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Thursday, 6 January 2011

Factory reform in the 1840s: revised version

The ten-hour movement had been out-manoeuvred by the Whigs and its campaign against the 1833 Act proved ineffective. In October 1833, Oastler formed the Factory Reformation Society to continue the campaign but in November Robert Owen and John Fielden announced a Society for Promoting National Regeneration with the impractical but popular demand for an 8-hour day with 12 hours pay. Oastler rejected ‘Regenerationist’ invitations and it failed during the general Owenite collapse of 1834 carrying with it much of the Short Time agitation. From 1834, the Factory Movement had a chequered history.  Oastler and his supporters became increasingly involved in anti-Poor Law campaigns and there were growing local differences. Lancashire reformers, experienced in evasions of previous legislation, demanded that mill engines should be stopped at set times to make enforcement certain, a policy Oastler supported but ‘dare not ask for’. Some of the parliamentary spokesmen, such as Hindley and Brotherton, were prepared to compromise on the Ten Hours demand and adopted a gradualist approach by arguing for 11 hours. In Scotland, committees in Aberdeen, Arbroath, Edinburgh and Paisley tended to rely on the support of professional men and Presbyterian ministers while the Glasgow committee was under working-class control until 1837. Yorkshire was less prone to division and controversy within the organisation but even here there were differences.[1]

The redefining of the factory question is part of the shaping of the Victorian state and the accommodation of interests within it. If the 1830s saw the elaboration of Benthamite responses to reform and vigorous resistance to them at both popular and ruling-class levels, the 1840s saw modifications to this project through its incorporation into a broader consensus that shaped the agenda of the ‘condition of England’ question. The writing of the new public agenda owed something to expert knowledge and the role of the factory inspectorate. Initially the inspectors had been inclined to defer to the expertise of leading employers but the pressure of public agitation pushed them into taking a more independent line. In 1840, Leonard Horner, a leading inspector, presented the benefits of factory regulation in terms of moral order and economic efficiency appealing to the longer-term rational interests of employers and workers. The issue was not the introduction of new legislation, but fulfilling the intention of existing law by taking action to remedy defects in the 1833 Act. The key issue was enforcement.

During the 1830s, Oastler and the Ten Hour had projected a vision in which the regulation of the factory and the protection of labour was the key to remedying social distress. In the 1840s, the factory question can be seen through the language of negotiation within a growing consensus in favour of further regulation. Two particular emphases worked to incorporate social criticism about the distress, moral degeneration and Chartist threat and the awareness of working-class conditions, into a liberal vision of a rationalised factory system. First, the development of state regulation increasingly resulted in distinctions being made between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ factories and of the need to improve the ‘bad’. Secondly, the agenda of the ‘condition of England’ extended into mines, child and female labour generally, the weavers, out-work and sweating and urban conditions. As a result, the factory lost its centrality as a focus of social concern. Public opinion saw social problems as separate and the evils of the factory was by no means the worst form of social distress.

The pace of the campaign of the 1840s varied considerably. Ashley Cooper failed to inject ‘ten hours’ into unsuccessful bills in 1838, 1839 and 1841. [2] By 1840, the Inspectors were also in favour of further reform and hopes rose with the return of the Conservatives under Sir Robert Peel in 1841. The issue of social reform was, in Peel’s mind, linked to successful economic conditions. These would enable economic growth, create new jobs and so stimulate consumption. Peel was sceptical of the value of direct government intervention in solving social problems. Free market answers were more effective. He recognised that government could not abdicate all responsibility in the ‘social question’ but, like many contemporaries, believed that its role should be severely limited and definitely cost-effective. Peel remained steady in his opposition to the Ten Hour movement right up to the passage of the 1847 Factory Act. He accepted the argument of political economists that wages would fall under a ten-hour day and the cost of production would increase with consequences for rising prices.  This was not a doctrinaire approach but one grounded in a genuine concern for the welfare of workers.  In 1841, this concern was mistaken by a West Riding short-time deputation as an acceptance of the ten hour principle. This led to widespread and misleading publicity, raising then shattering workers’ hopes and intensifying their hostility to the government during 1842.

Peel was, however, prepared to accept intervention to control working conditions when convinced that the moral case was overwhelming.  He opposed Ashley over ten-hour legislation because he believed that the moral case was weaker than the economic one. However, he was prepared to accept the moral arguments implicit in the Mines Act 1842. Working conditions in collieries were dangerous and children and women played an important part in mining coal. In 1840, a Royal Commission was established to investigate the working conditions of children in coalmines and manufactories. Its findings were horrific with children as young as five or six working as ‘trappers’ (operating doors to enable air-coursing). There were also many comments about the poor health of the mining community. Artists were employed to go underground and make sketches of workers.

These appeared in the Commissioners’ Report published in 1842. They were graphic and immediate and public opinion was shocked.[3] Shaftesbury drafted a bill that became law at the end of 1842. It made the employment of women underground illegal; said boys under 10 could no longer work underground; and, allowed parish apprentices between 10 and 18 could continue to work in mines. There were no clauses relating to hours of work and inspection could only take place on the basis of checking the ‘condition of the workers’. Many women were annoyed that they could no longer earn much needed money.[4] Further legislation in 1850 addressed the frequency of accidents in mines. The Coal Mines Inspection Act introduced the appointment of inspectors of coal mines, setting out their powers and duties, and placed them under the supervision of the Home Office. The Coal Mines Regulation Act of 1860 improved safety rules and raised the age limit for boys from 10 to 12. [5]

There was an obvious difference between Ashley’s proposals and the government’s own initiatives in social legislation. For Ashley, it was a crusade; the government was far more concerned with the promotion of social and political order. Peel’s good intentions were insufficient to dampen class and sectarian antagonisms that intensified during the industrial distress and disturbances of 1841 and 1842. The ‘Plug Plots’ of mid-1842[6] speeded government action and in March 1843 Graham introduced a Factory Bill that would restrict children aged 8-13 to 6½ hours’ work with three hours’ daily education in improved schools largely controlled by the Church of England.  Peel and Graham agreed on the importance of improving educational provision for the working population and making the educational clauses of the 1833 Factory Act effective. The Home Secretary, Sir James Graham believed in the importance of education as a means of social control and emphasised the moral content of schooling. [7] He was convinced that the riots in 1842 were the result of declining religious attendance. It was necessary, he told Parliament to

...rescue the rising generation in the manufacturing districts from the state of practical infidelity... [only if] the education of the rising youth should be the peculiar care of the Government could the moral tone of the nation be elevated. [8]

For the state to sponsor religious training in factory schools meant, to some degree favouring the Church of England. Graham anticipated opposition and took exceptional care in drafting the educational clauses of the proposed bill. He consulted two of his factory inspectors: Leonard Horner, who he believed had some influence with the Nonconformists, and Robert Saunders, who had the confidence of the Bishop of London.[9] He also drew on the educational expertise of James Kay-Shuttleworth.

Graham’s proposal for state assistance in the education of factory children was motivated by the need to raise the ‘moral feeling’ of the people as a counter to radical agitation but Nonconformists and Roman Catholics believed it favoured the Church of England unfairly. Fear and prejudice came together in the massive campaign by nonconformist pressure groups coordinated by the United Conference, stressing the virtues of ‘voluntaryism‘ and professing concerns about the ‘Romanising’ effects of the Oxford Movement. Within two months, it had organised a petition to Parliament containing over two million signatures. In June 1843, the education clauses were withdrawn but the government remained committed to proceeding with the remainder of the bill.[10] However, it was not until the following February that Graham submitted a truncated bill. The Factory Act 1844 actually effected considerable improvements: children (8-13) became ‘half-timers’, working 6½ hours; dangerous machinery was to be fenced in; women shared the young persons’ 12 hour restriction; and, it was permissible for a factory to operate for fifteen hours in a day.

Oastler mounted a major campaign but he was unable to graft a ‘10 hour clause’ on to the revised factory bill. Ashley moved a ten hour amendment that carried with 95 Conservatives supporting it.  Peel refused to accept ten hours or compromise with eleven hours and the bill was only passed by threatening resignation unless his wayward supporters rescinded their earlier vote. [11] The debate on the ten hour amendment developed over the next two months and forced the government into a series of difficult manoeuvres. Initially, Peel and Graham argued against Ashley on economic grounds. Peel was prepared to pass laws preventing exploitation of children and women but he argued adult males were free agents and the law should not interfere with market forces. Even so, he doubted whether employers would pay a twelve hour rate for ten hours work. Graham warned the Commons that the reduction of two hours’ work might damage British industry by reducing productivity, thus lowering profits and ultimately wages. Not all members of the House were convinced by this argument. Secondly, there was an important political motivation in supporting Ashley. The agricultural interest, upset of Peel’s liberalised tariff policy and angered by the activities of the Anti-Corn Law League saw an easy opportunity for revenge against manufacturers. This mixture of motives accounts for the surprising victory on 18 March 1844 in committee of Ashley’s amendment by 179 to 170. However, four days later, when the specific clause of the Ten Hours’ Bill was presented, the vote went against Ashley.

