October Poems: The Farmer

 

An idyllic country cottage

For the first time, in 1870 the census showed that most working Americans were not farmers. Specifically, the total number of farmers was 47.7 of the working population. This was a very rapid change. In 1850, 64 percent of working Americans were farmers. (Today that figure is two percent.) The country was dramatically changed and changing through industrialization, urbanization and immigration. Not only were there fewer farmers, but succeeding in farming changed too.

As farming became more mechanized, farmers began to rely more on bank loans for land and equipment. Farmers who did not mechanize and acquire more land could not compete. Yet farmers faced high interest rates and found it impossible to get out of a cycle of debt.

     Farmers blamed bankers, railroad owners, commodity futures dealers, grain elevator operators and manufacturers of farm equipment for their problems. Monopolistic pricing, high tariffs, political corruption, inflexible banking practices and corporations buying huge tracts of land were behind their anger. Ironically, farmers’ increased productivity - boasted about and celebrated in the Coffeyville newspaper of my ancestors - led to a drop in prices. 

     It seemed the farmer could not get a fair shake. It’s understandable that there would be a nostalgia for the good old days, simpler golden times of farming, and that the farmer would be viewed as a noble figure. In this time of increasing industrialization and urbanization, the country life on the farm was widely seen as safer and more wholesome. When Alice Hatfield Barbour had a surprise visit in Dearing, Kansas from four of her Hoosier brothers the Coffeyville newspaper editor said, “All farmers – that means honesty.” 

     Victorians celebrated and commemorated seemingly everything in poetry. So this month I offer poems about farmers. The first two present a simple, idyllic view - no crop failure and debt here.

The Farmer’s Wife

By Mrs. M.A. Kidder

I’m a farmer’s wife

With a happy life,

And a heart that is glad and free;

For the many cares

That my good man shares

Are made light

By his love of me. 

Chorus:

Oh, the music sweet

Of the growing wheat,

And the corn when

The wind passes by!

I listen long to the tender song,

For a farmer’s wife

Am I. 

Oh! The teaming fields

With their generous yields!

Oh! The acres 

Broad and grand!

With the browsing herds 

And the gayest birds,

All here from the

Sweet south land.

Chorus. 

Then I love the peace

And the glad release

I have from 

The city’s toil;

With a hope above

And my good man’s love,

I take pride in 

The honest soil. 

Chorus. 

A Farmer’s Wife I’ll Be

I am a wild and laughing girl just turned

Of sweet sixteen,

As full of fun and mischief as any you

Have seen;

And when I am a woman grown, no city

Beau for me —

If e’er I marry in my life, a farmer’s wife

I’ll be. 

I love a country life, I love a joyous breeze,

I love to hear the singing birds among the

Lofty trees;

The lowing herds, the bleating flocks make,

Sweet music to me;

If e’er I marry in my life, a farmer’s wife

I’ll be. 

I love to feed the chickens, I love to feed

The cow,

I love to hear the farmer’s boy a’whistling

At his plow,

And fields of corn and waving grain are

Pleasing sights for me;

If e’er I marry in my life, a farmer’s wife

I’ll be. 

I love to see the orchards where the

Golden apples grow,

I love to walk in meadows where sparkling

Streamlets flow;

The flowery banks and shady nooks have

Many charms for me;

If e’er I marry in my life, a farmer’s wife

I’ll be. 

Let other girls who love it best enjoy

The gloomy town,

And dusty streets and dirty walks

To ramble up and down;

But flowery fields and shady woods and

Starry skies for me –

If e’er I marry in my life, a farmer’s wife

I’ll be. 

In 1873 a Newport, Vermont farm wife wrote of the realities of her life. Laura Brigham Boyce was a locally noted poet and writer who responded to a letter to the editor from a man who said it was a "prodigious wonder" to him, "how anyone can lament and deplore the fate of being a farmer's wife." All it took was a little energy and ingenuity, he said.

