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Monday 13 December 2010

Opposing the 1834 Poor Law Act

Resistance to alterations in the provision of poor relief was not uncommon in the early-nineteenth century and grievances about the operation of the poor laws formed a significant feature of disturbances in southern England between 1830 and 1832. Whatever its demoralising character, the old poor law had at least provided flexible arrangements to deal with poverty and had come to be regarded by many labourers as their right in times of hardship. It was not surprising that the introduction and especially the implementation of the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834 provoked widespread hostility and opposition.[1] The Act was intended to solve the problem of rising poor rates and the maladministration of existing workhouses by an application of market principles. Making unlawful any relief to able-bodied people outside the workhouse was intended to discourage all but the genuinely needy. The Act also grouped hitherto independent parishes into poor law unions governed by an elected board of guardians under the supervision of three centrally appointed Poor Law Commissioners. The Act had a relatively easy passage through Parliament but even so there was some opposition. William Cobbett saw it, in his pamphlet The Legacy to Labourers, as an attack on the ‘right’ to relief and an assault on the traditional ‘social compact’ between the propertied and the poor.[2] Other saw it as an attack on the independence of local government. Working-class radicals regarded it as part of the attack on the livelihood of the poor by a penny-pinching government.

The first reaction to the implementation of the Act came in agricultural areas. From 1835 there were numerous disturbances in East Anglia and the southern counties, a situation aggravated by a hard winter that forced many unemployed labourers to apply for relief. Announcements of the implementation of the Act were greeted with hostility. In May 1835, a crowd assembled at Ampthill demanding ‘Blood or bread’, ‘All money’ and ‘No bread’ and was dispersed only after the Riot Act was read.[3] In other places labourers occupied the workhouses demanding their customary rights. Attempts to separate male and female paupers under the new regulations were seen as part of a Malthusian plot to stop the poor from breeding; this was elaborated by rumours that workhouse food was laced with an anti-fertility substance or even poisoned. The most serious disturbances took place in Suffolk. Anglican clergymen openly opposed to the new law and strong local feeling was more evident than in many other parts of the country. The disturbances in southern England demonstrated the sensitivity of the population to changes in customary arrangements for poor relief. Reactions varied from locality to locality but there was little serious violence other than some property being damaged and a few people assaulted. There was often considerable local sympathy for the rioters and many gentry and parsons petitioned against the Act. However, the disturbances did little to disturb the implementation of the Act and by mid-1836 the new system was operating across the agricultural south. The anti-poor law movement never gained the support and partial success it was to achieve when the system was applied to the North.

In Wales, Tories exploited working-class antipathy to the 1834 legislation and the Tory press, and especially Yr Haul, portrayed itself as the champion of the poor who, it said, were suffering because the Whigs wanted to relieve their own supporters and defended the poor who were now its victims:

The poor tremble…they would rather die of famine on the fields and hills where they live than go into the workhouse to pine in slavery…[4]

The anti-Poor Law agitation took an increasingly religious tone with the new workhouses seen as violating the laws of Christianity by separating families. [5]

The agitation in Wales also demonstrated deep local aversion to outside interference, matched only in northern England.[6] The legislation was constantly referred to as a piece of ‘English’ legislation unsuited to Welsh conditions but Welsh opposition had few links with opposition in England. Also bitterly resented was the decision by Poor Law Commissioners, because of the low density of population, to create large Poor Law Unions separating some communities from their Union centres by many miles. Nevertheless, opposition in Wales took time to gain momentum and initially the commissioners expected little opposition to the implementation of the legislation. The major problem they faced was what they called an ‘unholy alliance’ of magistrates, Anglican clergy and Nonconformists to capture control of the Boards of Guardians. This proved remarkably successful and in many Unions, the 1837 board elections were won by anti-Poor Law candidates. In south Wales, these victories had little practical effect since Unions had already been established and workhouse construction had gone too far to be easily reversed. In addition, wages in the iron-mining districts were comparatively high and Glamorgan was considered fairly free of the worst evils of pauperism. [7] This was not the case in central and northern Wales where reorganisation had not proceeded beyond the preliminary stage before opposition crystallised. By early 1838

...the administration of the Poor Law in northern and central Wales had become a war of nerves in which the Poor Law Commissioners might not actually lose but which they had little prospect of winning. [8]

As in England, the 1834 Act politicised working people and reinforced increasingly negative views of the reforming Whigs.

Initially the Act was received favourably by the powerful provincial northern press because it was felt to be irrelevant to the industrial areas where poor rates were much lower than in the south and parochial relief had often already been organised. Implementation in the north from the end of 1836 aroused serious and sometimes violent opposition, much of it organised by Tory radicals such as Michael Sadler and Richard Oastler. These middle-class reformers, already prominent in campaigning for factory reform, provided the organisation and leadership that resistance in the south had lacked.[9] The campaign orchestrated by the anti-poor law movement stressed the Christian duty of the rich to assist the poor and accepted Cobbett’s argument that the Act denied basic rights. The timing of implementation in the north was also unfortunate and occurred just as trade depression was beginning to affect many of the textile districts, greatly adding to the fears of the manufacturing population, especially the increasingly vulnerable handloom workers. The arrival of the commissioners often led to violence though the leaders of the movement preferred to maintain control over their followers and direct the campaign in a peaceful direction without causing outright violence. This was not always possible. In June 1837, a crowd of people wrecked the workhouse in Huddersfield that led to implementation being postponed until the following year. [10]

By the end of 1838, the violent phase of resistance had died down as the unions were gradually established and the poor law commissioners made concessions that allowed boards of guardians to give relief in Lancashire and Yorkshire on the traditional basis of the old poor law if the situation required it. By 1839, the campaign began to disintegrate as working-class resentment was appeased by the continued use of outdoor relief and rivalries between middle-class and working-class elements of the movement began to come to the fore. Increasingly, Chartism attracted the more radical supporters of the agitation. The anti-poor law movement in the North represented a temporary alliance between working and middle-classes against what was widely regarded as an unjust and intrusive measure; in a sense it was also a local reaction against centralisation that cut across class lines. Eventually differences in emphasis and ideas between Tory radicals, who emphasised the value of paternalism, and the emerging Chartist leaders, with their belief in universal suffrage, ruptured the alliance.

Poverty 7

Attack on the Stockport workhouse, 1837

Opposition to the 1834 Act did little to delay its implementation in southern England but in the north and Wales it was more successful. It delayed effective implementation until 1838 and even then local concessions meant that outdoor relief still continued to play an important role. The northern campaign demonstrated that exerting pressure through press, pamphlets and meetings was far more influential that the ‘language of menace’. This stands in contrast to the more traditional, less organised and less successful reactions in the agricultural areas.


[1] Opposition to the introduction of the 1834 Act can be found in Edsall, N., The Anti-Poor Law Movement 1833-1844, (Manchester University Press), 1971 and Knott, J., Popular Opposition to the 1834 Poor Law, (Croom Helm), 1985. See also, Green, David R., ‘Pauper protests: power and resistance in early nineteenth-century London workhouses’, Social History, Vol. 31, (2006), pp. 137-159.

[2] See, Dyck, Ian, ‘William Cobbett and the rural radical platform’, Social History, Vol. 18, (1993), pp. 185-204 and William Cobbett and rural popular culture, 1790-1835, (Cambridge University Press), 1992, pp. 200-210.

[3] Apfel, William and Dunkley, Peter, ‘English rural society and the New Poor Law: Bedfordshire, 1834-47’, Social History, Vol. 10, (1985), pp. 37-68.

[4] Yr Haul, 1836, p. 214.

[5] Y Diwygiwr, 1837, p. 148.

[6] Ibid, Edsall, N., The Anti-Poor Law Movement 1833-1844, pp. 128-132, 136.

[7] Dewar, Ian, ‘George Clive and the Establishment of the New Poor Law in South Glamorgan, 1836-8’, Morgannwg, Vol. 11, (1967), pp. 46-70, and Thomas, J. E., ‘The Poor Law in West Glamorgan, 1834-1930’, Morgannwg, Vol. 18, (1974), pp. 45-69.

[8] Ibid, The Anti-Poor Law Movement 1833-1844, p. 132.

[9] Rose, M.E., ‘The anti-Poor Law movement in the North of England’, Northern History, Vol. 1, (1966), pp. 70-91.

[10] Hargreaves, John A., ‘“A metropolis of discontent”: popular protest in Huddersfield c.1780-1850’, in Haigh, E.A. Hilary, (ed.), Huddersfield: a most handsome town: aspects of the history and culture of a West Yorkshire town, (Kirklees Cultural Service), 1992, pp. 189-220.

