Tuesday, January 10, 2012


Condition of the Working Class in England, by Engels, 1845
The Attitude of the Bourgeoisie Towards the Proletariat

In speaking of the bourgeoisie I include the so-called aristocracy,
for this is a privileged class, an aristocracy, only in contrast with
the bourgeoisie, not in contrast with the proletariat. The proletarian
sees in both only the property-holder -- i.e., the bourgeois. Before
the privilege of property all other privileges vanish. The sole
difference is this, that the bourgeois proper stands in active
relations with the manufacturing, and, in a measure, with the mining
proletarians, and, as farmer, with the agricultural labourers, whereas
the so-called aristocrat comes into contact with the agricultural
labourer only.

I have never seen a class so deeply demoralised, so incurably debased
by selfishness, so corroded within, so incapable of progress, as the
English bourgeoisie; and I mean by this, especially the bourgeoisie
proper, particularly the Liberal, Corn Law repealing bourgeoisie. For
it nothing exists in this world, except for the sake of money, itself
not excluded. It knows no bliss save that of rapid gain, no pain save
that of losing gold. In the presence of this avarice and lust of gain,
it is not possible for a single human sentiment or opinion to remain
untainted. True, these English bourgeois are good husbands and family
men, and have all sorts of other private virtues, and appear, in
ordinary intercourse, as decent and respectable as all other
bourgeois; even in business they are better to deal with than the
Germans; they do not higgle and haggle so much as our own pettifogging
merchants; but how does this help matters? Ultimately it is
self-interest, and especially money gain, which alone determines them.
I once went into Manchester with such a bourgeois, and spoke to him of
the bad, unwholesome method of building, the frightful condition of
the working-peoples quarters, and asserted that I had never seen so
ill-built a city. The man listened quietly to the end, and said at the
corner where we parted: "And yet there is a great deal of money made
here, good morning, sir." It is utterly indifferent to the English
bourgeois whether his working-men starve or not, if only he makes
money. All the conditions of life are measured by money, and what
brings no money is nonsense, unpractical, idealistic bosh. Hence,
Political Economy, the Science of Wealth, is the favourite study of
these bartering Jews. Every one of them is a Political Economist. The
relation of the manufacturer to his operatives has nothing human in
it; it is purely economic. The manufacturer is Capital, the operative
Labour. And if the operative will not be forced into this abstraction,
if he insists that he is not Labour, but a man, who possesses, among
other things, the attribute of labour-force, if he takes it into his
head that he need not allow himself to be sold and bought in the
market, as the commodity "Labour", the bourgeois reason comes to a
standstill. He cannot comprehend that he holds any other relation to
the operatives than that of purchase and sale; he sees in them not
human beings, but hands, as he constantly calls them to their faces;
he insists, as Carlyle says, that "Cash Payment is the only nexus
between man and man." Even the relation between himself and his wife
is, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, mere "Cash Payment". Money
determines the worth of the man; he is "worth ten thousand pounds". He
who has money is of "the better sort of people", is "influential", and
what he does counts for something in his social circle. The
huckstering spirit penetrates the whole language, all relations are
expressed in business terms, in economic categories. Supply and demand
are the formulas according to which the logic of the English bourgeois
judges all human life. Hence free competition in every respect, hence
the regime of laissez-faire, laissez-aller in government, in medicine,
in education, and soon to be in religion, too, as the State Church
collapses more and more. Free competition will suffer no limitation,
no State supervision; the whole State is but a burden to it. It would
reach its highest perfection in a wholly ungoverned anarchic society,
where each might exploit the other to his hearts content. Since,
however, the bourgeoisie cannot dispense with government, but must
have it to hold the equally indispensable proletariat in check, it
turns the power of government against the proletariat and keeps out of
its way as far as possible.

Let no one believe, however, that the "cultivated" Englishman openly
brags with his egotism. On the contrary, he conceals it under the
vilest hypocrisy. What? The wealthy English fail to remember the poor?
They who have founded philanthropic institutions, such as no other
country can boast of! Philanthropic institutions forsooth! As though
you rendered the proletarians a service in first sucking out their
very life-blood and then practising your self-complacent, Pharisaic
philanthropy upon them, placing yourselves before the world as mighty
benefactors of humanity when you give back to the plundered victims
the hundredth part of what belongs to them! Charity which degrades him
who gives more than him who takes; charity which treads the
downtrodden still deeper in the dust, which demands that the degraded,
the pariah cast out by society, shall first surrender the last that
remains to him, his very claim to manhood, shall first beg for mercy
before your mercy deigns to press, in the shape of an alms, the brand
of degradation upon his brow. But let us hear the English
bourgeoisie's own words. It is not yet a year since I read in the
Manchester Guardian the following letter to the editor, which was
published without comment as a perfectly natural, reasonable thing:

"MR. EDITOR,-- For some time past our main streets are haunted by
swarms of beggars, who try to awaken the pity of the passers-by in a
most shameless and annoying manner, by exposing their tattered
clothing, sickly aspect, and disgusting wounds and deformities. I
should think that when one not only pays the poor-rate, but also
contributes largely to the charitable institutions, one had done
enough to earn a right to be spared such disagreeable and impertinent
molestations. And why else do we pay such high rates for the
maintenance of the municipal police, if they do not even protect us so
far as to make it possible to go to or out of town in peace? I hope
the publication of these lines in your widely- circulated paper may
induce the authorities to remove this nuisance; and I remain,-- Your
obedient servant,
"A Lady."

