The Pattern Under the Plough

by George Ewart Evans

  MUCH of the traditional knowledge and many of the old beliefs and customs in East Anglia are concerned with the growing and harvesting of wheat and barley. This is to be expected, as the region is the natural corn-growing area of Britain: and wheat and barley have always received special attention. The Romans grew great quantities of both cereals in this region, and they identified wheat and barley with Demeter in her role of Corn Mother. But barley is probably an older corn than wheat and was the staple food of the Greeks in the Homeric age. Some maintain1 that it is one of the oldest cereals cultivated by the Aryan peoples: it was used in the ritual of the ancient Hindoos, and is known to have been cultivated by the lake-dwellers of the Stone Age in Europe.

  But whatever its antiquity, the care given to the sowing of the barley by the East Anglian husbandman was almost akin to veneration. No trouble was spared to ensure that the carefully prepared seed-bed was ready to take the crop. One old farmer in the Stowmarket area of Suffolk said that, ideally, for the barley (and the wheat) crop the land should be ploughed east to west and then drilled overwart (athwart) so that the ringes or rows of young corn would lie north – south and be warmed by the sun on both sides of the row. But he would not sow until he was perfectly sure that the land was fit for drilling. He had his time-proven tests for this: one was simply to walk over the land and to ‘feel it through his boots’; then again he would take up a handful of soil, carefully crumbling it to test it; or he would bend down and draw his fist backwards through the soil. This method of deciding the right time to sow was recommended by Fitzherbert, the sixteenth-century writer on agriculture: ‘Go upon the land that is plowed and if it synge or crye or make any noise under they fete, then it is to wet to sowe. And if it make no noyse and will bear thy horses, thanne sowe in the name of Godd.’

  Some Suffolk husbandmen – up to the end of the last century, at least – took the advice to ‘Go upon the land’ in a very literal sense indeed. The husbandman’s argument appears to have been this: he could easily determine by the above methods whether the seed-bed was ready for the corn and whether the soil was of the right tilth: but he could not be sure that the soil was warm enough to allow the seed to germinate. Therefore to make sure of this important condition he took off his trousers and sat down on the seed-bed, thus testing the warmth of Mother Earth through the most sensitive part of his anatomy. The writer has collected three instances of this practice: two in the Stowmarket district and one near Mendlesham where the farmer2 who recalled it made the comment after the cold and wet spring of 1963: ‘I don’t know how those owd bors who used to set on the seed-bed would get on today: I reckon they’d get themselves right chilled.’ But the test was, apparently, extremely effective: for if after this exercise the ground was judged right and the sowing proceeded satisfactorily, the husbandman expected the barley ‘to be up in three days’.

  Barley was undoubtedly the crop above all other crops in many districts of East Anglia; and its culture probably reached as high a standard of perfection here as in any other region of Britain. The two varieties grown in Suffolk during the nineteenth century were Chevallier3 and Archer. One Suffolk farmer has said: ‘There were really only two varieties of barley at that time o’ day. Archer was a short-straw barley. We used to grow a lot of it; and at that time you used to keep account of how long your barley was in the ground. I recollect there was a man in Finningham who had his barley back in the barn for threshing thirteen weeks after taking it out (that is, as seed-corn). That must be something of a record.’

  Whatever method was used for sowing the corn – broadcasting, dibbling or drilling – the care taken was considerable, as the result of sowing is only too plainly visible and remains so for months after the corn has come up. The broadcast sowing of seed, contrary to general opinion, was a particularly skilled job, especially if the sower was using both hands. A farmer was lucky if he had a man on his farm who could sow with both hands as it required an accurate synchronization of hand and foot: if a man missed his step and altered his rhythm his sowing would be immediately affected: there would be missed bits. These, in addition to being a lasting witness to a lapse in his skill, were also considered a bad omen in some districts of East Anglia. A missed bit in the sowing foretold a death in the parish. A similar belief existed in Ireland4 and Herefordshire. Here, clearly, the principle of homeopathic or imitative magic underlies the belief; and it is frequently to be traced in customs connected with sowing in many parts of the world. In Malaya,5 for instance, where there was a maxim that one must plant maize with a full stomach, using a thick dibble to ensure that the cob of maize would be large and bear abundant grain. The same principle is also at the bottom of many of the spring fertility rites where the lighting of bonfires and the ancient practice of dancing round and leaping over these was designed to induce the corn to grow: the fires helped the sun and the higher the leap, the higher would the corn grow. It is likely that some of the folk-dances, notably the candlestick dance where a woman tucked up her skirts and danced over and around a lighted candle, were the remnants of fertility dances.6 This was danced in a Suffolk inn within the last few years.

  Many sowing operations are connected with Friday. In Ireland this day was regarded as a lucky day to begin any operation not needing iron. The taboo against the use of iron on a Friday has been linked with the iron nails used on the Cross; but it is more likely another instance of the old prohibition against the use of iron being given an acceptable reason for its exercise. In Suffolk, however, there was – at least in one district – a strong disinclination to starting any job on a Friday. This day was a dies nefas, and to a certain extent the belief still exists: ‘The farmer I work for won’t start anything on a Friday. If a field of corn happen to come ready for cutting on a Friday, he’ll get the binder out the day before and put it in the field ready, and perhaps he’d cut a little patch of the corn just to say he started. I don’t know the reason, but we could never begin anything fresh on that farm on a Friday. Strange thing, though, about the only time this farmer went against his rule, he turned out his horses for the first time after the winter on a particular Friday. One of the horses got kicked and had to be destroyed.’

