“Sow seed,—but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth,—let no impostor heap;
Weave robes,—let not the idle wear;
Forge arms,—in your defense to bear.”
Fortunately the appeal to arms was unnecessary. The working classes of England were destined to exemplify Shelley’s lesson,—but by peaceful means,—were destined to teach the world the great truth that the many, if accordant and resolute, can always control the few. And this peaceful conquest is recorded in the history of Chartism.
I have known many labor agitators living in the City of the Dinner Pail, and almost without exception these men were the sons of English Chartists. From them I had learned to honor the early British labor agitator, and to give to the name of pothouse politician something more than a contemptuous meaning. At the Old Boar’s Head, in Manchester, and at many another less famous public house in the manufacturing cities, groups of workingmen gathered, evening after evening to discuss their wrongs; and over many a pot of ale, and through many a cloud of tobacco smoke, there emerged at last certain definite demands for reform.
Workingmen and radicals joined hands; liberal leaders combined with working-class leaders, and presently there was issued the famous Charter with its six points,—manhood suffrage, annual parliaments, the ballot, abolition of property qualifications, payment of members, and equality of electoral districts. A very sober programme this, but popular leaders like Fergus O’Connor and Ernest Jones with incendiary oratory gave it a revolutionary aspect.
So the discontent grew year by year, and year by year it gathered force. Events in France and elsewhere on the continent excited the imagination of the governing classes, and every meeting place of workingmen appeared to be bristling with firearms, but still the movement grew, and at last the workingmen were ready with their petition to Parliament. When, on the morning of the 10th of April, 1848, bands of Chartists began to gather on Kennington Common, carrying red banners and tricolors, all London was astir with excitement. Government had taken precaution for its defense; the guns of the Tower were manned and loaded; the employees of the post-office were supplied with two thousand rifles; the bank was surrounded with artillery; and behind sand-bags piled upon its roof stood a regiment of infantry. The bridges and approaches to Westminster were defended by an army of ten thousand horse, foot, and artillery, while the six thousand police of London lined the streets, supported by an army of special constables. And in command of this elaborate defense of the city against four thousand unarmed workingmen assembled on Kennington Common to bear a petition to Parliament, was none other than the Iron Duke himself—Wellington. Surely the voice of the pothouse politicians had been heard throughout England; it had penetrated the halls of government—what need had the reformers for powder and shot? And must we not believe that when five years later the great reform was enacted, credit for that event was in some measure due to the resolute and accordant factory folk? Yes, the wheels and spindles of which Arkwright dreamed brought something more than material wealth to England; his vision made the nation rich and powerful and his vision likewise gave to the masses equal political rights.
VII
THE FACTORY AND SOCIAL
PROGRESS
We have now traced the history of the factory, from its beginning with the inventions of Arkwright down to its permanent establishment in the first half of the last century, and we have noted its influence upon the social life of England. We have seen how, as early as the fifteenth century, the introduction of manufactures assisted in breaking down the feudal system, and how, by making possible the accumulation of wealth by men of humble birth, it contributed to the rise of the middle class. We have further seen that at the close of the eighteenth century the introduction of machinery intensified these tendencies and exerted a powerful influence on the development of our modern democracy.