On the whole, we regard the rise of this social phenomenon with much satisfaction. It is the best safeguard, and an ever-living protest, against that worst of all tyrannies, the tyranny of Public Opinion. As yet even America, where it is most needed, has hardly begun to develop the practice; and this not from want of toleration (though the tyranny of the majority be more pressing there than here), but rather from a want of the class from which the chief public speakers of England proceed. American society is not old enough, or rich enough, to have yet given birth to the two classes of public men and literary men, which give such bloom and power to the British commonwealth, and which, mutually aiding and correcting one another, together form a vast and distinguished caste, whose services go directly to instruct, elevate, and guide the general community. In America, the development of Mind as a separate profession, has as yet made but little progress, because the general community is still not rich enough to support a separate literary class of much extent; and their public men, though many of them distinguished by elevated talents, belong in the aggregate to a class entirely dependent for support upon industrial pursuits, the personal direction of which they cannot afford to abandon without pecuniary compensation, and to which they immediately return as soon as released from their legislatorial duties. In Great Britain, on the other hand, our public men are men of substance, who can afford to devote their time wholly to the service of the country, and who in very many cases are trained from their youth to statesmanship as a profession. Such men are proud of their noble profession; to them, their character as legislators and administrators is all in all; and they lose no opportunity of righting themselves with, and impressing their individual views upon the country at large. Hence the frequent public addresses delivered by our leading statesmen during the Parliamentary recess; and even when Parliament is sitting, not seldom do our public men seek a congenial audience out of doors, to which they may make a profession of sentiments which perhaps would be very coldly received from their place in the House. Of late it has been the Peelites and Cobdenites who have stood most in need of this appeal against public opinion; and the studious efforts which some of the leaders of these parties have made to prevent themselves being forgotten, and as protests against the sweeping censure which their indignant country has passed upon them, have not been entirely free of the ludicrous. But this makes no difference. We are proud of a country where opinion is thus free, and where men have the manliness to speak their opinions even when unpopular. It is a noble privilege to our public men, a corrective to the press, a benefit to the community. While it exists, no social or political disease is incurable, and by such aids and renovating influences, we trust, Great Britain is yet destined to flourish and progress for ages to come. The tyranny of the multitude is as odious to England as the oppression of a Czar; and as long as this is the case, the noble inheritance of British freedom is secure; for we shall never react into an autocracy until we have first suffered from the still worse tyranny of the multitude.
But politics furnish hardly a half of that public oratory which nowadays is ever welling forth, like springs of thought, over the length and breadth of the land. The other half belongs in nearly equal proportions to Literature and to practical and patriotic Philanthropy. It is most gratifying to see, as we so often do, the nobility of Britain stepping from their baronial halls to the rural meeting or the provincial athenæum, there to advocate the cause of moral and intellectual improvement,—in words, it may sometimes be, not overcharged with eloquence, but still influential and productive of much good from the position and personal character of the speakers. The place becomes hallowed where good and kindly words have been spoken; and these public addresses have unquestionably contributed with other causes to give a higher tone to many convivial meetings and social gatherings, formerly remarkable for little else than deep drinking and empty laughter. The people still look up to our nobles as their natural leaders, and they may well do so,—for the great body of the aristocracy comport themselves in a manner worthy of their exalted station; and we doubt not the recent eulogium and prophecy of Count Montalembert will prove well-founded, that the nobles of England, ever improving themselves, and still keeping in the van, will continue to rivet to themselves the respect and regards of the British nation.