Friday 10 December 2010

Poor Law reform 1834

The reform of the Poor Laws extended the growing chasm between the middle-classes and the working population.  The poor law, as it existed in the early 1830s was not a system but, in Sidney Checkland’s words, ‘an accretion’, determined by statutes passed two centuries earlier in a different economic and social world without central organisation and left to the discretion and vagaries of local parishes. Any attempt to reconstruct the poor law would have to be both bold and grand. The old poor law, constructed in the late sixteenth century, touched almost every aspect of domestic government.[1] It provided the only general social securities and the only general regulation of labour. But its main characteristic was perhaps the almost compete lack of either central control or uniform policy.[2] The old poor law also provided no clear answers to certain critical questions: was unemployment to be regarded as an offence or a misfortune? Was relief to be administered as a deterrent, as a dole or as a livelihood?  Economic distress in the mid-1790s led to the introduction of ‘allowances on aid of wages’, generally though not accurately known as the ‘Speenhamland system’ after its first application in Berkshire in 1795.[3]  What was initially perceived as a temporary expedient became a necessity for the labouring population in the depressed agrarian south after 1815. Escalating costs, changing ideological perceptions and the ‘Swing’ riots of 1830 led to an increasingly focused challenge to the existing system that was seen as corrupting, lenient and not cost-effective and for demands that more rigour should be imposed on the poor.[4]

Broadly speaking, opinion on the poor laws was divided into three: those who wished to retain them, those who wished to modify them and those who wished to abolish them. Humanitarians, sentimental radicals and paternalistic Tories belonged to the first group. They believed that there was a strong imperative of humane social responsibility in providing a basic measure of social security for the labouring poor and this seemed to them to outweigh its disadvantages. The second group, who wished to modify the existing system, were to some degree motivated by the same sentiments but were alarmed by its escalating cost and sought to reduce it. The third group was the most influential and powerful if the least numerous. Its guiding lights were political economy and Malthusianism.[5] They believed that labourers must operate within the framework of the free market economy and ‘social discipline’. The latter had the better of the argument and by the early 1830s it had become commonplace among the middle-classes and many of the aristocratic elite, especially the Whigs that the poor laws encouraged indolence and vice. [6]

The Royal Commission set up in 1832 to investigate the workings of the poor law was weighted towards ‘progressive’ opinion and quickly confirmed what the Commissioners had set out to prove.[7] There may have been exaggeration of the abuses of the old poor law in the 1834 Poor Law Report. Mark Blaug[8] has shown that its economic consequences were not understood by contemporaries or later historians but there was no confusion about the purpose of those who framed the Poor Law Amendment Act, especially Edwin Chadwick its guiding force. Chadwick could not adopt any of the approaches argued by the three groups. He objected to the basic security conception of the humanitarians and to the notion of the ‘parish in business’. [9]

He, however, differed from the Malthusians and political economists in two important respects. The idea of abandoning any attempt at control was deeply opposed to his bureaucratic temperament. He did not agree with the Malthusian proposition that population must inevitably outrun resources and asserted that there was no economic problem that greater and freer productivity could not solve. His primary objection to the old poor law was that they held down productivity by effectively pauperising the independent labourer and the laws of settlement immobilised a huge labour force that factories were crying out for. Chadwick wanted to ‘de-pauperise’ the able-bodied poor and drive them into the open labour market. This could be achieved, Chadwick believed, through the process of less eligibility because it would be in the labourer’s interest to join the free labour market. This would induce the majority of able-bodied paupers to refuse poor relief and provide capital for development and productivity.

The 1834 Act did not aim to deal with the nature or lack of provision, but only with excess. It had not been  politically practical to abolish public relief completely but the relief for those unwilling to unable to make provision for themselves was to be on terms less favourable than those obtained by the lowest paid worker in employment (the principle of ‘less eligibility’). This would eliminate abuse and fraud. Pauperism was a defect of character as there was always work available at the prevailing market price if it was sought strenuously enough.   Hard work and thrift would always ensure a level of competence, whatever level individuals were working. These values, reflecting emergent middle-class ideology, made a lasting impression on society for the rest of the century.  The sense of shame at the acceptance of public relief, the stigma of the workhouse and the dread of the pauper‘s funeral were central facets of the attitudes of working people. They played a major role in the definition of ‘respectability’ that emerged among both the middle-classes and labourers.  The 1834 Act embodied the ideology of the political economists but it could be presented by its opponents as an abuse of the poor: the poor law agitation before 1834 was aimed at amelioration but after 1834 the rigour of the system generated a counter-pressure in favour of easement.[10]

The 1834 Act was important in three respects. First, unlike factory or mine reform, the thinking behind the act was rural rather than urban. This led to the adoption of a programme entirely unsuitable and largely unworkable in the industrial urban setting of northern England and accounted for the widespread opposition to its introduction after 1836.[11]   A simple reversal from relaxation to rigour could succeed in the agrarian south to a considerable extent but matters were different in the industrial north.  There the new poor law was politicised, first by the anti-poor law agitation and then by the effects of the introduction of the electoral principle into poor law affairs. Secondly, the legislation in 1834 was the result of a generalised view of a whole range of problems and contained a moral rather than an environmental view of the poor and within this framework aimed at internal consistency and comprehensiveness. Finally, it created the first effective element of centralised British bureaucracy, intended to preside over a general social policy with central control and supervision with local administration.

Poverty 4

Stoneyard, Elham workhouse, Kent

The standardising intentions of national legislators almost immediately came into conflict with the responses of local people who dealt with the realities of immediate situations. Localities could and did ignore or evade the instructions of the Commissioners.  Outdoor relief could not be withheld in seasonal employment like agriculture or during trade depressions in industrial centres. Checkland has argued that

...this generated a kind of schizophrenia when placed alongside the concepts embodied in the governing Act of 1834... [producing] concessions to common sense and common humanity.[12]

Despite this there is no doubt that imposing ‘rigour’ resulted in much hardship under the Act.   There are accounts of deficient diet, penal workhouses, families torn apart and the denial of dignity to the old.  The poor were abused because of a combination of indifference to their plight and social zealotry because of the dogma enshrined in the enabling legislation.

The Act was intended as an attack on a structural problem: the conditions and behaviour of the labouring poor, especially in agrarian regions, the intention of reducing abuse and to stop confusion between wages and relief. Can this be seen as an expression of middle-class values grounded in the ideology of political economy?   In simplistic terms it probably can but the relationship between political economy and poor law policy was in practice far more complex. The uniformity of support for political economy by the middle-classes can be easily over-exaggerated and the nature of the trade cycle resulted in their refusal to implement the full rigour of the 1834 Act in their industrial centres.

The Poor Law Report may have been over-optimistic in believing that uniformity of practice was possible but its principles established attitudes to poverty, which still have current significance. Ursula Henriques maintains that

In 1834 the new development was given a scope, a momentum and a character which made it irreversible.   The change was more immediate and more complete in the south than in the north, but it was lasting....The Victorian workhouse  and all it stood for....was perhaps the most permanent and binding institution of Victorian England.   Not until the working-class had obtained the vote and entirely different attitudes to poverty in general and unemployment in particular began to creep in at the turn of the century did the principles of 1834 start to lose their grip.[13]

Chadwick‘s original proposals were modified in four important respects as the bill went through Parliament during 1834. Each of these changes had more widespread and serious consequences than was anticipated. Chadwick had given his proposed central board powers to forbid absolutely the granting of outdoor relief, the act merely gave permission to ‘regulate’ it. This was vague and clearly opened the way for a retreat towards the old allowance system. He had also given the board the powers of a court of record with the capacity to commit offenders for contempt but this was dropped from the bill during the second reading. This stripped the board of its coercive powers. Chadwick proposed that the board should have powers to compel local guardians of the new unions to raise rates for, and to build new workhouses. The Act limited these coercive powers to a maximum of £50 per year or one-tenth of the annual rate. These sums were inadequate and meant that the central board could not force the local unions into action at all. This concession proved fatal to the system. If the board could not compel the unions to build workhouses, the ‘workhouse test’ failed.[14] Finally, he proposed that the law of settlement be abolished. This was rejected and the retention of parish responsibility for its own paupers struck another blow at his great objective of freeing the labour market. These alterations crippled the project in many ways. In particular the second and third points robbed the central authority of much of its initiating and discretionary power and left it weakened.

The government followed up its concessions to public opinion by concessions to the old idea of patronage. Patronage was at the heart of government in the 1830s and Chadwick was, in part because of his social origins, not appointed one of the three central commissioners. The posts were raised in salary and by implication in rank from £1,000 to £2,000 per year and men from the ruling political elite were found to fill them. Chadwick, enraged by this situation, did however persuade the Whig government to accept him as a permanent secretary to the commission with the vague understanding that he would be next in line for promotion. This proved the worst of all possible solutions. Of the commissioners, Thomas Frankland Lewis, J.G. Shaw-Lefevre and George Nicholls, only the latter even understood let alone sympathised with Chadwick’s views. The personal antipathy between Chadwick and the Lewises, father and son (the son Cornewall Lewis succeeded his father as commissioner in 1839) meant that from 1837 the commission paid little attention to Chadwick’s advice and from 1838 onwards it practically broke off all relations with him. The poor law administration was from the beginning divided into two camps. Most of the assistant commissioners, the executive in the field sided with Chadwick but they were under the direction and in the power of an increasingly anti-Chadwickian commission. This conflict damaged the effectiveness of administration and Chadwick suffered most from this situation. Public opinion held him responsible for the commission’s policy whereas in fact he had fought against the introduction of a system that was a parody of his own principles and projects and over which he had declining influence.

Poverty 5

Axbridge workhouse, Somerset

The Act as it was implemented may well have not been what Chadwick intended but he cannot escape some responsibility for this situation. He failed to protest powerfully enough against the dropping of the coercive clauses and had accepted the secretaryship, errors that were not only tactical but political. It is also important to recognise that there were important weaknesses in his conception of the problem of the poor. Chadwick prided himself in the introduction of the ‘reign of fact’ yet his treatment of the problem of the rural poor was seriously flawed. On critical matters such as rural wage rates, actual numbers of unemployed and regional variations, very little reliable data was collected. The Poor Law Report focused on spectacular cases of abuse and described the problem rather than quantified it. It was cast in universal terms but it was really based on one feature of the problem, rural poverty, and even here the issues were misconstrued. Chadwick had little understanding of the nature of urban poverty and that the old poor laws operated differently in towns and cities that in the countryside.

