III

VILLAGE SITUATED DEEP IN A REGION OF AGRICULTURAL ENTERPRISE

We arrive at a small country town and there sup at an inn. Notes and observations concerning those who dwell in a village situated deep in a region of agricultural enterprise.

THE TRAVELLER. The clock high in the venerable tower of the church of Saint Norman the Lamenter struck one after noon as we drove into a small country town. It being the hour in which it is customary to sup, little activity was to be observed, most indoors at meat and drink. Albert knowing the place well went directly to towards an inn that stood in the shadow of the church The Innkeeper, said Albert, was an old acquaintance, and often having need to pass this way, twas his custom to make halt if the time of day to take sustenance.

Parking the Solar Cart in the inn-yard, we got down, crossed the cobbles and made our entrance. The interior was ancient in design, displaying an array of fine craftsmanship in wood and metal. Great oak beams held the ceiling aloft. Cunningly carved pillars of similar timber adorned the main serving place. Great quantities of artefacts decorated shelves and chimney-piece. Objects fashioned from glass and copper. Kettles. Preserving-pans. Fire-irons. Curling-tongues. A deal of other objects unfamiliar to myself. Indeed a diversity too numerous to grasp within a brief moment of observation.

In the public rooms, several persons from the locality, all male, were sitting, lounging, eating and drinking. One small group were playing a game the like of which I had naught before seen. Small arrows fashioned from wood and metal with feather flights being hurled at a round board edged with numerals, affixed on the wall some four paces distant from the thrower. Of the rules governing this pastime, I knew not, and made a note to interrogate Albert concerning the matter when there was moment that allowed me to do so.

Fredrick the good innkeeper of the hostelry registering our entrance, smiled in recognition at the welcome sight of an old acquaintance.

ALBERT. “Good morrow Fredrick. How are thee this fiddlesome day?”

FREDRICK. “Middling. Fair to middling, Albert my worthy friend. The Misses is low with a humour and has been abed since these four days.”

ALBERT. “Disconsolate to be thus informed.”

FREDRICK. “No matter,” sighing “Such events are but the purdle of our daily toil.”

ALBERT. Nodding sagely. “A truesome observation my old companion and mentor.”

FREDRICK. “And what purpose this day fetches thee to visit this blinsey shire?” grasping the pump of the beer engine “Your usual preference?”

ALBERT. “Two flagons of Murkey and Ancient.”

THE TRAVELLER. He gestured towards me and I concurred with his choice of beverage.

ALBERT. “I am as acting as guide, Solar Cart Driver, and companion to this gentleman and scholar who hails from far distant parts. Tis his first visit to The Island of Herttach.”

FREDRICK. “Indeed Sir,” shaking my hand across the expanse of bar top whilst his other hand pressed a button atop the beer-engine, filling two flagons in a gaseous instant. “I am sure your stay will be a fulsome one, rendered all the more so by the store of knowledge and wisdom my old campaigner, Albert, stores within his pottled brow.”

THE TRAVELLER. I inquired if he had ever made a visit other lands? He seemed astonished and not a little amused at this suggestion.

FREDRICK. “Never considered the necessity. I tell you plainly, that in more than thirty years, I have never ventured further than six leagues beyond the spot where we are now all standing.”

ALBERT. “What have thee on offer today?” Passing a flagon to me and taking a deep draught from his own pot.

THE TRAVELLER. I took a sip of exploration at what proved to be a neutral tasting, slightly tepid, flatulent, liquid.

FREDRICK. “Let me consider well for a moment,” picking up from the bar a book covered with red-leather quilted end-pieces and reading from the card within “Mother Warton’s Meat Pudding. Farmhouse Pot. Aunt Alice’s Pressed Tongue Collation.”

FREDRICK. “And particular too this day, March Time Game Pie.”

ALBERT. “All good Herttach fare.”

THE TRAVELLER. “Intimating that the choice for myself could be left in his capable hands, myself not being familiar with the cuisine native to his country. He at once commanded two Mother Warton’s Meat Puddings.”