It must be confessed, however, that our nobles and statesmen appear to greater advantage when advocating the cause of social elevation and moral or sanitary reform, than in addresses of a purely literary character. A good man engaged in a good work disarms criticism and attracts esteem; but when the work essayed is purely literary, the case is otherwise; and in not a few instances addresses of this kind, volunteered by men of position in the country, have fallen far short of the reputation or public position of the speakers. For example, it seems to us that the dignity of statesmanship must suffer an eclipse in public estimation, when one who has played so important a part in imperial politics as Lord John Russell delivers himself of a lecture so altogether trashy as that which he lately pronounced in Exeter Hall. It was a voluntary performance made by his lordship to keep himself before the public eye; but he merely pilloried himself. He has so long regarded himself as the great champion of civil and religious liberty in this country, and has been so flattered by his followers, that he has arrived at a condition in which he is manifestly incapable of measuring his own powers. In the course of the last twelvemonth his lordship has been in the Cabinet and out of it—he has gone to negotiate at Vienna and to lecture at Exeter Hall—he tries everything, and fails in all. In those stirring times, when public questions of the most pressing moment must be answered, and problems of the most complicated kind require to be solved, it was natural to expect that a statesman of Lord John Russell’s standing, if he did court a public appearance, would at least grapple with a question of the day; instead of which, he treated his audience to a piece of “antiquated imbecility,”—as shallow in thought as it was worthless in style,—wherein the “old saws” were schoolboy commonplaces, and the “modern instances” came no nearer to us than the days of Galileo! As a contemporary journal remarked,—“for any sympathy of his readers, or for any practical effect upon their wills, he might as well have discoursed to them of the patience of Job or the justice of Aristides.”
Such exceptions, however, ought not to affect an estimate of the general system or practice, which we regard as fraught with much good. It is observable that men of mark who have special relations to any place, to any town or district, frequently seek to make their literary or oratorical powers a graceful means of cementing the connection which subsists between them and the place in question. It is to a kindly desire of this kind that we owe the lecture or address whose title we have made a text for the preceding remarks, and which we desire to commend to the notice of all address-givers as in many respects a model of this class of compositions. It is well considered,—a tribute of respect to which every assembly is entitled; the rare but fascinating charm of style is felt throughout; and its spirit is not more genial and sympathetic, than its counsels are calculated to be of deep practical influence in the affairs of life.
In choosing Labour for his theme, Mr Warren addressed himself to a subject which he knew must interest every unit in the crowded audience around him. The establishment of the rights of labour is the first-fruit of freedom, and the maintenance of these rights is the first necessity of a commonwealth. “Labour,” says Adam Smith, “was the first price, the original purchase-money that was paid for all things. It was not by gold or by silver, but by labour, that all the wealth of the world was originally purchased.” And, as that clear-sighted writer adds, “the property which every man has in his own labour, as it is the original foundation of all other property, so it is the most sacred and inviolable. The patrimony of a poor man lies in the strength and dexterity of his hands; and to hinder him from employing his strength and dexterity in what manner he thinks proper, without injury to his neighbour, is a plain violation of this most sacred property. It is a manifest encroachment upon the just liberty of both the workman, and those who might be disposed to employ him. As it hinders the one from working at what he thinks proper, so it hinders the others from employing whom they think proper.” “Labour,” almost simultaneously remarked the great and good Turgot, “is the poor man’s property: no property is more sacred; and no time nor authority can sanction the violation of his right freely to dispose of this, his only resource.” Words these, as Mr Warren remarks, worthy to be recorded in letters of gold. In Britain, Labour, like Opinion, is FREE. And so profoundly cherished by our nation is the principle of freedom in labour, that even in our colonies we have struck the fetters of bondage from the Negroes, by an act, we will not say prudent in the manner of its accomplishment, but noble in the highest degree from the spirit which dictated it.
But things were not always so in England. In the early stages of society everywhere, the only law is the law of the strongest, and might makes right. Even in the classic States of Greece and Rome, where civilisation of a certain kind reached great eminence, the proportion of free men to slaves was infinitesimal only; and in Russia at the present day, the vast majority of the nation are still kept in a state of serfdom. England too had a period—now happily past by six or seven centuries—when a similar state of things prevailed. The working-classes of England then groaned in the state of slavery called villeinage,—a villein being as absolutely the property of his feudal lord as a dog or a hog; unable to acquire any property for himself, whatever he earned belonging to his lord,—held to belong to the land and sold with it,—torn at will from his family,—his children slaves like himself; and if a male and female slave of different masters married, their masters claimed any children that might be born, who were divided between them! The thirteenth century had ended before any considerable proportion of these villeins had risen into the condition of hired labourers. And the first time we hear of these on a grand scale is in the year 1348; on which occasion, the great plague having terribly reduced their numbers, the legislature sternly interposed, “to deny the poor,” in the indignant language of Mr Hallam, “that transient amelioration of their lot which the progress of population, or other analogous circumstances, would, without any interference, very rapidly take away.” “These poor creatures,” says Mr Warren, “were naturally anxious to be better paid for their labour, when it had become so greatly increased in value; and the legislature, in the time of Edward III., passed acts peremptorily fixing, with great precision, the rates at which artisans should be obliged to work, on pain of punishment by fine and imprisonment. This was the famous Statute of Labourers, passed just five centuries ago (1352), and which applied exclusively to those whose means of living was by the labour of their hands—by the sweat of their brow.”