There you have it! The English bourgeoisie is charitable out of
self-interest; it gives nothing outright, but regards its gifts as a
business matter, makes a bargain with the poor, saying: "If I spend
this much upon benevolent institutions, I thereby purchase the right
not to be troubled any further, and you are bound thereby to stay in
your dusky holes and not to irritate my tender nerves by exposing your
misery. You shall despair as before, but you shall despair unseen,
this I require, this I purchase with my subscription of twenty pounds
for the infirmary!" It is infamous, this charity of a Christian
bourgeois! And so writes "A Lady"; she does well to sign herself such,
well that she has lost the courage to call herself a woman! But if the
"Ladies" are such as this, what must the "Gentlemen" be? It will be
said that this is a single case; but no, the foregoing letter
expresses the temper of the great majority of the English bourgeoisie,
or the editor would not have accepted it, and some reply would have
been made to it, which I watched for in vain in the succeeding
numbers. And as to the efficiency of this philanthropy, Canon
Parkinson himself says that the poor are relieved much more by the
poor than by the bourgeoisie; and such relief given by an honest
proletarian who knows himself what it is to be hungry, for whom
sharing his scanty meal is really a sacrifice, but a sacrifice borne
with pleasure, such help has a wholly different ring to it from the
carelessly-tossed alms of the luxurious bourgeois.

In other respects, too, the bourgeoisie assumes a hypocritical,
boundless philanthropy, but only when its own interests require it; as
in its Politics and Political Economy. It has been at work now well on
towards five years to prove to the working-men that it strives to
abolish the Corn Laws solely in their interest. But the long and short
of the matter is this: the Corn Laws keep the price of bread higher
than in other countries, and thus raise wages; but these high wages
render difficult competition of the manufacturers against other
nations in which bread, and consequently wages, are cheaper. The Corn
Laws being repealed, the price of bread falls, and wages gradually
approach those of other European countries, as must be clear to every
one from our previous exposition of the principles according to which
wages are determined. The manufacturer can compete more readily, the
demand for English goods increases, and, with it, the demand for
labour. In consequence of this increased demand wages would actually
rise somewhat, and the unemployed workers be re-employed; but for how
long? The "surplus population" of England, and especially of Ireland,
is sufficient to supply English manufacture with the necessary
operatives, even if it were doubled; and, in a few years, the small
advantage of the repeal of the Corn Laws would be balanced, a new
crisis would follow, and we should be back at the point from which we
started, while the first stimulus to manufacture would have increased
population meanwhile. All this the proletarians understand very well,
and have told the manufacturers to their faces; but, in spite of that,
the manufacturers have in view solely the immediate advantage which
the repeal of the Corn Laws would bring them. They are too
narrow-minded to see that, even for themselves, no permanent advantage
can arise from this measure, because their competition with each other
would soon force the profit of the individual back to its old level;
and thus they continue to shriek to the working-men that it is purely
for the sake of the starving millions that the rich members of the
Liberal party pour hundreds and thousands of pounds into the treasury
of the Anti-Corn Law League, while every one knows that they are only
sending the butter after the cheese, that they calculate upon earning
it all back in the first ten years after the repeal of the Corn Laws.
But the workers are no longer to be misled by the bourgeoisie,
especially since the insurrection of 1842. They demand of every one
who presents himself as interested in their welfare, that he should
declare himself in favour of the Peoples Charter as proof of the
sincerity of his professions, and in so doing, they protest against
all outside help, for the Charter is a demand for the power to help
themselves. Whoever declines so to declare himself they pronounce
their enemy, and are perfectly right in so doing, whether he be a
declared foe or a false friend. Besides, the Anti-Corn Law League has
used the most despicable falsehoods and tricks to win the support of
the workers. It has tried to prove to them that the money price of
labour is in inverse proportion to the price of corn; that wages are
high when grain is cheap, and vice versa, an assertion which it
pretends to prove with the most ridiculous arguments, and one which
is, in itself, more ridiculous than any other that has proceeded from
the mouth of an Economist. When this failed to help matters, the
workers were promised bliss supreme in consequence of the increased
demand in the labour market; indeed, men went so far as to carry
through the streets two models of loaves of bread, on one of which, by
far the larger, was written: "American Eightpenny Loaf, Wages Four
Shillings per Day", and upon the much smaller one: "English Eightpenny
Loaf, Wages Two Shillings a Day". But the workers have not allowed
themselves to be misled. They know their lords and masters too well.

