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Thursday 27 January 2011

Quebec or Montreal: tensions within French Canadian nationalism?

The Patriote movement had its origins in the decade after the Constitutional Act of 1791 and during the mid- to late-1790s a loose opposition group of Canadien deputies challenged, largely unsuccessfully, the policies of the executive from their dominant position in the assembly. This oppositional group cannot be called a Parti Canadien but it was responsible for moving Lower Canada towards one based on ethnic politics. It was not until the first decade of the nineteenth century that Pierre-Stanislas Bédard, a deputy for Quebec gave real cohesion to the Canadien deputies. It was he who formed the Parti Canadien, which later became the Parti Patriote and in 1806 founded Le Canadien, the first reformist and French language newspaper in the province, to put forward its political ideas and to counter the views of the hostile anglophone newspapers. The reformist ideology of the Parti Canadien led to conflict between the assembly and the executive especially during the governorship of James Craig between 1807 and 1811. In 1812, Bédard was appointed a judge in Trois-Rivières and the question of his succession created deep divisions within the Parti Canadien that were to persist until and beyond the rebellion in 1837.

Elected at a by-election in Montreal in December 1811, James Stuart, a British deputy, was the first to replace Bédard as leader of the Parti Canadien in the assembly. At the same time, the deputies of Quebec and Montreal were working behind the scenes to appoint a permanent successor. The problem was that

Bédard was intimately associated with the city of Quebec for which he was a deputy…and the caucus in Quebec believed that it was the natural heir over the direction of the Parti. [1]

Moreover, almost all the candidates who wanted to succeed Bédard came from the city of Quebec; only Louis-Joseph Papineau came from Montreal. [2] From 1815 to 1827, all Papineau’s rivals were neutralised one after another. His strong personality and eloquence in the assembly allowed him to establish himself as the real leader of the Parti and he proved capable of uniting most reformist forces in Lower Canada.

Louis-Joseph Papineau was launched into politics when he was only twenty-two when he decided to follow in the footsteps of his politically influential father Joseph. His entry into the political arena was certainly helped by his father’s reputation. He was elected for the county of Kent, a district of Montreal in 1809 and during the constitutional crisis precipitated in 1810-1811 he became an influential member of the Parti Canadien. [3] He took part in the War of 1812 as a militia captain and this enhanced his political reputation. His father’s retirement, after than of Pierre Bédard thrust him into the upper ranks of the Parti. At the end of the war in 1815, the deputies needed to elect a new speaker for the assembly after the nomination of Jean-Antoine Panet to the Legislative Council. They chose the thirty-year-old Papineau. It was the critical tuning-point in his career and gave him the opportunity of increasing his influence within the party and by 1818 Papineau increasingly dominated the assembly. He was already appearing as the real successor to Bédard. Such was his dominance over his colleagues that in 1820 he was nominated as a member of the Executive Council, a move he was able to head off.

The election of Papineau as Speaker marked a major change in the direction of the Parti Canadien. Ouellet suggested that

Until 1815, the leadership of the Parti Canadien and also of reformist ideas was concentrated in Quebec. However, with the election of Louis-Joseph Papineau to the post of Speaker of the assembly and president of the Parti, leadership progressively gravitated towards Montreal. [4]

It was certainly at this time that the more radical influence of Montreal began to increase while the more moderate position of the capital declined. This was a pivotal time for Papineau’s career and that of the Parti Canadien. Several deputies from Quebec supported Taschereau rather than Papineau for the post of speaker and in general several French-speaking deputies, especially those from the Quebec area either would not support Papineau or only supported him half-heartedly. One problem was that Papineau assumed two functions after 1815. Unlike Panet who acted simply as speaker, Papineau was also head of the Parti Canadien. Taschereau, Blanchet, Borgia and Bourdages found it difficult to accept his election but he had the support of the deputies from Montreal and a certain number from Quebec.

Despite the rivalries that plagued the Parti Canadien, Papineau’s authority continued to grow with the ever increasing concentration of problems in the Montreal region. A little after his election, a group was formed in Quebec with the intention of ousting him in 1820. The following year, Bourdages, Blanchet and Cuvillier proposed a law for paying deputies that Papineau opposed. In 1823, when Papineau was in England to counter attempts to unify the two Canadas, the abbé Jérôme Demers from Quebec urged the deputies to remove him from office and reassert their control over the Parti Canadien.[5] On his return he had some difficulty in resuming his position as speaker of the assembly that Joseph-Rémi Vallières de Saint-Réal had occupied during his absence. [6] Vallières de Saint-Réal initially refused to give up the post in 1824 but the following year Papineau was re-elected by thirty-two votes to Vallière’s twelve. The rift between Papineau and Vallière personified the divisions between the deputies from the Montreal area and those from Quebec

In 1826, Papineau lost two key supporters, Moquin and de Planté, who had exercised considerable influence on the Quebec deputies. In the same year, Papineau reorganised the Parti Canadien and it became the Parti Patriote. Not only did this reinforce its regional and local bases, while remaining primarily a Montreal party in which the Papineaus, Vigers, and Cherriers enjoyed great influence, but it also acquired the newspaper La Minerve, edited by Ludger Duvernay. If Papineau believed that this would end the rivalry between Montreal and Quebec, he was sadly mistaken.[7] In 1827 and again two years later, Joseph-Rémi Vallières de Saint-Réal, with support from Quebec, sought to seize the post of speaker from Papineau. In a further example of the rivalry, the Quebec deputies refused to sign a petition that originated in Montreal denouncing the refusal of Dalhousie to accepted Papineau as speaker. Vallière and the other deputies from Quebec were prepared to sign a petition but they thought its wording was too critical and proposed an alternative. Papineau resigned himself to the double petition but thought the Quebecois too soft and was highly critical of their hesitant approach.

More important in this period for the Parti Patriote was the growing rift between Papineau and John Neilson, the owner of the Quebec Gazette. [8] From 1828, Neilson moved inexorably away from Papineau. Neilson was a liberal and supported both political reform and defended the principle of racial equality but refused to accept democratic ideas purely on nationalist grounds. In 1833, Neilson, supported by several deputies became a resolute opponent of his old friend. The rift with Neilson deprived the Parti Patriote of its more thoughtful elements and further divided the reformers of Quebec and Montreal. In 1834, the deputies from Quebec blocked Papineau’s strategy in the assembly by refusing to boycott the session. Their attitude placed a major obstacle in Papineau’s desire to put pressure on the executive and Ouellet argues with some justification that as a result of the unwillingness of the Quebec deputies to follow Papineau’s approach, they precipitated the production of the Ninety-Two Resolutions.[9] The following year, they attempted to unseat Papineau by proposing that he went to London to defend the assembly’s case

This was clearly an attempt to remove Papineau from Lower Canada to allow the more moderate deputies to take control of the party; an approach had been previously attempted when Papineau was in London in 1823. [10]

In 1836, the deputies once more tried unsuccessfully to remove Papineau as leader of the Parti Patriote. The antagonism between Quebec and Montreal continued and had an impact on the stability of the Parti Patriote throughout the rebellion. Although the tensions between Quebec and Montreal were highly personal and explain why support for the 1837 rebellion in Quebec was so insignificant, they reflected differences in strategy between those who sought change through a moderate approach and Papineau’s desire to confront the executive. However, there was also a conflict, largely concealed in the 1820s, between those such as Papineau who wished to change the political system without interfering with social structures and an active if small minority seeking political and social revolution.


[1] Ibid, Laporte Gilles, Patriotes et Loyaux, p. 88.

[2] Important biographical works on Papineau include: David, L.O., Les deux Papineau, (E. Sénécal et fils), 1896, Decelles, A. D., Louis-Joseph Papineau, (Morang), 1912, Ouellet, Fernand, ‘Louis-Joseph Papineau (1786-1871)’, Éléments d`histoire sociale du Bas-Canada, (Hurtibise HMH), 1972, pp. 319-350, Rumilly, Robert, Papineau et son temps, 2 Vols. (Fides), 1977 and Papineau, Nadeau, Louis-Joseph Papineau, (Lidec), 1994.

[3] In the course of his political career, Papineau represented the counties of Montreal West (1814-1838), Surrey (1827-1828), Montreal (1834-1835), Saint-Maurice (1848-1851) and Deux-Montagnes (1852-1854).

[4] Ouellet, Fernand, ‘Papineau et la rivalité Québec-Montréal’, Revue d’histoire de l’Amérique française, Vol. 13, (1959), p. 319.

[5] ‘Jérôme Demers’, DCB, Vol. 8, pp. 210-215.

[6] ‘Joseph-Rémi Vallières de Saint-Réal’, DCB, Vol. 7, pp. 876-882.

[7] Ibid, Ouellet, Fernand, ‘Papineau et la rivalité Québec-Montréal’, p. 321.

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

[9] Ibid, Ouellet, Fernand, ‘Papineau et la rivalité Québec-Montréal’, pp. 323-324.

[10] Ibid, Laporte, Gilles, Patriotes et Loyaux. Leadership régional et mobilisation politique en 1837 et 1838, p. 93.