The administrative aspect of his plan also suffered from important weaknesses. The first was the independent status of the central board. In the post-reform politics of the 1830s and 1840s, criticisms and protests about the new poor law were voiced in Parliament where the commissioners had no responsible defender. Separation from parliament far from making the commission strong and fearless, made it weak, confused and extraordinarily subject to political pressures.

Poverty 6

Manchester workhouse

The second great weakness was the power still left to the local authorities. Chadwick refused to go to the full length of centralisation for two reasons. He believed that a national instead of a local poor rate would be too expensive and demanded substantial administrative machinery. He expected that the self-interest of the local guardians would operate in the interests of his general plan and believed that the plan would be more effective if it allowed some degree of representation for local taxation and for the election of members of the Boards of Guardians.[15] In fact, this proved a recipe for confrontation between central and local government: local taxation, because it is collected close to the individual, tends to be less popular than national taxation which often seems more impersonal and local electors also have greater control over the level of that taxation. In all of this the fault was not wholly Chadwick‘s. It was government that had removed its ultimate coercive powers over the local unions from the hands of the commissioners and thus left the 1834 Act more permissive in nature than Chadwick wanted.

Despite the important changes from Chadwick‘s original proposals, much of his work survived and in a few instances his gravest errors were corrected in practice. At the same time some of the foundations of modern central government had been laid. Some problems were left unresolved: the political status of the new type of central commission, its relationship to representative local institutions and central responsibility for the actions of its subordinates. It is also true that without coercive powers the central board could not fully discharge its function and without being subordinate to the cabinet the board could not fully use the coercive powers it retained. These deficiencies were largely remedied by the Poor Law Amendment Act 1847. The substance of centralisation had been established.

To what extent was the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act modelled on Benthamite principles?[16] Jeremy Bentham had been Chadwick’s mentor in the years before his death in 1832.[17] The close connection between Bentham and Chadwick led historians to assume there was a connection between the former’s ideas and the practical solutions put forward by the latter. The question that needs to be addressed is how significant was that connection. Benthamism or Utilitarianism flourished in England in the first half of the nineteenth century though it existed before that and its effect lasted long after. [18] Its main impact came through the writings of Jeremy Bentham and James Mill, and in a modified way through the work of the latter’s son John Stuart Mill. Bentham was eager not only to establish a general formula for the happiness of the community but to discover a method by which to apply this to the detail of reform and his supporters were experts in economics, law, politics and administration. He believed that with a clear first principle, the principle of utility, politics and law need no longer be replete with inconsistency, obscurity, prejudice and confusion.

The cause of all actions, according to Bentham, is always the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. It is clear that Bentham did believe that all values, purposes and goals were reducible to the desire for pleasure and the avoidance of pain but this did not mean that his hedonism was egoistic. Bentham believed that the study of politics, law and society had a moral dimension and in his attempt to create a science of legislation and society he believed that there are three primary tasks: to reduce explanations of human conduct to a single type; to be objective, not to impose his own likes and dislikes, his own standards of value, on the latter being investigated; and, he thought science should be quantifiable and developed the ‘felicific calculus’ to allow this to occur. Bentham maintained that there was a natural harmony of interests between the individual and the community; an individual in pursuing his own interests also pursued the interests of the community. This may have necessitated bringing the interests of the individual into artificial harmony with the interests of the community through the various sanctions open to the community. This had crucial implications for the role of government in society.[19]

The unreformed Poor Law system showed an absence of both uniform policy and central control and was clearly inadequate as a means of dealing with the problems of unemployment and poverty. In Benthamite terms, it was hopelessly outdated and failed to fulfil the principle of utility. Chadwick‘s Report and its principle of ‘less eligibility’ seemed to offer a simple, uniform and economic alternative to the complexity and cost of the old system. In addition to the principle that was to govern poor relief, Chadwick also detailed the administrative change that would be necessary to implement it. However, the underlying belief that the poor could always find work and that relief should only be given in the workhouse, proved to be the undoing of the system. In many areas outdoor relief was still given in recognition of the harsh realities of unemployment, while in other areas wages declined as more people were forced on to the labour market. So the system was often seen as cruel if administered strictly; in order for it to be made more compassionate certain aspects of it had to be evaded.[20] The system of local uniformity under central control and inspection, as recommended by Chadwick, was never put into full operation but was established as the administrative model that was increasingly followed throughout the century.

It is clear that since the Act followed Chadwick‘s Report it was a Benthamite piece of legislation, both in its operational principles and in the administration set up to regulate them. The belief that it was individuals that were being dealt with, not social and economic problems outside the control of individuals; that it was only failed individuals who needed aid and that they should receive it isolated from society; that efficiency and uniformity demanded central control and inspection; all these ideas together were characteristic of the Benthamites but not, taken together, of other reformers, whether political or administrative. The purpose of reform to free the poor and aid the pauper was individualist, but this demanded an increased use of the State as a central authority as the Benthamites emphasised.

Assessing Chadwick’s role in the formulation of the 1834 legislation is a matter on which there has been some debate. In the 1840s and particularly the early 1850s, Chadwick was regarded with considerable suspicion by many of his contemporaries. This was, in part, the result of his prickly character and dogmatic and often overbearing nature. However, Chadwick did attack certain long-established traditions in British administration and social policy. His Benthamism and middle-class origins made him suspect in a bureaucracy still dominated by aristocratic patronage. The notion of a Civil Service grounded in merit and ability was still in the future. Added to this he was politically pushy and easily offended. His belief in a uniform system of poor law administration under central control offended those who believed in local autonomy and, within the limits of nineteenth century definitions, in ‘democracy’. This helps to explain why no uniform system was introduced in the 1830s and was even more an issue when Chadwick moved into public health and the need to legislate positively in favour of cleaner towns. It is not surprising that Anthony Brundage called his study of Chadwick England’s ‘Prussian Minister’, a term of contemporary abuse drawing comparisons between Chadwick’s centralisation and the militaristic and highly centralist Prussian State.


[1] Slack, P., The English poor law, 1531-1782, (Macmillan), 1990 and Marshall, J.D., The Old Poor Laws 1795-1834, (Macmillan), 2nd ed., 1985 are brief bibliographical essays. Fideler, Paul A., Social welfare in pre-industrial England: the old Poor Law tradition, (Palgrave), 2006 is a more recent study. Hitchcock, Tim, King Peter and Sharpe, Pamela, (eds.), Chronicling Poverty: The Voices and Strategies of the English Poor 1640-1840, (Macmillan), 1997 and Lees, Lynn Hollen, The Solidarities of Strangers: The English Poor Laws and the People 1700-1948, (Cambridge University Press), 1998 take a longer perspective and are highly innovative studies.

[2] Innes, Joanna, ‘The distinctiveness of the English poor laws, 1750-1850’, in Winch, D.N. and O’Brien, P.K., (eds.), The political economy of British historical experience, 1688-1914, (Oxford University Press), 2002, pp. 381-407. Valuable local studies include Adams, Jenny, ‘The old poor law in Suffolk, 1727-1834’, Suffolk Review, 47 (2006), 2-27 and Hampson, E.M., Treatment of Poverty in Cambridgeshire 1587-1834, (Cambridge University Press), 1934, reprinted 2009.

[3] Neuman, Mark, ‘A suggestion regarding the origins of the Speenhamland plan’, English Historical Review, Vol. 84, (1969), pp. 317-322, Speizman, M.D., ‘Speenhamland: an experiment in guaranteed income’, Social Service Review, Vol. 40, (1966),pp. 44-55, Williams, Samantha, ‘Malthus, marriage and poor law allowances revisited: a Bedfordshire case study, 1770-1834’, Agricultural History Review, Vol. 52, (2004), pp. 56-82 and ‘Poor relief, labourers’ households and living standards in rural England c.1770-1834: a Bedfordshire case study’, Economic History Review, Vol. 58, (2005), pp. 485-519.

[4] The debate over the poor laws is best approached through Poynter, J.R., Society and Pauperism:  English Ideas on Poor Relief 1795-1834, (Routledge), 1969 and Cowherd, R.G., Political Economists and the English Poor Laws, (Ohio University Press), 1978. Boyer, G.R., An Economic History of the English Poor Law 1750-1850, (Cambridge University Press), 1990 is an important defence of Malthusian ideas. Himmelfarb, G., The Idea of Poverty: England in the Early Industrial Age, (Faber), 1984 is an extensive work on the subject. Brundage, Anthony, The English poor laws, 1700-1930, (Palgrave), 2002, provides a convenient overview.

[5] Boyer, G.R., ‘Malthus was right after all: poor relief and birth rates in southeastern England’, Journal of Political Economy, Vol. 97, (1989), pp. 93-114

[6] Blaug, Mark, ‘The myth of the old Poor Law and the making of the new’, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 23, (1963), pp. 151-184 remains an important paper. See also, Taylor, J.S., ‘The mythology of the Old Poor Law’, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 29, (1969), pp. 292-297.

[7] Royal commission on administration and practical operation of the Poor Laws, Report and appendices, (Parliamentary papers, H.C. (1834) XXVII; Parliamentary papers, H.C. (1834) XXVIII), 1834.

[8] Blaug, M., ‘The Poor Law report reexamined’, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 24, (1964), pp. 229-245.