How different the case in England now! What an advance have the virtues of justice, mercy, and wisdom made amongst us during these last five centuries! Freedom, whether personal or political, is no longer an empty boast,—a privilege reserved for a wealthy or high-born minority. Its only limits are where the liberty of the individual trenches upon the liberty of his fellows, or the good of the commonwealth. As regards the rights of labour, of which Mr Warren so ably treats, a British labourer may work to any master, for any number of hours a-day he pleases, and may even contract to work for a particular master for his whole lifetime.[[2]] But as regards women and children the case is different, and, acting not in accordance with mere theory, but the dictates of experience and philanthropy, the British Legislature have found it necessary to put restrictions upon female and juvenile labour,—these portions of the community being in certain cases too weak and dependent to look after their own interests. In factory-works this is especially the case. The mighty machinery in these establishments requires simply to be tended, so that a considerable portion of the work can be done by mere children. And hence it happens that premature and improvident marriages are frequent among the mill-workers, who, instead of thinking of supporting their children, look forward to children as a means of supporting themselves! A most cruel and unnatural state of things, fatal to the children, and pernicious to the community, which thus witnesses within its own bosom the growth of a class utterly degenerate in body and totally uneducated in mind. Acting upon these considerations, the British Legislature in 1833 passed the first Factory Act, which bore in its preamble “that it was necessary that the hours of labour, of children and young persons, employed in mills and factories, should be regulated, inasmuch as there are great numbers of children and young persons now employed in them, and their hours of labour are longer than is desirable, due regard being had to their health and means of education.” By that statute many excellent regulations were made to mitigate the evil. And again, in the years 1844, 1847, 1850, and 1853, other acts were passed, says Mr Warren, “further restricting the hours of labour of women, young persons, and children, in print-works, mills, and factories; carefully providing for their education, fixing the time for beginning and ending work, so as to prevent their toiling unnecessarily and at unseasonable hours; securing their holidays and periods for recreation, fixing their meal-times; providing for the cleanliness and ventilation of the scenes of their toil; guarding them as far as possible against exposure to danger from machinery; and subjecting mills and factories to constant and systematic inspection and regulation by medical men and government officers, whose business it is to see that the benevolent care of the Legislature is not defeated, or in any way evaded. Again, no woman or girl, of any age, and no boy under the age of ten years, is now allowed to work on any pretence whatever in any mine or colliery; and no boy can be apprenticed to such work under that age, nor for more than eight years. No young person under twenty-one years of age is allowed to enter any flue or chimney, either to sweep it or extinguish fire; and no boy under sixteen can be apprenticed to a chimney sweeper; and even if he be, the moment he wishes it, a magistrate will discharge him from his articles.” Such legislation, undeniably, requires to be very prudently proceeded with; for, while taking care of the employed, we must at the same time respect the freedom of the employer, otherwise manufacturing capital will flee our shores, and the state of the working-classes will be rendered worse than before.