But rightly to measure the hypocrisy of these promises, the practice
of the bourgeoisie must be taken into account. We have seen in the
course of our.report how the bourgeoisie exploits the proletariat in
every conceivable way for its own benefit! We have, however, hitherto
seen only how the.single bourgeois maltreats the proletariat upon his
own account. Let us turn now to the manner in which the bourgeoisie as
a party, as the power of the State, conducts itself towards the
proletariat. Laws are necessary only because there are persons in
existence who own nothing; and although this is directly expressed in
but few laws, as, for instance, those against vagabonds and tramps, in
which the proletariat as such is outlawed, yet enmity to the
proletariat is so emphatically the basis of the law that the judges,
and especially the Justices of the Peace, who are bourgeois
themselves, and with whom the proletariat comes most in contact, find
this meaning in the laws without further consideration. If a rich man
is brought up, or rather summoned, to appear before the court, the
judge regrets that he is obliged to impose so much trouble, treats the
matter as favourably as possible, and, if he is forced to condemn the
accused, does so with extreme regret, etc., etc., and the end of it
all is a miserable fine, which the bourgeois throws upon the table
with contempt and then departs. But if a poor devil gets into such a
position as involves appearing before the Justice of the Peace -- he
has almost always spent the night in the station-house with a crowd of
his peers -- he is regarded from the beginning as guilty; his defence
is set aside with a contemptuous "Oh! we know the excuse", and a fine
imposed which he cannot pay and must work out with several months on
the treadmill. And if nothing can be proved against him, he is sent to
the treadmill, none the less, "as a rogue and a vagabond". The
partisanship of the Justices of the Peace, especially in the country,
surpasses all description, and it is so much the order of the day that
all cases which are not too utterly flagrant are quietly reported by
the newspapers, without comment. Nor is anything else to be expected.
For on the one hand, these Dogberries do merely construe the law
according to the intent of the farmers, and, on the other, they are
themselves bourgeois, who see the foundation of all true order in the
interests of their class. And the conduct of the police corresponds to
that of the Justices of the Peace. The bourgeois may do what he will
and the police remain ever polite, adhering strictly to the law, but
the proletarian is roughly, brutally treated; his poverty both casts
the suspicion of every sort of crime upon him and cuts him off from
legal redress against any caprice of the administrators of the law;
for him, therefore, the protecting forms of the law do not exist, the
police force their way into his house without further ceremony, arrest
and abuse him; and only when a working-men's association, such as the
miners, engages a Roberts, does it become evident how little the
protective side of the law exists for the working-man, how frequently
he has to bear all the burdens of the law without enjoying its benefits.

Down to the present hour, the property-holding class in Parliament
still struggles against the better feelings of those not yet fallen a
prey to egotism, and seeks to subjugate the proletariat still further.
One piece of common land after another is appropriated and placed
under cultivation, a process by which the general cultivation is
furthered, but the proletariat greatly injured. Where there were still
commons, the poor could pasture an ass, a pig, or geese, the children
and young people had a place where they could play and live out of
doors; but this is gradually coming to an end. The earnings of the
worker are less, and the young people, deprived of their play-ground,
go to the beer-shops. A mass of acts for enclosing and cultivating
commons is passed at every session of Parliament. When the Government
determined during the session of 1844 to force the all monopolising
railways to make travelling possible for the workers by means of
charges proportionate to their means, a penny a mile, and proposed
therefore to introduce such a third class train upon every railway
daily, the "Reverend Father in God", the Bishop of London, proposed
that Sunday, the only day upon which working-men in work can travel,
be exempted from this rule, and travelling thus be left open to the
rich and shut off from the poor. This proposition was, however, too
direct, too undisguised to pass through Parliament, and was dropped. I
have no room to enumerate the many concealed attacks of even one
single session upon the proletariat. One from the session of 1844 must
suffice. An obscure member of Parliament, a Mr. Miles, proposed a bill
regulating the relation of master and servant which seemed
comparatively unobjectionable. The Government became interested in the
bill, and it was referred to a committee. Meanwhile the strike among
the miners in the North broke out, and Roberts made his triumphal
passage through England with his acquitted working-men. When the bill
was reported by the committee, it was discovered that certain most
despotic provisions had been interpolated in it, especially one
conferring upon the employer the power to bring before any Justice of
the Peace every working-man who had contracted verbally or in writing
to do any work whatsoever, in case of refusal to work or other
misbehaviour, and have him condemned to prison with hard labour for
two months, upon the oath of the employer or his agent or overlooker,
i.e., upon the oath of the accuser. This bill aroused the working-men
to the utmost fury, the more so as the Ten Hours Bill was before
Parliament at the same time, and had called forth a considerable
agitation. Hundreds of meetings were held, hundreds of working-men's
petitions forwarded to London to Thomas Duncombe, the representative
of the interests of the proletariat. This man was, except Ferrand, the
representative of "Young England", the only vigorous opponent of the
bill; but when the other Radicals saw that the people were declaring
against it, one after the other crept forward and took his place by
Duncombe's side; and as the Liberal bourgeoisie had not the courage to
defend the bill in the face of the excitement among the working-men,
it was ignominiously lost.