"It is no prodigious wonder to me," Mrs. Boyce wrote. The plentiful abundance of food the man referenced "won't cook for the hired man, scrub floors, skim milk, wash pans, salt butter, nor the thousand and one things that keep a farmer's wife busy from early morn till night, or until weariness disables her from further labor....I have had charge of a dairy of from twenty to thirty cows and a family of from six to twelve to care for..." She wrote of being on her feet since five in the morning, skimming a hundred pans of milk, salting fifty pounds of butter, washing the dairy utensils, getting dinner for eight to a dozen people, washing two to three floors and getting in some ironing, and all on a day when the temperature was in the 90s. Visiting friends in town she saw their homes filled with dainty things, their own "deft handwork," and the ruffles and flounces on their dresses, all of which she wished she had time to make.

Mrs. Boyce had been a farmer's wife for 17 years when she responded to this letter.

The next poem features two farmers talking about why it is so hard for them to make a living at their chosen profession.

The Farmer’s Lament

Said Honest Hodge to Farmer Podge,

Why are times so hard?

Our projuce never was so low,

From ‘taters up to lard.

I’ve toted twenty miles to town

All the old mares could heft.

Bought just two drinks and paid the toll,

And not a darned cent left.

Said Neighbor Podge to Honest Podge,

The reason I can tell

Is tariffs doubles all you buy

And cheapens all you sell –

Such taxes make the rich man rich,

And keep the farmer poor;

If you could once get rid of them,

You’d prosper I am sure. 

Said Honest Hodge to Neighbor Podge,

I do believe you’re right.

These tariffs, trusts and syndicates

I’d knock ‘em out of sight,

While Gould and Sage and Vanderbilt.

Are gobbling all the wealth

I’m doubled up with rheumatiz,

Maria’s out of health.

The legislature meets this fall

And when I sell my beans

I’m going up to Lansing town

To see what this thing means. 

The farmer raises everything

From wool to wheat, you know,

And if my skull ain’t tarnel thick,

He oughter have some show. 

Your head is level, Honest Hodge!

‘Tis here the trouble lies;

The farmer raises so much wool

It’s apt to blind his eyes.

The mills no longer buy your wool,

Though you implore and beg;

The tariff tax has killed the goose

That laid the golden egg.

Your wheat and oats John Bull don’t need

Your corn you’ll have to burn,

Unless in some way he can trade

You something in return.

So farmers all both great and small

Who struggle through this rhyme

Leave off protection fallacies,

Vote free trade every time. 

      Jay Gould and Cornelius Vanderbilt were railroad magnates. Russell Sage was a financier and railroad executive. John Bull was (and is) a personification of Great Britain.

     The next poem starts off as just another farmer’s wife poem but is filled with current events. It was published in 1887. The second stanza mentions being swindled with “shoddy and oleomargarine.” Although today any cheap product of poor quality can be described as shoddy, it originally referred to a type of cheap fabric. In 1867 a French chemist developed artificial butter. The dairy industry, wanting to protect their market share,  prevailed on Congress to pass the Oleomargarine Act of 1886. It appointed scientists to test samples of butter to make sure they were not adulterated with oleomargarine. 

A Farmer’s Wife I’ll Be

A farmer’s wife I’ll be, a farmer’s wife I’ll be;

If I should ever marry a farmer’s wife I’ll be.

I would not marry a sailor who plows the

Raging main,

For fear he might forget me,

And ne’er return again;

A farmer’s wife I’ll be, a farmer’s wife I’ll be;

Oh give me the honest farmer, he’s the man

For me. 

I would not marry a City Dude for twice his 

Weight in gold,

A girl who marries for money is very badly sold;

I would not marry a merchant, in trade so very

Keen;

He swindles you with shoddy, and

Oleomargarine;

A farmer’s wife I’ll be, a farmer’s wife I’ll be;

If I should ever marry, a farmer’s wife I’ll be. 

I would not marry an Editor, though he be

Much admired,

A quill-diver’s vocation is not to be desired;

In divulging information, if he should be too 

Rash,

He gets his compensation, but not always in

Cash;

A farmer’s wife I’ll be, a farmer’s wife I’ll be;

If I should ever marry, a farmer’s wife I’ll be. 