  Good Friday in East Anglia used to be the traditional day for planting potatoes. It is difficult to say whether this was a fertility belief or whether this day was chosen simply because Good Friday was usually a holiday for the old farming community and therefore a convenient occasion for a workman to plant his own garden. It is likely, however, that there is some element of the old belief in the practice, as this day was specially chosen in many English counties7 notably Devon: ‘By many people potatoes are planted on Good Friday afternoon; in south Devon it was said: “We sow our potatoes at the foot of the Cross”.’ The basis of the Good Friday belief appears to have been that on that day the soil is redeemed from the power of Satan – the old chthonic god of the pre-Christian religion – and for this brief time he has no influence on it at all.

  But the belief in the importance of the phases of the moon has greatly influenced the husbandman down the ages in the sowing of his crops. There are two aspects to the belief in the moon’s influence. First, according to the age-old primitive reasoning, just as the moon itself grows and diminishes so will it have an identical effect on all growing things that are exposed to it. Therefore all seed should be sown while the moon is waxing and everything that has to be cut or gathered should be operated upon when the moon is waning. Or as it was said in one district of East Anglia: ‘Sow when the moon is waxing: weed when it is waning.’ Again, the moon was supposed to be the source of dew and moisture. The argument behind the belief was this: the dew falls most thickly on a cloudless night. Where else could it come from but the moon? This belief was enshrined in the old Greek myth that the dew was the daughter of Zeus and Selene, the moon. The moon, moreover, was also believed to influence rainy periods; and because of this and its influence on the tides it was associated with water in many myths.

  There
are enough surviving instances of the moon beliefs to show that they operated over the whole field of growth – plants, trees, and animals: a surprising variety of instances have been collected in East Anglia. If you cut hair or finger-nails or corns during a waxing moon they will grow again very quickly. Cut while the moon is waning and they will grow slowly or not at all. Pigs killed in the waning of the moon will give meat of an inferior quality: moreover it will shrink in the cooking, a belief not dissimilar to the one held by the ancient Chinese:8 ‘The moon is the origin of yin. That is why the brains of fish shrink when the moon is empty; and why the shells of univalves are not full of fleshy parts when the moon is dead’. Under September Husbandry Tusser recommended: ‘The moon on the wane gather fruit for to last’ – advice that seems to have been followed up to recent years. Again, in the spring one should be careful to put eggs down for hatching while the moon is waxing.

  An old Suffolk stallion leader observed: ‘I used to get my horse to serve as many mares as he could while the moon was gaining – after the new moon. When it was wasting – after the full – it were no use. The mares would get foals; but they wouldn’t be nearly so strong. I’ve proved it!’ And at one time the moon influenced the activities of the farrier if de Solleysel’s9 advice was followed: ‘You must continue the shooing of him after this fashion until his Heels be well-shaped and large which will be infallibly after twice or thrice shooing; do it at the change, or about the fourth or fifth Day of the new Moon.’ The moon has also been associated with the horse in mythology through its link with Diana – especially in its form of the horned crescent, a frequent motif in horse trappings, and also one of the symbols of a secret society of horsemen. This will be discussed later, but it is convenient to mention here the link between the moon and silver. The new moon, the horned crescent, was the symbol of the goddess and silver was her own particular metal in Greek mythology, probably owing to the association of the colour of the moon and the metal; thus the turning of silver in our pockets at the sight of the new moon is a true superstition – a left-over from a very ancient belief; and at one time the practice was undoubtedly a gesture of worship like making the sign of the Cross.

  Most of the above instances can easily be recognized as the product of the primitive form of reasoning – like begets like. But empiricists all over the world – and here and there an occasional scientist – are far from being convinced that there is nothing more to the beliefs than this. While readily admitting that the explanation of the moon’s influence is fallacious they argue that this does not in itself dispense with the fact; and some of them maintain that it has not yet been proven that the moon has, for instance, no influence on growth and the weather. The theory has been put forward tentatively by some scientists that as the moon affects the movements of the tides, so it may well influence the rise and fall of the water-table – that elusive but very real level which is well known to farmers and water-engineers who have to sink artesian wells in the drier parts of Britain especially in East Anglia; and no doubt many of them would not dismiss too hurriedly the contention of the old Suffolk well-sinker who never dug his wells while the moon was waning, simply because ‘the water was going away from him’. But as far as is known no research has been done on this theory; and it is difficult to see how it could be done under suitable experimental conditions.