Meanwhile the most open declaration of war of the bourgeoisie upon the
proletariat is Malthus Law of Population and the New Poor Law framed
in accordance with it. We have already alluded several times to the
theory of Malthus. We may sum up its final result in these few words,
that the earth is perennially over-populated, whence poverty, misery,
distress, and immorality must prevail; that it is the lot, the eternal
destiny of mankind, to exist in too great numbers, and therefore in
diverse classes, of which some are rich, educated, and moral, and
others more or less poor, distressed, ignorant, and immoral. Hence it
follows in practice, and Malthus himself drew this conclusion, that
charities and poor-rates are, properly speaking, nonsense, since they
serve only to maintain, and stimulate the increase of, the surplus
population whose competition crushes down wages for the employed; that
the employment of the poor by the Poor Law Guardians is equally
unreasonable, since only a fixed quantity of the products of labour
can be consumed, and for every unemployed labourer thus furnished
employment, another hitherto employed must be driven into enforced
idleness, whence private undertakings suffer at cost of Poor Law
industry; that, in other words, the whole problem is not how to
support the surplus population, but how to restrain it as far as
possible. Malthus declares in plain English that the right to live, a
right previously asserted in favour of every man in the world, is
nonsense. He quotes the words of a poet, that the poor man comes to
the feast of Nature and finds no cover laid for him, and adds that
"she bids him begone", for he did not before his birth ask of society
whether or not he is welcome. This is now the pet theory of all
genuine English bourgeois, and very naturally, since it is the most
specious excuse for them, and has, moreover, a good deal of truth in
it under existing conditions. If, then, the problem is not to make the
"surplus population" useful, to transform it into available
population, but merely to let it starve to death in the least
objectionable way and to prevent its having too many children, this,
of course, is simple enough, provided the surplus population perceives
its own superfluousness and takes kindly to starvation. There is,
however, in spite of the violent exertions of the humane bourgeoisie,
no immediate prospect of its succeeding in bringing about such a
disposition among the workers. The workers have taken it into their
heads that they, with their busy hands, are the necessary, and the
rich capitalists, who do nothing, the surplus population.

Since, however, the rich hold all the power, the proletarians must
submit, if they will not good-temperedly perceive it for themselves,
to have the law actually declare them superfluous.. This has been done
by the New Poor Law. The Old Poor Law which rested upon the Act of
1601 (the 43rd of Elizabeth), naively started from the notion that it
is the duty of the parish to provide for the maintenance of the poor.
Whoever had no work received relief, and the poor man regarded the
parish as pledged to protect him from starvation. He demanded his
weekly relief as his right, not as a favour, and this became, at last,
too much for the bourgeoisie. In 1833, when the bourgeoisie had just
come into power through the Reform Bill, and pauperism in the country
districts had just reached its full development, the bourgeoisie began
the reform of the Poor Law according to its own point of view. A
commission was appointed, which investigated the administration of the
Poor Laws, and revealed a multitude of abuses. It was discovered that
the whole working-class in the country was pauperised and more or less
dependent upon the rates, from which they received relief when wages
were low; it was found that this system by which the unemployed were
maintained, the ill-paid and the parents of large families relieved,
fathers of illegitimate children required to pay alimony, and poverty,
in general, recognised as needing protection, it was found that this
system was ruining the nation, was --

"a check to industry, a reward for improvident marriages, a stimulant
to population, and a blind to its effects on wages; a national
institution for discountenancing the industrious and honest, and for
protecting the idle, the improvident and the vicious; the destroyer of
the bonds of family life; "a system for preventing the accumulation of
capital, for destroying that which exists, and for reducing the
rate-payer to pauperism; and a premium for illegitimate children" in
the provision of aliment. (Words of the Report of the Poor Law

This description of the action of the Old Poor Law is certainly
correct; relief fosters laziness and increase of "surplus population".
Under present social conditions it is perfectly clear that the poor
man is compelled to be an egotist, and when he can choose, living
equally well in either case, he prefers doing nothing to working. But
what follows therefrom? That our present social conditions are good
for nothing, and not as the Malthusian Commissioners conclude, that
poverty is a crime, and, as such, to be visited with heinous penalties
which may serve as a warning to others.

But these wise Malthusians were so thoroughly convinced of the
infallibility of their theory that they did not for one moment
hesitate to cast the poor into the Procrustean bed of their economic
notions and treat them with the most revolting cruelty. Convinced with
Malthus and the rest of the adherents of free competition that it is
best to let each one take care of himself, they would have preferred
to abolish the Poor Laws altogether. Since, however, they had neither
the courage nor the authority to do this, they proposed a Poor Law
constructed as far as possible in harmony with the doctrine of
Malthus, which is yet more barbarous than that of laissez-faire,
because it interferes actively in cases in which the latter is
passive. We have seen how Malthus characterises poverty, or rather the
want of employment, as a crime under the title "superfluity", and
recommends for it punishment by starvation. The commissioners were not
quite so barbarous; death outright by starvation was something too
terrible even for a Poor Law Commissioner. "Good," said they, "we
grant you poor a right to exist, but only to exist; the right to
multiply you have not, nor the right to exist as befits human beings.
You are a pest, and if we cannot get rid of you as we do of other
pests, you shall feel, at least, that you are a pest, and you shall at
least be held in check, kept from bringing into the world other
surplus, either directly or through inducing in others laziness and
want of employment. Live you shall, but live as an awful warning to
all those who might have inducements to become superfluous."