Ashley returned to factory reform the following year. The Royal Commission on the employment of children had investigated abuses not only in mines and collieries but in numerous other unregulated industries. Ashley was determined to extend government regulation over these exempted industries and concentrated on calico printing. Since it was a textile industry, he thought that the restrictions on work contained in the 1844 Factory Act could be extended with relative ease. His proposal to limit the hours of children and women in calico printing was introduced to the Commons in February 1845 and initially attracted some support from the government. The result on this occasion was a compromise. The government agreed with those parts of Ashley’s bill that provided education for children under thirteen, prohibited the employment of children under eight and prohibited night work for children and women. However, it did not agree with restrictions on the hours of children between eight and thirteen years old arguing that the employment of children in calico printing was more necessary than in other industries. With Ashley’s acceptance of the government’s position, an effective compromise was reached and the measure passed into law.

There was, however, considerable disappointment in the textile towns and this provoked compromises and local negotiations. A series of conferences sought to maintain unity by reviving the Ten Hours Bill in Parliament, and after a wide winter campaign Ashley Cooper moved for leave to introduce it in January 1846. However, the debate over industrial conditions was now overshadowed by the nation-wide controversy over the Corn Laws. Ashley felt morally obliged to resign his seat and Fielden took his place as parliamentary leader but lost his seat in May. As another campaign was mounted in the autumn a gathering industrial recession weakened the case for opposition. Final Whig attempts to compromise on 11 hours were defeated and Fielden triumphed in May 1847 with the Ten Hours Act receiving the royal assent in June.[12]

Northern rejoicing was still premature. From 1848, there were reports of evasions in Lancashire and of masters’ campaigns to repeal the Act. Several employers resorted to the relay system that meant that hours of work could not be enforced: the 15 hours per day clause in the 1844 Act had not been repealed and the 1847 legislation did not limit the number of hours machines could operate. As a result, employers quickly recognised that they could abide by the letter of the new law and still keep their mills working for 15 hours by the use of a relay system. Working children, women and young persons were subjected to interrupted shifts (two hours on, one hour off, for example) so the adult workers could be kept at their machines for fourteen or more hours a day. Attempts by the factory inspectors to prosecute employers invariably failed in the magistrates courts. Gradually, a new campaign emerged to protect the Act but it was increasingly obvious that the Factory Movement was divided: Ashley Cooper and a ‘liberal’ group were prepared to accept some compromise while Oastler was not. A test case on the illegality of the relay system in the Court of Exchequer (Ryder v Mills) was heard in early 1850 and the employers’ liberal interpretation of the law upheld.[13]

The Factory Act 1850 finally legislated for what was called a ‘normal day’. The term derived from the custom that developed in the eighteenth century limiting the hours of work of craftsmen in most trades to those that could be worked, with breaks between 6 am and 6 pm. The Act required that young persons and women should only work between these two customary times, starting and ending one hour later in winter, with one and a half hours for meals and ending at 2pm on Saturdays with half an hour for breakfast. This meant they would work 10½ hours a day Monday to Friday and 7½ hours on Saturdays increasing their working week from 58 to 60 hours. Although textile workers now worked a shorter working week than most manual labourers, their anger over what they saw as the betrayal of the ten-hour principle was intense. Attempts to include children in the ‘normal day’ failed and, as a result, men might work up to 15 hours, aided by relays of children beyond the hours allowed for women and young persons. Children only received their fixed day in the 1853 Factory Act. This legislation effectively limited the running of textile factories to twelve hours each day with 1½ hours set aside for meals. Disraeli only restored the ‘10 hours’ in 1874. In the meantime, however, similar legislation had been extended to a wide range of workers.

After campaigns lasting twenty years and the passage of factory legislation in 1833, 1844, 1847 and 1850, the regulation of factory labour amounted to this.[14] First, three ‘protected’ classes of workers had been established: children between the ages of 8 and 13; young persons between the ages of 14 and 18; and women. Adult males over 18 were unregulated. Secondly, children could not enter factories until they were 8 years old and their work was restricted to 6½ hours a day. However, those hours could be worked any time between 5.30 am and 8.30 pm and nothing prevented them being used in relays throughout that time. Thirdly, women and young persons were classed together and their hours were restricted to 10½ hours daily (exclusive of meals) between 6 am and 6 pm five days a week with an 8 hour day on Saturdays. Finally, the legislation was supervised by regional Inspectors and their assistants who made quarterly reports to the Home Office.

Factory reform had some bearing on the making of mid-Victorian industrial paternalism. The consensual rhetoric of factory reform could, however, have different meanings in particular contexts. For workers, they were important as a symbol of ‘industrial legality’, especially where trade unions were relatively weak. The construction of women and children as protected categories reinforced notions of the adult male ‘breadwinner’ as an independent free labourer. Much of the debate concerned the drawing of boundaries; between morality and the market, dependent and free agents, the state and the rights of property, the household, the factory and the school. Factory reform reflected a recognition that the free market existed within a moral and legal framework.


[1] See, Ward, J.T., ‘The Factory Reform Movement in Scotland’, Scottish Historical Review, Vol. 41, (2), (1962), pp. 100-123.

[2] For Ashley’s role in the 1840s, see, ibid, Finlayson, Geoffrey, The Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury 1801-1885, pp. 173-270.

[3] Those who favoured reform also used literature as propaganda. In 1839-1840 Mrs Frances Trollope published her The Life and Adventure of Michael Armstrong, the Factory Boy in twelve shilling parts; see, Chaloner, W.H., ‘Mrs Trollope and the Early Factory System’, Victorian Studies, Vol. 4, (2), (1960), pp. 159-166.

[4] John, Angela V., ‘Colliery legislation and its consequences: 1842 and the women miners of Lancashire’, Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, Vol. 61, (1978), pp. 78-114.

[5] On the Mines Act 1843, see, ibid, Finlayson, Geoffrey, The Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury 1801-1885, pp. 182-189 and Heesom, Alan, ‘The Coal Mines Act of 1842, social reform, and social control’, Historical Journal, Vol. 24, (1981), pp. 69-88. See also, MacDonagh, Oliver, ‘Coal Mines Regulation: the first decade, 1842-52’, in Robson, R., (ed.), Ideas and Institutions of Victorian Britain: Essays in honour of George Kitson Clark, (Barnes and Noble), 1967, pp. 58-86.

[6] Jenkins, Mick, The General Strike of 1842, (Lawrence & Wishart), 1980 surveys the wave of strikes with a particular emphasis on Lancashire.

[7] Ward, J.T., Sir James Graham, (Macmillan), 1967 and Erickson, A.B., The public career of Sir James Graham, (Blackwell), 1952 are complementary biographical studies. Donajgrodzki, A.P., ‘Sir James Graham at the home office’, Historical Journal, vol. 20 (1977), pp. 97-120 is a useful article.

[8] Hansard, HC Deb, 24 March 1843, Vol. 67 cc1411-77.

[9] For the broader context of the government’s relationship with the Bishop of London, see, Welch, P.J., ‘Blomfield and Peel: A Study in Cooperation between Church and State, 1841-46’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 12, (1961), pp. 71-84.

[10] Ward, J.T. and Treble, James H., ‘Religion and education in 1843: reaction to the ‘Factory Education Bill’’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 20, (1969), pp. 79-110.

[11] Stewart, R., ‘The Ten Hours and Sugar Crises of 1844: Government and the House of Commons in the Age of Reform’, Historical Journal, Vol. 12, (1969), pp. 35-57.

[12] Ibid, Weaver, A., John Fielden and the Politics of Popular Radicalism 1832-1847, pp. 249-281.

[13] Ibid, Finlayson, Geoffrey, The Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury 1801-1885, pp. 295-296.

[14] Ibid, Ward, J.T., The Factory Movement 1830-1850, pp. 505-506.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

The Ten Hour Movement and the 1833 Factory Act: revised version

The emergence of the short-time or Ten Hour movement after 1830 has its origins in the late-eighteenth century when concerns about the deteriorating conditions in child employment initially developed.[1] Early legislative efforts, however, depended largely on benevolent individuals. Sir Robert Peel senior was behind both the 1802 and 1819 Acts but he received considerable popular support from Lancashire cotton spinners, in liaison with at least three distinguishable groups.[2] First, the old labour aristocracies such as the east Midland framework-knitters, Yorkshire woollen croppers and the ubiquitous handloom weavers saw the factories with their technological innovations as threats to their social status and their incomes. Secondly, some early pioneers of social medicine drew attention to the insidious effects of factory labour on health.[3] Finally, Northern clergymen of the old High Church tradition and those tinged with new Evangelical enthusiasm played important roles in successive factory campaigns. In 1836, Oastler, who believed in the notion of a ‘Christian commonweal’ wrote in a letter of the Archbishop of York that

...his only object was to establish the principles of Christianity, the principles of the Church of England in these densely people districts....the Factory question was indeed....a Soul-question -- it was Souls against pounds, shillings and pence....[4]

In 1815, Peel, supported by Robert Owen, the progressive owner of the New Lanark Mill on the River Clyde, attempted unsuccessfully to bring in legislation to ban children under the age of ten from any employment. He continued to campaign inside and outside Parliament and a parliamentary inquiry into child labour in factories resulted in the Cotton Mills Act of 1819. The Act required that no child under the age of nine was to be employed in cotton mills, with a maximum day of 16 hours for all those under 16. But once again the means of enforcing such legislation remained a serious problem and there were only two convictions while it operated.  A further burst of agitation in the 1820s by the cotton spinners led only to John Cam Hobhouse obtaining minor changes to existing legislation in 1825 and 1831 but these too were limited in scope and implementation. [5] Lancashire cotton operatives who were strong supporters of factory legislation became disillusioned with the lack of enforcement of existing law and demoralised by the collapse of strikes against wage reductions. It is, however, clear that the Factory Movement began in Lancashire rather than with the better known Yorkshire agitation begin by Richard Oastler in 1830 and that it was the militant Cotton Spinner’s Union that first created the rudiments of a popular organisation and gained support from the radical press.