Emerging day schools and religion

From the 1780s, working-class enthusiasts and middle-class reformers alike were much concerned with what might be done to extend working-class children’s schooling through the voluntary principle. Among the most successful enterprises were Sunday schools. They originated in the eighteenth century and by the early 1830s it has been estimated that over a million children and adolescents were attending them. [1] Sunday schools fitted into the interstices of working-class struggles for economic survival very well. Sunday was the one day when schooling did not compete with work. Chapel or church could be used as schoolroom; and teachers gave their services free, so that if fees were charged at all, they were very low. All Sunday schools taught reading and a minority writing and even arithmetic. From 1807, controversies ranged, especially among Methodists, as to the appropriateness of activities other than reading on a Sunday and the teaching of writing was usually a good guide to those schools under local and lay control rather than under religious domination. [2]

Sunday schools differed from most day schools because of their low running costs Regular weekday school required some sort of building and paid teachers, that in turn required an initial capital outlay, either from endowment or charitable subscription or both, as well as a reasonably regular and sizeable income from fees. The promotion of day schools led to the formation of two voluntary Religious Societies, designed to co-ordinate effort and spread best practice nationally. The National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church in England and Wales was formed in 1811 and three years later the British and Foreign School Society (it replaced the Lancastrian Society formed in 1808).[3] The sectarian divide had been established: the Anglican National Society and the broadly Nonconformist British and Foreign School Society.

Education 1

Sunday school c1830

The attractiveness of these voluntary schools was not enhanced by their teaching methods. Both favoured the monitorial or mutual system of teaching, by which a teacher taught the older children (or monitors) who then passed on what they had learnt to groups of younger children.[4] It was designed to enable a single teacher to cope with very large groups of children. It was mechanical in its approach relying on rote learning and memorisation but it was economical and this appealed to many contemporary adult observers. The reaction of the children who endured this approach was far less positive.[5] At the same time, many monitorial schools were more ambitious trying to teach reading, writing and arithmetic as an integrated package

These voluntary religious day schools offered an experience significantly different from the pattern of schooling familiar to the working-class and one that many of them chose to avoid.[6] The number and persistence of what middle-class contemporaries disparagingly called dame or private adventure schools is striking. Their flexibility and informality, willingness to accept attendance on an intermittent basis, parents paying when they could, fetching their child out to do an errand or job, were part of their attraction. It is difficult to generalise about them and in some contemporary reports they are viewed positively. However, their inadequacies were illustrated by a study conducted in 1838 by the Statistical Society of London that found nearly half of all pupils surveyed were only taught spelling, with a negligible number being taught mathematics and grammar.[7] They were small in size, seldom more than thirty children and often as few as ten. They met often in the teacher’s home, in a back kitchen, basement or living room. They might simply be reading schools, taught indeed by an elderly woman or dame; but writing and arithmetic could be tackled for an additional fee. They did not have the resources of the monitorial schools but they lacked the noise, numbers and barrack-room discipline. They functioned often as an extension of the child’s familiar domestic environment rather than places separated from and often alien to it.[8]

In competing for the custom of working-class parents and their children, the voluntary societies and the schools affiliated to them had one resource that the working-class private day schools lacked: access to central government and thus the possibility of mobilising its power and resources in their support. Day schools could not copy the mushroom growth of Sunday schools. They were more expensive to run, an expense reflected in fees ranging typically from two pence to five pence per week. They also competed directly with work and work almost always won. This competition made it difficult to get a child into a day school at all and even more so to keep him or her there. Despite these problems and pressures, in the decades between 1810 and 1860, the number of childrenn attending day schools increased. In 1833, Lord Kerry’s Returns on elementary education concluded that about 1.2 million or about a third of all children in England and Wales aged 4 to 14 were attending day schools; 1.549 million or under half were attending Sunday schools, of whom a third went to day school as well. He concluded that the proportion of children attending day schools was 1:11 of the population, an increase from the 1:17 in Lord Brougham’s Returns in 1818.[9]


[1] Robert Raikes of Gloucester has traditionally featured as pioneering Sunday schools in the 1780s but in fact teaching Bible reading and basic skills on a Sunday was already an established activity in some nonconformist and evangelical congregations.

[2] Orchard, Stephen and Briggs, John H.Y., (eds.), The Sunday school movement: studies in the growth and decline of Sunday schools, (Paternoster), 2007, Laqueur, T.W., Religion and Respectability, Sunday Schools and Working Class Culture 1780-1850, (Yale University Press), 1976.

[3] Binns, H.B., A century of education: being the centenary history of the British and Foreign School Society, 1808-1908, (T.C. & E.C. Jack), 1908.

[4] It was sometimes known as the Madras system’ where the Anglican clergyman Andrew Bell first developed it or the ‘Lancastrian system’ after the Nonconformist Joseph Lancaster who independently developed the same system in England. See, Tschurenev, Jana, ‘Diffusing useful knowledge: the monitorial system of education in Madras, London and Bengal, 1789-1840’, Paedagogica Historica, Vol. 44, (2008), pp. 245-264.

[5] Dickens, Charles, Hard Times: a novel, (Harper & Brothers), 1854, pp. 18-19, 33, 35, 58, 65-66, 99 contains the best satirical account of the monitorial system in action under the teacher Mr McChoakumchild while in The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, (Chapman and Hall), 1839, pp. 58-73 he caricatures the ‘practical’ nature of education at Mr Squeer’s Dotheboys Academy.

[6] Allen, J.E., ‘Voluntaryism: a “laissez-faire” movement in mid nineteenth century elementary education’, History of Education, Vol. 10, (1981), pp. 111-124.

[7] Journal of the Royal Statistical Society, Vol. 1, (1839), pp. 451-452.

[8] Higginson, J.H., ‘Dame schools’, British Journal of Educational Studies, Vol. 22, (1974), pp. 166-181 and Grigg, G.R., ‘“Nurseries of ignorance”? Private adventure and dame schools for the working classes in nineteenth-century Wales’, History of Education, Vol. 34, (2005), pp. 243-262.

[9] This reduction continued: in 1851 the proportion was 1:8 and by 1858, 1:7: Journal of the Royal Statistical Society, Vol. 24, (1861), p. 209.

Sunday 23 January 2011

Child and youth migration 1600-1980

Child migration played an important role in emigration as early as 1617 when the Virginia Company considered sending ‘vagrant’ children to the Americas. Although a hundred children were sent in 1619, question about its legality were not resolved until early 1620 when the Privy Council authorised child migration. Throughout the seventeenth century, children were sent to the American and Caribbean colonies in increasing numbers but this failed to meet the perennial labour shortage and in 1645 kidnapping or ‘spiriting’ children has grown to such an extent that Parliament made it a felony. This did not prevent the practice and in the 1740s, over 500 children were kidnapped for the colonies in Aberdeen and its surrounding area though it declined with the loss of the American colonies after 1775.

By the early-nineteenth century, there were increasing concerns about the numbers of children and young people especially, though not exclusively in urban areas, regarded as ‘outcasts’ within few prospects and a tendency to become involved in criminal activity. Some historians argue that this represented an ‘invention’ of juvenile crime but there was not so much an ‘invention’ as a ‘reconceptualisation’ of the juvenile offender during the nineteenth century.[1] Contemporary reports commented on the swarms of ragged children infesting the metropolis and investigations by social and penal reformers were heavily influenced by a hard-core of juvenile offenders. People’s awareness of juvenile crime was raised by the publication of Oliver Twist in 1837. Dickens shocked people with his description of the Artful Dodger and Fagin’s trained gang of metropolitan pickpockets. His story may have been fiction but it was successful in getting people thinking about child crime and how to deal with it. Discussion of juvenile offenders occurred in other parts of the country but it was rarely as influential as the metropolitan perspective. [2]

As a result, there was a proliferation of voluntary organisations, strongly motivated by evangelical zeal, and some state involvement in sponsoring migration as a means of improving the life chances of children. In 1830, the Children’s Friend Society, which aimed to reform outcast children, was formed and during the 1830s sent between 700 and 800 boys as child migrants to the Cape Colony and a smaller number to Toronto in Upper Canada. In 1849, Ragged Schools, a movement founded five years earlier, received £1,500 to send 150 children to NSW. The following year, Parliament enabled Poor Law Guardians with the consent of the Poor Law Board to fund the emigration of any child in their care. This led to some child migration as, for instance, the St Pancras Poor Law Guardians sent a small number of children to British colonies in the Caribbean. In 1875, John Doyle, Poor Law inspector was highly critical of some aspects of child migration to Canada and this led to a decline the number of children being sent abroad by workhouses, industrial schools and reformatories. Most child migrants now came from private care institutions.

The initial focus for migration was Canada. [3] Scottish-born evangelist, Annie Macpherson opened her House of Industry in Spitalfields in 1869 to encourage emigration of children from the deprived East End of London. [4] The following year, she escorted her first party of 100 children to a receiving centre at Belleville in Ontario. In 1872, she opened two further Canadian receiving homes at Galt in Ontario and Knowlton in Quebec arranging emigration parties from Barnardo’s, the Orphan Homes of Scotland (founded by William Quarrier) and the Smyly homes of Dublin as well as her own London Homes of Industry. [5] In this she received growing support from Thomas Barnardo who had begun his own work with the poor in London and who, by 1881, had embraced child migration enthusiastically. [6] The Custody of Children Act 1891, largely the work of Barnardo, legalised the work of private emigration societies in what had previously been a grey legal area. The Catholic Church was also involved in child migration that was pioneered by Father Nugent in Liverpool from 1870 but was centralised though the Archdiocese of Westminster’s ‘Crusade of Rescue’ in 1899.