They accordingly brought in the New Poor Law, which was passed by
Parliament in 1834, and continues in force down to the present day.
All relief in money and provisions was abolished; the only relief
allowed was admission to the workhouses immediately built. The
regulations for these workhouses, or, as the people call them, Poor
Law Bastilles, is such as to frighten away every one who has the
slightest prospect of life without this form of public charity. To
make sure that relief be applied for only in the most extreme cases
and after every other effort had failed, the workhouse has been made
the most repulsive residence which the refined ingenuity of a
Malthusian can invent. The food is worse than that of the most
ill-paid working-man while employed, and the work harder, or they
might prefer the workhouse to their wretched existence outside. Meat,
especially fresh meat, is rarely furnished, chiefly potatoes, the
worst possible bread and oatmeal porridge, little or no beer. The food
of criminal prisoners is better, as a rule, so that the paupers
frequently commit some offence for the purpose of getting into jail.
For the workhouse is a jail too; he who does not finish his task gets
nothing to eat; he who wishes to go out must ask permission, which is
granted or not, according to his behaviour or the inspectors whim;
tobacco is forbidden, also the receipt of gifts from relatives or
friends outside the house; the paupers wear a workhouse uniform, and
are handed over, helpless and without redress, to the caprice of the
inspectors. To prevent their labour from competing with that of
outside concerns, they are set to rather useless tasks: the men break
stones, "as much as a strong man can accomplish with effort in a day";
the women, children, and aged men pick oakum, for I know not what
insignificant use. To prevent the "superfluous" from multiplying, and
"demoralised" parents from influencing their children, families are
broken up; the husband is placed in one wing, the wife in another, the
children in a third, and they are permitted to see one another only at
stated times after long intervals, and then only when they have, in
the opinion of the officials, behaved well. And in order to shut off
the external world from contamination by pauperism within these
bastilles, the inmates are permitted to receive visits only with the
consent of the officials, and in the reception-rooms; to communicate
in general with the world outside only by leave and under supervision.

Yet the food is supposed to be wholesome and the treatment humane with
all this. But the intent of the law is too loudly outspoken for this
requirement to be in any wise fulfilled. The Poor Law Commissioners
and the whole English bourgeoisie deceive themselves if they believe
the administration of the law possible without these results. The
treatment, which the letter of the law prescribes, is in direct
contradiction of its spirit. If the law in its essence proclaims the
poor criminals, the workhouses prisons, their inmates beyond the pale
of the law, beyond the pale of humanity, objects of disgust and
repulsion, then all commands to the contrary are unavailing. In
practice, the spirit and not the letter of the law is followed in the
treatment of the poor, as in the following few examples:

In the workhouse at Greenwich, in the summer of 1843, a boy five.
years old was punished by being shut into the dead-room, where he had
to sleep upon the lids of the coffins. In the workhouse at Herne, the
same punishment was inflicted upon a little girl for wetting the bed
at night, and this method of punishment seems to be a favourite one.
This workhouse, which stands in one of the most beautiful regions of
Kent, is peculiar, in so far as its windows open only upon the court,
and but two, newly introduced, afford the inmates a glimpse of the
outer world. The author who relates this in the Illuminated Magazine,
closes his description with the words:

"If God punished men for crimes as man punishes man for poverty, then
woe to the sons of Adam!"