The early industrial reformers had little or no organisation. The campaign between 1825 and 1829 had achieved little but it was at this stage that Richard Oastler, a Tory land steward from Huddersfield, burst upon the scene when he sent his celebrated letter to the Leeds Mercury on ‘Yorkshire Slavery’.[6] For Oastler, emotionally bound by the established inter-connected web of customs, loyalties, ties, memories and services, liberalism spoke of men as ‘free agents’ while in practice they were ‘wage-slaves’ created when ‘Money’ and ‘Machinery’ drove a wedge between the nation’s old landed and labouring interests. Most of the founders of the Ten Hour Movement were Tories and Anglicans from northern industrial towns, committed to reviving the aristocratic idea that, if necessary, might be promoted through state intervention against both the decayed aristocratic betrayal of the paternal system and the new entrepreneurial ethos. They were as deeply hostile to parliamentary reform and workers’ organisations as they were to Dissenters, orthodox political economy and the newly rich manufacturers. Many of those who financed the movement, like Michael Sadler, were themselves well-established factory owners and members of the Tory urban elite facing a challenge locally from Dissenting entrepreneurs. [7]

It is possible to identify four principal pressure groups that favoured factory reform. There were the mill operatives themselves and their supporters, of whom Richard Oastler was the most prominent. Their demands for a 10-hour working day was used in the debate over child labour both as a way of exposing the hardship of the children and as a way of seeking a limitation on the working day of adults. In the laissez-faire atmosphere of the period, any direct attempt to achieve state regulation of the hours of adult males was doomed to failure. But because juveniles aged 10-13 were an essential part of the workforce it was hoped that restrictions on their hours would percolate through to the rest. The reformers did not oppose child labour as such but were merely against unregulated labour. They judged legislation not by its direct effect on child labour but by its indirect effect on the position of adult workers. Secondly, there were the Tory humanitarians among whom Lord Ashley was most active. They were concerned about the moral and religious deprivation of young workers and the ineffectiveness of existing protective legislation. Others such as William Wordsworth, Robert Southey and William Cobbett looked back to a pre-industrial ‘golden age’ and blamed the industrial revolution for alienating workers from the land and forcing children to play a major role in the workforce.[8] A fourth body of reformers came to the fore in the debates over amendments to the factory legislation that occurred in the 1840s. They included active supporters of laissez-faire principles, such as Thomas Babington Macaulay, but who argued for regulation on economic and moral grounds. Child labour, they suggested, damaged the health of youngsters who were then later in life not able to achieve their potential productivity. Restricting child labour was a rational means of promoting investment in the country‘s future workforce.

The early Ten Hour movement had a number of strands, loosely held together by a rhetoric that combined evangelical religion, the threat posed by unregulated economic change, populist radical ideas of fair employment and labour as property and patriarchal values. [9] Such rhetoric embodied notions of a ‘moral economy’ in opposition to the aggressive economic liberalism of the manufacturer’s lobby. [10] Oastler spoke of the monstrous’ nature of the factory system and the ‘terrors’ of child labour. He denounced political economy as ‘earthly, selfish and devilish’ and pointed to the abnormality of ‘the tears of innocent victims (wetting) the very streets which receive the droppings of an Anti-Slavery Society’. These attributes cut across the political spectrum from traditionalist Tories to Whigs, to a patrician radicalism. Radical artisans and factory workers shared many of these views. It was saturated in romantic imagery, of the ‘golden age’ of domestic production and of seeing their labour in terms of ‘freedom’, ‘tyranny’ and ‘slavery’.

Paternalism was not confined to Oastler and the Ten Hour movement and many manufacturers accepted their civic duty to engage actively in schooling, management of housing, charity and moral surveillance. Paternalistic controls over the labour force were justified in a language of mutual obligations and the mission of enlightened manufacturers as improvers of the poor. It was their competitive effectiveness and accumulation of capital that enabled employers to fulfil this moral mission and, in this sense, there was no contradiction between the economic ethics of political economy and the moral imperatives of industrial paternalism. Textile manufacturers found themselves in a vulnerable and isolated position when the factory issue exploded in the early 1830s and were divided over their response to it. ‘Evils’ were recognised, but in terms far removed from the language of wage-slavery. In the cotton districts, opponents pointed to the diminished rate of profit and increase in the cost of production if the hours of workers were reduced. Others emphasised the threat from foreign competition and the absolute rights of property.

During the winter of 1830-1831, there was a furious controversy in the Yorkshire press and rival views became polarised. Oastler acted as the pivot and central organiser. He possessed considerable oratorical skills and journalistic gifts; he controlled the central funds and he imparted a crusading verve to the movement. The question of child exploitation was a ‘moral’ one and he became head of a network of ‘short-time committees’ that demanded the ten-hour day. A substantial number of pamphlets, petitions and tracts were issued and ‘missionaries’ were despatched throughout the textile areas of England and Scotland to highlight the horrors of child labour in the mills. Thousands of workers were willing to ignore the hostility of the Factory Movement’s leaders to their political aspirations during the agitation for parliamentary reform 1830-1832, put aside their opposition to the Church of England and turned a blind eye to the darker side of paternalism with its insistence on a harsh penal code, savage game laws and low wages and living conditions for the rural labourer and support the Movement.[11]

In the event, Oastler and his movement had little success with the Whig government and Peel and the Conservative opposition kept the agitation at arm’s length. When Michael Sadler moved a Ten Hour Bill in March 1832 he was obliged to accept the appointment of a Select Committee to take evidence from the operatives. Meanwhile the factory masters organised a vigorous lobby to resist further legislation, arguing that shorter working hours could result only in a victory for foreign competition, leading to lower wages and unemployment. The dissolution of Parliament in 1832 led to Sadler’s defeat at Leeds in December and to his replacement, at the suggestion of the Reverend George Bull[12], by the young Evangelical Anthony Ashley Cooper as parliamentary spokesman for the Ten Hour campaign. The publication of Select Committee report in January 1833 brought the stark realities of conditions and led Anthony Ashley Cooper to introduce a factory bill. Criticisms, largely justified, that the Select Committee report was one-sided as it had only heard the workers’ views resulted, in April 1833, in the government setting up a Royal Commission to investigate the employment of children in factories.  The Whigs had effectively taken reform out of the hands of the Ten Hour Movement and it became a government sponsored issue.

Why did the Whigs take control of factory reform? Extra-parliamentary agitation occurred not only in the context of conflict between capital and labour but of other economic and social rivalries.  Social, ideological, religious and political rivalry between industrialists and neighbouring agriculturalists was exploited by operatives who turned for protection  from millowners to county JPs. The result was an Anglican Tory-Radical alliance on the factory question, grounded in notions of paternalism rather than the tenets of political economy and less inhibited in its support of the industrial poor than Whig Radicals. This alliance was weakened by the reform agitation of 1831-1832 but remained important till the late 1830s and the onset of Chartism.  Parallel to this Tory paternalist approach was one supported by some Whig radicals and a group of philanthropic millowners in which nonconformist belief was a unifying force. The agitation in Yorkshire had already convinced the Whigs that a factory act was inevitable. Determining the composition of the Royal Commission ensured that the range of options available to them would be wider and less unpalatable to manufacturers than a Ten Hours bill. The Royal Commission Report was placed in the hands of Edwin Chadwick.[13]  The report, produced in forty-five days, looked at factory  conditions far less emotionally than the Select Committee.  Its conclusions were not based on humanitarian grounds, the position adopted by the Ten Hour Movement, but on the question of economic efficiency. Chadwick argued that human suffering and degradation led to less efficient production and that a good working environment would lead to health, happiness and an efficient workforce. Its recommendations were firmly placed on the question of children’s employment and it was consequently criticised for failing to deal with the issue of adult labour.