The rhetoric of child migration changed in the early twentieth century and became less religious and more imperial in tone. The National Waifs Association published Emigration schemes for poor law children by Thomas Barnado in 1905 and Thomas Sedgwick wrote Lads for the Empire in 1914. Mrs Elinor Close adopted a new approach when, in 1903, she called for the training of workhouse children in Canadian farm schools before their placement with Canadian farmers. Kingsley Fairbridge popularised the farm school movement with the support of the Oxford-based Child Emigration Society and the offer of land near Perth by the Western Australian government. [7] From 1911 to 1939, the Dreadnought Trust subsidised youth migration to Australia, largely to NSW, with some government assistance. Fairbridge established the first home at Pinjarra, some thirty miles south-east of Perth. [8] The outbreak of war in 1914 ended all emigration from Great Britain but the often tentative approaches to child migration developed since 1900 laid the foundations for post-war developments.

British care societies resumed sending children to Canada in 1920 though on a smaller scale than before the war and increasingly the focus lay in Australia. The Empire Settlement Act in 1923 provided money from central government to assist emigration including child and youth migration. The first Barnardo child migrants arrived in NSW and Kingsley Fairbridge received substantial support from the Overseas Settlement Board in London for his farm school in Pinjarra and although he died the following year, his farm school movement was accepted as a superior approach to child migration. In 1924, Sir Richard Linton founded the Big Brother Movement in Sydney to encourage youth migration on a large scale. Child migration to Canada was ended during the global slump in the 1930s and there was also a significant reduction in the numbers of children going to Australia. Catholic leaders in Australia were also involved in child migration planning a farm school at Tardun that was staffed by the Christian Brothers in the mid-1920s but it was not until 1938 that the first 114 child migrants under Catholic auspices arrived in Western Australia. [9]

The outbreak of war in Europe in 1939 led to the suspension of child and youth migration. The publication of the Curtis Committee Report in 1944 heralded a change in child care principles. Social change meant that few British children were available for child migration and youth migration to Australia was far more popular. In 1952, John Moss, a retired Home Office inspector and member of the Curtis Committee toured Australian child care institutions and his report was sympathetic to child migration for some deprived British citizens. [10] However, a Home Office committee that visited Australia four years later was more critical in its analysis. Its confidential report was highly critical of some Australian care institutions and far less sympathetic to the whole idea of child migration. [11] Child migration had not resumed to Australia until 1947 with most migrants placed in Western Australian institutions and about half of the migrants were from Catholic families. The Big Brother Movement, NSW and Tasmania renewed its youth migration to Australia and during the 1950s brought 400 young men a year. Overall, some 12,500 teenagers came to Australia under the scheme since its inception in 1925 and 1983, when it ceased to sponsor youth migrants. British Catholic care organisations ended child migration in 1956. In 1967, the final nine child migrants came to Australia with the Barnardo organisation. In all, 7,000 child migrants came to Australia between 1947 and 1973 and 1,300 to NZ, Rhodesia and Canada. Child migrants were seen as an appropriate source of cheap labour on Canada’s farms, as a means of boosting Australia’s post-war population and as a way to preserve white, managerial elite in Rhodesia. One of the earlier motives of the schemes had been to maintain the racial unity of Britain’s Empire and certain groups of children were excluded as countries would not accept physically handicapped or black children. [12]

From the mid-1980s, there had been an intense controversy over child migration and especially the physical and sexual abuse migrants suffered. In 1986, the Child Migrant Trust was established to assist former child migrants find their relatives and reunited them with their families. The publication of Lost Children of the Empire in 1989 publicised child migration and encouraged popular and academic interest in the issue. [13] This was followed by the formation of organisations in Britain and Australia and government enquiries into child migration and legal action for compensation by former residents of Christian Brothers Boys Homes in Western Australia. In August 1998, the Western Australian Legislative Assembly passed a motion apologising to former child migrants for any abuse they had suffered in the state’s institutions during their childhood and In November 2009, Kevin Rudd the Australian Prime Minister apologised to the 500,000 ‘forgotten Australian’ who were abused or neglected in orphanages and children’s homes from 1930 to 1970 and those child migrants taken from Britain to Australia after the war often without their parents’ consent. [14] In February 2010, Prime Minister Gordon Brown apologised for the United Kingdom’s ‘shameful’ role in sending more than 130,000 children to former colonies where many suffered abuse. [15]


[1] Shore, Heather, Artful dodgers: youth and crime in early nineteenth-century London, (Royal Historical Society), 1999, Duckworth, Jeannie, Fagin’s Children: Criminal Children in Victorian England, (Hambledon), 2002, and Abbott, Jane, ‘The press and the public visibility of nineteenth-century criminal children’, in Rowbotham, Judith and Stevenson, Kim, (eds.), Criminal conversations: Victorian crimes, social panic, and moral outrage, (Ohio State University Press), 2005, pp. 23-39. See also, Carpenter, Mary, Reformatory schools for the children of the perishing and dangerous classes and for juvenile offenders, (C. Gilpin), 1851, and Adshead, Joseph, ‘On juvenile criminals, reformatories, and the means of rendering the perishing and dangerous classes serviceable to the state’, Transactions of the Manchester Statistical Society, (1855-6), pp. 67-122.

[2] Ibid, Harper, Marjorie, and Constantine, Stephen, Migration and Empire, pp. 247-276, provides an up-to-date analysis of child migration.

[3] Bagnell, Kenneth, The Little Immigrants: The orphans who came to Canada, (Macmillan), 1980, and Parr, Joy, Labouring Children: British immigrant apprentices to Canada, 1869-1924, (Croom Helm), 1980 provide a sound history of the Canadian migrations. See also, Dorbett, Gail H., Nation Builders: Barnardo Children in Canada, (Dundurn Press), 2002, pp. 11-64, and Parker, Roy, Uprooted: The Shipment of Poor Children to Canada, 1867-1917, (The Policy Press), 2010.

[4] Lowe, Clara, M. S., God’s Answers: A Record of Miss Annie Macpherson’s Work at the Home of Industry, Spitalfields, London and in Canada, (Nisbet and Co.), 1882.

[5] Macpherson, Annie, Canadian Homes for London Wanderers, (Morgan, Chase & Scott), 1870, and Summer in Canada, (Morgan & Scott), 1872, furnish Macpherson’s views on child migration while, Christopher, Alfred, M. W., Visits to Miss Macpherson’s three homes for boys and girls in Canada, 1872, provides supportive comment.

[6] Wagner, G. M. M., Barnardo, (Weidenfeld & Nicolson), 1979, and Williams, A. E., Barnardo of Stepney: the father of nobody’s children, (Allen and Unwin), 1966.

[7] See, Fairbridge, Kingsley, ‘Child Emigration to British Colonies’, The Child, Vol. 1, (1910), pp. 251-254, and Crane, Denis, John Bull’s Surplus Children: A Plea for Giving Them a Fairer Chgance, (Horce Marshall), 1915.

[8] Sherrington, Geoffrey, and Jeffery, Chris, Fairbridge: Empire and Child Migration, (Woburn Press), 1998, examines the creation of the Fairbridge child migration scheme and its history in Canada and Australia.

[9] Coldrey, D. M., Child Migration, the Australian Government and the Catholic Church, 1926-1966, (Tamanarick Publishing), 1992, remains an important study. See also, Gill, A., Orphans of the Empire: The Shocking Story of Child Migration to Australia, (Random House), 1997.

[10] Moss, John, Child Migration to Australia, (HMSO), 1953.

[11] Child migration to Australia: Report of a Fact-Finding Mission, (HMSO), 1956.

[12] On post-war migration see, Paul, Kathleen, ‘Changing Childhoods: Child Emigration since 1945’, in Lawrence, Jon, and Starkey, Pat., (eds.), Child Welfare and Social Action in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: International Perspectives, (Liverpool University Press), 2001, pp. 121-143.

[13] Bean, Philip, and Melville, Joy, Lost Children of the Empire, (Unwin Hyman), 1989.

[14] Pierce, Peter, The Country of Lost Children: An Australian Anxiety, (Cambridge University Press), 1999, traces the ambivalent and disturbing history of the figure of the lost child.

[15] ‘Gordon Brown sorry for ‘shameful’ colonial child resettlement programme’, The Times, 25 February 2010.