In November, 1843, a man died at Leicester, who had been dismissed two
days before from the workhouse at Coventry. The details of the
treatment of the poor in this institution are revolting. The man,
George Robson, had a wound upon the shoulder, the treatment of which
was wholly neglected; he was set to work at the pump, using the sound
arm; was given only the usual workhouse fare, which he was utterly
unable to digest by reason of the unhealed wound and his general
debility; he naturally grew weaker, and the more he complained, the
more brutally he was treated. When his wife tried to bring him her
drop of beer, she was reprimanded, and forced to drink it herself in
the presence of the female warder. He became ill, but received no
better treatment. Finally, at his own request, and under the most
insulting epithets, he was discharged, accompanied by his wife. Two
days later he died at Leicester, in consequence of the neglected wound
and of the food given him, which was utterly indigestible for one in
his condition, as the surgeon present at the inquest testified. When
he was discharged, there were handed to him letters containing money,
which had been kept back six weeks, and opened, according to a rule of
the establishment, by the inspector! In Birmingham such scandalous
occurrences took place, that finally, in 1843, an official was sent to
investigate the case. He found that four tramps had been shut up naked
under a stair-case in a black hole, eight to ten days, often deprived
of food until noon, and that at the severest season of the year. A
little boy had been passed through all grades of punishment known to
the institution; first locked up in a damp, vaulted, narrow, lumber-
room; then in the dog-hole twice, the second time three days and three
nights; then the same length of time in the old dog-hole, which was
still worse; then the tramp-room, a stinking, disgustingly filthy
hole, with wooden sleeping stalls, where the official, in the course
of his inspection, found two other tattered boys, shrivelled with
cold, who had been spending three days there. In the dog-hole there
were often seven, and in the tramp-room, twenty men huddled together.
Women, also, were placed in the dog-hole, because they refused to go
to church and one was shut four days into the tramp-room, with God
knows what sort of company, and that while she was ill and receiving
medicines Another woman was placed in the insane department for
punishment, though she was perfectly sane. In the workhouse at Bacton,
in Suffolk, in January, 1844, a similar investigation revealed the
fact that a feeble-minded woman was employed as nurse, and took care
of the patients accordingly, while sufferers, who were often restless
at night, or tried to get up, were tied fast with cords passed over
the covering and under the bedstead, to save the nurses the trouble of
sitting up at night. One patient was found dead, bound in this way. In
the St. Pancras workhouse in London (where the cheap shirts already
mentioned are made), an epileptic died of suffocation during an attack
in bed, no one coming to his relief; in the same house, four to six,
sometimes eight children, slept in one bed. In Shoreditch workhouse a
man was placed, together with a fever patient violently ill, in a bed
teeming with vermin. In Bethnal Green workhouse, London, a woman in
the sixth month of pregnancy was shut up in the reception-room with
her two-year- old child, from February 28th to March 19th, without
being admitted into the workhouse itself, and without a trace of a bed
or the means of satisfying the most natural wants. Her husband, who
was brought into the workhouse, begged to have his wife released from
this imprisonment, whereupon he received twenty-four hours
imprisonment, with bread and water, as the penalty of his insolence.
In the workhouse at Slough, near Windsor, a man lay dying in
September, 1844. His wife journeyed to him, arriving at midnight; and
hastening to the workhouse, was refused admission. She was not
permitted to see her husband until the next morning, and then only in
the presence of a female warder, who forced herself upon the wife at
every succeeding visit, sending her away at the end of half-an-hour.
In the workhouse at Middleton, in Lancashire, twelve, and at times
eighteen, paupers, of both sexes, slept in one room. This institution
is not embraced by the New Poor Law, but is administered under an old
special act (Gilberts Act). The inspector had instituted a brewery in
the house for his own benefit. In Stockport, July 31st, 1844, a man,
seventy-two years old, was brought before the Justice of the Peace for
refusing to break stones, and insisting that, by reason of his age and
a stiff knee, he was unfit for this work. In vain did he offer to
undertake any work adapted to his physical strength; he was sentenced
to two weeks upon the treadmill. In the workhouse at Basford, an
inspecting official found that the sheets had not been changed in
thirteen weeks, shirts in four weeks, stockings in two to ten months,
so that of forty-five boys but three had stockings, and all their
shirts were in tatters. The beds swarmed with vermin, and the
tableware was washed in the slop-pails. In the west of London
workhouse, a porter who had infected four girls with syphilis was not
discharged, and another who had concealed a deaf and dumb girl four
days and nights in his bed was also retained.

As in life, so in death. The poor are dumped into the earth like
infected cattle. The pauper burial-ground of St. Brides, London, is a
bare morass, in use as a cemetery since the time of Charles II., and
filled with heaps of bones; every Wednesday the paupers are thrown
into a ditch fourteen feet deep; a curate rattles through the Litany
at the top of his speed; the ditch is loosely covered in, to be
reopened the next Wednesday, and filled with corpses as long as one
more can be forced in. The putrefaction thus engendered contaminates
the whole neighbourhood. In Manchester, the pauper burial-ground lies
opposite to the Old Town, along the Irk; this, too, is a rough,
desolate place. About two years ago a railroad was carried through it.
If it had been a respectable cemetery, how the bourgeoisie and the
clergy would have shrieked over the desecration! But it was a pauper
burial-ground, the resting-place of the outcast and superfluous, so no
one concerned himself about the matter. It was not even thought worth
while to convey the partially decayed bodies to the other side of the
cemetery; they were heaped up just as it happened, and piles were
driven into newly made graves, so that the water oozed out of the
swampy ground, pregnant with putrefying matter, and filled the
neighbourhood with the most revolting and injurious gases. The
disgusting brutality which accompanied this work I cannot describe in
further detail.

Can any one wonder that the poor decline to accept public relief under
these conditions? That they starve rather than enter these bastilles?
I have the reports of five cases in which persons actually starving,
when the guardians refused them outdoor relief, went back to their
miserable homes and died of starvation rather than enter these hells.
Thus far have the Poor Law Commissioners attained their object. At the
same time, however, the workhouses have intensified, more than any
other measure of the party in power, the hatred of the working-class
against the property- holders, who very generally admire the New Poor Law.

From Newcastle to Dover, there is but one voice among the workers --
the voice of hatred against the new law. The bourgeoisie has
formulated so clearly in this law its conception of its duties towards
the proletariat, that it has been appreciated even by the dullest. So
frankly, so boldly has the conception never yet been formulated, that
the non-possessing class exists solely for the purpose of being
exploited, and of starving when the property- holders can no longer
make use of it. Hence it is that this New Poor Law has contributed so
greatly to accelerate the labour movement, and especially to spread
Chartism; and, as it is carried out most extensively in the country,
it facilitates the development of the proletarian movement which is
arising in the agricultural districts.