FREDRICK. “A moment gentlemen. Home-wrought victuals needs time to dress.”

THE TRAVELLER. Taking down a glass jar from a high shelf behind the bar, a space it occupied with a whole row of glass containers, identical except for their labels. He then took from off another shelf two oval earthenware dishes, opened the jar, and measured a spoonful of it’s contents powdery into each dish. After replacing the jar snugly between its fellows, carried a kettle that was boiling merrily nearby on a hotplate over to the dishes and poured a measure of hot water into each in turn. Bubbling and expansive hissing ensured. A faint, indefinable aroma permeated the air. Frederick pushed the bowls towards us across the top of the bar, the original spoonfuls of powder having miraculously expanded brim full in the serving dishes.

FREDRICK. “Your repast gentlemen. Consume and relish. Nought like good home-dressed Herttach victuals to pleasure a man.”

ALBERT. “Or maid.”

THE TRAVELLER. Jesting he put the oval dish on the table before me. I dipped my spoon, tasted, pondered inwardly recollecting the meal I partook of the previous evening before crossing the waters. Silence followed whilst we ate and supped. Fredrick taking himself off to tend the needs of other customers before returning presently. Seeing we had eaten and his many other claimants having had their particular needs attended to, fetched us both a dish of coffee, with a small mint sweetmeat to accompany it. He sat down at our board and spread a folio of drawings for our delectation.

FREDRICK. “Having now sustained your inner selves, I considered, you being a stranger to these parts, it might divert you to see a likeness of the interior of these chambers before we commenced improvement and transformation, results in which we take great satisfaction.”

THE TRAVELLER. Intrigued I scanned the cartoons in detail, comparing it with our present surroundings. In no manner could I discover any divergence between the sketches and the current arrangements. Surprised, I said as much.

FREDRICK. “But of course there is no difference in aspect,” said the good landlord. “But well heed this demonstration.”

THE TRAVELLER. Tapping one of the beams with his knuckles produced a hollow sound. He did likewise with other outwardly looking solid surfaces.

FREDRICK. “Not a splinter of the original wood remains,” He explained seemingly well pleased “Everything you can see about you is cunningly fashioned from Rational Materials.”

THE TRAVELLER. Picking up a copper kettle from the hearth-stone and taking up a spoon he rapped the bottom of the vessel. Instead of the expected metallic sound a dull-ish thud.

FREDRICK. “You would even with close scrutiny imagine this object to be worked in copper? No my gradely friend. This is wrought from a substance similar in composition to that shapes all these other salient features about you.”

THE TRAVELLER. Rapping again on the trusses with mighty satisfaction, he lifted up with his finger tips what I took to be a cat, cast in iron, though it appeared to be metal, it weighed no more than a bag of feathers. Confused I inquired why remove the original interior features and artefacts only to replace them with items of identical design but constructed from different base materials? Our good host and possessor of everything about us raised an amused eyebrow and exchanged quizzical glances with Albert before proffering the following observations.

FREDRICK. “The new must replace the old! Tis the only proper manner of the doing. An infant not long out of raddle bands would know this. The Minikin Blue Book rightly proclaims:

All in the past is confusion. Excepting certain parts of the past where defeat and despondency was rightly claimed as victory glorious.

The Mnikin Blue Book. Saw XXI

ALBERT. Spoke to me kindly but firmly “Surely Sir such philosophy is current in foreign parts?” adding before I could answer “Perhaps the self evident superiority sof our customs by their very nature percolate with little haste.”

THE TRAVELLER. Albert and The Good Landlord nodded to each in agreement. After further conversation the room a sudden filled to capacity, a large Solar Wagon having arrived discharging passengers in need of meat and drink. We took our leave of the tranquil innkeeper thanking him most warmly for his many and good natured pleas that he might at some moment in the future have the pleasure of bestowing on us the manifest delights of his establishment.

Mounting our Solar Cart refreshed, we made our exit and Albert steered us back to the highway on towards our next destination. For the next hour we made a route down narrow lanes, between high banks and hedges, until at last around five o’clock in the evening reached the village of Woolton Over Durlow, where Albert had arranged in advance for us to lodge the night, having had rooms reserved for us at The Hoe and Deed Box, a hostelry of good repute, so Albert had informed me.