[9] See, Dunkley, P., ‘Whigs and paupers: the reform of the English poor laws, 1830-1834’, Journal of British Studies, Vol. 20, (1981), pp. 124-149 and ‘Paternalism, the magistracy and poor relief in England, 1795-1834’, International Review of Social History, Vol. 24, (1979), pp. 371-397.

[10] Brundage, A., The Making of the New Poor Law: the politics of inquiry, enactment and implementation, 1833-39, (Hutchinson),  1979, Checkland, S.G. and E., (eds.), The Poor Law Report of 1834, (Penguin), 1974, Digby, A., The Poor Law in Nineteenth Century England and Wales,  (The Historical Association), 1982, Fraser, Derek, (ed.), The New Poor Law in the Nineteenth  Century, (Macmillan), 1976, Rose,  M.E., The  Relief  of Poverty 1834-1914, (Macmillan), 2nd ed., 1985 and Wood P., Poverty and the Workhouse in Victorian England, (Alan Sutton), 1991 are the  most useful books on the introduction and operation of the ‘new’ poor  law.

[11] Poverty in the cities is analysed by Treble, J., Urban Poverty in Britain 1830-1914, (Batsford), 1979, Rose, L., ‘Rogues and Vagabonds’ Vagrant Underworld in Britain 1815-1985, (Routledge), 1988 and Chinn, Carl, Poverty amidst prosperity: the urban poor in England 1834-1914, (Manchester University Press), 1995.

[12] Ibid, Checkland, S. and E., (eds.), The Poor Law Report of 1834, pp. 91-92.

[13] Ibid, Henriques, Ursula, Before the Welfare State, p. 59.

[14] Besley, Timothy, Coate, Stephen and Guinnane, Timothy W., ‘Incentives, information, and welfare: England’s New Poor Law and the workhouse test’, in Guinnane, Timothy W., Sundstrom, William A. and Whatley, Warren, (eds.), History matters: essays on economic growth, technology, and demographic change, (Stanford University Press), 2004, pp. 245-270.

[15] See, Brundage, A., ‘Reform of the Poor Law electoral system, 1834-94’, Albion, Vol. 7, (1975), pp. 201-215 on local elections.

[16] Winch, D., Riches and poverty: an intellectual history of political economy in Britain, 1750-1834, (Cambridge University Press), 1996 provides the intellectual background.

[17] Ibid, Finer, S.E., The Life and Times of Sir Edwin Chadwick, pp. 28-37.

[18] Pearson, Robert and Williams, Geraint, Political Thought and Public Policy in the Nineteenth Century, (Longman), 1984, pp. 9-38 is perhaps the simplest introduction to a complex issue. See also, Quinn, Michael, ‘A Failure to Reconcile the Irreconcilable? Security, Subsistence and Equality in Bentham’s Writings on the Civil Code and on the Poor Laws’, History of Political Thought, Vol. 29, (2008), pp. 320-343 and Schofield, Philip, Utility and democracy: the political thought of Jeremy Bentham, (Oxford University Press), 2006.

[19] See, Roberts, David, ‘Jeremy Bentham and the Victorian administrative state’, Victorian Studies, Vol. 2, (1959), pp. 193-210.

[20] Henriques, U.R.Q., ‘How cruel was the Victorian Poor Law?’, Historical Journal, Vol. 11, (1968), pp. 365-371.

Thursday 9 December 2010

2. Hengistbury Head

Continuity of settlement over centuries was a feature of growing importance in Ancient Britain but some sites have evidence of settlement over thousands of years. Hengistbury Head is a headland jutting into the English Channel between Bournemouth and Milford on Sea in Dorset. The promontory has witnessed a long sequence of human occupation but is most famous as a fortified Iron Age mercantile centre playing an important role in cross-Channel trade between Britain and Gaul.

The site was occupied during the Upper Palaeolithic and may have been on the route taken by migrating animals moving south from Britain to the Continent. There is evidence of an open settlement of the Creswellian culture on the hill in the middle of the headland dating to around 10,500 BC. At the time, this hill would have overlooked a large river valley that was to become the English Channel. Later, once the sea had inundated the surrounding valley, Mesolithic hunter gatherers exploited the site and Neolithic stone tools have been found in the campy at Warren Hill but it was not until the Bronze Age that visible traces of the site’s occupation are apparent.

Hengistbury Head

There are eleven Bronze Age round barrows on the promontory with two more a little further inland that were first excavated by J. P. Bushe-Fox between 1911 and 1912 and then by Harold St George Gray immediately after the First World War. Numerous finds including Early Bronze Age axes, along with amber and gold jewelry were recovered from these monuments. Pottery found nearby to the barrows also indicates visitation during 1700-1400BC. In around 700 BC, a small settlement to the very north of the headland was established; also around this time, the headland was cut off from the mainland by the construction of two banks and ditches. These earthworks turned Hengistbury Head into a fortified settlement area that appears to have grown over succeeding centuries until it became an important port and promontory fort and some historians have argued that this was Britain’s first town. Most of our knowledge of the site comes from Barry Cunliffe’s work there between 1979 and 1984.

One side of the Head is defended by large earthworks, called the ‘double dykes’, similar to those found at Maiden Castle. These date to approximately 700BC. Due to the high concentration of iron ore in the area, this location became a significant trading port, trading worked metal especially iron, silver and bronze with Gaul and the Mediterranean in exchange for wine, tools and pottery. Many coins have been found from this period and it one of the few areas in pre-Roman Britain to use coins, including examples of what seem to be ancient forgeries, with a bronze core dipped in silver. The port had several advantages. It was protected by the headland but also had convenient access by the rivers Avon and Stour into the densely occupied and rich farmland of Wessex. It also lay at the centre of a highly productive region close to high-grade ironstone, salt from the Isle of Purbeck, Kimmeridge shale favoured for armlets and good potting clay.

Under the Romans, Hengistbury Head was initially left alone, possibly as a result of its distance from Roman centres of power. However, as Roman rule expanded, trade was moved away from the Head to other Roman ports, a process of decline that predates the Roman occupation and may be linked to local power struggles and political readjustments following Caesar’s interventions and by declining trade with Roman-controlled Gaul. By about the time the Roman administration left in the early fifth century, the area was abandoned.

Wednesday 8 December 2010

Causing poverty

The causes of poverty revealed by the early poverty surveys were as surprising and disturbing to most contemporaries as the calculations of its extent. The common belief was that poverty was caused by idleness, drinking and other personal shortcomings, a belief that was used to justify the stigmatic nature of the Poor Law. Booth found that only a quarter of his ‘submerged one-tenth’ was impoverished chiefly by drink, idleness and ‘excessive children’. More than half were in poverty as a result of insufficient earnings and a further 10% due to sickness and infirmity. The crucial point was that a very considerable part of poverty was not ‘self-inflicted’ but derived from low wages and other circumstances over which the poor had little control.[1]

Low wage rates and unemployment must have both been serious causes of poverty earlier in the century when real wages were lower, when more men and women were engaged in declining domestic industries, in arable farming with its erratic labour requirements, and at casual work and occupations liable to be disrupted by poor weather, by uncertain transport or loss of power. In these circumstances slumps were accompanied by high food prices and few workers had the resources to make provisions against unemployment. However, the working of the trade cycle was still a major source of poverty in 1900. School medical reports show significant variety in the height and health of school children that reflect the amount of work available in their vulnerable early years.[2] The only unemployment figures historians have for the second half of the nineteenth century are those for trade unionists and they show a long-term average rate of between 4.5 and 5.5%. These figures hide localised slumps such as the Lancashire ‘cotton famine’ during the American Civil War and that which impoverished Coventry when the silk trade was opened to foreign competition in 1860 and the effects of major strikes and lock-outs after 1890.

Poverty 2

Newspaper illustration of people in line for food and coal tickets at a district Provident Society office during the cotton famine

Old age was not as important a cause of poverty as low wages in 1900 but it was much more important than Booth and Rowntree at first suggested.[3] Booth did not pay sufficient attention to families in which the chief wage earner was elderly and as a result ascribed only 10% of poverty to illness or infirmity. Rowntree said that only 5% of primary poverty resulted from old age or illness but he omitted the numerous elderly inmates of workhouses and poor law infirmaries.[4] In 1890, well over a third of the working-class population aged 65 or over were paupers and in 1906, almost half of all paupers were aged 60 and above. This is not surprising since state pensions were not paid until 1909.[5]

Sickness was still among the important causes of poverty in 1900 and was probably even more important earlier in the century. Chadwick and early public health campaigners pointed to the enormous economic cost of preventable disease and emphasised how poor rates were swollen by the deaths of working men and by the vicious circle of sickness, loss of strength and reduced earnings that delayed economic recovery. Rising wages after 1850 reduced the amount of poverty directly attributable to ill-health. This was aided by the increasing number of working men who joined friendly societies that provided sickness insurance.

Women were the chief sufferers from most of the causes of poverty.[6] They were prominent by a ratio of two to one among elderly paupers largely because of their outliving their husbands. Widows and spinsters also suffered from wage rates that reflected the assumption that all females were dependent. Working-class wives deserted by their husbands and the majority of unmarried mothers almost invariably became paupers. Women were also affected by hardships often hidden from investigators. The male breadwinner was almost always also the meat eater and there is ample evidence of the uneven distribution of income within the family that was to the detriment to the health of wives and children. Uncertain and fluctuating earnings made budgeting difficult and led too easily to dependence on pawnbrokers and retail credit to smooth economic fluctuations.