Let me add that a similar law in force in Ireland since 1838, affords
a similar refuge for eighty thousand paupers. Here, too, it has made
itself disliked, and would have been intensely hated if it had
attained anything like the same importance as in England. But what
difference does the ill-treatment of eighty thousand proletarians
make. in a country in which there are two and a half millions of them?
In Scotland there are, with local exceptions, no Poor Laws.

I hope that after this picture of the New Poor Law and its results, no
word which I have said of the English bourgeoisie will be thought too
stern. In this public measure, in which it acts in corpore as the
ruling power, it formulates its real intentions, reveals the animus of
those smaller transactions with the proletariat, of which the blame
apparently attaches to individuals. And that this measure did not
originate with any one section of the bourgeoisie, but enjoys the
approval of the whole class, is proved by the Parliamentary debates of
1844. The Liberal party had enacted the New Poor Law; the Conservative
party, with its Prime Minister Peel at the head, defends it, and only
alters some pettifogging trifles in the Poor Law Amendment Bill of
1844. A Liberal majority carried the bill, a Conservative majority
approved it, and the "Noble Lords" gave their consent each time. Thus
is the expulsion of the proletariat from State and society outspoken,
thus is it publicly proclaimed that proletarians are not human beings,
and do not deserve to be treated as such. Let us leave it to the
proletarians of the British Empire to reconquer their human rights. [1]

Such is the state of the British working-class as I have come to know
it in the course of twenty-one months, through the medium of my own
eyes, and through official and other trustworthy reports. And when I
call this condition, as I have frequently enough done in the foregoing
pages, an utterly unbearable one, I am not alone in so doing. As early
as 1833, Gaskell declared that he despaired of a peaceful issue, and
that a revolution can hardly fail to follow. 1n 1838, Carlyle
explained Chartism and the revolutionary activity of the working-men
as arising out of the misery in which they live, and only wondered
that they have sat so quietly eight long years at the Barmecide feast,
at which they have been regaled by the Liberal bourgeoisie with empty
promises. And in 1844 he declared that the work of organising labour
must be begun at once

"if Europe, at any rate if England, is to continue inhabitable much

And the Times, the "first journal of Europe", said in June, 1844:

War to the mansion, peace to the cottage -- is a watchword of terror
which may yet ring through the land. Let the wealthy beware!"

Meanwhile, let us review once more the chances of the English
bourgeoisie. In the worst case, foreign manufacture, especially that
of America, may succeed in withstanding English competition, even
after the repeal of the Corn Laws, inevitable in the course of a few
years. German manufacture is now making great efforts, and that of
America has developed with giant strides. America, with its
inexhaustible resources, with its unmeasured coal and iron fields,
with its unexampled wealth of water-power and its navigable rivers,
but especially with its energetic, active population, in comparison
with which the English are phlegmatic dawdlers,-- America has in less
than ten years created a manufacture which already competes with
England in the coarser cotton goods, has excluded the English from the
markets of North and South America, and holds its own in China, side
by side with England. If any country is adapted to holding a monopoly
of manufacture, it is America. Should English manufacture be thus
vanquished -- and in the course of the next twenty years, if the
present conditions remain unchanged, this is inevitable -- the
majority of the proletariat must become forever superfluous, and has
no other choice than to starve or to rebel. Does the English
bourgeoisie reflect upon this contingency? On the contrary; its
favourite economist, McCulloch, teaches from his students desk, that a
country so young as America, which is not even properly populated,
cannot carry on manufacture successfully or dream of competing with an
old manufacturing country like England. It were madness in the
Americans to make the attempt, for they could only lose by it; better
far for them to stick to their agriculture, and when they have brought
their whole territory under the plough, a time may perhaps come for
carrying on manufacture with a profit. So says the wise economist, and
the whole bourgeoisie worships him, while the Americans take
possession of one market after another, while a daring American
speculator recently even sent a shipment of American cotton goods to
England, where they were sold for re-exportation!

But assuming that England retained the monopoly of manufactures, that
its factories perpetually multiply, what must be the result? The
commercial crises would continue, and grow more violent, more
terrible, with the extension of industry and the multiplication of the
proletariat. The proletariat would increase in geometrical proportion,
in consequence of the progressive ruin of the lower middle-class and
the giant strides with which capital is concentrating itself in the
hands of the few; and the proletariat would soon embrace the whole
nation, with the exception of a few millionaires. But in this
development there comes a stage at which the proletariat perceives how
easily the existing power may be overthrown, and then follows a