It was a compact and well ordered village with a multiplicity houses and cottages in fine order. Most were built with with a grey soft hued stone quarried in the locality. Neat gardens spread outwards and around the respective dwellings, heady with flowers edging neat lawns, high fences screening private areas from the publick view. There were no shops or any other commerce discernible, this I thought was usual for the inhabitants of isolated places. Even more disconcerting, there was no sign of any living persons. I also became aware that even though it was still daylight and the sun shining warmly, every window was barred and shuttered, not a single pane of unguarded glass visible as we drove down the main street to reach The Hoe and Deed Box.

Passing the façade of the building where we were to pass the night Albert drove on passing it to the boundaries of the village telling me as time was not pressing, thus he would show me a few salient features of this rustic location.

Bringing the Solar Cart to a halt at the far side of the village he directed my gaze toward the fields, or more exactly The Field. Never had I seen such an unbroken expanse of cultivated land filled as far as the eye could see with some farinaceous crop. “Who tends this?” I inquired of him “I observed no peasants, idle or labouring, as we passed through the village?”

ALBERT. “Well Sir. This being a Friday, The Villagers, will as is their custom commence their arrival before dusk. With regard to the peasant who tends these crops. He will surely be hard-to manning his Toil Station even as we converse.”

THE TRAVELLER. “The Peasant?”

ALBERT. “Born, raised and worked in these parts since he was but a callow boy.”

THE TRAVELLER. “Are there no others?” I asked him fearing I misheard some part of our conversation.

ALBERT. “Others Sir?” he replied perplexed at my confusion “There are no others. Why should there be others? The countryside is no fitting place for peasants to dwell.” Then as if to make an allowance for my ignorance “Perhaps you are thinking of much earlier times when I was, and perhaps you were, but infants? In those distant times numerous persons did in truth tend crops and livestock. Everything altered when The New System of Cultivation and Husbandry was devised and applied to general usage. Surely you must be aware of this transformation?” Observing my silence he continued “In general principle use is made of the subtle application of a system of wires, Self Steering Solar Carts made for agricultural purpose, levers of control at a central point, pipes for irrigation and the transfer of a host of potent liquid aids to fertility. All the lands you can see and far more besides are ploughed, harrowed, sown, tended, and then in turn reaped under the control of but one man. Is this not witness to human ingenuity? Believe me when I tell you Sir. in these fortuitous times, throughout the length of this fair island of ours, not more than give a hundred persons are required to produce all the crops needed for our own consumption and the surplus for exportation.”

THE TRAVELLER. “And the beasts of fields?” I asked, not having seen any herds, flocks, or animals grazing.

ALBERT. “Livestock is confined throughout the year beneath cover. Likewise the ingenious interaction of mechanical devices, herds the cows, takes their milk. Tends the sheep and shears their fleeces during the proper season. Raises Hogs. Feeds and raises Fowls. Collects eggs. Slaughters beasts. Butchers, quarters, joints, in preparedness for speedy transportation to sundry markets.”

THE TRAVELLER. “What of The Villagers you alluded to on our arrival. What part do they play in this order of things?”

ALBERT. “The Villagers Sir. They fulfil a role central to maintaining the ancient traditions of our rural areas. We will make haste to our intended place of lodging The Hoe and Deed Box and there over a tankard or two we will be able to observe their coming and thus I will be enabled to inform you, both in name and detail, matters concerning the elevated positions they occupy in society. Tis fortunate we are here on a Friday and can view the spectacle, The Arrival of the Villagers is a event but few are privileged to witness.”

THE TRAVELLER. Confused I inquired “Do they not dwell here in the village every other day and night?”

ALBERT. “Other nights Sir. Forgive my levity but since our first meeting there are times when I consider wither we both dwell within the same moment of time and space. The Villagers only take up residence in villages Friday evening until moon up Sunday. What other mode of conduct could there be?”