The Factory Act 1833 that implemented its recommendations restricted children aged 9-14 (by stages) to 8 hours actual labour in all textile mills (except lace-manufacture), with 2 hours at school; young persons under 18 to 12 hours; and, four Factory Inspectors were appointed to enforce the legislation. Previous Acts had been restricted to the cotton industry, but the 1833 Act also applied to the older woollen producing communities in and around Yorkshire which had been ignored in previous legislation. However, the silk industry was given special consideration after vigorous lobbying from manufacturers who argued that the industry would perish without the employment of very young children. Silk manufacture used a large amount of workers who were below age 16 and they accounted for almost 80% of the workforce in some workships and mills. The 1833 Act was confined to children’s work and applied only to textile mills but it did establish a small four-man inspectorate responsible to the Home Office to enforce the legislation. Inspection was essential for making effective enforcement possible and providing a continuous stream of information about the conditions of workers in a range of industries. Despite the rhetoric of Oastler that magistrates, who heard the overwhemlong majority of cases, obstructed conviction under the legislation, there is significant evidence that they were not unsympathetic to prosecutions and were prepared to convict.[14] Despite the intense criticism of the 1833 Act and the problems encountered in enforcement, it would be unfair to underestimate the Whig achievement in the area of factory reform. The debates in 1832 and 1833 led to the issue being publicly aired as never before.[15] The extra-parliamentary movement may have been frustrated by what had been achieved and the 1833 Act may have not been based on any real principles, but it did mark an important stage in the emergence of effective factory legislation and underpinned the developments of the 1840s.


[1] Kydd, Samuel, The History of the Factory Movement: From the Year 1802, to the Enactment of the Ten Hours’ Bill in 1847, 2 Vols. (Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.), 1857, Edler Von Plener, Ernst, The English Factory Legislation, from 1802 Till the Present Time, (Chapman and Hall), 1873, reprinted, (BiblioBazaar, LLC), 2008, Cooke-Taylor, R.W., The Factory System and the Factory Acts, (Methuen), 1894 and Hutchins, B.L., Hutchins, Elizabeth L. and Harrison, Amy, A history of factory legislation, (P. S. King & Son), 1911 provide contemporary comment on the development of legislation.

[2] Innes, Joanna, ‘Origins of the factory acts: the Health and Morals of Apprentices Act 1802’, in Landau, Norma, (ed.), Law, crime and English society, 1660-1830, (Cambridge University Press), 2002, pp. 230-255 and Thomas, M.W., The early factory legislation: a study in legislative and administrative evolution, (Thames Bank Publishing Co.), 1948.

[3] See, for example, the comments in Ure, Andrew, The Philosophy of Manufactures: or, An exposition of the scientific, moral and commercial economy of the factory system of Great Britain, (Charles Knight), 1835, pp. 374-403.

[4] Cit, ibid, Driver, C., Tory Radical: A Life of Richard Oastler, p. 306.

[5] On Hobhouse, see, Zegger, Robert E., John Cam Hobhouse: a political life, 1819-1852, (University of Missouri Press), 1973.

[6] Creighton, Colin, ‘Richard Oastler, factory legislation and the working-class family’, Journal of Historical Sociology, Vol. 5, (1992), pp. 292-320; Ward, J.T., ‘Richard Oastler on politics and factory reform, 1832-1833’, Northern History, Vol. 24, (1988), pp. 124-145.

[7] Sadler’s death in 1835 removed an important advocate of reform. See, Sadler, Michael T., Protest Against the Secret Proceedings of the Factory Commission, in Leeds, 1833, Reply to the Two Letters of John Elliot Drinkwater, Esquire, and Alfred Power, Esquire, Factory Commissioners, (F.E. Bingley), 1833 and Factory statistics: the official table appended to the report of the committee on the ten-hour factory bill vindicated in a series of letters addressed to J.E. Drinkwater, (Hatchards), 1836; Drinkwater, J.E., Bethune, John Elliot and Power, Alfred, Replies to Mr. M.T. Sadler’s Protest Against the Factory Commission, (Baines and Newsome), 1833.

[8] On this issue, see, Stevenson, Warren, The myth of the golden age in English Romantic poetry, (Institut für Anglistik und Amerikanistik, Universität Salzburg), 1981.

[9] For what follows see Gray, Robert, ‘The languages of factory reform in Britain c.1830-1860’ in ibid, Joyce, Patrick, (ed.), The historical meanings of work, pp. 143-179.

[10] Lyon, Eileen Groth, Christian Radicalism in Britain from the Fall of the Bastille to the Disintegration of Chartism, (Ashgate), 1999, pp. 125-150 examines the Christian radicalism of the Factory movement.

[11] For a short summary of the issues see Ward, J.T., ‘The Factory Movement’ in Ward, J.T., (ed.), Popular Movements 1830-1850, (Macmillan), 1970, pp. 78-94.

[12] Gill, J.C., The ten hours parson: Christian social action in the eighteen-thirties, (SPCK), 1959.

[13] Ibid, Finer, S.E., The Life and Times of Sir Edwin Chadwick, pp. 50-68 and ibid, Brundage, A., England’s ‘Prussian Minister’: Edwin Chadwick and the Politics of Government Growth 1832-1854, pp. 22-24

[14] Peacock, A. E., ‘The successful prosecution of the Factory Acts, 1833-55’, Economic History Review, 2nd ser., Vol. 37, (1984), pp. 197-210.

[15] Wing, Charles, Evils of the Factory System Demonstrated by Parliamentary Evidence, (Saunders and Otley), 1837, Part II prints important contemporary comment.

Constitutional Associations

Although several localities received municipal charters before Confederation, only Montreal and Quebec were large urban communities. In 1830, Montreal had 27,000 people and Quebec 22,000 increasing respectively to 140,000 and 62,000 in 1880.

Quebec was established initially as a military centre. Its Upper Town where the administrative, military and religious functions of the province were located was fortified. Commerce and trade and the poorer houses were in the Lower Town. Between 1791 and 1840, Quebec was the capital of Lower Canada and contained the governor’s resident at the Château Saint-Louis and was the seat of the Legislative Assembly and both Councils. Between 1840 and 1867, the capital of the United Canada moved between Montreal, Kingston, Toronto, Ottawa and Quebec. Since 1867, Quebec has been the province’s capital. The military importance of the city was enhanced after 1831 with the construction of the Citadel, a military complex with a garrison of 1,000 men guarding the river. This role declined after Confederation and the British garrison finally left the city in 1871. Quebec was also a religious centre and until 1840 was the seat of the only Catholic diocese in British America. Both the community of Ursulines and the Jesuits provided higher education until the opening of the Université Laval in 1852. In the first half of the nineteenth century, Quebec was the leading port in Lower Canada, a reflection of its position at the hub of the timber industry and as the centre of immigration from Great Britain. However, its economic position suffered from the limited nature of its agricultural hinterland and poor land communications and by 1850 Montreal assumed economic dominance in the province.

Montreal was situated, by contrast, in a better commercial position with rich agrarian resources and good road, water and later railway links. It dominated the food trade with Upper Canada and the United States and was an important manufacturing and communication centre. Unlike Quebec that remained militarily import, the fortification at Montreal were demolished after 1804. Despite this until 1850, urban growth and most economic activity was still largely confined to the area known as the Old Town between McGill Street in the west, Berri Street in the east and St-Antoine in the north. The Church was a strong presence in the city: the Petit Séminaire and the Collège de Montréal were situated on the flanks of the mountain as were the Hôtel-Dieu des Soeurs-Grises and the imposing Basilique Notre-Dame that dominated the city after 1829. The business quarter with its banks, private clubs and up-market housing was on the north-west of the rue Saint-Laurent. In the nineteenth century, Montreal became the most important city in British North America especially as the centre of communications between Canada and the Atlantic.

Montreal

The Constitutional Association of Montreal (MCA) was founded on 23 January 1835 at a popular assembly of 254 people held in the Jones Long Room.[1] The idea of founding a central association bringing together the loyalist forces in Montreal had originally been raised at a previous assembly held on 20 November 1834 at Tattersall rue Saint-Jacques. [2] The MCA was an umbrella organisation that included the Saint Patrick’s Society, Saint George’s Society, Saint Andrew’s Society and the German Society.

Feeling itself directly threatened by the intrigues of the French Canadian majority in the Legislative Assembly since the elections of 1834, the British population established associations to counterbalance the better organised, reformist forces. Through them, the British also sought to register their protest about the Ninety-Two Resolutions and oppose the irregularities of the recent general election. The assembly held in Montreal on 23 January 1835, issued the same declaration as the Constitutional Association of Quebec (QCA), founded on 22 November 1834, stating what it saw as the causes of the political and constitutional problems in Lower Canada. More precisely, the assembly denounced the way in which the colonial policy in Great Britain was managed. According to MCA, colonial policy produced by the Colonial Office lacked coherence because of the frequent changes of ministers since 1827. There was a denunciation of seigneurial tenure and persistence of French laws that the MCA claimed harmed investment. The loyalist assembly also criticised the absence of Registry offices encouraging fraud and discouraging foreign investments. The Legislative Assembly was sharply criticised especially its attitude to voting the civil list and opposition to immigration, according to British an important source of economic development. The loyalists were also damning about the ways militia officers of militia and magistrates were appointed. Finally, it expressed savage opposition to the election of the Legislative Council proposed in the Ninety-Two Resolutions. [3]