Neither of these supposed conditions may, however, be expected to
arise. The commercial crises, the mightiest levers for all independent
development of the proletariat, will probably shorten the process,
acting in concert with foreign competition and the deepening ruin of
the lower middle-class. I think the people will not endure more than
one more crisis. The next one, in 1846 or 1847, will probably bring
with it the repeal of the Corn Laws and the enactment of the Charter.
What revolutionary movements the Charter may give rise to remains to
be seen. But, by the time of the next following crisis, which,
according to the analogy of its predecessors, must break out in 1852
or 1853, unless delayed perhaps by the repeal of the Corn Laws or
hastened by other influences, such as foreign competition -- by the
time this crisis arrives, the English people will have had enough of
being plundered by the capitalists and left to starve when the
capitalists no longer require their services. If, up to that time, the
English bourgeoisie does not pause to reflect -- and to all appearance
it certainly will not do so -- a revolution will follow with which
none hitherto known can be compared. The proletarians, driven to
despair, will seize the torch which Stephens has preached to them; the
vengeance of the people will come down with a wrath of which the rage
of 1795 gives no true idea. The war of the poor against the rich will
be the bloodiest ever waged. Even the union of a part of the
bourgeoisie with the proletariat, even a general reform of the
bourgeoisie, would not help matters. Besides, the change of heart of
the bourgeoisie could only go as far as a lukewarm juste-milieu; the
more determined, uniting with the workers, would only form a new
Gironde, and succumb in the course of the mighty development. The
prejudices of a whole class cannot be laid aside like an old coat:
least of all, those of the stable, narrow, selfish English
bourgeoisie. These are all inferences which may be drawn with the
greatest certainty: conclusions, the premises for which are undeniable
facts, partly of historical development, partly facts inherent in
human nature. Prophecy is nowhere so easy as in England, where all the
component elements of society are clearly defined and sharply
separated. The revolution must come; it is already too late to bring
about a peaceful solution; but it can be made more gently than that
prophesied in the foregoing pages. This depends, however, more upon
the development of the proletariat than upon that of the bourgeoisie.
In proportion, as the proletariat absorbs socialistic and communistic
elements, will the revolution diminish in bloodshed, revenge, and
savagery. Communism stands, in principle, above the breach between
bourgeoisie and proletariat, recognises only its historic significance
for the present, but not its justification for the future: wishes,
indeed, to bridge over this chasm, to do away with all class
antagonisms Hence it recognises as justified, so long as the struggle
exists, the exasperation of the proletariat towards its oppressors as
a necessity, as the most important lever for a labour movement just
beginning; but it goes beyond this exasperation, because Communism is
a question of humanity and not of the workers alone. Besides, it does
not occur to any Communist to wish to revenge himself upon
individuals, or to believe that, in general, the single bourgeois can
act otherwise, under existing circumstances, than he does act. English
Socialism, i.e., Communism, rests directly upon the irresponsibility
of the individual. Thus the more the English workers absorb
communistic ideas, the more superfluous becomes their present
bitterness, which, should it continue so violent as at present, could
accomplish nothing; and the more their action against the bourgeoisie
will lose its savage cruelty. If, indeed, it were possible to make the
whole proletariat communistic before the war breaks out, the end would
be very peaceful; but that is no longer possible, the time has gone
by. Meanwhile, I think that before the outbreak of open, declared war
of the poor against the rich, there will be enough intelligent
comprehension of the social question among the proletariat, to enable
the communistic party, with the help of events, to conquer the brutal
element of the revolution and prevent a "Ninth Thermidor". In any
case, the experience of the French will not have been undergone in
vain, and most of the Chartist leaders are, moreover, already
Communists. And as Communism stands above the strife between
bourgeoisie and proletariat, it will be easier for the better elements
of the bourgeoisie (which are, however, deplorably few, and can look
for recruits only among the rising generation) to unite with it than
with purely proletarian Chartism.

If these conclusions have not been sufficiently established in the
course of the present work, there may be other opportunities for
demonstrating that they are necessary consequences of the historical
development of England. But this I maintain, the war of the poor
against the rich now carried on in detail and indirectly will become
direct and universal. It is too late for a peaceful solution. The
classes are divided more and more sharply, the spirit of resistance
penetrates the workers, the bitterness intensifies, the guerrilla
skirmishes become concentrated in more important battles, and soon a
slight impulse will suffice to set the avalanche in motion. Then,
indeed, will the war-cry resound through the land: "War to the
mansion, peace to the cottage!" -- but then it will be too late for
the rich to beware.

1.To prevent misconstructions and consequent objections, I would
observe that I have spoken of the bourgeoisie as a class, and that all
such facts as refer to individuals serve merely as evidence of the way
of thinking and acting of a class. Hence I have not entered upon the
distinctions between the diverse sections, subdivisions and parties of
the bourgeoisie, which have a mere historical and theoretical
significance. And I can, for the same reason, mention but casually the
few members of the bourgeoisie who have shown themselves honourable
exceptions. These are, on the one hand, the pronounced Radicals, who
are almost Chartists, such as a few members of the House of Commons,
the manufacturers Hindley of Ashton, and Fielden of Todmorden
(Lancashire), and, on the other hand, the philanthropic Tories, who
have recently constituted themselves "Young England", among whom are
the Members of Parliament, Disraeli, Borthwick, Ferrand, Lord John
Manners, etc., Lord Ashley, too, is in sympathy with them. The hope of
"Young England" is a restoration of the old "merry England" with its
brilliant features and its romantic feudalism. This object is of
course unattainable and ridiculous, a satire upon all historic
development; but the good intention, the courage to resist the
existing state of things and prevalent prejudices, and to recognise
the vileness of our present condition, is worth something anyhow.
Wholly isolated is the half-German Englishman, Thomas Carlyle, who,
originally a Tory, goes beyond all those hitherto mentioned. He has
sounded the social disorder more deeply than any other English
bourgeois, and demands the organisation of labour. [1]

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