THE TRAVELLER. Having so said, and observing I was not about to offer any riposte, Albert turned the Solar Cart back towards The Hoe and Deed Box.

Some brief time later, having been greeted with some ceremony by The Patron,we sought in our respective chambers to cleanse ourselves from the dust of the highway, before which we agreed a convenient time to meet again in the elegant publick room.

Refreshed I descended the carpeted stairway and rejoined Albert who put a tankard before each of us as we settled in comfort on an upholstered window-seat that overlooked the village street. Hardly had I taken a first draught of ale before sighting what proved to be the first one of many Regal Solar Carts making a stately passage along the principal thoroughfare. Albert named the most important passengers, each in turn as they drove past our vantage point.

ALBERT. “William Allwin The Banker, a most powerful man of trade and commerce. Briggs-Watford The Surgeon whose skill with the blade and saw is legendary. Dibble, Dibble, and Crawshaw, Goldsmiths. The Honourable William Bribeham, Principal Secretary to The Army Office. Walter Pugh MA, Director of the Scientific Engine Manufactory. Lord and Lady Coombe-Hathmore, of independent means. Wilson J Noflag, shipping magnate. Sir Paulus Acne, editor of a notable news sheet and most influential in governmental circles. Sir Naislow Coinfall, Keeper of the State Counting House. The Honourable David Rollem, owner of many Halls of Chance. Sir Falcon Goodblunt, whose opinions are sought avidly by all from the highest to the lowest in the land. “Lady Lila Lashmount popular writer of verve and controversy from her earliest years.”s

THE TRAVELLER. The Arrival of The Villagers saw the hour-glass turned and I was honoured indeed to view so many of the leading citizens of Herttach as they made a path to their places of residence, accompanied by wives, children, sundry other ladies most young in years, their servants and helpers. Never will I forget the spectacle, my poor penmanship not skilled enough to describe the splendid livery of Solar Carts, quality of dress, graceful demeanour of carriage of the persons alighting. Lights soon shone from every window.

Partaking meat before retiring abed, Albert informed me further of the multifarious and beneficent activities of The Villagers. The public-room had started to fill with many of these recently arrived, all seeking food drink and the company of their equals. Rather in awe finding ourselves in such close proximity with such persons of rank and quality we secured a plain table hard-by in small adjoining room and supped on ale and consumed Country Fellow’s Pot, the hot water used to prepare the dish poured by no less a personage than the good wife of The Innkeeper.

ALBERT. “The catalogue of benefits these most esteemed people um-measurable,” he informed me casting a respectful glance towards the principal publick room “The never ceasing improvement of the quality of village life is indeed fed by boundless generosity of these Villagers. Breeding mute land and water fowl brings peace to early mornings. Likewise the rendering inoperative by surgical or genetic means the vocal organs of the beasts of the field ensures similar quietude. The act essential to procreation of birds and beasts occurs in special high-walled enclosures away from the common gaze. No noxious odours occur, all by-products of husbandry being deposited in sealed vessels and then conveyed for disposal elsewhere. Cheese making. Butter churning. The transformation of agricultural produce gainfully employs the town-dweller, thus leaving our countryside and the villages to those who possess the inbred capacity too embrace and appreciate the elemental beauty of rural living.”

THE TRAVELLER. I could not fail to observe groups of Villages throwing rolls bread towards each other, the detail and meaning of this custom I must investigate later.

Considering this was but my first day in the Island of Herttach I had learned much and found things to look upon and wonder. The hour being late Albert and myself took leave until the morrow seeking the comforts of our respective chambers. Abed in my four-poster, a rap with my knuckle on whose uprights confirmed my suspicion that it was constructed from Rational Materials, I fell into uneasy slumber only to be woken at some later hour. Outside of my window noise from the inn yard below. Torrents of verbosity. The tuneless singing of glees. A profane curse or two. Coquettish shrieks. The noisy closing of Solar Cart doors. Snatches of conversation in loud whispers concerning assignations.

Matters having quietened somewhat around the third hour after midnight, I lapsed into uneasy slumber thankful that in these parts cockerels were mute.