Drinking was the greatest single cause of secondary poverty in York in 1899 and an average working-class family spent a sum equivalent to a third of a labourer’s earnings on it.[7] Heavy drinkers claimed that beer was necessary to their strength but drink was an extremely expensive way of obtaining nutrition. Some men could not easily avoid drinking especially as wages were often paid in public houses.

Poverty 3

Drinking was obviously a consequence of poverty as well as one of its causes. The public house was often warm and cheerful and full of friends and was certainly more attractive that squalid and overcrowded homes. One sign of the importance of drink among the causes of working-class poverty was extensive temperance activity.[8] The temperance movement has been characterised as overwhelmingly middle-class concerned to impose bourgeois value on a degenerate workforce. However, the middle-class did not have a monopoly of the Victorian virtues and temperance was as much a working-class trait as drunkenness.

Large families were also shown by Booth and Rowntree to be less important as a cause of poverty than many had believed. Nevertheless they were important and, like drink, were indirectly responsible for some of the poverty ascribed to low wages and other causes. Rowntree calculated that almost a quarter of those in primary poverty in York would have escaped had they not been burdened by five or more children.[9]

Low earnings, irregular employment, large families, sickness and old age were the root causes of poverty in the nineteenth century rather than intemperance or idleness. By 1900 new levels of poverty were discovered showing clearly that official statistics for pauperism revealed only the tip of the iceberg and that comfortable assumptions based on the belief that poverty would melt away in the warm climate of economic prosperity must be considerably modified.


[1] In some respects, the recognition that poverty had different causes harked back to the distinction made in the 1601 Poor Law legislation (itself echoing the distinction made by JPs in 1563) between the able-bodied poor and the impotent poor both regarded as ‘deserving poor’ and the idle or ‘undeserving’ poor.

[2] Floud, Roderick, ‘The dimensions of inequality: height and weight variation in Britain, 1700-2000’, Contemporary British History, Vol. 16, (2002), pp. 13-26 and Jordon, T.E., ‘Linearity, gender and social class in economic influences on heights of Victorian youths’, Historical Methods, Vol. 24, (1991), pp. 116-123.

[3] Thane, Pat, Old age in English history: past experiences, present issues, (Oxford University Press), 2000, pp. 147-193.

[4] Ibid, Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, p. 121.

[5] Pugh, Martin, ‘Working-class experience and state social welfare, 1908-1914: old age pensions reconsidered’, Historical Journal, Vol. 45, (2002), pp. 775-796.

[6] See, Levine-Clark, Marjorie, Beyond the reproductive body: the politics of women’s health and work in early Victorian England, (Ohio State University Press), 2004, especially pp. 116-130.

[7] Ibid, Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, pp. 323-331. See, Dingle, A.E., ‘Drink and working class living standards in Britain, 1870-1914’, Economic History Review, 2nd ser., Vol. 25, (1972), pp. 608-622.

[8] Harrison, Brian, Drink and the Victorians, (Faber), 1971, revised edition, (Keele University Press), 1995 is a work of major importance on the ‘drink question’ between the 1830s and the 1870s. It should be supplemented with the study by Lambert, W.R., Drink and Sobriety in Victorian Wales, (University of Wales Press), 1984.

[9] Ibid, Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, pp. 121-122, 129-135.

Alexis de Tocqueville and Lower Canada

In 1831-1832, Alexis de Tocqueville spent time in America during which he wrote his De la démocratie en Amérique, a critique of the socio-political nature of American civilisation that is widely regarded as a classic work of political theory. While touring northern New York State with his companion Gustave de Beaumont, Tocqueville learned to his surprise that a French enclave survived on the banks of the St. Lawrence and at the end of August 1831 he and Beaumont visited. They spent twelve days in Lower Canada at the end of the summer of 1831 notably in Quebec and Montreal where Tocqueville had discussions with the Lower Canadian elite including the deputies John Neilson and Dominique Mondelet. [1] Although he did not write up his experiences, Tocqueville left valuable notes about Lower Canadian society scattered in his work and correspondence that show considerable insight and analytical clarity.

Tocqueville, deeply Catholic and French in his loyalties, was impressed by Lower Canada, both on the spot and later in reflection. It seemed to him like a museum. On the one hand, as aristocrat and landowner, he was charmed by the warmth, hospitality, and morality of the peasantry. On the other hand, the colony served him in his published work as the mirror image of American democracy. As he would later write in Democracy in America, ‘the habit of thinking and governing for oneself is indispensable in a new colony,’ but there seemed to be little of this in Lower Canada, where the mass of the French population was subordinated to curé, seigneur, and agricultural routine. The presence of local, electorally managed institutions in New England seemed to him to account for much of the striking difference in economic and commercial development between Lower Canada and the American states. Yet he would continue to reflect on the relations between ‘civilization’ (the growth of commerce and the division of labour) and morality in the rest of his travels.[2]

Believing that nothing remained of the French presence in America, Tocqueville was agreeably surprised to discover in Lower Canada a ‘race forte’, largely French, peaceful, agricultural, prosperous, hospitable, whose customs were well-established, not excessively religious and with a strong sense of their heritage. He recognised that the difference between the French Canadians and the British lay in their different values. If the ‘race canadienne’ appeared somewhat ignorant to him compared to the Americans, for Tocqueville they seemed ‘supérieure quant aux qualités du cœur’.[3] He appreciated that although French Canadians rejected the utilitarianism and mercantile spirit evident in Anglo-American values they were influenced by the egalitarianism of American democracy.

It is with emotion and astonishment that Tocqueville noticed the extent of the similarities between the French and the ‘Français du Canada’: merry, undertaking, sharp, talkative, scoffer, open, avid of glory, sociable, obliging, proud of their origins and more instinctive than reasoned. [4] Attached to their religion and their traditions, the Canadians were xenophobic and unwilling to move away their land to colonise other areas whatever their possibilities. Fearing a possible cultural fusion with the ‘English’, Tocqueville was delighted by the fact that religion represented ‘un obstacle aux mariages entre les deux races’. Those who feared the French Canadians most were the British and Canadian elites who were profoundly ‘English in manners and ideas’.[5] Tocqueville also feared the submission of the Canadian elite to the colonial authorities, the massive influx of immigrant and the general apathy of the Canadians.

Tocqueville considered that the Conquest was a tragic event for the Canadian people but was convinced that it had the ability ‘one day to establish a great French nation in America’.[6] It seemed easy for him to note that ‘les Français sont le peuple vaincu’ because, although they were in the majority, many of Lower Canadian elite were primarily ‘British’ in attitude. Even if French was almost universally spoken, Tocqueville recognised that

...the majority of the newspapers, the posters and signs of the French merchants were in English. Commercial enterprises are almost all in their hands. It is beyond doubt the leading class in Canada and I expect that this has long been the case.[7]

Several other things demonstrate that Tocqueville noticed the latent animosity between the two people and had a premonition of the deep upheavals to come: ‘Tout annonce que le réveil de ce peuple approche’. [8] He also noticed the enthusiasm with which some within the Lower Canadian elite had become ‘enlightened’ and deeply opposed to the ‘Anglais’. However, he noted that the hatred of the Canadians ‘se dirige plus encore contre le gouvernement que contre la race anglaise en général’.[9]

Tocqueville left America shortly after his Lower Canadian visit, but continued his enquiries into its government, culture and politics as he thought through what he had seen in America. He was in England in 1833 and again in 1835; in the latter year he also toured Ireland, still making notes and preparing the second volume of Democracy.[10] His appreciation of the simple morality and material comfort of the French Canadian peasantry contrasted sharply with his reactions to the moral degradation, loose sexual morality and widespread illegitimacy caused by the operation of the English Poor Laws and by the astonishing contrasts of wealth and misery in industrial Manchester. Tocqueville was also struck by the popular enthusiasm for schooling among the Irish Catholic peasant population, despite its miserable poverty, something that contrasted sharply with the indifference of the French-Canadian peasantry. He visited schools and in County Tuam had a long conversation with a priest who supported the English government’s new educational system, even though it excluded sectarian religious instruction from the schoolroom. This system, which liberals in England had promoted, but whose adoption there was blocked by sectarian struggles, was suggested both by the Gosford Commission and by the Durham Mission for Canada and it formed the basis of much of the Canadian school legislation in the 1840s. Wasn’t the priest worried about Protestant conversion, Tocqueville wondered? Education first, the priest argued, Ireland desperately needed education and, anyway, he got the children as soon as they came outside class.

The Whigs and Radicals whom Tocqueville visited and corresponded with in England were not limited to J.S. Mill and J.A. Roebuck, although Lower Canadian Patriote politicians might have profited from Tocqueville’s comments on the latter. As Lower Canadian politics dissolved into attrition over the Civil List and the question of an elective Legislative Council, the Patriote Parti’s analysis of the stance of the British government was said to be that of the Assembly’s agent, Roebuck.[11] While Tocqueville commented on Roebuck’s commitment to reform, and his respect for property and religion, he also noted his marginal social status and the fact that his political position depended on ‘continually keeping the people’s passions in motion.’ Those passions failed in the 1837 elections when he lost his seat in Bath and well before that he had only limited success in arousing much interest in Lower Canadian grievances in the Commons.