A central committee of 147 elected members was charged with producing the statutes and rules of the new association and establishing an executive committee that was achieved by 28 January 1835. The executive committee included John Molson Jr.[4] (Vice-president of the Saint-George’s Society), Peter McGill[5] (President of the Saint Andrew’s Society), William Walker[6] and George Moffat[7] (President of the Saint George’s Society), who was also elected as president of the MCA. Most members of the central committee were substantial merchants and were linked to the Banque de Montreal. A number were members of the Legislative Council or had been defeated in the Assembly elections at the end of 1834. The various national societies in Montreal affiliated to the MCA on 28 January 1835. [8]

There were important links between the associations in Quebec and Montreal and this was formalised in the delegated assistants from each association liaising with each other. However, it was increasing evident that there were differences between the two cities in particular the call for union with Upper Canada by the Loyalists in Quebec while Montreal’s position favoured only the annexation of Montreal and Vaudreuil to the upper province. There were also differences in approach between a moderate Quebec and a more radical Montreal that created ‘branch associations in a surprisingly short time at the beginning of 1835 in the aftermath of the loyalists’ electoral rout. Constitutional associations, which generally affiliated to either the Quebec or Montreal Constitutional Associations, were established in Leeds, Inverness, Ireland, Upper Ireland and Halifax (Mégantic), on 26 December 1834); in Durham and Kingsey (Drummond), on 31 January 1835; in Richmond and in Lennoxville (Sherbrooke) also on 31 January 1835; in Trois-Rivières; Chambly (Chambly); Laprairie (Laprairie); William-Henry; Kildare (Berthier); St.Andrews (Deux-Montagnes) and in Ormstown and Hemmingford (Beauharnois); Frelighburg (Missisquoi); Granby (Shefford); Potton (Stanstead) and elsewhere. Locality but especially ideological attitudes determined whether these associations linked to Quebec or Montreal. The associations at Missisquoi, Kildare, St.Andrews and Potton affiliated to the QCA because of local fears that if Montreal was annexed to Upper Canada they would be assimilated by the French Canadian majority. It was, however, the opposite logic that led the frontier comté de Beauharnois to change its affiliation from the QCA to the MCA.

The second general assembly was held in the Theatre Royal on 26 March 1835. To counter the influence of the reformers in London, the meeting decided that an agent of the MCA would be sent there to promote and defend the interests of the constitutionalists. William Walker, who had been defeated in the 1834 election, was nominated as the MCA agent in London. [9] He was accompanied by Alexander Gillespie of the North American Colonial Association and by John Neilson of the QCA. They left for London in April 1835 and met Lord Glenelg, the Colonial Secretary and Lord Melbourne, the Whig Prime Minister.[10] Learning on 11 August that the Royal Commission on events in Lower Canada would consider their representation, the executive committee asked Walker to return to Montreal.[11]

In the months that followed, the MCA organised ward committees and intervened in the loyalist assemblies in the town, for example in the meetings held in the Western quarter on 15 September 1835 and in the faubourgs of Saint-Laurent and Saint-Louis on 12 October. Each time, its representatives floated the idea of establishment of Registry offices and called for an end to the seigneurial system, for extending the voting rights of joint owners and for improving navigation on the St. Lawrence. On 24 November 1835, at the start of the work of the Royal Commission, the MCA submitted a copy of the resolutions Walker had already presented to the king and Parliament and an impressive petition.  On 7 December, the General Assembly elected a new central committee reflecting the need to coordinate all the constitutional forces of the colony and this led directly to the creation of a Select General Committee in May and November 1836. [12] In January 1836, the MCA circulated a document that blamed economic under-development in Lower Canada on the French presence and proposed the union of all the provinces of British North America as a solution. But by 27 February, it had reconsidered its position and simply proposed the annexation of the Île de Montreal and the comté of Vaudreuil by Upper Canada. On 23 March, the MCA launched a new manifesto that called for a change to the size of the districts in order to increase British representation. It proposed that the quorum with the Legislative Assembly should be lowered in order to reduce the ability of deputies to disrupt the institution and that the personal wealth of potential deputies should be raised. Finally, it attacked the ways in which French Canadians sought to promote their own interests at the expense of the British.[13]

The political cohesion of the loyalist movement in Lower Canada reached its height in early 1836 when it was announced that a large congress of constitutional associations would be held in Montreal on 23 June. In Quebec (21 January 1836), Montreal (16 January 1836), Sherbrooke (12 December 1835), Leeds (25 March 1836) and Kildare (23 December 1835) delegates were designated and converged in Montreal as the Select General Committee of the Petitionners on 23 June 1836. The work and conclusions of this congress are not well known but it appears that a decision was made to hold a second congress later from 10 to 17 November largely because of disagreements between the delegations from Quebec (T.A. Young) and Montreal (William Griffin). The movement was affected these tensions. There was a marked deceleration of loyalist activities until the spring of 1837 when heightened levels of activity by the Patriote movement forced loyalists to put side their ideological and regional quarrels and demonstrate more forcefully their attachment with the Crown.

Quebec

While the MCA was controlled by radical merchants who were hostile to the reform movement, the QCA founded officially on 22 November 1834, was dominated by individuals largely from the liberal professions who were moderate reformers and previously supporters of Papineau: John Neilson[14], Andrew Stuart[15] and Robert H. Gairdner. The business community was not absent and the most important merchants in the capital were among the QCA’s supporters: William Price, Thomas Aylwin, J. Charlton, James Bell Forsyth, Allan Gilmour, James Hastings Kerr, Henry Lemesurier, William King McCord and T. A. Young.

The origins of the QCA can be found in a meeting held on 16 April 1833 to take ‘into consideration the expediency of preparing an address to His Majesty upon the state of the Province’. [16] It was, however, the passage of the Ninety-Two Resolutions at the beginning of the following year and particularly the election campaign in October 1834 that rallied the support of loyalist forces in the capital and led to important campaign meetings in favour of loyalist candidates: Andrew Stuart (Haute-Ville), Pemberton (Basse-ville) and John Neilson (Dorchester). In the event the loyalists were left with no representatives after the Patriote landslide and this led to an increased focus on why the loyalists had done so badly in the election. It was directly out of the problem of loyalist representation in the Assembly and the need to put pressure on the governor and the colonial administration that the QCA was formed.

The meeting on 22 November was preceded by a series of banquets that provided a post mortem of the elections and reinforced the lessons that needed to be learned from them.

Let us then take a lesson from the enemy...the silence of the Constitutionalists has been mistaken for acquiescence in the measures pursued by the Resolutionists...We rejoice, under these circumstances in being able to announce that a Loyal and Constitutional Association is now on foot...The plan of the Association, as far as we are informed, is to form, principal or parent, Associations in two cities and the most populous towns of the Province, which Branch Committees in the several counties, and to maintain a general correspondence and cooperation for their mutual support and defence.[17]

Chaired by Andrew Stuart, the foundation meeting of the QCA was held at the Albion Hotel on 22 November 1834. An executive committee of 14 people was established and £400 raised in less than three hours to support the new association. John Molson and Sydney Bellingham, who had come from organising a similar meeting in Montreal on 20 November, helped in the formation of the QCA.[18] The executive committee was formed by 26 November and the QCA held its first assembly on 29 November. However, it was the mass meetings of 400 people on the 11 and 12 December that agreed the statutes of the association and a sub-committee was established to found branch associations across Lower Canada.[19]

During the winter of 1835, the QCA circulated a vast petition putting forward its claims and John Neilson and William Walker (MCA) carried it to London when they left on 13 May to express their opposition to the Ninety-Two Resolutions. [20] This occurred at the same time as the creation of the Gosford Commission and when Neilson returned from London he was involved in establishing an active lobby to the Commission. It was not until 9 January 1836, after intense discussion at several meetings of the executive committee that the QCA finally adopted the Report on the Present State of Public Affairs, a clear statement of the ideological position of the association.[21] It opposed the deliberations of the Parti Patriote in the Assembly especially their demands for control over the Civil List and reaffirmed their commitment to the imperial state.

The QCA was then involved in the choosing of delegates for the congress of all Constitutionalists in the province that was finally held in Montreal between 10 and 17 November 1836. Important differences emerged between the QCA and MCA during these discussions: the MCA proposed the annexing of Montreal and Vaudreuil to Upper Canada while the QCA favoured union of the two provinces. At the end of 1836, perhaps because of these disagreements, Andrew Stuart was replaced as president by John Neilson with William Price and Henry Lemesurier as vice-presidents and T.A. Young as secretary.

