent of country, with various soils, some of them thin and light, with beautiful and venerable oaks, of unknown age, much open ground between them and underneath their wide-spread branches, and this covered with heather, lichens, and fern. Sherwood forest, indeed, is not less interesting for the natural beauty which charms the eye, than for its venerable antiquity and historical associations. But in many parts the soil is far enough from being rich. Upon the borders of this forest are the water meadows of which I am speaking. A little river runs through the forest in this part, at the bottom of a valley with sides moderately sloping, and of considerable extent, between the river at the bottom and the common level of the surrounding country above. This little river, before reaching the place, runs through a small town, and gathers, doubtless, some refuse matter in its course. From this river, the water is taken at the upper end of the valley, conducted along the edge, or bank, in a canal or carrier, and from this carrier, at proper times, suffered to flow out very gently, spreading over and irrigating the whole surface, trickling and shining, when I saw it, (and it was then November,) among the light-green of the new-springing grass, and collected below in another canal, from which it is again let out, to flow in like manner over land lying still farther down towards the bottom of the valley. Ten years ago, this land, for production, was worth little or nothing. I was told that some of it 453 had been let, for no more than a shilling an acre. It has not been manured, and yet is now most extensively productive. It is not flooded; the water does not stand upon it; it flows gently over, and is applied several times in a year to each part, say in March, May, July, and October. In November, when I saw it, the farmers were taking off the third crop of hay cut this season, and that crop was certainly not less than two tons to the acre. This last crop is mostly used as green food for cattle. When I speak of the number of tons, I mean tons of dried hay. After this crop was off, sheep were to be put on it, to have lambs at Christmas, so as to come into market in March, a time of year when they command a high price. Upon taking off the sheep in March, the land would be watered. The process of watering lasts two or three days, or perhaps eight or ten days, according to circumstances, and is repeated after the taking off of each successive crop. Although this water has no doubt considerable sediment in it, yet the general fact shows how important water itself is to the growth of plants, and how far, even, it may supply the place of other sources of sustenance. Now we in Massachusetts have a more uneven surface, more valleys with sloping sides, by many times more streams, and such a climate that our farms suffer much oftener from drought than farms in England. May we not learn something useful, therefore, from such examples of irrigation in that country?