  But an Italian scientist, Girolamo Azzi has approached with an open mind the universally held belief that the moon has an influence on plant growth; and he has done a great deal of work in an attempt to establish the truth or the myth in the belief.10 Although his findings are not conclusive either way, his method of approach will undoubtedly be valuable as a basis for further inquiry; besides, the care and application he has given to the whole problem may induce us not to dismiss the whole complex of the belief merely because a large part of it is so patently myth. Azzi’s main thesis grew out of the observation that it sometimes happens that a plant, in spite of apparently optimal environmental conditions of rain, temperature, and soil, does not develop as it would be reasonable to expect. He gives examples of varieties of the potato from the ‘Equatorial-Andine’ region of South America which cannot develop their tubers in Europe in spite of practically identical conditions of soil, temperature and rainfall, with those in the mother country. This, he says, is due to the difference in the length of the day. At the equator day and night are the same length – twelve hours – right throughout the year. Towards the Pole, at 60 degrees north the shortest day is six hours eight minutes, the longest eighteen hours seventeen minutes. At an intermediate latitude – Rome, for instance – the length of the day varies between nine hours four minutes to fifteen hours nine minutes.

  This difference in the length of the day – Azzi claims, and he is supported by other scientists – has a definite influence on the development of the plant, anticipating, delaying or sometimes excluding the formation of the flowers – the organs of reproduction. Following these observations he divides agricultural plants into two categories: plants which prefer a short day that, in their case, encourages and accelerates flowering; and those plants which prefer a long day for identical reasons. Between the two categories is a number of plants that appear to be indifferent to the varying lengths of day and night. Among them are the plants of equatorial countries. To illustrate this he described an experiment with wheat – ‘the most outstanding example possible’. He calls the time when the plant is exposed to light the photoperiod, and concludes that we must assume for every plant the existence of an optimal photoperiod and of two photoperiodic limits (one for excess: too long a period of day), and one for deficiency (too short a length of day). By using artificial light (twenty-five candle-power) in his experiments he found that it frequently had a positive action in artificially lengthening the day. Although he considered that the light had no direct effect on the photosynthesis of the plant, it was responsible for lengthening the day and bringing forward the flowering of a long-day plant.

  All this led him to pose the question whether the light of the moon does not, in fact, have some effect in accelerating the flowering of long-day plants, and conversely in retarding the process in short-day plants. And to illustrate this he gave an example of the result of practical observations on a long-day plant, the lettuce: ‘According to experienced farmers lettuce sown when the moon is waning is well-developed vegetatively, producing a voluminous and juicy head; if sown with a rising moon the plants rapidly go to seed without forming a good head.’ In other words, sowing with a rising moon in fact artificially prolongs the day. Although photosynthesis does not take place, the mild lunar glow ensures that there is a connecting link between two successive davs: the plant, that is, ‘ticks over’ and the vital processes are not abruptly interrupted as they are in conditions of total darkness. Azzi cautiously sums up his findings by saying, ‘A certain analogy between the phenomena of photo-periodism and the effects of the moon seems to exist’; and, ‘In these cases, as in many others which are empirically admitted, but not yet scientifically proven, it could be affirmed that the period of time between new and full moon is a favourable one for reproduction while the period between the full and new moons would be favourable to vegetative growth’.

  Some of the above experimental material was part of the traditional lore of North America; and a record of this suggests that11 generally speaking the waxing moon is the season for planting above-ground crops like grain and cereals; and the waning moon for underground or root crops. The same source gives an additional aspect of the moon belief. It was once thought that storing food below ground level helped to preserve it: silos were at one time not tall buildings but pits in the ground (the word itself is derived from the Greek word meaning pit). The ground, it was thought, helped to insulate the food against the harmful effect of moonlight. For the same reason pickling and canning were never done during the period of a full moon. This belief is not as ancient and ‘away-out’ as it appears, for there is a hard-to-believe report from the U.S. Weat
her Bureau (Department of Agriculture) in 1903:12 ‘That moonbeams or rays produce certain chemical results seems certain. It is known that fish and some kinds of meat are injured or spoiled when exposed to the light of the moon.’ All of which seems to echo the Psalmist who implies that the moon can cause a ‘stroke’ at night equal to that of the sun by day; and it argues that the East Anglian housewife who spreads her stained white table-cloth on the grass on a moonlight night to get out the stains is not hopefully indulging in sympathetic magic but is using this power of the moon’s rays to get it completely white for her.

  The age-old belief that the moon affects the weather has also received examination in recent years by two groups of scientists working independently – one group in America, one in New Zealand. The two groups reported their findings in the American periodical Science13 and their main conclusion is that there is a marked tendency to heavy rain in the first and third week of the lunar month; that is, in the period immediately following the new and full moons, and a corresponding tendency towards a lack of heavy rain in the other two weeks of the month. They were able to offer no explanation of how the moon causes these effects; and in the short space of three years their observations appear to have gained one of those shelves in limbo which are reserved for interesting scientific facts that either have not gained general acceptance or have not been harnessed to practical use.

  1 G.B., Part V, Vol. 1, p. 131.

  2 Charles Brundish (born 1883), Tan Office Farm.

  3 H.I.F., p. 105.

  4 I.F.W., p. 143 and F.L.H., p. 118.

  5 G.B., Part 1, Vol. 1, p. 130.

  6 H.L.F., pp. 221–2.