Tocqueville corresponded at length with the political economist Nassau Senior and Mill served as an intermediary between Tocqueville and Edward ‘Bear’ Ellice (although it seems they did not manage to meet when Ellice was in Paris).[12] Ellice was the seigneur of Beauharnois, south-west of Montreal, and for much of the 1820s and 1830s a leading voice in governing circles on Canadian questions. He was an intimate of Lord Durham and it was likely that Ellice’s urging convinced Durham to undertake his mission to Canada in the wake of the 1837 Rebellion. In Canada in 1836, Ellice was in frequent contact with Pierre-Dominique Debartzch, seigneur for St. Charles and through him with others disaffected with the radical politics of the Papineau faction. Ellice reported his meetings with Debartzch to Melbourne’s cabinet, discussing how best to manage Lower Canadian politics and urging the creation of a form of ministerial government with ‘a discreet division of the loaves and fishes’ to include the appointment of Louis-Joseph Papineau to the office of President of the Executive Council or as Attorney-General.

In a letter dated 3 January 1838, Tocqueville commented on the rebellions that occurred in Lower Canada the previous year. [13] With limited information about events, he limited his comments to general conclusions but seems to have understood the reasons behind the rebellions

À l’époque de mon passage, les Canadiens étaient pleins de préjugés contre les Anglais qui habitaient au milieu d’eux, mais ils semblaient singulièrement attachés au gouvernement anglais qu’ils regardaient comme un arbitre désintéressé placé entre eux et cette population anglaise qu`ils redoutaient.

However, Tocqueville appeared unaware of how the situation could have degenerated but that it was ‘peine à croire que l’administration coloniale n’a pas quelques reproches à se faire’.


[1] Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, (Editions du Jour), 1973, pp. 86-88, 93-99.

[2] De Tocqueville, Alexis, Democracy in America, (Knopf), 1994, p. 430n.

[3] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 100.

[4] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 109.

[5] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, pp. 101-102.

[6] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 114.

[7] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 88.

[8] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 101.

[9] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 104.

[10] De Tocqueville, Alexis, Memoir on Pauperism, Paris, 1835, (Institute of Economic Affairs), 1998 and Mayer, J.P., (ed.), Journeys to England and Ireland, (Arno), 1987 provide Tocqueville’s reflections. Zemach, Ada, ‘Alexis de Tocqueville on England’, Review of Politics, Vol. 13, (3), (1951), pp. 329-343 and Welch, Cheryl B., (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Tocqueville, (Cambridge University Press), 2006 provide analysis.

[11] Knowles, E. C., The English Philosophical Radicals and Lower Canada, 1820-1830, London, 1929, provides the context. Thomas, William, The Philosophic Radicals: Nine Studies in Theory and Practice, 1817-1841, (Oxford University Press), 1979, is the best examination of this amorphous and highly ambiguous political ‘party’. See also Turner, Michael J., Independent Radicalism in Early Victorian Britain, (Praeger), 2004, pp. 207-215, and in his ‘Radical agitation and the Canada question in British politics, 1837-41’, Historical Research, Vol. 79, (2006), pp. 90-114.

[12] Colthart, James, ‘Edward Ellice’, DCB, Vol. 10, 1861-1800, 1976, pp. 233-239 is a useful study.

[13] Ibid, Vallée, Jacques, Tocqueville au Bas-Canada, p. 168-170.

Saturday 4 December 2010

The meaning of poverty

Between 1830 and 1914, there were two period when state intervention in British social policy significantly increased. The first of these was in the 1830s and 1840s and the second in the Edwardian years at the beginning of the twentieth century. Fundamental in the first burst of reforming activity was the New Poor Law of 1834, which centred round the workhouse system. It gave conditional welfare for a minority, with public assistance at the price of social stigma and loss of voting rights.

Some Edwardian reforms still retained conditions on take-up, as in the first old-age pensions in 1908, where tests of means and character eligibility were reminiscent of the Poor Law. Three years later, in 1911, there was a radical departure in the national scheme for insurance against ill-health and unemployment that conferred benefits as a result of contributions. It was still a selective scheme, limited to a section of the male population and entirely left out dependent women and children.

Poverty 1

The nineteenth century had inherited the attitude that such a state of affairs was both right and proper. Many contemporary writers regarded poverty as a necessary element in society, since only by feeling its pinch could the labouring poor be inspired to work. Thus it was not poverty by pauperism or destitution that was regarded as a social problem. [1] Many early Victorians adopted the attitude that combined fatalism, ‘For ye have the poor always with you’[2] and moralism, destitution was the result of individual weakness of character. Fraser’s Magazine in 1849 commented that

So far from rags and filth being the indications of poverty, they are in the large majority of cases, signs of gin drinking, carelessness and recklessness.[3]

Such cases if congregated together in sufficient numbers seemed to constitute a social menace.[4] It was thinking of this sort that provided the impetus to poor law reform in 1834. Relief continued to be offered but only in the workhouse where the paupers would be regulated and made less comfortable than those who chose to stay outside and fend for themselves, the principle of ‘less-eligibility’. Those who were genuinely in dire need would accept the workhouse rather than starve. Those who were not would prefer to remain independent and thus avoid the morally wasting disease of pauperism. The Poor Law of 1834 provided an important administrative model for future generations with central policy-making and supervision and local administration but the workings of this model were often profoundly disappointing to the advocates of ‘less-eligibility’ as a final solution to the problem of pauperism. But the issue was not pauperism, the issue on which contemporaries focused, but the debilitating effects of poverty itself.

Poverty is a term that is notoriously difficult to define. In simple terms, the failure to provide the basic necessities of life, food, clothes and shelter results in a state of poverty.[5] British society in the nineteenth century was poor by modern standards. The net national income per head at 1900 prices has been estimated as £18 in 1855 and £42 in 1900. Even the higher paid artisan might find himself at a time of depression unable to get work even if willing and anxious to do so. Most members of the working-class experienced poverty at some time in their lives and, compared to the middle-classes, their experience of poverty was likely to be a far more frequent, if not permanent one.

It was not until near the end of the nineteenth century that poverty was first measured in any systematic fashion and most of the evidence of the extent and causes of poverty is from around 1900.[6] The number of paupers had long been known: they amounted to about 9% of the population in the 1830s and this fell to less than 3% by 1900. Far more suffered from poverty than ever applied for workhouse relief. In 1883, Andrew Mearns in his Bitter Cry of Outcast London claimed than as much as a quarter of the population of London received insufficient income to maintain physical health.[7] Impressionistic claims like this led Charles Booth to begin his scientific investigation of the London poor in 1886. He found that as much as 30% of the population of London and 38% of the working-class lived below the poverty line.[8]

Booth‘s conclusions were criticised by some who pointed to the unique position of London. However, B. Seebohm Rowntree[9] did a similar survey of his native York and in 1899 published conclusions that mirrored those of Booth. [10] He distinguished between ‘primary poverty’ and ‘secondary poverty‘.[11] Primary poverty was a condition where income was insufficient even if every penny was spent wisely. Secondary poverty occurred when those whose incomes were theoretically sufficient to maintain physical efficiency suffered poverty as a consequence of ‘insufficient spending’. 10% of York’s population and 15% of its working-classes were found to be in primary poverty. A further 18% of the whole population and 28% of the working-classes were living in secondary poverty. Rowntree also emphasised the changing incidence of poverty at different stages of working-class life, the ‘poverty cycle’ with its alternating periods of want and comparative plenty.[12]

Other surveys followed the work of Booth and Rowntree.[13] The most notable was the investigation in 1912-1913 of poverty in Stanley (County Durham), Northampton, Warrington and Reading by A.L. Bowley and A.R. Burnett-Hurst.[14] They found that the levels of poverty reflected different economic conditions and that among the working-class population primary poverty accounted for 6%, 9%, 15% and 29% in the respective towns. These conclusions questioned the assumption made by both Booth and Rowntree that similar levels of poverty might be found in most British towns. In fact, the diversity of labour market conditions was reflected in considerable variation in the levels and causes of poverty.

It is important to examine the reliance that can be placed on the results of early poverty surveys as few of their results can be accepted with complete confidence. Booth relied heavily on data from school attendance officers and families with children of school age, itself a cause of poverty were over-represented in what he supposed to be a cross section of the population. Rowntree‘s estimates of food requirements were later regarded as over-generous by nutritionists and he later conceded after a second survey in 1936 that his 1899 poverty lines were ‘too rough to give reliable results’.[15] Working-class respondents, confronted by middle-class investigators were notoriously liable to underestimate income. Most poor law and charity assistance was means tested and the poorer respondents, suspecting that investigators might have some influence in the disposal of relief, took steps not to jeopardise this. Income acquired illegally was likely to remain hidden. It is difficult to compare these levels with poverty at other times. Recent attempts by historians to assess approximate numbers that lived below Rowntree‘s poverty line in mid-nineteenth century Preston, York and Oldham all suggest poverty levels higher than those at the time of the 1899 survey. This is not surprising as between 1850 and 1900 money wages rose considerably and many more insured themselves against sickness and other contingencies.


[1] A ‘pauper’ can simply be defined as an individual who was in receipt of benefits from the state. A labourer who was out of work was termed an able-bodied pauper, whereas the sick and elderly were called impotent paupers. Relief was given in a variety of ways. Outdoor relief was when the poor received help either in money or in kind. Indoor relief was when the poor entered a workhouse or house of correction to receive help. The Poor Law Amendment Act 1834 said that paupers should all receive indoor relief.

[2] St Matthew, 26: 8-11.

[3] ‘Work and Wages’, Fraser’s Magazine for Town and Country, Vol. xl, (1849), p. 528.

[4] It is important to remember the ‘revolutionary psychosis’ that afflicted many within the ruling elite during the first half of the nineteenth century. Poverty was seen in this revolutionary light.

[5] On this subject the briefest introduction is Rose, M.E., The Relief of Poverty 1834-1914, (Macmillan), 2nd ed., 1986.