In the deteriorating climate of 1837, the QCA organised a series of meetings culminating with one held on 31 July attended by between 4,500 and 5,000 people.[22] The seven resolutions it passed denounced the political manoeuvring of the Patriotes and reaffirmed support for the Crown. But with the approach of open conflict, it was the creation of a volunteer corps that concerned the QCA and on 1 September the Victoria Club, a parallel organisation to Montreal’s Doric Club, was established. On 29 November, the Victoria Club was reorganised into a regiment of the Royal Quebec Volunteers, though it was not actively involved in the suppression of the rebellion.[23]

1837 and after

After the publication of Russell’s Ten Resolutions, the Patriotes held a series of public assemblies intended to show the widespread support for the movement and the extent to which Papineau could count on the masses to oppose the policies of the colonial government. Loyalists responded by also holding a number of assemblies answering Patriote demands by loyal addresses and showing their determination to match the Patriote mobilisation. The assemblies organised by the constitutional associations attracted large anglophone audiences but in French-dominated areas they tended to be more spontaneous. Usually organised by the local seigneur, a member of the elite or loyalist Justice of the Peace, these ‘demonstrations of loyalty’ intensified during the autumn into areas that traditionally supported the Parti Patriote but which now favoured submission and collaboration. Preceded by numerous meetings in faubourgs and villages, the large assembly held on the Esplanade in Quebec on 31 July 1837 was attended by over 5,000 delegates who heard various speeches and signed a loyalist petition. On 23 October 1837, at the same time as the Patriote assembly at St-Charles, a meeting of between 4,000 and 7,000 constitutionalists was held chaired by Peter McGill, president of the MCA since Moffat’s departure at the end of 1836. Effective channels of communication had already been established with Gosford and these increased during the conflict during November and December. Gosford even agreed that the MCA should be given the right to form groups of volunteers.

Loyalist assemblies became less numerous in the autumn of 1837 apart from the assembly at Tattershall but there was a rapid increase with many assemblies held between November 1837 and January 1838. Organised by JPs or magistrates, they testified to the renewal of loyalism and support for the actions taken by the Crown to deal with the rebellion in the Montreal district in November 1837. The repression and military occupation of part of the colony stimulated loyalist enthusiasm, perhaps more apparent than real and reflected the desire of a population to avoid the reprisals suffered by those living in the comtés de Richelieu and Deux-Montagnes. The constitutional associations played a less obstructive role in this period largely because many of their members were serving in the volunteer regiments established during the rebellion.

On 30 December 1837, the MCA presented its annual report to its General Assembly. The report proposed establishing contact with sympathetic MPs in the British Parliament with the aim of promoting the idea of the union of the Canadas. It also stated that since the conflict is racial, the only way of resolving this was an end to the policy of conciliation that had been adopted by the Colonial Office and by the Gosford Commission. It concluded by registering its thanks to Colborne and his regular troops for dealing with the rebellion. George Moffat met Durham in London before he left for the colony and also influential members of the MCA presented their ideas to Durham during his inquiry into the rebellion. The constitutional associations played a role in the development of the Durham Report and in its resultant project of union and most of the voluntary regiments were mobilised during the second rebellion of November 1838. The constitutional associations held an annual assembly in December 1838 but after 1839, the union against Patriote radicalism that had given the loyalist movement its cohesion and vitality dissolved. The Château clique fought a rearguard action to maintain their privileges and some supporters of the constitutional cause, especially their leader John Neilson, repudiated the project of Union and joined ex-Patriotes such as Denis-Benjamin Viger and Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine.


[1] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 79.

[2] Ibid, p. 69.

[3] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, pp. 32-41 contains the MCA declaration.

[4] ‘John Molson’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 630-634.

[5] ‘Peter McGill’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 540-544.

[6] ‘William Walker’, DCB, Vol. 7, pp. 893-894.

[7] ‘George Moffat’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 553-556.

[8] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 82.

[9] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, pp. 244.

[10] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 84.

[11] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, p. 245.

[12] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, pp. 245-246.

[13] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, pp. 284-289.

[14] ‘John Neilson’, DCB, Vol. 7, pp. 644-649.

[15] ‘Andrew Stuart’, DCB, Vol. 7, pp. 835-837.

[16] Quebec Gazette, 17 April 1833.

[17] Quebec Mercury, 20 November 1834.

[18] Quebec Gazette, 26 November 1834; ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, p. 23.

[19] Ibid, Christie, Robert, History of the late province of Lower Canada, 1791-1841, Vol. 4, pp. 24-25.

[20] Quebec Gazette, 13 March 1835.

[21] Quebec Gazette, 11 January 1836.

[22] Ibid, Bernard, Jean-Paul, Assemblées publiques, résolutions et déclarations de 1837-1838, pp. 167-170.

[23] Quebec Gazette, 5 September, 22 November, 16 December 1837.

Tuesday, 28 December 2010

Reforming factories

The industrial revolution cannot be viewed as a simple transition from an agricultural and domestic economy to one dominated by factory regimes but rather as a restructuring of economy and society. For individual workers this meant the abandoning of old skills as well as the development of new ones, while increasing regional specialisation of industry created differing impacts from one locality to another. Although contemporaries placed considerable emphasis on the development of large-scale factory production, domestic production and small workshops dominated manufacture until the mid-nineteenth century.

In Kirkheaton churchyard near Huddersfield there is a fifteen foot stone obelisk topped by a flame that commemorates

The dreadful fate of 17 children who fell unhappy victims to a raging fire at Mr Atkinson’s factory at Colne Bridge, February 14th 1818.

All the dead were girls; the youngest nine, the oldest eighteen. The fire started when about 5 am a boy aged ten was sent downstairs to the ground floor card room to collect some cotton rovings. Instead of taking a lamp, he took a candle that ignited the cotton waste and the fire spread quickly through the factory that became a raging inferno. The children were trapped on the top floor when the staircase collapsed. The entire factory was destroyed in less than thirty minutes and the boy who had inadvertently started the fire was the last person to leave the building alive. It is not surprising that child labour and the need to regulate it became a national issue in the early 1830s.[1]

Factory 1

Technological change and the development of new work conditions had gained sufficient strength by the 1830s to necessitate a serious and sustained effort by the state to regulate their application. [2] Both employers and workers believed themselves locked into an established system of attitudes, actions and responses. Employers regarded their position as defined by the laws of the free market over which they had little control. Insensitive, repressive and largely indifferent to the conditions of their workers, many were motivated by a belief in profit, a belief buttressed by their religious piety. Widespread drunkenness among the workforce, as escape from these pressures, seemed to confirm employers’ belief that the workforce could and would not respond to better treatment. These attitudes percolated down into the workforce itself and there is ample evidence of the exploitation of and cruelty towards workers, especially children, by fellow workers.[3] Masters and workers had been related to each other by simple contract and face-to-face contact but industrialisation had created a new set of relationship patterns. Workers had become ‘operatives’, human extensions of new technology, ‘dehumanised’ and ‘dehumanising’.

Factory 2

Factory children c1860

By no means were all factories similar and there was a wide range of work experience within any one factory unit. Many late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century textile mills were rural and recruited labour from the local domestic industries. Families often moved together to a new factory so that all members of a household could gain employment. A weaver used to the workings of a small weaving shed would be familiar with many aspects of the work environment, if not the scale, of a factory. Boys would probably be apprenticed to weaving, power spinning or in the machine shop; girls might work in the carding room before moving to other low-technology jobs within the mill. Generally, as new technology was adopted, men took control of the new processes in spinning and weaving while women were left with the older machines and more poorly paid jobs.[4]

Increasingly, as factories moved to steam-powered sites, the labour force moved from rural mills to towns. The new large urban mills offered greater opportunities and a wider range of employment in towns was some insurance against recession and unemployment. But factory work altered labourers’ lives in a variety of ways. Most obvious was the loss of freedom and independence, especially for men who had previously been their own masters. Factory workers could no longer intersperse industrial work with agricultural labour or other activities. Many factory masters introduced rigid and draconian regulations to keep the workforce at their machines for long hours and to break their irregular work patterns.[5]


[1] For a debate on child employment see, Cunningham, H., ‘The employment and unemployment of children, 1680-1851’, Past and Present, Vol. 126, (1990), pp. 115-150 and Kirby, Peter, ‘How many children were ‘unemployed’ in 18th and 19th century England and Cunningham’s response in Past and Present, Vol. 187, (2005), pp. 187-215. Hopkins, E., Childhood Transformed. Working Class Children in Nineteenth-Century England, (Routledge), 1994, Horn, Pamela, Children’s Work and Welfare 1780-1880s, (Macmillan), 1994 and Kirby, Peter, Child labour in Britain, 1750-1870, (Palgrave), 2003 provide valuable insights into children’s work and how and why it changed.

[2] The shortest introduction to factory reform is Henriques, U., The Early Factory Acts and their Enforcement, (The Historical Association), 1971. Ward, J.T., The Factory Movement 1830-1850, (Macmillan), 1962 is the most detailed study though it has, in part, been superseded by Gray, R., The Factory Question and Industrial England 1830-1860, (Cambridge University Press), 1996. Driver, C., Tory Radical: A Life of Richard Oastler, (Oxford University Press), 1946 and Weaver, A., John Fielden and the Politics of Popular Radicalism 1832-1847, (Oxford University Press), 1987 are useful biographies. Ibid, Finlayson, Geoffrey, The Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury 1801-1885 is a detailed biography that contains much on factory conditions. Nardinelli, Clark, Child Labour and the Industrial Revolution, (Indiana University Press), 1990 examines the most contentious of the questions surrounding factory conditions. Ward, J.T., (ed.), The Factory System, 2 Vols. (David & Charles), 1970 contains primary material.

[3] Newey, Katherine, ‘Climbing boys and factory girls: popular melodramas of working life’, Journal of Victorian Culture, Vol. 5, (2000), pp. 28-44.