I would not marry an Anarch,

Like Nina Clark Van Zandt,

I’m glad that Sheriff Matson tells Nina that

She can’t.

She’d be a better farmer’s wife, and dwell

Where peace belongs

Than wed an errant Anarch to blow her up

With bombs.

A farmer’s wife I’ll be, a farmer’s wife I’ll be;

Give me the honest farmer for no Anarch is he. 

     I was reading along, thinking this was just another idealized poem about being a farmer’s wife when I got to the last part. (I skipped one stanza about not wanting to be a lawyer’s wife.) Then there was the reference to an anarchist, Nina and Sheriff Matson. What? 

     Prior to 1877, most Americans were not supportive of unions. There was a widespread belief that one had to submit to whatever working conditions and pay an employer offered. This is similar to today when people say that teachers know the pay is low when they go into teaching, so they should be content with that and not advocate for change. 

     Then the Panic of 1873 hit, creating the longest economic downturn the country had seen. It was also known as the Great Depression before the 1930s Great Depression. Wages dropped dramatically and unemployment was widespread - a quarter of the working population in some places. Immigration from Europe and migration of rural workers into the burgeoning urban centers made it easy to lay off men. A bitterness arose between laborers and industry leaders. 

     In July 1877 the B&O Railroad (Baltimore and Ohio) cut wages for the third time since the Panic, amounting to an accumulated 35 percent reduction in pay, and making the B & O the lowest-paying railroad. This resulted in a strike that was the first to spread to multiple states. About 50 percent of the freight being carried in the U.S. was stopped. The strike lasted 52 days before being put down by the National Guard, other federal troops and local militias.

     This time, the American public was sympathetic. Farmers were angry about high freight rates they were forced to pay to ship their commodities. The public was tired of hearing about corruption in the railroad industry, and they disapproved of the companies’ tactics toward their workers. Militia members sympathized with the strikers and refused to take action against them in some places. 

     Yet the strike was broken with the workers losing. Wages were not increased and hours weren’t reduced. But in the long run, there were many gains. Membership in Knights of Labor, a fraternal organization that advocated an eight-hour workday, increased. The strike led to the formation of the Populist Party. Labor rights became important issues to Republicans and Democrats. The B&O formed the Employee Relief Association which provided death benefits and some health care. In 1884 it became the first major employer to establish a worker pension plan, something rare for the time. Additionally, the U.S. Bureau of Labor was created in 1884.

     Various groups continued to press for changes in working conditions, such as the eight-hour day. As Francis X. Busch said, the grievances of laborers were not imaginary. “Times were none too good. Labor, skilled and unskilled, was overworked and underpaid. Workers in the stockyards, industrial plants and the smaller sweatshops labored from ten to sixteen hours daily. The wages of these unfortunates were far from sufficient to provide a sanitary place in which to live and decent food and clothing. There was no added pay for overtime, no paid holidays or any of the modern-day “fringe benefits.” 

     On May 1, 1886, August Spies, a leading member of the International Working People’s Association and editor of an anarchist newspaper, participated in a parade said by some to be 80,000 strong up Michigan Avenue advocating for an eight-hour workday. It was part of a national strike involving up to a million people in the U.S. (Estimates vary.) May 3rd, unarmed strikers clashed with strikebreakers at the McCormick Reaper Works. Police entered the crowd with billy clubs and guns, killing several strikers. On May 4th, August Spies helped organize a rally at the old Chicago Haymarket protesting police brutality towards the strikers. Things were winding down and the crowd was dissipating when someone threw a bomb into a crowd of policemen, killing seven and injuring many more. The police fired into the crowd, killing four demonstrators.

     Eight men - Spies and seven other speakers, all immigrants - were indicted and convicted of the bombing and killing, although it was understood they had not thrown the bomb. This is where Nina Van Zandt enters the picture. Nina was a Vassar College graduate, the only child of a wealthy chemist. At a time when people attended trials as entertainment, she and her mother were offered reserved seats to the anarchists’ trial by a judge. Nina became convinced that the judicial system was trying the men only because of their involvement in the labor movement. Afterward, she visited August Spies in jail. 