[6] Englander, David and O’Day, Rosemary, (eds.), Retrieved Riches: Social Investigation in Britain, 1840-1914, (Scolar Press), 1995 examines the nature of social investigation.

[7] Ibid, Mearns, Andrew, The Bitter Cry of Outcast London: An Inquiry into the Condition of the Abject Poor, pp. 15-18.

[8] Booth, Charles, Life and Labour of the People in London, 17 Vols. (Macmillan), 1889-1903. Norman-Butler, Belinda, Victorian Aspirations: the Life and Labour of Charles and Mary Booth, (Allen and Unwin), 1972 and Simey, T.S. and M.B., Charles Booth: Social Scientist, (Liverpool University Press), 1960 are sound biographies and Fried, A. and Elman, R., (eds.), Charles Booth’s London: a Portrait of the Poor at the Turn of the Century. Drawn from His ‘Life and Labour of the People in London’, (Harmondsworth), 1969 a useful collection of sources. O’Day, Rosemary and Englander, David, Mr Charles Booth’s Inquiry: Life and Labour of the People in London Reconsidered, (Hambledon), 1993, Gillie, Alan, ‘Identifying the poor in the 1870s and 1880s’, Economic History Review, Vol. 61, (2008), pp. 302-325 and Spicker, P., ‘Charles Booth: the examination of poverty’, Social Policy and Administration, Vol. 24, (1990), pp. 21-38 examine Booth’s ideas. .

[9] On Rowntree see, Bradshaw, Jonathan and Sainsbury, Roy, (eds.), Getting the measure of poverty: the early legacy of Seebohm Rowntree, (Ashgate), 2000 and Briggs, Asa, Social Thought and Social Action: A study of the work of Seebohm Rowntree, 1871-1954, (Longman), 1961.

[10] Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, (Macmillan), 1899, reprinted, (Policy Press), 2000, 2nd ed., (Macmillan), 1901.

[11] Ibid, Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, pp. 119-145.

[12] Ibid, Seebohm Rowntree, B., Poverty: a study of town life, pp. 86-118.

[13] Hennock, E.P., ‘Concepts of poverty in the British social surveys from Charles Booth to Arthur Bowley’, in Bulmer, Martin, Bales, Kevin and Sklar, Kathryn Kish, (eds.), The Social Survey in Historical Perspective, 1880-1940, (Cambridge University Press), 1991 and Hennock, E.P., ‘The measurement of urban poverty: from the metropolis to the nation, 1880-1920’, Economic History Review, Vol. 40, (1987), pp. 208-227.

[14] Bowley, A.L. and Burnett-Hurst, A.R., Livelihood and Poverty: A Study in the Economic Conditions of Working-Class Households in Northampton, Warrington, Stanley and Reading, 1915; see also, Carré, Jacques, ‘A.L. Bowley et A.R. Burnett-Hurst étudient les familles ouvrières à Reading en 1915’, in Carré, Jacques, (ed.), Les visiteurs du pauvre: Anthologie d’enquêtes britanniques sur la pauvreté urbaine, 19e-20e siècle, (Karthala), 2000, pp. 158-173.

[15] Rowntree, Seebohm, Poverty and Progress: A Second Social Survey of York, (Longman, Green and Co.), 1941, p. 461.

The Militia and French Canada 1760-1855

 

The militia has an important role in Canada’s military history and was grounded in the principle that all citizens within the community had responsibility for its defence. [1] Associated with Quebec but particularly with New France, from the outset the militia was a defensive local organisation that compensated for the lack of professional soldiers sent from France and sought to counter the threat from the native Amerindian population.[2] The first military organisation took place in the province of Quebec in 1649, and in 1665 the militia was founded, and fought with the French Cavignon regiment against the Indians. Ten years later that Count Frontenac re-organised the militia in a way that remained in force until 1760. After the conquest of Canada by the British the Canadian militia was initially disbanded, but with the rising of Pontiac an urgent call was made that led to the militia under its French officers acting as the backbone of the British attack and defence. As a result, the militia became a military institution parallel to the French army and, after the Conquest in 1760, to British troops but largely remained loyal to the authorities in power. The militia became an instrument supporting the cohesion of the French Canadian social fabric.[3]

In September 1760, after the fall of Montreal, Lord Amherst and his officers were faced with a new challenge, that of governing Canada.  This was a major undertaking, because the country was in ruins, there was a threat of famine and many families were without shelter.  It was also essential that public order be kept.  But the British troops were unable to express themselves in the language of the country. Amherst therefore called on the Canadian militia.  On 22 September 1760, he decreed that the militia officers were to maintain order and act as the police in the parishes and cities, as they had under the French regime, and that they were to serve as intermediaries between the government and the people.  Under the terms of surrender, all Canadians were to be disarmed.  But two weeks later the British authorities reversed their decision, authorising militia officers to keep their weapons and extending this permission to all militiamen who asked to keep them.  In addition, militia officers were to serve as justices of the peace for minor cases, because the magistrates had returned to France, taking with them their knowledge of the laws and customs.  This was what lay behind the creation of the ‘militia courts’.  Although the new judges were unfamiliar with jurisprudence, the militia court system was far preferable to the people to the British court-martial system.  Having the French Canadian militia take over some civilian government functions was a key event.  The militia were a credible intermediary between a confused populace and a foreign army that could well have fallen into certain excesses during this troubled period. Of the 18,000 Canadians able to bear arms, most had already fought and were more familiar with guerrilla tactics than the regular soldiers.  A population as militarised as this was unprecedented, in both Europe and the other colonies.  

Under the Lower Canada Militia Act of 1803 and the Upper Canada Militia Act of 1808, the militia was composed of all able-bodied men (except Quakers and others whose religious convictions forbade military service) between the ages of 18 and 60 years. An annual muster of the militia was held, at which attendance was compulsory, under penalty of a heavy fine. In case of emergency, a levée en masse might be ordered; if this were not necessary, provision was made for the drafting of militiamen by ballot or lot. There was, however, no provision for the training of the militia; the period of active service was limited to six months; and there was an absence of any higher organisation for war. In order to obviate the disadvantages arising from the six months’ period of service, various devices were adopted. ‘Select Embodied’ battalions were formed, which were kept permanently on foot, but were composed of successive drafts of six-months men; ‘flank companies’ were organised, in which the men served continuously, but were at liberty to attend to their farms and businesses when not urgently needed; and regular provincial corps were authorised, composed of men who volunteered to serve continuously and without intermission. The ‘brave York volunteers’ whom Brock is said to have urged to ‘push on’ at Queenston Heights in 1812 were not volunteers in the modern sense of the word; they were men who had waived their right of discharge at the end of six months and who might have been described as provincial regulars. But defective though the application of the principle of universal military service was in 1812, the principle itself was in force.

In the aftermath of the War of 1812 and the end of the French wars in Europe, there was a substantial reduction in military and naval spending. In Britain, the Royal Navy was reduced from 140,000 to 17,000 men.  Army personnel were cut to 110,000, the minimum required to maintain British garrisons in Great Britain and the colonies.  There remained many sources of animosity between the United States and Great Britain and a new war was still possible.  In London, after the signing of the peace treaty, the military staff considered the problem of how to defend British North America. The War of 1812 had taken place to a considerable extent in accordance with the rules of European war. This meant that future battles would likely occur increasingly on open land as in Europe, rather than in the woods where French Canadians excelled. The American army was reduced to 10,000 men and reformed from top to bottom to become a truly professional force. European-style war gave the Americans an advantage.  In fact, they would likely be the first to favour an invasion of British North America to satisfy their ambitions of hegemony, because neither the Canadians nor the British had anything to gain from attacking them.  The regular American army, although modest, did have an enormous number of volunteers and militiamen they could call on, all of whom would be more at ease in a conventional campaign.  The British garrison, supported by Canadian militiamen, could hold out for a while but would probably eventually collapse simply because of the difference in numbers.

With such prospects, the staff saw only one way to safeguard British North America: to build impressive fortifications. Defending a strip of land from the Atlantic to the west of the Great Lakes involved difficult choices.  What areas should be given priority and where should the great forts be located?  From the very first, Quebec City, Kingston and Montreal were identified as strategic points for safeguarding the country and it was imperative that these cities be made virtually impregnable.  Citadels were therefore built in Quebec City and Kingston.  Montreal was to be defended by forts to the south and an army in the field. The estimated cost of this ambitious programme caused the authorities to scale it down to the essentials.  At the insistence of the Duke of Wellington, funds were immediately made available to the army and in 1819 several works were begun: construction of Fort Lennox on Île-aux Noix and another fort on Île Sainte-Hélène, facing the port of Montreal. In 1820, work was begun on the Quebec Citadel but was not completed until 1831, after which there were still many additional expenses.  Instead of the projected £70,000, it cost £236,000.  Work on the Halifax Citadel, which began in 1828, was to total £116,000 and to be completed in 1834; instead it took 28 years to build and cost £242,000.  Work on the Kingston Citadel, called Fort Henry, began in 1832.  It took the form of an enormous redoubt, and the plan called for five similar redoubts around the city.  Work went smoothly, and it was almost complete in 1837 at a cost of £73,000.  However, the final touches were not completed until 1848, raising the total to £88,000.  The British government then decided that it had spent enough and the other redoubts were never built. However, Britain provided Canada with a formidable chain of fortifications that undoubtedly had the desired effect on the Americans.  To take these fortresses would have required resources that their army simply did not have. 