[4] Morgan, Carol E., ‘The domestic image and factory culture: the cotton district in mid-nineteenth-century England’, International Labor and Working-Class History, Vol. 49, (1996), pp. 26-46.

[5] Clark, Gregory, ‘Factory discipline’, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 54, (1994), pp. 128-163.

Monday, 27 December 2010

Hymns and the Chartists

The recently reported discovery of a possibly unique copy of the National Chartist Hymn Book in Todmodern Library has raised the neglected question of the significance of hymns and hymn singing and more broadly religion to the Chartist movement. [1] Elizabeth Gaskell, especially in Mary Barton seems to suggest that suffering is something that Christians have to accept and she repeatedly insists that the only way people can be happy is to resign themselves to God’s will. During the nineteenth century, the Church of England and those Nonconformist churches that sought ‘respectability’ used to insist on this point as well and it seemed to many Chartists that the Church had become an accomplice of the middle-class by keeping the poor quiet and resigned to their suffering fate. Throughout the novel, the protagonist John Barton questions whether poverty is in fact God’s will or whether it was brought about by the incessant greed of the rising middle-class. The ways the working-class is presented suggests that the only way that the laws which had enriched the middle-class were to be changed would be by Chartism.

Given that Chartism was a cultural as well as a political movement, it is not surprising that religion and religious belief, whether orthodox or not, played a significant role in determining the character of the movement and that in that process hymns played a major role. A quick search of the Northern Star identified 447 references to hymns ranging from advertisements for non-sectarian hymn books to the singing of hymns at the beginning and often the end of Chartist meetings. The state had politicised the Church and Chartist recognised the practical and symbolic importance of attacking this religious hegemony in their extended campaigns for the vote. For example, during August and September 1839, Chartists in South Wales began attending their local parish churches in large numbers, something many regular worshippers could not understand as the attitude of churches to the Chartists had changed little. The Baptists in their association meetings at Risca deplored the level of disaffection and insubordination shown by Chartists. In June, a Wesleyan minister, expressing broader views in his denomination had accused them of being levellers, thieves and robbers. [2] Nonetheless, on 11 August they marched to the parish church of St Woolos in Newport for both morning and evening services. A week later, at Merthyr, the Chartists peaceably crowded into the parish church where the curate, Thomas Williams, who had been informed of their intentions preached an aggressive sermon from the text: ‘Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake; whether it be to the King as supreme or unto Governors...’ [3] The following week, Chartists listened to a sermon at Pontypool while in Abedare and Hirwaun, Chartists specifically asked John Davis an Independent minister to preach to them. Although he produced a scriptural justification for the doctrine of the rights of man, he begged them to abstain from physical violence and not raise the sword against their fellow man. Was attendance at church, as David Williams suggests ‘a cloak to cover nefarious designs’? [4] This misreads their significance and widespread occurrence. [5] Religion helped to give Chartists strength, sanctify their crusade and face the possibility of dying in the struggle. For many, millenarian Christianity emphasised historical change brought about by an awakened people. In occupying church pews, Chartists were asserting their moral authority but were also showing their contempt for the Anglican usurpation of Christianity and the Constitution and this was even more the case in South Wales where the church represented an alien culture and government. Christianity was just as capable of being democratised as political institutions. [6]

The discovery of the Todmorden booklet raises important questions about the importance of hymn singing to Chartists. Sold for one penny, it was obviously aimed at the mass market. So why were hymns important to the Chartists. There had been two earlier attempts at producing a hymn book for the whole movement: Thomas Cooper edited the Shakesperian Chartist Hymn Book published in 1842 and Joshua Hobson’s Hymns for Worship: Without sectarianism and adapted to the present state of the church, with a text of scripture for each hymn published the following year. Cooper’s Shakesperian Chartist Hymn Book gave both the hymn and Shakespeare a new oral agitational and political resonance by attempting to give both Bardic and religious authority to Chartist lyrics. [7] It collects together songs and ballads of the indigenous rank and file ‘Chartist poets’ and demonstrates the importance of orality to the movement. The hymns were meant to be memorised and so even the illiterate could participate in the process of collective worship and agitation. The dominant poetic tradition is, as a result, startled into new meanings or new purpose by using traditional literary forms in differing socio-political contexts and stressing the latent energy and orality of popular lyric forms. The development of Chartist hymns represented an extension of the radical ballad narrative into the religious domain combining perceptions of the intense feeling and vision about the alienation they felt from the dominant middle-class industrial culture with a morality tale that allowed them to articulate in accessible ways both their religious and political solidarity and the identification of their grievances through a populist oral tradition against those who failed to recognise or were unwilling to accommodate those demands.

The origins of the National Chartist Hymn Book can be tentatively identified in the pages of the Northern Star. On 28 December 1844,

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On 1 February 1845,

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A month later, on 1 March, the Northern Star included the following,

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By 23 August 1845, the book was nearing publication or had already been published

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Finally, on 1 November 1845, it is clear that the Chartist Hymn-Book was in use, though given the reference to the ‘36th hymn’, whether this was the book found in Todmorden is debatable and is more likely to be a reference to Hobson’s 64 page book:

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Heavily influenced by dissenting Christians, the hymns are about social justice, ‘striking down evil doers’ and blessing Chartist enterprises, rather than the conventional themes of crucifixion, heaven and family. Some of the hymns protested against the exploitation of child labour and slavery. Another of the hymns proclaimed: ‘Men of wealth and men of power/ Like locusts all thy gifts devour.’ Two of the hymns celebrate the martyrs of the movement. Great God! Is this the Patriot’s Doom? was composed for the funeral of Samuel Holberry, the Sheffield Chartist leader, who died in prison in 1843, while another honours John Frost, Zephaniah Williams and William Jones, the Chartist leaders transported to Tasmania in the aftermath of the Newport rising of 1839.

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For the remainder of the pamphlet see: http://www.calderdale.gov.uk/wtw/search/controlservlet?PageId=Detail&DocId=102253&PageNo=1

There is no music. This came later to hymn books and singers would have fitted the words to tunes they were already familiar with. Each hymn is marked with the metre of the hymn and this would have helped them know how the words went with the rhythm. Mike Sanders, who will undoubtedly write a detailed paper on his find commented,

‘This fragile pamphlet is an amazing find and opens up a whole new understanding of Chartism – which as a movement in many ways shaped the Britain we know today.’


[1] Its discovery was reported widely in the press; see, for example, Lancashire Telegraph, 21 December 2010.

[2] Western Vindicator, 20 July 1839.

[3] I Peter ii, verses 13-17.

[4] Williams, David, John Frost: A Study in Chartism, (University of Wales Press), 1939, p. 187.

[5] Yeo, Eileen, ‘Christianity in Chartist Struggle 1838-1842’, Past & Present, Vol. 91 (1981), pp. 109-139, identified demonstrations in Sheffield over five consecutive weeks as the most protracted but there were others, for example in Stockport, Norwich and Bradford.

[6] Jones, Keith B., ‘The religious climate of the Chartist insurrection at Newport, Monmouthshire, 4th November 1839: expressions of evangelicalism’, Journal of Welsh Religious History, Vol. 5, (1997), pp. 57-71.

[7] See, Janowitz, Anne, F., Lyric and Labour in the Romantic Tradition, (Cambridge University Press), 1998, pp. 136-137, Roberts, Stephen, The Chartist Prisoners: The Radical Lives of Thomas Cooper (1805-1892) and Arthur O’Neill (1819-1896), (Peter Lang), 2008, p. 78, and Roberts, Stephen, ‘Thomas Cooper in Leicester, 1840-1843’, Leicestershire Archaeological and Historical Society Transactions, Vol. 61, (1987), pp. 62-76, at pp. 70-71. See also, Murphy, Andrew, ‘Shakespeare among the Workers’, in Holland, Peter, (ed.), Shakespeare Survey: Writing about Shakespeare, (Cambridge University Press), 2005, pp. 111-112

Friday, 24 December 2010

Two Loyalist Societies

The founding of national societies by immigrant communities was not confined to Lower Canada. They could be found during the nineteenth century in the majority of the large towns of North America and more generally throughout the colonial world. These societies were established by leaders of ethnic communities with the aim of supporting existing colonists and facilitating the integration of newcomers from the same ethnic background.[1] They provided access to medical and religious services, helped new settlers to find work and gave financial support to those in need. In Lower Canada, they were especially important in 1834-1835 where they were established for precise political reasons: to oppose the aims of the Parti Patriote and promote, within their localities in Montreal and Quebec, the interests of the Anglophone business and professional community.[2]

Between 1830 and 1834, under Lord Aylmer, the relationship between the executive and the Assembly progressively deteriorated. Although the debate over control of the Civil List was at the forefront of Lower Canadian politics, it was the composition of the Legislative Council and the Patriote proposal that it should be elected contained in the 1830 Ninety-Two Resolution that mobilised loyalist opinion. The loyalist assemblies held from 1834 were composed of individuals who were to dominate the movement until the rebellions. Until 1834, the loyalist movement was dominated by administrators and seigneurs but from 1834 onwards, it was the merchants of Quebec and Montreal who took the lead. They were supported by some more moderate Patriotes who were concerned by the increasing radicalisation of the movement under Papineau and who now proclaimed their loyalty and sought to reduce the electoral influence of the Parti Patriote.