     As she continued visiting, Nina noted that prisoners were allowed to sit outside jail cells with women visitors. She asked the sheriff for permission to do so, but he said only wives and mothers were allowed. Nina then determined to marry Spies. Initially the sheriff cooperated with an arrangement for the two to marry in his office, but word got out. Under public pressure he changed his mind and denied her request for any wedding at the jail. Nina and August were married by proxy, but the sheriff refused to acknowledge this as a legitimate marriage and still denied Nina any visits. 

     There was an outpouring of sympathy and support for police officers. Anti-union sentiment prevailed and newspapers blamed foreign anarchists for the violence. The public was baffled as to why a nice girl from a genteel background would support August Spies. All the men were condemned to death; Spies was hung Nov. 10, 1887.

The next poem brings us back to the cherished ideals of farm life, a life with constantly abundant fields and orchards, free from want. The poem has a stanza each for spring, summer and fall, but I'm just including the opening.

The Plow, the Spade and the Hoe

The farmer’s the chief of the nation,

The oldest of nobles is he;

How best beyond others his station,

From want and from envy how free!

His patent was granted in Eden,

Long ages and ages ago:

O the farmer, the farmer forever,

Three cheers for the plow, spade and hoe!

        I’ll close with something light-hearted. The last poem makes fun of the city slicker.

The City Farmer

The yellow ochre blossoms now adorn

The tall and stately oaks.

And from her nest in yonder pumpkin tree

The tuneful crocus croaks.

The cauliflower slowly seeks its gloomy cell,

The sun’s too warm for him;

And purple daffodils, all mellow ripe

Hang from each burdened limb.

The plumage cabbage pipes a merry lay

Beside the turtle dove;

The crow is warbling in the turnip vine

His melodies of love.

Oh, come then lady, come and stroll with me

Where streams of cider flow

‘Neath the umbrageous sweet potato tree

I’ll whisper soft and low.

We’ll talk of ensilage and cows and swine

And you shall share a part

Of countless other May-time joys that thrill

Your farmer-lover’s heart. 

Sources:

Newspapers:

     "Farmers' Wives," The Vermont Farmer (Newport, Vermont), 7 March 1873, p. 2.

“The Plow, the Spade and the Hoe,” The Daily Kansas Tribune (Lawrence, Kansas), 30 Aug 1873, p. 7. 

     “The City Farmer’s Poem,” Burlington Patriot (Burlington, Kansas), 6 May 1882, p. 4. 

     Kidder, M.A. “The Farmer’s Wife,” The Downs’ Chief (Downs, Kansas), 7 June 1888, p. 4. 

     “A Farmer’s Wife I’ll Be,” Brownsville Republican (Brownsville, Nebraska), 1 Feb 1883, p. 1. 

     “A Farmer’s Wife I’ll Be,” Appleton Post (Appleton, Wisconsin), 3 Feb 1887, p. 3. 

     “The Farmer’s Lament,” Detroit Free Press, 17 Sept 1889, p. 4. 

     Holmes, Lizzie M. “She’ll Wed Again,” The Gazette (York, Pennsylvania), 13 July 1891, p. 2.

"Farm Population Lowest Since 1850s," New York Times, 20 July 1988, Section A, p. 12.

Other:

     Busch, Francis X. “The Haymarket Riot and the Trial of the Anarchists,” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, Vol. 48 No. 3 (Autumn 1955), pp. 247-270. 

     “The Farmers’ Plight,” Digital History, 2021, https://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textbook.cfm?smtID=2&psid=3126

     “Oleomargarine Act of 1886,” Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, https://www.atf.gov/our-history/timeline/oleomargarine-act-1886

     Piper, Jessica. “The Great Railroad Strike of 1877: A Catalyst for the American Labor Movement,” The History Teacher, Vol. 47, No. 1 (November 2013), pp. 93-110. 

Copyright By Andrea Auclair ©