Within its hierarchical structure, the captain of militia had a strategic role within the overall chain of command. Captains responded to instructions from the superior military staff of major, lieutenant-colonel and colonel who, in turn, obtained their orders from the Intendant or Governor-General and in this was they contributed to the central administration of the colony. Although captains acted as local military leaders in times of emergency, in normal circumstances they acted as the link between habitants and the government. They enforced local municipal rules and were largely responsible for public works through a system of corvées.[4]

Being a captain of militia gave individuals considerable prestige and influence in the community. In the church, for example, the captain of militia sat just behind the seigneur and received communion immediately after him. Like seigneurs and the clergy, he did not pay royal taxes.[5] Exempted from billeting troops in his own home, he was responsible for deciding where and with whom soldiers were billeted in his community. Individuals who became captains were already popular within their communities, could read and write and would have had a degree of financial independence since the post was unpaid. [6] The post required a certain degree of military competence since the captain was responsible for establishing and maintaining the militia, military training and ‘drill’. For his part, a member of the militia devoted a week a year to the captain as well as taking part in local and regional militia gatherings. In general, the captain of militia was closely attached to all features of the municipal businesses and local government and was expected to be an effective agent for central government.

During the 1820s, militia exercises and tasks could be no more than tedious duties like those performed in the other colonies.  But the militia gatherings still resembled shooting competitions and were generally held on 1 May, as they had been under the French regime.  The gatherings ended with a proper party given by the captain.  On St. Peter’s Day, the militiamen assembled after Mass at the doors of the church.  The captain then had them shout, ‘Vive le roi!’ and ‘Le pays était sauf, la paix assurée.’ Many French Canadian militiamen thus continued to practise their shooting and relations with officers were cordial.  The organisation was relatively egalitarian and did not really have volunteers in the British or American sense of the word; being a part of the militia was considered a community duty.  Except in some staffs and a few city companies, French Canadian militiamen, officers and soldiers were all considered equal and did not see the need to wear the uniform.

Lord Dalhousie thought the militia ‘in truth, more of a police force similar to the Gendarmerie in France than a Militia of British formation.’ He was thinking of the uniformed volunteers of the English Yeomanry and therefore encouraged the training of volunteer militia companies in Quebec City and Montreal. However, his error was to admit only young people from the anglophone bourgeoisie.  Thus the Royal Montreal Cavalry was to be a military version of the Montreal Hunt Club, a club for riding to the hounds.  While the Gregorys and the Molsons were asked to form their companies, Dalhousie found it preferable not to accept the offers of the French Canadian bourgeois to form companies of volunteer riflemen and artillerymen.  How would these bourgeois distinguish themselves in the new militia when they were not even authorised to establish their own companies of volunteers?  Dalhousie then decided to replace French county names with English ones; for example, the Terrebonne Militia became the Effingham Militia.  In addition, in 1828 Dalhousie ordered that the city militias be divided by district, which in many instances meant that officer positions would go to English Canadians while most of the militiamen were French Canadian.  This decision once again raised the sensitive issue of French as a language of command.  Worst of all, the governor-in-chief, in a fit of anger against the Legislative Assembly, removed militia commissions for many of the members of the Opposition.  Perhaps he was hoping to discredit them in the eyes of the voters, but it was the militia itself that suffered.  The result was deep discontent, confirmed in a special investigative committee in a report dated 1829.

By the late 1820s, French Canadians were seriously questioning the values of the militia.  Control over this institution was being lost.  In the end, French Canadians turned away from an organisation that no longer represented them.  Because they were being assimilated and humiliated, they would isolate themselves socially in order to keep their identity and to truly belong only to the institutions they could control: their Church and their political parties.  The militia, and more generally the very idea of military service, became a matter ‘for others’ from then on and their only concern being to defend their immediate territory.  In 1830, the French Canadian militia organisation, although it continued to subsist, was virtually wiped out.  This situation, aggravated by a political landscape resembling a minefield, encouraged the rebellions of 1837 and 1838.

There was little involvement by the French Canadian militia though not the loyalist militia during the Rebellions of 1837-1838. According to Dion and Legault, this occurred because of policies that transformed it before violence broke out in 1837. From 1826 to the early 1830s, the development of demands for political reform increased and the political instability of these years prevented the development of a clear policy for the militia. The 1830 Militia Act is an example of social and political consensus but two years before the Rebellions loyalist volunteers were already active in Lower Canada. They had the unconditional political and financial support of the executive and this reduced the role of the militia as a military force. [7] From 1832-1833, loyalists saw the situation in Lower Canada as more and more complex and took the initiative to form ‘clubs’ that had sufficient military ability to challenge the growing political power of the Parti Patriote in the Assembly. As most militia captains were French Canadians, they were from a loyalist perspective suspect and this was reinforced in the autumn of 1837 when, especially in the Deux-Montagnes, justices of the peace were replaced by captains of militia. This had considerable symbolic significance: JPs represented the corrupt institutions of the British colonial state while the captains of militia were seen as expressions of popular or democratic justice that had been developed in French Canadian thinking.

The union of Lower and Upper Canada in 1841 resulted in a Sedentary Militia of 426 battalions with over 250,000 men. This was, however, an army on paper based on universal service and the battalions generally only mustered for one day a year. This situation was less than ideal and led to the formation of volunteer corps by more patriotically-minded citizens. These volunteers received no support from the government and provided their own equipment and uniform. The 1846 Militia Act, in part the result of tensions between Britain and the United States over the Oregon territory, did little to change this situation and men between the ages of 18 and 60 were still liable to be called out. The Act also provided for an emergency force of 30,000 men from the Sedentary Militia through volunteer enlistment or ballot if the quota was not met. The Governor-General could authorise the formation of volunteer cavalry, infantry and artillery corps that would be funded by government. The Act officially recognised the existence of the volunteer corps legalising a de facto situation and enshrining the principle of voluntarism for the universal requirement to bear arms.  It is in effect a reasonably sound principle to count on men who wish to serve their community to be citizen soldiers.

An effort was made to revive the militia, particularly in Canada East that had not organised a review since 1837.  Because French asserted itself as an official language on a par with English in the Legislative Assembly, the Deputy Adjutant-General of the militia for Canada East now had two clerks ‘sufficiently familiar in the knowledge of French’ to be able to correspond in French with the battalion officers.  In September 1846 the militia staff began to allocate the approximately 246,000 militiamen to 57 regiments with 334 battalions and to appoint senior officers who would in turn recommend officers for their battalions. To make French Canadians in the cities less hostile to the militia, the measures introduced by Lord Dalhousie were reversed and the battalions could again reflect each language group and the number of officers was to be equitable within joint regiments. However, the 1840s saw a considerable increase in the population of Canada West by immigrants, mainly from Ireland and Scotland leading to a shift in the demographic politics of the United Province.  In 1851 there were 534,000 men aged 18 to 60 years, 317,000 of them in Canada West.  French Canadians were no longer the majority. The 1846 statute represented an attempt at reconciliation but was, unsurprisingly given a rather cool reception in French Canada.  French Canadians, who had been excluded for a quarter century, remained distrustful.

The defence of Canada was, in practice, the responsibility of British regular troops. However, the growing cost of colonial defence and the outbreak of the Crimean War in 1853 led to a change in attitude. With great political responsibility by the colonies, it was argued that there should be greater responsibility of their defence. In November 1854, the Canadian government appointed a commission to investigate ways of improving the militia.  In French Canada some even favoured the establishment of a permanent Canadian corps ‘to replace the regular troops that the English government had to bring home’, according to Montreal’s La Patrie.  The editor added that

...it would open a new career to Canadian youth.  We are sure that many of our young compatriots would prefer a captain’s epaulettes, even with all the dangers involved, to the gown [of a lawyer] or the cassock [of a notary] that are so highly prized these days.[8]

The result was the Militia Act of 1855 that made the Governor-General commander-in-chief of the militia and divided the United Province to eighteen military districts, nine each for Canada East and Canada West. The Sedentary Militia was retained but was joined by an Active Militia of not more than 5,000 volunteers who could be called on to defend the province in the absence of British regulars.


[1] Chambers, E.J., The Canadian militia, (L/M. Fresco), 1907, Tricoche, G., Les milices françaises et anglaises au Canada, Paris, 1902 and Sulte, B., Histoire de la milice canadienne française, 1760-1897, (Desbarats), 1899, remain useful studies.

[2] Dion, Dominique and Legault, Roch, ‘L’organisation de la milice de la région montréalaise de 1792 à 1837: de la paroisse au comté’, Bulletin d’histoire politique, Vol. 8, (2000), pp. 108-117. See also Ouellet, Fernand, Éléments d’histoire sociale du Bas-Canada, (Hurtubise HMH), 1972, pp. 351-378.

[3] Chartrand, René, Le patrimoine militaire canadien: D’hier à aujourd’hui, Tome1, (1000-1754), (Art Global), 1993, p. 156.

[4] Ibid, Chartrand, René, Le patrimoine militaire canadien: D’hier à aujourd’hui, p. 155.

[5] Ibid, Chartrand, René, Le patrimoine militaire canadien: D’hier à aujourd’hui, p. 155.

[6] Ibid, Chartrand, René, Le patrimoine militaire canadien: D’hier à aujourd’hui, p. 153.

[7] Ibid, Dion, Dominique and Legault, Roch, ‘L’organisation de la milice de la région montréalaise de 1792 à 1837: de la paroisse au comté’, p. 116.

[8] La Patrie, 10 November 1854