The question, indeed, at issue between Labour and Capital is one of exceeding difficulty, yet it is one which every year is pressing itself more urgently upon the consideration of the country. The present laws relating to this matter are unquestionably a great improvement upon what they were thirty years ago. Down to the year 1824, two or three working-men could not meet together, though never so quietly, to settle what wages they would work for, and during what hours, without committing an offence in the eye of the law, and being punished for it; while the masters, at the same time, were at full liberty to meet, and agree to give their men no more than a particular sum! That was neither freedom nor justice; and the late Mr Hume only spoke the truth when, stigmatising the principle, he said,—“The law prevented the labouring classes of the community from combining together against their employers, who, though few in number, were powerful in wealth, and might combine against them, and determine not to give them more than a certain sum for their labour. The workmen could not, however, consult together about the rate they ought to fix on that labour, without rendering themselves liable to fine and imprisonment, and a thousand other inconveniences which the law had reserved for them.” This legal inequality has been removed, but how much remains to be done need be told only to such as shut their eyes to the ever-recurring strikes and misery which desolate our manufacturing districts. Labour is free,—and each man wants to get as much for it as he can; but unfortunately another man as naturally wants to get it for as little as he can. There is no love, no sympathy, not even a common understanding of each other’s affairs; each party forms a league against the other,—and so the heartless suicidal strife goes on. Masters and men—it is hard to say which party is the more to blame. If improvidence on the part of the work-people often tempt them into, and aggravate their position in strikes, by leaving them no little surplus wherewith to meet “hard times,”—turn to our last month’s article on the Lancashire strikes, and see if there be not also an improvidence and gambling spirit on the part of the master-manufacturers, by which the wages and employment of their men are needlessly placed in jeopardy.
Masters and men combine against each other—that is the barbarous order of the day. Men who fancy that war with foreign nations can be wholly abolished by means of arbitration, yet wage an internecine contest with their own brother-countrymen,—a war which, so far from even acknowledging the principle of arbitration, is regularly carried on until one or other of the parties sinks exhausted in the combat! It is not long ago since the combinations of the workmen on strike were of the most savage and atrocious character.[[3]] Of late they have become less envenomed in spirit; but still the tyranny which trades-unions exercise over individual members of the trade is as glaring as could be practised by Governments even the most despotic. The law attempts to remedy this, but, alas! with little effect. “If,” says the late Chief-Justice Tindal, expounding the existing statutes upon this point, “there be one right, which beyond all others the labourer ought to be able to call his own, it is the right of the exertion of his own personal strength and skill, in the full enjoyment of his own free will, altogether unshackled by the control or dictates of his fellow-workmen; yet strange to say, this very right which the discontented workman claims for himself to its fullest extent, he does, by a blind perversity and unaccountable selfishness, entirely refuse to his fellows who differ in opinion from himself! It is unnecessary to say that a course of proceeding so utterly unreasonable in itself, so injurious to society, so detrimental to the interests of trade, and so oppressive against the rights of the poor man, must be a gross and flagrant violation of the law, and when the guilt is established, must be visited by a proper measure of punishment.” But the masters also may now be made to feel the restraining power of the law; and at this moment one of our highest tribunals, a Court of Error, is occupied with a question of no small importance and difficulty, arising from an attempt of eighteen Lancashire mill-owners to enter into a counter-combination. Their men having combined to support each other in forcing their masters to yield to their terms, the masters entered into a bond to each other not to open their mills for twelve months, except on terms agreed to by a majority; and the question was brought before the Court of Queen’s Bench, whether such an agreement was or was not one in restraint of trade, and consequently consistent or inconsistent with the public good. “The Court differed,” says Mr Warren; “but the majority held that the agreement was illegal, as unduly restraining the freedom of trade, holding ‘that if particular masters might thus combine, so might all the masters in the kingdom:’ and, on the other hand, all the men in the kingdom might combine themselves into a sort of Labour Parliament.” The case, it is understood, will not be held settled on either side until it has been taken to the House of Lords, and decided by the Court of last appeal in the kingdom.
The principle or object kept in view by the Legislature in framing the present statutes seems to have been, as Chief-Justice Tindal once observed, “that if the workmen, on the one hand, refused to work, or the master, on the other, refused to employ, as such a state of things could not continue long, it might fairly be expected that the party must ultimately give way whose pretensions were not founded on reason or justice—the masters if they offered too little, the workmen if they demanded too much.” But, says Mr Warren, “this leaves each party to decide on the reason and justice of its pretensions, and the unreasonableness and injustice of those of its opponent. And it is more likely that the Legislature said to itself,—‘It will always be a question of time; the weakest will go to the wall first, though not till after it has greatly hurt the stronger.’” They just left each side to do its worst, and worry or be worried to death by its opponent, without the State interfering so long as this work of social murder went on peaceably!