Friday 21 January 2011

Elementary education: introduction

English elementary education grew in the face of constant fear and opposition from sections of the upper- and middle-classes.[1] Education, it was believed, would teach the working-classes to despise their lot in life, enable them to read seditious literature and make them less deferential to their social superiors. This attitude persisted, especially among rural farmers and gentry, throughout the nineteenth century. In 1846, the Rev. John Allen, Inspector for Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire wrote the following that he maintained reflected rural opinion

We cannot help having a school, but we think it advisable that as little as possible be taught therein.’[2]

Overt hostility to any form of education may have retreated into the backwoods of rural England but there were many who wished to give the working-classes just enough education so that they could read the Bible, learn their duty to God and Man, and the place in life to which Providence had been pleased to assign them. William Lovett, the Chartist leader, denounced these educationalists as

...favourable to the securing of their prey, another portion, with more cunning, were for admitting a sufficient amount of mental glimmer to cause the multitude to walk quietly and contentedly in the paths they in their wisdom had prescribed for them.[3]

In time this attitude also weakened, partly through the actions of Lord Ashley who, though an enemy of secular state schools, was an enthusiastic champion of working-class education. Its successor was the ‘Morals before Intellect’ view of those who demanded that working-class education should be primarily religious, because its primary purpose was to inculcate good morals and obedience. This was often found among High Churchmen who believed that

...no secular knowledge really desirable for the bulk of the population could be fitly taught apart from a constant reference to religion.[4]

This also resonated among conservative landed gentry

I consider those schools to be the most promising where The Commandments and the Duty of God and Man are regularly taught, because without moral and practical religious training there can be no real education.[5]

Secular educationalists were, until the 1860s, a small, noisy group advocating moral without religious training. Modern historians often maintain that the purpose of early Victorian educationalists was the social control of one class by another or as Harold Silver puts it ‘Rescuing the poor for religion and a concomitant stable society’.[6] But the concept of social control, though important in any examination of education, is oversimplified. As a label ‘social control’ is crude covering a multitude of stances from the crudely manipulative and instrumental attitude of Lord Londonderry building schools in his mining villages after the Chartist disturbances to the wholly sincere attempts to remake the working-class child in the middle-class image.[7] Among middle and upper-class philanthropists it was an argument for enlightened self-preservation; to Ashley and Kay-Shuttleworth education would rescue the working-classes from crime and sedition. The means varied. Churchmen sought to inculcate religion and morals to buttress duty and obedience while liberals attacked sedition and socialism by developing popularised versions of classical political economy. Motives and means might have varied but there was a good deal of common ground among all educationalists. Lovett and Owen no less than Ashley and Kay-Shuttleworth looked to education to rescue the working-classes from vice and crime accepting the relationship between ignorance and criminality. Education as a means of ‘improvement’ embodied in the idea of the ‘march of mind’ and provided a counter-force to the Law and High Church preoccupation with faith, duty and obedience. The interesting question is not whether a given educational scheme was designed as social control but what sort of society it was intended to produce.

One reason why education in the 1830s appeared to be an instrument of class control was the decline of the parallel conception of education as a means of social mobility. It had declined as the professional and industrial middle-classes turned to defensive measures against the working-classes forming below them. Education, as a result, became involved in the class struggle and became politicised. By the 1830s, there were voluntary Church schools teaching the Anglican catechism, voluntary Nonconformist schools teaching private morality from the Bible and public morality from readers of classical economics and voluntary Owenite schools propagating socialism. It was the dominance of the rescue motif, as interpreted by middle-class enthusiasts that prevented education from permanently dividing into forms of propaganda serving conflicting social and political aims.


[1] The most straight-forward study of education between 1830 and 1914 is the relevant chapters of Lawson, John and Silver, Harold, A Social History of Education in England, (Methuen), 1973. Smelser, Neil J., Social paralysis and social change: British working-class education in the nineteenth century, (University of California Press), 1991 is both a detailed history of educational development and a theoretical study of social change. The focus of much study has been on the education of the working population. Central to the period 1830-1870 are the contrasting views of West, E.G., Education and the State, (Institute of Economic Affairs), 1965 and Education and the Industrial Revolution, (Batsford), 1975 and Hurt, J.S., Education in Evolution: Church, State, Society and Popular Education, 1800-1870, (Rupert Hart-Davis), 1971. The work of Harold Silver is also important especially his The concept of popular education, (Methuen), 1965, and his collection of essays Education as History, (Methuen), 1983.   Simon, B., The Two Nations and the Educational Structure 1780-1870, (Lawrence and Wishart), 1974 and Sutherland, G., Elementary Education in the Nineteenth Century, (The Historical Association), 1971 are essential reading. Johnson, Richard, ‘Really useful knowledge: radical education and working-class culture 1790-1848’, in Clarke, J., Critcher, C. and Johnson, R., (eds.), Working-class Culture: Studies in history and theory, (Hutchinson), 1979, pp. 75-112 is valuable.   Burns J., ‘From Polite Learning to Useful Knowledge 1750-1850’, History Today, Vol. 36, (4), (1986), pp. 21-29 and Harrison, B., ‘Kindness and Reason: William Lovett and Education‘, History Today, Vol. 37, (3), (1987), pp. 14-22 are interesting.   Laqueur, T.W., Religion and Respectability:  Sunday Schools and Working-class Culture 1780-1850, (Yale University Press), 1976 is the seminal work on a major educational movement. Ibid, Sanderson, M., Education, Economic Change and Society in England 1780-1870 provides a brief bibliographical statement.

[2] Kay, David and Kay, Joseph, The Education of the Poor in England and Europe, (J. Hatchard and Son), 1846, p. 220.

[3] Ibid, Lovett, William, Life and Struggles of William Lovett, p. 111. See also, ibid, Harrison, B., ‘Kindness and Reason: William Lovett and Education‘.

[4] Rev. Alexander Watson, curate of St John’s, Cheltenham in 1846, cit, ibid, Henriques, Ursula, Before the Welfare State, p. 201.

[5] Sir Charles Anderson of Lea, near Gainsborough, Lincolnshire in evidence to the Newcastle Commission in June 1859, Parliamentary Paper, Education Commission: Answers to the Circular of Questions, Vol. 5, (HMSO), 1860, p. 9, cit, ibid, Henriques, Ursula, Before the Welfare State, p. 201.

[6] Ibid, Silver, Harold, The concept of popular education, p. 26.

[7] Johnson, Richard, ‘Educational policy and social control in early Victorian England’, Past & Present, Vol. 49, (1970), pp. 96-119.

Wednesday 19 January 2011

The Patriote Party

 

he 1791 Constitution and the advent of parliamentarism in Lower Canada led inexorably to the formation of political groupings. During the latter part of the 1790s and the first decade of the nineteenth century, the politics of the colony took an increasingly ethnic stance and the cohort of francophone deputies were quickly seen as the Parti canadien. However, Gérald Bernier thinks that the term ‘parti’ appears exaggerated in the context of the political strategies of Pierre Bédard and his supporters.[1] After 1827, the term Parti Patriote was more appropriate and this group had the necessary characteristics to be seen as a ‘parti’ in the modern sense of the term defined by La Palombara. [2] It had a structure and complex organisation that was permanent, had developed a political programme, had an ideology to which its members subscribed and showed a willingness to achieve political power through democratic processes.[3] Between the elections of 1827 and the rebellions ten years later, the Parti Patriote evolved structurally and ideologically based upon increasing radicalism. It also, as a result of the nature of events, moved towards a position where it crossed the boundary between legality and illegality.

The first meeting on 11 July 1827 at Julien Perrault’s house brought together the French Canadian leaders in the Legislative Assembly who decided which candidates would be nominated for the elections.[4] This type of gathering, more or less formal, gave the stimulus to the formation of a complex organisation designed to appeal to two constituencies: first, to Lower Canadians; and secondly, to support beyond the colony especially in Britain and other Canadian colonies but later also in the United States. In the first case, 1834 or more accurately the assembly at Saint-Marc in January with its decision to establish a permanent structure, marked a turning-point.[5]

La nouveauté consiste dans la création de comités de paroisse et de comités de comté élus pour deux ans avec des mandats généraux et non plus limités.[6]

Hitherto, these regional committees had only prepared petitions and offered support to the French Canadian majority in the Assembly.

The creation of the Comité central et permanent for the Montreal District on 16 May 1834 represented a level of centralised coordination that increasingly came to the fore in Patriote organisation. [7] It was composed of delegates from the twenty-two comtés in the district of Montreal, perhaps half of the comtés in Lower Canada.[8] Most members of the comité were also Patriote deputies: in 1834, E.B. O’Callaghan (Yamaska) and C.-O. Perrault (Vaudreuil) were secretaries and Robert Nelson (Montréal-Ouest) president.[9] The comité had three main functions: developing political positions on important issues; preparing files of information for the Assembly; and, writing resolutions for the comités de comté.[10] Tasks were divided between various sub-committees charged, for example, with propaganda and correspondence. The Lower Canadian structure of the Parti Patriote also consisted of what Bernier called ‘les structures d’encadrement spécialisées’, institutions that focussed on particular groups.[11] The Association des Fils de la Liberté, for example, was initially established with the aim of bringing the Patriote political ideology to the young. There is no doubting the importance of the Patriote press and newspapers such as The Vindicator, La Minerve, Le Canadien and L’Écho du Pays, were responsible for spreading Patriote ideas and informing people about activities and through this helped consolidate the Parti.[12]

In addition to establishing a Lower Canadian Patriote structure, the Parti also sought external support from within other Canadian colonies but also in the international arena. Alliances were forged between Patriote deputies and reformers in the Maritimes such as Joseph Howe and John Carson and in Upper Canada with reformers such as John Rolph. Contacts with Britain were regular and deputies were sent on missions to London. In 1822, Papineau and Neilson went there but it was Denis-Benjamin Viger[13] who officially became the delegated agent in the metropolis.[14] On his return in 1834, John Arthur Roebuck, an English MP, became the agent for the Parti in London. This association confirmed the union of the Patriote cause with British radicals in their fight against aristocratic power.

