Long grind
I note from the May issue of the Countryman that the National Mills Weekend, held this
year on 10 and 11 May, has been an annual event for nearly 20 years and that some 300 windmills
and watermills are now welcoming visitors.
Mills powered by wind, water, steam, electricity or animal power have for generations been
used to grind corn, animal feed, bone manure and other products or to provide a source of energy
for other operations. Indeed, the occurrence frequently of places called Mill Lane, Mill Cottage
or Mill View offers an indication of where long-disappeared mills once stood in the countryside.
I admit I have never yet discovered Ye Olde Mill Pharmacy, but I should not be surprised to discover
that one such exists.
There is a host of literary and folklore allusions to mills, from Shakespeare with his "More
water glideth by the mill / Than wots the miller of" and Milton's Samson Agonistes ''Eyeless
in Gaza at the mill with slaves" to Blake's "dark Satanic mills" and Isaac Bickerstaffe's jolly
miller who lived by the river Dee, who "worked and sang from morn till night / No lark more blithe
than he". And Gulliver in Lilliput (1726) reported on a watch which, placed near his ear, "made
an incessant noise like that of a water-mill."
Then we have a plethora of phrases such as "run of the mill" to describe a usual sequence of
events, "go through the mill" to undergo hardship or strict discipline, "grist to the mill" to
denote anything useful or profitable. It is proverbial that "though the mills of God grind slowly
/ Yet they grind exceeding small", a saying translated by Longfellow from the 1624 original of
Friedrich von Logau. That anyone surnamed Miller should inevitably become known as Dusty at school
and at work is not surprising considering the environment of the grinding mill.
Millers long enjoyed a sinister reputation. In the days of manorial lordship, the local peasant
farmers were obliged, under dire penalty, to take their harvest corn to the local miller, who
enjoyed the usual perquisites of the monopolist. There was a 16th century saying that "every
honest miller has a golden thumb". Yet there were honourable exceptions. A story in Percy's Reliques
(1765) describes Henry II becoming lost in the wilds and meeting a miller who took him to his
cottage and entertained him. Henry was so impressed that he knighted the miller and appointed
him overseer of Sherwood Forest.
Mills, whether of water or wind, were obvious meeting-places where locals could gather and
pass on news of the day. At the same time they served as focuses where sedition, smuggling and
all manner of crime could be planned and carried out. The fact that large sacks were humped out
of mills made it possible to dispose of more incriminating evidence from the same place.
There were some therapeutic aspects of mills. In Ireland a child with whooping cough might
be dipped three times in the hopper of a mill while it was turning, and if the miller was of
the third generation in practice the effect was much enhanced.
I find watermills far more fascinating than windmills, for they have a sinister aspect, whether
overshot or undershot. If you neglect precautions they can drown or crush, or both. And they
have a background music of their own, far superior to that of a wind-mill. Incidentally, I have
learnt that a mill enthusiast is termed a molinerd, and that the study of mills is molinology.
Perhaps a degree course in molinology might not be ruled out in the near future.
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