The Country-Life Movement in the United States — Story, Setting & Ideas

Contrasts and the Two Minds

Bailey draws a sharp distinction between town and country folk, attributing to each a different “mind.” The town mind, he suggests, is shaped by commerce and rapid exchange; the country mind by isolation and self-reliance. This dichotomy underpins his analysis of rural decline. He does not romanticize the farmer: the country mind can be resistant to change, and Bailey notes that “skilled handicraft has not arisen amongst the rural people” because of seasonal labor patterns.

Yet he also critiques urban assumptions. The city’s remedy—sending surplus population to the country—he dismisses as impractical. A city man, he asks, can he make a living on a farm? The implied answer is no, without training and capital. Bailey’s contrast is not merely descriptive; it becomes a framework for policy. He argues that rural education must be tailored to country life, not imported from city models. The “two minds” are not fixed; they can be bridged through deliberate institutions—schools, extension programs, and community organizations.

The Country Store as Nexus and Obstacle

Bailey devotes surprising attention to the country store, calling it a “nexus between the manufacturers or the city jobbers… and the people.” The storekeeper, he argues, often becomes an agent of urban commercial interests, unconsciously draining the countryside. The store’s opposition to cooperation and new movements stems from its dependence on jobber agreements. Bailey’s language is blunt: “The trader in the small town… is likely to own the people.”

He sees the parcels post as a potential disruptor, though he admits “no one knows just what form of readjustment” it will bring. His willingness to unsettle established interests is characteristic: even if the parcels post ruins the country merchant, “the end to be gained is not that the country merchant shall not be disturbed, but that the people at large may be benefited.” This passage reveals Bailey’s reformist edge—he prioritizes systemic benefit over local convenience.

Local Industries and the Shape of Community

Bailey advocates for regular factories in the open country, not as seasonal make-work but as permanent fixtures that can “develop a new community life.” He is skeptical of handicrafts as a solution, doubting they can compete with consolidated factories or find sufficient patronage. His vision is industrial, not artisanal: the most useful local industries will be those that “compete with other factories.”

This pragmatic industrialism extends to railroads and corporations. Bailey notes the “new interest that railroads are taking in Eastern agriculture” and predicts that coordination between railroads and farming will benefit both. He sees business men’s organizations expanding beyond village boundaries to develop entire regions. Yet he remains cautious: the influence of “certain great corporations” is “likely to be felt,” but he does not specify how. The excerpts suggest a reformer who embraces modern economic forces while trying to steer them toward rural vitality.

Bailey’s book is a document of its moment—progressive, empirical, and skeptical of easy answers. Readers should attend to his careful distinctions: between back-to-the-land and country-life, between town and country minds, between useful industry and nostalgic handicraft. The excerpts offer a reformer’s toolkit, not a finished blueprint. Bailey’s voice—qualified, concrete, occasionally sharp—invites readers to think with him about how to make rural life sustainable without pretending the past can be restored.

That rainy afternoon, Bailey’s concern about abandoned farms settling back into weeds stayed with me long after I closed the book. It made me think of other lands where people had been displaced, not by choice but by forces beyond them. Somehow that feeling led me, quite by accident, to The Aborigines of Australia — Themes and Context, and I found myself tracing similar quiet losses there.