The organisation of the Parti Patriote rested on effective leadership and a strong electoral base. The membership of the Parti, though the majority from the petite bourgeoisie, also included some entrepreneurs and artisans. However, electoral support came from most habitants and French speakers.[15] Nevertheless, Bernier showed that some of the Patriote supporters were anglophones, had crossed ethnic divisions and that socio-economic factors played an important part in this situation.[16] This was evident, for example in the committee of Irish electors during the 1834 elections in the west quarter of Montreal.[17] On 14 October, the committee ‘met and, in the name of Irish voters in the district, said it was prepared to support any liberal reformer in the next election’. It supported the Patriotes because of the Ninety-Two Resolutions since it denounced the corruptions and intrigues of the British American Land Company. [18] On 17 November, Papineau and Robert Nelson were elected for the constituency.[19]

The organisation of the Parti Patriote may have evolved between 1827 and 1837 but 1834 was the pivotal year in terms of its political programme. The precise nature of this programme may be difficult to pin down largely because of the diversity of discourse and divisions in the movement. However, in one form or another, Patriotes called for democratic rights, for a liberal economy and political system but especially for the reform of parliamentary institutions. The problem they faced was that, although they controlled the Legislative Assembly, its decisions could be blocked by the unelected Legislative and Executive Councils and, in extreme cases, by the Governor who could dissolve the Assembly and call for new elections. For loyalists and especially Patriotes the existing constitutional arrangements simply did not work and needed to be reformed. Initially, the critical question was what form this should take but, especially after 1834, it was linked to whether reform within the colonial system was now possible and whether the alternative solution of separation should be seriously considered.

The 1827 election was largely fought over the question of subsidies. Lord Dalhousie, furious at the inflexibility of the deputies on the votes on subsidies, had dissolved the Assembly on 5 July. Control of the budget by the representatives of the people became the touchstone of the election campaign with candidates denouncing the corruption of officials. [20] The election saw a sweeping Patriote victory reducing their opponents from nine to four seats. [21] This consolidated Papineau’s leadership over the Parti and his dominance over the Assembly as Speaker. In the following election in 1830, the question of electing members of the Legislative Council replaced the issue of subsidies. This strategy involved extending the elective principle to all levels where political power was exerted.[22] The next four years culminated in a split within Papineau’s party over the Ninety-Two Resolutions that marked a new phase in the growing radicalism of the Patriotes. Calls for an increase in the powers of the Assembly, the strident denunciation of corruption and calls for rights for French Canadians were expressed in a far more forceful tone and this alienated some moderate Patriote deputies. The disagreement within the Parti Patriote was less about the demands being put forward but about the ways Papineau and his supporters sought to achieve their goals. In the elections of October 1834, the deputies were divided into those who supported the Resolution and those opposed to them. The result was an emphatic victory for Papineau and his supporters. The Parti Patriote took 77 of the 88 seats and most of the dissident deputies such as Neilson were defeated. From this point, the radical wing of the Parti, which increasingly gained the support of the masses, faced a group of moderates led by Elzéar Bédard, largely from the Quebec region.[23]

The emergence of a campaign of popular assemblies followed the debate on the Ninety-Two Resolutions and represented a change in strategy that Lamonde sees as ‘extra-parliamentary’

...the chamber of the Assembly hereafter met with its electorate and the phenomenon was sufficiently popular than it felt justified in ignoring the law.[24]

The rejection of the Ninety-Two Resolutions in March 1837 led to a series of events that inexorably lurched towards armed confrontation. The Manifesto of Saint-Ours on 7 May 1837 was an appeal to the people that broke with the previous legal claims made by Patriotes by announcing a boycott of British goods. The radicals took a further step towards illegality with the Manifesto of the Fils de la Liberté (4 October 1837) that called the entire colonial system into question. The Assemblée des six comtés at Saint-Charles on 23 October marked an important stage in the new strategy of the Parti Patriote when there were calls to arms and collections to buy weapons and ammunition.[25] Especially important, however, was its decision to call a national convention that could have been charged with declaring independence and setting up a provisional government. Finally, in February 1838, the Declaration of Independence of Lower Canada that went much further in calling for secularising the state and abolishing seigneurial tenure. This cannot be attributed to the Parti Patriote that had effectively ceased to operate the previous autumn when, on 16 November 1837, twenty-six warrants were issued for the arrest of its principal leaders including Papineau.


[1] Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, in Limieux, Vincent, (ed.), Personnel et partis politiques au Quebec: Aspects historiques, (Boreal), 1982, p. 209.

[2] La Palombara, Joseph, Political parties and political development, (Princeton University Press), 1966, p. 6.

[3] Ibid, Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, p. 208.

[4] Ibid, Lacoursière, Jacques, Histoire populaire du Québec 1841-1846, p. 233.

[5] Bernard, Philippe, Amury Girod. Un Suisse chez les Patriotes du Bas-Canada, (Québec): Septentrion), 2001, p. 81.

[6] Ibid, Bernard, Philippe, Amury Girod. Un Suisse chez les Patriotes du Bas-Canada, p. 83.

[7] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 40.

[8] Ibid, Bernard, Philippe, Amury Girod. Un Suisse chez les Patriotes du Bas-Canada, p. 87.

[9] Ibid, Bernard, Philippe, Amury Girod. Un Suisse chez les Patriotes du Bas-Canada, p. 87.

[10] Ibid, Bernard, Philippe, Amury Girod. Un Suisse chez les Patriotes du Bas-Canada, p. 88.

[11] Ibid, Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, p. 212.

[12] Ibid, Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, p. 212.

[13] ‘Denis-Benjamin Viger’, DCB, Vol. 9, pp. 807-817.

[14] Ibid, Lacoursière, Jacques, Histoire populaire du Québec 1841-1846, p. 257.

[15] Ibid, Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, pp. 213-214.

[16] Ibid, Bernier, Gerald, ‘Le parti patriote (1827-1838)’, p. 213.

[17] Galarneau, France, ‘L’élection partielle du quarter-ouest de Montréal en 1834: analyse politico-sociale’, Revue d’Histoire de l’Amerique Française, Vol. 32, (1979), pp. 565-584.

[18] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 55.

[19] Ibid, Muzzo, Johanne, Les mouvements réformiste et constitutionnel à Montréal, 1834-1837, p. 90.

[20] Ibid, Lamonde, Yvan, Histoire sociale des idées au Québec (1760-1896), Vol. 1, p. 100.

[21] Ibid, Ouellet, Fernand, Le Bas-Canada 1791-1840: Changements structuraux et crise, p. 324.

[22] Ibid, Ouellet, Fernand, Le Bas-Canada 1791-1840: Changements structuraux et crise, p. 326.

[23] In fact the opposition of Papineau in Quebec had its origins in the 1810s and there had been several unsuccessful attempts by Quebec deputies to remove him as leader of the Parti.

[24] Ibid, Lamonde, Yvan, Histoire sociale des idées au Québec (1760-1896), Vol. 1, p. 230

[25] Ibid, Ouellet, Fernand, Le Bas-Canada 1791-1840: Changements structuraux et crise, p. 446.

Literacy: revised version

Literacy is difficult to define with any degree of accuracy and, in the first sixty years of the nineteenth century difficult to quantify.[1] The concept of literacy can be defined very broadly as a person’s ability to read and sometimes write down the cultural symbols of a society or social group. [2] Literacy has always been a two-edged sword providing the means to expand experience but also leading to control over what people read. It is not surprising that the dominant culture wants to control literacy while subordinate groups call for freer access to the ‘really useful knowledge’ of the dominant culture.[3]

The economic innovations of the eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries led to important changes in the working life of many people who were increasingly drawn to work in factories. This disrupted earlier patterns of domestic and community life. Child employment meant that many children were denied the disciplines of schooling. New types of schools were established to compensate for these factory-related developments. Factory schools, Sunday schools, evening schools and infant schools were all designed to accommodate the consequences of industrialisation. These new schools adopted a new social agenda seeking not only to inculcate virtue but also remould their pupils to fit in with the needs of an industrial society. Schools began to place much greater emphasis on continuous and regular attendance with teachers developing elaborate pedagogies to ensure that all children remained busy at their allotted tasks.

Two developments flowed from this. First, much greater attention was given to the education, training and competence of elementary school teachers. Rote methods were given much less attention and, instead, teachers were expected to be accomplished in more intellectual methods of instruction. They were expected not merely to inspect the contents of their pupils’ minds by hearing memorised lessons but also to exercise the minds of their charges by questioning them on their lessons. Secondly, there was a major expansion of the school curriculum promoted alongside the spread of elementary education. Children began to be taught through secular as well as religious topics. It was assumed that if children knew how the world worked, they would be more ready to accept their allotted, if unnatural, place in the scheme of things. Another educational consequence of economic change was that writing began to enter the core curriculum of schooling. This did not meet with unqualified approval. Some argued that writing, a business skill, should not be taught in Sunday schools, while others claimed that it would promote crime; ‘if you teach them to write, you teach them to forge’. Many assumed that writing skills would elevate people above their proper station in life. Nevertheless, there was a powerful lobby that recognised the importance of writing skills to the prosperity and administration of the economy. The army of clerks expanded with industrialisation.