The general election in the autumn of 1834 was among the most disputed in the history of Quebec. Not only were there a record number of contested elections in the 44 comtés that elected the 84 deputies but also because it provided clear evidence of the deep ideological character of the conflict between Patriotes and Loyalists. The critical issue in the election was the Ninety-Two Resolutions and in many respects it can be seen as a referendum on this contentious document. John Neilson (Basse-ville), Andrew Stuart (Haute-Ville), William Grant (Quartier-Ouest) and Barthelemy Gugy (Sherbrooke) were among the most openly opposed to the Resolutions. Papineau unleashed a ferocious campaign against the deputies who had opposed the Resolutions the previous winter and none were re-elected for their own constituency. The election results that appeared between 3 and 12 November proved a catastrophe for the loyalists who opposed the Ninety-Two Resolutions. Not only the loyalist leaders, but those most clearly marked their opposition to Papineau (Neilson, Stuart, Debartzch and Sabrevois de Bleury) were all beaten, but the loyalist movement also suffered significant losses in anglophone strongholds such as Stanstead and Missisquoi. Only Gaspé and the Eastern Townships resisted the Patriote avalanche.

The banquets organised in the honour of loyalist candidates were many and extremely animated. Their tone was unequivocal

Let us then take a lesson from the enemy...the silence of the Constitutionalists has been mistaken for acquiescence in the measures pursued by the Resolutionists...We rejoice, under these circumstances in being able to announce that a Loyal and Constitutional Association is now on foot...[3]

It was the scale of the loyalist defeat in 1834 that marked the beginning of the constitutional movement. The lesson was quickly recognised: victory over the Patriote movement and French Canadian nationalism could not be purely constitutional and electoral. It was now essential to establish a vast coalition of loyalist forces in the colony in order to bring about the triumph of British values and rights in Lower Canada. Those who attended loyalist assemblies from this time were more radical since the more moderate, loyalist electoral strategy and rhetoric had failed. It was now a question of organising an effective extra-parliamentary lobby that rejected any further extension of the legitimacy of the Assembly and vigorously challenged the Patriote ideology.

The St George’s Society of Montreal was founded on 19 December 1834, ten months before the St George’s Society of Quebec on 12 October 1835. Although originally aimed at those of English or Welsh origin, in Montreal it was the only national society also acceptable to those of Scottish or Irish ancestry. Both societies counted on a very large majority of English members especially those from the liberal professions and the middle-class. In Montreal, the lawyer William Badgley[4] was president of the society in 1842-1843 and in Quebec Thomas Cary[5], editor of the Quebec Mercury was a founding member of its society. In Quebec, where members of English origin were less numerous, the Society deferred to the leadership of the Scottish middle-class. In Montreal, George Moffatt[6] was president of the Society from 1834 to 1841 except in 1838 when John Molson[7], the elder, occupied the post. The situation was very similar in Quebec with William Patton acting as president from 1837 to 1845 (apart from 1843) and William Price as president in 1836-1837. Patton and Price were also leading figure in the Constitutional Association of Quebec. [8]

The two organisations operated in similar ways. In Montreal, the St George’s Society required its members to pay an admission fee of two dollars and an annual contribution of at least three dollars. Members, whose admission was subject to a general vote, elected the officers of the society annually on 10 January. The president chaired the quarterly meeting of the society on the tenth day of January, April, July and October. In his absence, one of the two elected vice-presidents took his place. A treasurer administered the funds of the Society, a secretary and his assistant was responsible for correspondence with members and six organisers were charged with organising its activities. The members elected two committees: one for dealing with charitable issues and a second with responsibility for auditing the treasurer’s accounts. In addition to the elected officers, one or more doctors were also elected. As well as the St George’s Society, three other national and loyalist organisations were established in Montreal in 1834-1835: Saint Andrew’s Society, Saint Patrick Society and the German Society. According to Senior, they formed an integral part of the Constitutional Association of Montreal founded on 23 January 1835.[9]

That the presidents of each of these national societies supported the direction of Constitutional Association, added to the fact that these various societies paraded together during their various national festivals, illustrate the bonds that linked the various loyalist institutions. [10] George Moffatt chaired the executive committee of the Constitutional Association of Montreal. He was accompanied by other officers of the St George’s Society including its vice-presidents, John Molson and Henry Griffin, Turton Penn, member of the Committee of Accounts and James Holmes, one of the society’s organisers.[11] The St George’s Society of Montreal, with the support of the other societies, was ready for conflict with the Patriote rebels. It had already begun to mobilise its members when Gosford authorised the formation of a body of volunteers on 16 November 1837. According to Senior, all of the national societies in Montreal were amalgamated into district battalions and served as the source from which the volunteers were formed in Montreal.[12]

St Andrew’s Society of Montreal was established on 6 February 1835, followed on 30 November by a similar society in Quebec. The society was exclusively founded for colonists of Scottish descent. That community has attained a considerable place in the colony largely because the Scots were the first British immigrants to settle in considerable numbers in Quebec.[13] The Scots quickly formed the economic elite in Lower Canada with an active role in the fur trade and in the creation of financial institutions to support their trade and industries. They played a major role in the Banque de Montréal, founded by two Scots James Leslie and Robert Armour and with Scottish merchants Peter McGill and John Fleming both acting as president in the 1830s and with fellow Scot John Boston acting as one of its administrators. [14]

The two St Andrew’s Societies functioned in similar ways. The Montreal Society based its constitution on that of the St Andrew’s Association of New York. [15] To be a member of the Montreal Society members had to pay a two dollar admission fee, five dollars if an honorary member, and then an annual fee of two dollars payable on 1 May. The Society was composed of members resident in the comté de Montréal, honorary members and officers elected by secret ballot. Among its officers, the Society elected a president who was responsible for chairing quarterly meetings held on the second Tuesday in February, May, August and December. These meetings had a quorum of thirteen out of an initial membership of two hundred though this total fell year on year because subscriptions were not renewed. The two vice-presidents stood in for the president if he was absent. Seven administrators met once a month to deal with calls for charity and with distributing money. A treasurer administered the funds and held the accounts of the Society and a secretary and his assistant dealt with correspondence. The society also required the services of two almoners and one or more doctors.[16]

Peter McGill[17], president of the St Andrew’s Society, John Boston, vice-president from 1835 to 1838, and Charles Tait, treasurer between 1835 and 1838, were members of the committee of the MCA.[18] Adam Thom, the virulent anti-French Canadian editor of the Montreal Herald was elected second vice-president in 1837. Certainly, Adam Ferrie[19], vice-president in 1836 and a founder member of the Society, argued strongly against anti-French Canadian radicalism within the MCA and the St Andrew’s Society impressing many moderate loyalists.


[1] James, Kevin J., The Saint Patrick’s Society of Montreal: Ethno-religious Realignement in a Nineteenth-Century National Society, mémoire de maîtrise, (McGill University), 1997, p. 29.

[2] Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, Mémoire de maîtrise, (UQAM), 1990, p. 77, ICMH (53911), Institut canadien de micro reproduction historique, St. Andrew’s Society of Montreal, pp. 3-4.

[3] Quebec Mercury, 20 November 1834

[4] ‘William Badgley’, DCB, Vol. 9, pp. 40-42.

[5] ‘Thomas Cary’, DCB, Vol. 9, pp. 115-116.

[6] ‘George Moffat’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 553-556.

[7] ‘John Molson’, DCB, Vol. 7, pp. 616-621.

[8] ICMH (13303), Institut canadien de microreproduction historique, The Act of Incorporation and Bye-laws of the St. Geroge’s Society of Montreal, pp. 2-3, ICMH (47497), Institut canadien de microreproduction historique, Constitution and by-laws of the St. George's Society of Quebec, pp. 2-11, ICMH (18584), Institut canadien de microreproduction historique, St. George's Society, Quebec, founded 1835, p. 3.

[9] Ibid, Senior, Elinor Kyte, Redcoats & Patriotes: The Rebellions in Lower Canada 1837-38, p. 12, ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 79.

[10] Ibid, Senior, Elinor Kyte, Redcoats & Patriotes: The Rebellions in Lower Canada 1837-38, p. 11.

[11] Montreal Gazette, 5 February 1835; 14 January 1836.

[12] Ibid, Ibid, Senior, Elinor Kyte, Redcoats & Patriotes: The Rebellions in Lower Canada 1837-38, p. 12-13.

[13] Cowan, Helen I., British immigration to North America: The First Hundred Years, (University of Toronto Press), 1961, p. 7.

[14] See DBC, Vol. 8, pp. 23, 600 and Vol. 9, p. 67

[15] ICMH (53911), Institut canadien de micro reproduction historique, St. Andrew’s Society of Montreal, p. 6

[16] Ibid, pp. 45-53.

[17] ‘Peter McGill’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 540-544.

[18] Montreal Gazette, 5 February 1835

[19] ‘Adam Ferrie’, DBC, Vol. 9, pp. 284-285