The spread of reading skills was aided by the technology of printing in the 1830s and 1840s with the steam-driven printing press. The spread of writing in commercial institutions also received a technological stimulus with the invention of the mass-produced and low-cost steel-nibbed pen in the 1830s and the introduction of cheaper esparto grass paper in the 1860s to replace the expensive quills, penknives and paper. The stamp duty on newspapers and the tax on paper were both substantially reduced in 1836 and finally abolished in 1855 and 1861 respectively. The average price of books halved between 1828 and 1853. Books and newspapers became more readily available with the Public Libraries Act of 1850 and communications were improved by the introduction of the Penny Post in 1840.[4]

‘Read or was read to’: it is only in the course of the nineteenth century that reading gradually became a private rather than a public act for the mass of the population. Until the 1830s, if you could read, you were expected to read aloud and share your reading with family, friends and workmates.[5] A population with a significant proportion of ‘illiterates’ may not be ill-informed and may be at least as well informed as a population where the formal reading skill is widely diffused but seldom used.

There is some debate over whether levels of literacy were rising or falling in the first thirty years of the nineteenth century. The problem that historians face is that there is no agreed standard for measuring literacy in this period. Attempts have taken two main forms: a counting of institutions and a counting of signatures on marriage registers and legal documents. Both are fraught with problems. Counting the number of schools tells historians little about the education that went on in them, the average attendance, length of the school year or average length of school life, all of which have a direct relevance to levels of literacy. Counting signatures likewise poses problems. It may lead to an overestimation of literacy levels as individuals may be able to sign but have little else in the way of literacy skills. Conversely, the same evidence may lead to an underestimation of literacy skills. Writing requires a productive proficiency that reading does not and those who cannot sign may be able to read, but would be in danger of being classified as illiterate. Yet signatures are the better figures, far more soundly based than attempts to count schools or scholars.

W.P. Baker’s survey of seventeen country parishes in the East Riding of Yorkshire found that male literacy was 64% in both 1754-1760 and 1801-1810 and rose steadily afterwards.[6] Lawrence Stone argues that literacy was rising between the 1770s and 1830 based upon more widespread analysis seeing this as a result of the process of industrialisation and its demands for a more literate workforce.[7] This optimistic view has, however, been called into question as far as England as a whole was concerned. There are various reasons for questioning whether literacy did rise. First, the sharp rise in population after the 1760s began to swamp the existing provision of schools, especially charity schools funded by local patrons.[8] Private, charitable investment in education slackened after 1780 as people diverted their investment into more expensive and pressing outlets such as enclosure, canal and turnpike investment. The dynamic areas of growth in the education system were no longer the charity schools for the working population but private fee-paying schools for the upper-classes and grammar schools for the middle-classes. Secondly, children were drawn into the new processes of industrialisation and there were increased opportunities to employ them from an early age. This too militated against working-class children receiving an education that would make and keep them literate, especially in industrial areas.[9] Under these circumstances it would not be surprising if literacy rates did sag. There is some statistical evidence for a fall in literacy in the last decades of the eighteenth century and the first decades of the nineteenth. Studies of Lancashire, Devon and Yorkshire suggest that there was a sharp fall in literacy in the 1810s and 1820s from around 67% to fewer than 50%. Stephen Nicholas has examined 80,000 convicts transported to Australia between 1788 and 1840 and he found that urban literacy continued to rise until 1808 and rural literacy to 1817 but then both fell consistently for the rest of the period.[10]

It was the Sunday school movement that from the 1780s countered these factors. In 1801, there were some 2,290 schools rising to 23,135 in 1851 with over 2 million enrolled children. By then, three-quarters of working-class children aged 5-15 were attending such institutions. However, there are some limitations to making a strong case that Sunday schools sustained the literacy rate. First, many schools ceased the teaching of writing after the 1790s. Secondly, they have been seen as either the creation of a working-class culture of respectability and self-reliance or as middle-class conservative institutions for the reform of their working-class pupils from above. A positive force in a worsening situation, they probably prevented literacy falling more than it did in areas vulnerable to decline. These divergent views illustrate the difficulty of extrapolating from specific examples to a general picture. England’, especially urban England, was not a homogenous unit experiencing ‘optimistic’ or ‘pessimistic’ literacy trends before 1830.

From 1830, levels of literacy began to rise, a process that continued for the rest of the century, though inevitably with regional variation in pace. Literacy rates were published by the Registrar General for each census year in percentages.

 

1841

1851

1861

1871

Male

67.3

69.3

75.4

80.6

Female

51.1

54.8

65.3

73.2

This was paralleled by growth in the average number of years of schooling for boys: 2.3 years in 1805 to 5 years in 1846-1851 to 6.6 years by 1867-1871. Various factors lay behind this, but first it is important to consider the motives both of educators and of educated that made this possible. The Churches were concerned with the salvation of souls and the winning back of the irreligious working-class urban population to Christianity. The Church of England felt itself under attack from a revival of Nonconformity and Catholicism in the 1830s. By 1870, there were 8,798 voluntary assisted schools of which 6,724 were National Society Schools. At a more secular level the long period of radical unrest from the 1790s to the 1840s created deep anxiety about order and social control. Richard Johnson put it well when he says

The early Victorian obsession with the education of the poor is best understood as a concern about authority, about power, about the assertion (or the reasserting) of control.[11] 

For example, in Spitalfields much education was aimed at controlling the population in the interests of social and economic stability while in the north-eastern coalfields coal owners created schools attached to collieries in the 1850s as a means of social control following damaging strikes in 1844.[12]

The social control argument dated back to the Sunday Schools, the SPCK Charity schools and beyond. These suggested that schooling and literacy would make the poor unfit for the performance of menial tasks because it would raise their expectations. Even worse, the acquisition of literate skills would make the working-classes receptive to radical and subversive literature. This was the essential dilemma: whether to deny education to the poor and so avoid trouble, or whether to provide ample education in the hope that it would serve as an agent of social control. By the late 1830s, the latter ideology dominated the minds of policy makers. First, education was seen as a means of reducing crime and the rising cost of punishment. Secondly, it was seen as a way of keeping the child or the child when adult out of the workhouse. In the 1860s, these views were joined by two other that presaged the 1870 Act. The military victories of Prussia and the northern States of America in the 1860s suggested that good levels of education contributed to military efficiency. At home the Reform Act 1867 prompted concern to ensure the education of those who would soon wield political power through an extended franchise: we must now education our masters’ spoke Robert Lowe, a leading Conservative politician. Education may have been of limited value for actual performance in some occupations, but it had important wider bearings on the creation of an industrial society. It made it possible for people to be in touch with a basic network of information dispersal and could make labourers aware of the possibilities open to them or the products of consumers. For such reasons, a positive belief in the value of education on the part of the authorities replaced earlier assumptions that teaching the poor to read would merely lead to the diffusion of subversive literature and the wholesale flight of the newly educated from menial tasks.

The literacy rate was driven up by the injection of public money into the building and maintenance of elementary schools. This rose from £193,000 in 1850 to £723,000 in 1860 and £895,000 by 1870. The money was channelled largely into two religious societies: the Anglican National Society, founded in 1811, and the British and Foreign School Society, a Nonconformist body created three years later. These bodies raised money to build schools usually run on monitorial lines. However, by the early 1830s, it was obvious that they were unable to counter the defects in school provision, especially in the north. State funding began in 1833 with investment of about 1% of national income. From the 1840s, under the guidance of the Privy Council for Education and its Secretary James Kay-Shuttleworth, expenditure increased as grants were extended from limited capital grants for buildings to equipment in 1843, teacher training three years later and capitation grants for the actual running of schools in 1853. Closer control over these grants was instituted in 1862 with the system of payment by results and by a reduction of teacher training to try and control sharply rising expenditure.

Important though the role of the state and religious societies was in developing literacy levels, some historians have pointed to the large sector of cheap private education where the working-classes bought education for their children outside the church and state system. It has been suggested that at least a quarter of working-class children were educated in this way. Many in the working-class spurned the new National and British schools and chose slightly more expensive, small dame and common day schools. Although their quality was maligned by publicists such as Kay-Shuttleworth who advocated a state-financed system, they were not regarded as part of the authority system and had no taint of charity or the heavy social control of the Churches. Parents often regarded the teachers as their employees and they fitted in with working-class lifestyles.[13]

There is no doubt, however, that the expansion of this type of education did result in the creation of a remarkably literate working-class. A major factor in rising literacy was the creation of a teaching profession in elementary schools. The religious societies had their own training colleges before the 1830s and from 1839 many Anglican dioceses established colleges to serve diocesan National Schools. The system received its most important stimulus from the Minutes of 1846 that established the training and career structure for teachers. The 1850s saw the rapid rise of a schoolteacher class: there were 681 certificated teachers in 1849 but 6,878 ten years later. A further important factor was the role of Her Majesty’s Inspectors first appointed in 1839 to ensure that the state grant was spent properly. Their duties expanded into more educational roles, examining pupil teachers and the training colleges, calculating the capitation grants of the 1850s and then examining children in the subjects on which the grant was based in the 1860s. They encouraged the replacement of the monitorial system with class teaching. By 1870, their number has risen from 2 to 73.

Four things mopped up the illiteracy of deprived groups who, left to themselves, would have remained a hard core of illiterates: the ragged, workhouse, prison and factory schools. Ragged schools began during the early 1840s and the Ragged School Union dated from 1844. They charged no fees and took the poorest children for a basic education, depending for their support on a circle of philanthropists including Charles Dickens. By 1852, there were 132 Ragged Schools in London with 26,000 children and 70 outside the capital in 42 towns. By 1870, at their peak, there were 250 schools in London and 100 in the provinces until they were taken over by the School Boards.

Workhouse and prison schools catered for children who had lost their freedom or who had fallen into the safety-net of the workhouse. Their education was guaranteed in the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act and the 1823 Prisons Act. Finally, factory schools were created by the 1833 Factory Act that obliged factory owners to ensure that their child workers received a regular education either in a factory schools or outside before being allowed to work. This was firmly enforced. All these measures helped the most disadvantaged groups of children.

Mass elementary education was grounded in the basic skills of reading, writing and arithmetic. Religion and bible study was equally central to the religious societies. Attempts to extend the curriculum were stopped when the Revised Code limited grants to the 3Rs and away from the broader cultural subjects. From 1867, history, geography and geometry were made grant-earning subjects but languages and a range of science subjects had to wait until the 1870s. What was learned was important and the development of a body of reading material accessible to the masses was a characteristic feature of the years after 1830.

At the school level, the SPCK, acting as the publishing arm of the National Society, set up its Committee of General Literature and Education in 1832 to produce schoolbooks.[14] The National Society gradually took over from the SPCK and in 1845 established its own book collection for National schools. The British Society similarly published secular books for schools after 1839. There was also concern among the governing elite to provide informative books for adults that would divert them away from the propaganda of radicalism. The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, established in 1826, issued a library of cheap, short books on popular science, history and all types of secular subjects to combat the strong tradition of radical literature ushering in publishing for a mass audience.[15] The Society was particularly influential in spreading science to a broad and diverse population. It was deliberately inclusive in its audience, actively seeking to make its publications useful and appealing to a wide variety of readers of all classes, genders, educational levels and professions. By providing the same information, in the same format, for all readers, the Society democratised learning across the social boundaries of the period and broadened the horizon for future popularisers. The commercial market also played an increasingly important role for literate society with the sensationalist ‘penny dreadfuls’, serialisation of novels by authors such as Dickens, Gothic and romantic novels and the railway reading of W.H. Smith.

Literacy rates had risen by the 1860s before the advent of state secular schools or free or compulsory education. However, one and a half million children, 39% of those between 3 and 12 were not at school and there was a further million children without school places even had they chosen to attend. The 1870 Act filled in the gaps in areas where voluntary provision was inadequate. The building of non-sectarian schools, the work of 2,000 School Boards and compulsory education after 1880 finally led to the achievement of mass literacy by 1900.


[1] On literacy see Cipolla, C.M., Literacy and the Development in the West, (Penguin), 1969 contains an excellent chapter on literacy and the industrial revolution.   Altick, R.D., The English Common Reader, (Phoenix Books), 1963, Webb, R.K., The British Working-class Reader 1790-1848: Literacy and Social Tension, (Allen & Unwin), 1955 and Sanderson, M., Education, Economic Change and Society in England 1780-1870, 2nd ed., (Macmillan), 1991 contain important material.   Vincent, D., Literacy and popular culture: England 1750-1914, (Cambridge University Press), 1989 is an important study based on computerised research. Smith, O., The Politics of Language 1791-1819, (Oxford University Press), 1984 examines how ideas about language were used to maintain repression and class divisions.

[2] The concept of functional literacy has been developed to deal with the semantic problem of defining ‘literacy’. It was originally coined by the United States Army during World War II and denoted an ability to understand military operations and to be able to read at a fifth-grade level. Subsequently, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) defined functional literacy in terms of an individual possessing the requisite reading and writing skills to be able to take part in the activities that are a normal part of that individual’s social milieu.

[3] On ‘useful knowledge’, see Connell, Philip, Romanticism, Economics and the Question of ‘Culture’, (Oxford University Press), 2001, pp. 76-83.

[4] On popular literature Williams, R., The Long Revolution, (Penguin), 1961 contains important chapters on the growth of the reading public and the popular press. Ibid, Vincent, D., Literacy and popular culture: England 1750-1914 and Neuburg, V.E., Popular Literature: A History and Guide, (Penguin), 1977 are good introductions. James, L., Print and the People 1819-1851, (Peregrine), 1978 and Fiction for the Working Man 1830-1850, (Penguin), 1973 are more detailed studies. Cross, N., The Common Writer: Life in nineteenth century Grub Street, (Cambridge University Press), 1985 is the most useful study of nineteenth century writing. On the press Read, D., Press and People 1790-1850: Opinion in Three English Cities, (Edward Arnold), 1961 is excellent on the impact of the middle class press while Hollis, P., The Pauper Press: A Study in Working-Class Radicalism of the 1830s, (Oxford University Press), 1970, Wickwar, W.H., The Struggle for the Freedom of the Press 1819-1832, (Allen & Unwin), 1928 and Weiner, J., The War of the Unstamped: the movement to repeal the British newspaper tax, 1830-1836, (Cornell University Press), 1969 on the popular press. There has been a proliferation of regional and local studies on the role of the press: for example, Milne, M., Newspapers of Northumberland and Durham, (Graham), 1951 and Murphy, M.J., Cambridge Newspapers and Opinion 1780-1850, (Oleander Press), 1977. Shattock, J. and Wolff, M., (eds.), The Victorian Periodical Press: Samplings and Soundings, (Leicester University Press), 1982 contains several valuable articles. Koss, Stephen, The Rise and Fall of the Political Press in Britain, (Fontana), 1990 is a monumental study.

[5] Vincent, D., ‘The decline of oral tradition in popular culture’, in Storch R.D., (ed.), Popular culture and custom in 19th-century England, (Croom Helm), 1982, pp. 20-47.

[6] Baker, W.P., Parish registers and illiteracy in East Yorkshire, (East Yorkshire Local History Society), 1961

[7] Stone, L., ‘Literacy and education in England 1640-1900’, Past and Present, Vol. 42, (1969), pp. 69-139.

[8] Jones, Mary, The Charity School Movement: A Study of Eighteenth Century Puritanism in action, (Cambridge University Press), 1938 and Mason, J., ‘Scottish Charity Schools of the Eighteenth Century’, Scottish Historical Review, Vol. 33, (1), (1954), pp. 1-13.

[9] Sanderson, M., ‘Literacy and social mobility in the industrial revolution in England’, Past and Present, Vol. 56, (1972), pp. 75-104.

[10] Nicholas, Stephen, (ed.), Convict Workers: Reinterpreting Australia’s Past, (Cambridge University Press), 1988; see also, Richards, E., ‘An Australian map of British and Irish literacy in 1841’, Population Studies, Vol. 53, (1999), pp. 345-359.

[11] Johnson, Richard, ‘Educational Policy and social control in early Victorian England’, Past & Present, Vol. 49, (1970), p. 119.

[12] McCann, Phillip and Young, Francis A., Samuel Wilderspin and the Infant School Movement, (Taylor & Francis), 1982, pp. 15-33 and McCann, Phillip, ‘Popular Education, Socialisation and Social Control: Spitalfields 1812-1824’, in McCann, Phillip, (ed.), Popular Education and Socialisation in the Nineteenth Century, (Methuen), 1977, pp. 1-49 consider Spitalfields. Colls, R., ‘‘Oh Happy English Children!’: Coal, Class and Education in the North-East’, Past & Present, Vol. 73, (1), pp. 75-99 looks at coalfield schools.

[13] Gardner, Philip, ‘Literacy, Learning and Education’, in Williams, Chris (ed.), A companion to nineteenth-century Britain (Blackwell Publishers), 2004, pp. 353-368.

[14] Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, the oldest Anglican mission organisation was founded in 1698 in England to encourage Christian education and the production and 1709 in Scotland as a separate organisation for establishing new schools. See, Allen, William Osborne Bird and McClure, Edmund, Two Hundred Years: the History of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1698-1898, (SPCK), 1898 and Clarke, W.K.L., A History of the SPCK, (SPCK), 1959.

[15] Kinraid, R.B., The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge and the democratization of learning in early nineteenth-century Britain, (University of Wisconsin-Madison), 2006.  See also, Rauch, Alan, Useful Knowledge: the Victorians, morality, and the march of intellect, (Duke University Press), 2001,

Friday 14 January 2011

Extending factory reform beyond 1878

Legislation restricting or prohibiting women’s work in mines or limiting their duties or hours of work featured prominently in the factory reforms of the 1830s and 1840s. When the issue was revisited in the 1880s with women’s employment as its primary target the political context was of a very different complexion. Despite the ability of women’s organisations to lobby parliament, state intervention in areas of social and economic concern was a growing reality despite voices raised in support of the values of individualism. The extension of the Factory Inspectorate after 1878 and the appointment of women inspectors signalled a more serious intention of enforcement by the authorities than had the earlier, more permissive, legislation.[1]

The issue was a difficult one for Victorian feminists dividing them less along class lines than along lines of political belief. Three positions emerged in the debate. First, there was outright laissez-faire opposition to any proposals that restricted women’s freedom. Secondly, some women saw restriction as a progressive and humane response of the state. Finally there were those who applauded the principle of protective legislation but only where its application was not on the basis of gender. The reaction of working women varied but there is little doubt that the impact of government reform was an unwelcome reality for many late Victorian and Edwardian working people. The significant point is that women were legislated for without consultation. There was a total neglect of their views. It was a case of men legislating for women. Women, from markedly different ideological camps, agreed that there was clearly a need to curb the excesses of employers whose interpretation of the free market was detrimental to the health and safety of their workers. They also broadly agreed where government legislated for mixed employment as in the 1878 Factory Act. But the 1878 Act specifically exempted workplaces exclusively employing women and the sweated trades were left untouched. Domestic service, the largest employer of female labour, and agricultural work, despite the governmental investigation of this area from the 1840s, were largely unregulated.[2] The problem that the anti-legislation lobby had was that in championing women’s rights to all available employment, they came close to sanctioning work that clearly endangered health and safety.

By the end of the nineteenth century it is possible to see the sexual division of labour clearly in operation. Women were concentrated into a few low paid industries, where the great majority of employees were female and in domestic service. Attention shifted to the sweated trades, those trades often carried on in domestic workshops or actually in a house, where hours were notoriously long and wages low. In 1888, a Select Committee of the House of Lords was appointed to report on the sweated trades and in 1892 another Royal Commission was established on labour conditions generally but which provided valuable information on both sweated and non-sweated trades. In 1901, the Factories and Workshops Act consolidated the law further.

Meanwhile in the major industries a new practice had grown up that had a further influence on the limiting of hours. This was the setting up of Wages Boards or Trades Boards on which both employers and employees were represented. In determining wages, working hours were also taken into consideration and this was particularly important as there was still no legislation specifically restricting the working hours of men. The Nottingham Hosiery Board dated from the 1860s while the Midland Iron and Steel Board came into informal existence in 1872 and was re-constituted more formally in 1876.[3] The Midlands Mining Wages Board also began informally in 1874, with an official position from 1883 onwards. In addition, in the Birmingham area, the ‘alliance system’ was used from time to time. Under this arrangement employers would fix wages and employ only one union, while the workmen would all join the union and work only for employers in the alliance. In this way it was hoped to avoid competitive wage cutting by employers. [4]

If one explanation for the early opposition to factory reform was simple ignorance of conditions, there could be no such excuse by 1900. In addition to Royal Commission and Select Committee reports, there were annual Reports of the Mines Inspectors and the Inspectors for Factories and Workshops that became more detailed as the century advanced. Early in the twentieth century, three further advances occurred. In 1908, the Eight Hours Act was passed, the first legislation regulating the hours of work for men that fixed the working day for miners.[5] In 1909, the Sweated Industries Act (sometimes called the Trades Board Act) was passed, made necessary by the continued sweating of workers in certain trades. [6] The Act required wage boards to be set up in specified sweated industries such as tailoring so that even these notoriously difficult to control industries came under increasing supervision. This piece of legislation was gender neutral and covered homeworkers as well as factory hands. But it included only the most notoriously low-paying industries and less than a quarter of a million workers. The Shops Act 1912 consolidated three existing laws regulating employment in shops. The Shop Hours Regulation Act 1886 limited the hours of work of persons under eighteen to seventy four hours a week. The Shop Hours Act 1904 empowered local authorities to fix shop closing hours where two thirds of the shops agreed. The 1911 Shops Act introduced a weekly half-day holiday for all staff and said that shops should have at least one early closing day.

The working week after 1850 was gradually reduced in length. Although it was still a six day week, Saturday labour was less than before and only a half-day was worked in many trades from the 1870s onwards. Working men acquired four statutory holidays with the passing of the Bank Holiday Acts in 1871 and 1875. By 1900, a week’s holiday a year was not unknown though it was more likely to be enjoyed by skilled than unskilled workers.

Regulations grew increasingly complex in the area of safety at work. The Coal Mines Acts provide a good illustration of this. By 1900, safety regulations were very extensive and the 1911 Act added further regulations covering many different matters: the fixing of hours for engine men, the provision of baths and facilities for drying clothes at the bigger pits and the searching of men for matches and other forbidden items. Accidents still happened and the rules were not always obeyed but the contrast with the 1850s is striking. At other places of work employers found themselves under increasing pressure to make their premises safe.

The Employers Liability Act 1880 made the employer responsible for injuries at work and gave the injured worker the right to sue. However, the burden of proof as well as other legal expenses was on the worker. The 1880 Act was repealed and replaced with a Workmen’s Compensation Act in 1897. [7] After 1897, injured employees had only to show that they had been injured doing their job. The work to which the Act applied was stated to be railways, mining and quarrying, factory work and laundry work. However, the courts took a restrictive interpretation of a ‘workman’ in 1905 in Simpson v. Ebbw Vale Steel, Iron & Coal Company in which a widow claimed for the death of a colliery manager who had been killed in an underground accident. Lord Collins, Master of the Rolls held that her dead husband was outside the Act's scope, because though the act extended to non-manual workers the victim ‘must still be a workman’ and said the Act

...presupposes a position of dependence; it treats the class of workmen as being in a sens inopes consilii, and the Legislature does for them what they cannot do for themselves: it gives them a sort of State insurance, it being assumed that they are either not sufficiently intelligent or not sufficiently in funds to insure themselves. In no sense can such a principle extend to those who are earning good salaries.

The Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906 fixed the compensation that a workman could recover from an employer in case of accident. It gave to a workman, except in certain cases of ‘serious and willful misconduct’, a right against his employer to compensation on the mere occurrence of an accident where the common law gives the right only for negligence of the employer. Exceptions were made at the top and bottom ends of the labour market, including non-manual workers employed on annual pay over £250, casual workers employed ‘otherwise than for the purposes of their employer’s trade or business’, outworkers and family workers. National Insurance after 1911 and voluntary insurance before were no longer the only ways of coping with industrial injuries.


[1] McFeely, Mary Drake, Lady Inspectors: The Campaign for a Better Workplace 1893-1921, (Basil Blackwell), 1988 is a useful study of how women fared as factory inspectors. Liversey, Ruth, ‘The politics of work: feminism, professionalisation and women inspectors of factories and workshops’, Women’s History Review, Vol. 13, (2), (J2004) , pp. 233-262 is a case study of the first women appointed as official government factory inspectors in Britain.

[2] Blackburn, Sheila C., ‘“To be poor and to be honest…is the hardest struggle of all”: sweated needlewomen and campaigns for protective legislation, 1840–1914’, in Harris, Beth, (ed.), Famine and fashion: needlewomen in the nineteenth century, (Ashgate), 2005, pp. 243-258, Malone, Carolyn, ‘Campaigning journalism: the Clarion, the Daily Citizen, and the protection of women workers, 1898-1912’, Labour History Review, Vol. 67, (2002), pp. 281-297.

[3] Taylor, E., The better temper: a commemorative history of the Midland Iron and Steel Wages Board, 1876-1976, (Iron and Steel Trades Confederation), 1976.

[4] See, Treble, John G., ‘Interpreting the record of wage negotiations under an arbitral regime: a game theoretic approach to the coal industry conciliation boards, 1893-1914’, Business History, Vol. 31, (1989), pp. 61-80.

[5] McCormick, Brian and Williams, J. E., ‘The miners and the eight-hour day, 1863-1910’, Economic History Review, 2nd ser., Vol. 12, (1959), pp. 222-238. See also, Duffy, A.E.P., ‘The Eight Hours Day Movement in Britain 1886-1893’, The Manchester School, Vol. 36, (3), pp. 203-222.

[6] Blackburn, Sheila C., ‘Ideology and social policy: the origins of the Trade Boards Act’, Historical Journal, Vol. 34, (1991), pp. 43-64, ‘“Princesses and Sweated-Wage Slaves Go Well Together”: Images of British Sweated Workers, 1843–1914’, International Labor and Working-Class History, Vol. 61, (2002), pp. 24-44 and A fair day’s wage for a fair day’s work?: sweated labour and the origins of minimum wage legislation in Britain, (Ashgate), 2007 and Melling, Joseph, ‘Welfare capitalism and the origins of welfare states: British industry, workplace welfare and social reform, c.1870-1914’, Social History, Vol. 17, (1992), pp. 453-478.

[7] Markham, Lester, V., ‘The employers’ liability workmen’s compensation debate of the 1890s revisited’, Historical Journal, Vol. 44, (2001), pp. 471-495.